ROUTE 666
My husband and I live in Colorado, but I think you'll understand if I don't get any more specific than that. I do this not so much because I value our privacy, which I do, but rather I want to protect the guilty, to coin a phrase. Actually, since no one in this story is either innocent or even guiltless, I guess you could say that everyone involved is guilty.
So, with that part explained, on with the story.
Both of us have high-stress jobs, and to give us some relief from that aggravation we've been in the habit for several years of devoting one weekend per month to driving to a part of our beautiful state we have not visited in a long time, if at all. We both love seeing the new sights, as well as talking to people we've never before met. And that's what we were doing when this story began.
We take turns selecting a route for us to follow, and when it was Glenn's turn to choose the roads we'd drive for our May getaway, he said, "I was looking at an old Atlas last week, trying to come up with a part of the state we've never visited, and I saw there's actually a highway numbered "666" down in the southwest corner. Maybe it would be fun to see if it's a "beastly" road, as the name implies."
For those of you who aren't familiar with the Christian Bible, that reference is probably puzzling; however, the others reading this story will know that 666 is the Biblical number of the beast. Anyway, I just wanted to explain why a highway bearing that number would seem to have sinister overtones to some people.
We drove in a westerly direction from our home along the Front Range of the Rockies, and when we reached Grand Junction we turned south, heading for the town of Durango, then to Cortez, where we saw the road sign pointing toward the highway we were looking for. By that time we had driven that far, we'd been on the road for more than 450 miles, and were so tired that we swore we'd take the first motel we came to, no matter what, so that's what we did.
The name flashing on the neon sign beside the highway was "666 MOTEL," which gave no clue about the nature of the place. It wasn't really run down, but it definitely wasn't a five-star type of business. It was old enough to have what used to be called "cabins," rather than having all the rooms grouped in a main building. That really didn't matter to us, since about all we wanted to do was grab quick showers and hit the sack. So, by the time is was barely twilight, both of us were sound asleep.
And that's when things got really strange.
At some point during the dark of night, I struggled to come awake as something was pressed against my face, covering my mouth and nose. I knew I was having a nightmare, but that didn't make my desperate struggles to breathe any less frantic. I remember trying to hold my breath, because deep in my brain the word "chloroform" was running amok. However, holding my breath didn't have much effect, and at last my lungs demanded air, and my mouth fell open and I inhaled.
My next clear memory is of being flat on my back, and my first thought was that I had, indeed, been having a nightmare, and when I awakened I was still in the motel's bed, and all was well. That thought was very fleeting, because as I became more aware of my body, I realized that rather than wearing my pajamas, I was stark naked, and the very-next thought was that my arms were stretched over my head and I could not move them, no matter how hard I tried.
My next clear thought was that my legs were spread so far apart they seemed to be pointing straight out to both sides of my body, and I knew my private parts were not only visible to anyone who cared to look at them, but they were also gaping wide open due to the extreme stretching. There was also something covering the upper part of my face, although it definitely had cutouts for my eyes, as I quickly learned.
It was at that moment when I suddenly recognized a sound I'd been hearing for several seconds, and there was no question it was coming from Glenn, and he was groaning in pain. It took several attempts before I could make my eyes open, but when they did so at last, I saw that my husband's equally-naked body was several feet in front of me, and was fastened to some sort of framework.
The framework was nothing but a large, metal rectangle, with the short sides at the top and the bottom. A rope had been tied to each of Glenn's wrists, and the other ends of the ropes had been stretched tightly to the upper corners of the device, lifting his feet above the floor. Other ropes had been tied to his ankles, then stretched to the bottom corners and tied off, holding his body in a suspended spreadeagle. What I felt covering my face was quickly explained, as I saw that he was wearing a type of mask usually called a "domino," and like mine, his covered just the upper part of his face.
I saw all that before it dawned on me that his penis was rampantly erect, and it was jumping up and down like a metronome measuring his heartbeat. It was then that I realized that what I had thought were groans of pain were actually moans of arousal coming from his throat, and I knew the only explanation for what I was experiencing, seeing, and hearing was that I really and truly was having one of the types of dream I'd experienced since entering puberty.
The reason I was so sure about what was happening was that I'd had dreams as well as waking fantasies very-much like what I was then experiencing. Not only that, but those fantasies had been a part of literally every sexual thought I'd had from the first time I started masturbating even before I reached my teens. I knew that what I was seeing and feeling was just another of my masturbation fantasies, although never, ever had they been as realistic as what I was experiencing right then.
It was only when a woman walked between the two of us that I began to doubt my assumption that I was dreaming, because she had the darkest skin I'd ever seen and I'd never had anyone like her in any of my dreams. Then, to add to my dawning sense of confusion, two more black women, just as beautiful as the first, came to the side of the table where I was bound. All three of them were wearing dominos, adding to the tiny sense of fear that I could feel growing deep inside my brain.
One of them said, "I think she's awake now, Rachel, and the Viagara has him harder than he's ever been, I'll bet. Let's get started on them."
The third woman added, "Yeah, I think they're both ready. I've never seen a white bitch's cunt dripping as much as hers is. I'll go call the guys so we can have a little fun with these two."
She then disappeared from my sight, and I heard her calling out, "Come on, guys! They're both awake now. He's hard as a rock and her cunt's dripping all over the place, so let's have some fun with them."
And that was when I suddenly realized that my pussy actually was flooded with my juices, and my nipples were so hard they hurt. The first woman's reference to Viagara told me why my husband was so aroused, and I assumed I'd been given a similar drug to turn me on just like him. If that truly were the case, then both drugs had worked to perfection, because both Glenn and I were thrusting our crotches back and forth, signaling our frantic need for sexual release.
The sound of bare feet drew my eyes to the side of the room, just in time to see three black men, also masked, walking through a door there. Literally the only thing my eyes would focus on were their genitals, because I had never in my life seen one penis, let along three, that were such monsters. I'd fantasized about them, of course, which I'm quite sure every other girl in the world has done at one time or another. I've always known those particular daydreams started the first time my father took me with him to have one of our mares bred at a neighboring farm, and for the first time in my life I saw a penis that was huge beyond anything in my experience. Forever after, I thought of one of those monsters invading my body, and I continued to do so even after Glenn and I were married.
The three huge cocks leading the men into the room were no fantasy, though, and my whole body vibrated with the need to feel them inside my pussy, and with more than a little fear of what they would do to that part of me that my husband still found so tight, even after several years of intercourse. The part of my brain that tried to tell me that he wouldn't be able to feel anything after this night was pushed to the background by the part that screamed for me to be ***** repeatedly by all three of the monsters that were just then approaching my stretched and spread body.
It was then that I heard one of the men saying to the women, "We brought the floggers to use on them. Is that what you want, Rachel?"
The eager way the three women each accepted one of the whips was all the answer anyone needed, and that answer was reinforced as they swung the thongs through the air as they practiced with them.
At last the woman named Rachel turned to me, and as she used the handle of her whip to tease my pussy, she told me what I had to look forward to.
"Sharon," she said (being fully awake and aware by then, I knew she had learned my name by looking at the motel register), "I suppose you already know this is for real and not just a dream, and before we're through with the two of you we're going to whip both of you and then you'll both be fucked where it'll do the most good."
She gave me a second or two to come to terms with what she'd said, then continued, "Since we believe in the idea of 'ladies first,' we're going to let you go first. What you have to do is tell us where to whip your husband's body, but with the understanding that your own will be whipped in the same place. Then, once we decide those parts of your bodies have had enough, I'll ask Glenn to choose where he wants us to whip you, and we'll whip both of you there. Do you understand?"
I tried to make my mouth beg for our release, but my brain was no longer functioning as anything other than an extension of my pussy, and its frantic demands for orgasm were the only thought in it. I could do nothing but nod my head in answer. That must have been good enough for Rachel, because she quickly asked, "Where do you want him to be whipped, Sharon?"
My glazed eyes moved to his suspended and stretched body, and the way he was thrusting his chest toward me, coupled with my own aching nipples, told me what I needed to say.
"His useless nipples," I gasped. "Whip them as hard as you can!"
The three men had already assumed positions in front of Glenn, and almost before the final word had left my lips, their whips came whistling down to his chest. I barely had time to see the livid, red stripes blossom across his nipples before Rachel and the other two women began to whip my breasts with every bit of force they could muster.
The strokes went on and on, and soon I was screaming in pain as those tender parts of me experienced what it truly meant to be whipped. I have to confess that I have many times used a leather belt to do that to myself when I was masturbating, but the pain I felt then was as nothing to what the three women were doing to my nipples and my melons.
The strokes went on and on, until at last the women were standing beside me with their arms hanging down and their open mouths gasping for air. The men, too, were breathing rapidly as they tried to regain their strength, and the only sounds in the room were the pitiful cries of pain and agony both Glenn and I were making.
At last our torturers recovered their strength, and Rachel turned to my husband and smiled at the sight of his distended penis still bobbing up and down. She asked, "Where do you want us to whip your wife, Glenn?"
His eyes were so glazed over that I wasn't even sure he could see me as he raised them toward my abused body, but that didn't keep him from gasping, "Her cunt! Whip her cunt really hard! Whip her between her legs as hard as you can!"
The woman replied only, "So be it," and then the women and the men exchanged places. I watched in fascination as the three black women raised their whips high in the air in front of my husband, and then paused there as his whimpers filled the room.
As for the three men, they surrounded my captive body, raised their own whips to the ceiling, and held them there as they looked deep into my eyes and smiled.
I saw the first thong strike Glenn's erection and heard his scream almost at the same time as I saw one of the men swinging his whip toward my widespread crotch. My own scream of agony must have been the signal the others were waiting for, because the arms of all six of our torturers became blurs as our crotches were whipped again and again. My cries of agony blended with my husband's, until at last the echoes rebounded from the walls of the room. And then I heard no more, as I lost consciousness.
My next memory is of being slapped awake by one of the women, and as I forced my eyes open I saw that Glenn was either already awake or he hadn't passed out as I had. To my utter amazement his distended penis was still completely hard, even though it was crisscrossed with red stripes. His balls were already swelling beyond anything I'd ever seen between his legs, but even with that they were no match for what the three black men had been displaying ever since they'd entered the room.
When she saw that both of us were aware enough to understand her words, Rachel turned toward me as she said, "It's your turn again, Sharon. What do you want us to do to your husband now? Remember that you'll get the same thing."
I don't know where my answer came from, except that it must have been my deep-seated need to satisfy a longing that I'd had ever since I watched our mare being bred by the stallion all those years ago. Drawing a deep breath to give my brain a chance to focus, I whispered, "I want you women to fuck him. I want you to fuck him just as hard as you can. Please do that to him. Please."
They must have rapidly understood what my words implied, in terms of what would be done to my own body, because all six of them broke into laughter. At last they became quiet, and then watched Rachel walk over to a cabinet fastened to a nearby wall.
I saw her open one of the doors, then take something from inside the cabinet. It was when she turned and walked back toward me that I saw she was holding three strap-on dildos, and my heart began to race as I thought of what my husband would soon be experiencing. My heart raced even more as I looked at the three huge cocks, so large and heavy they couldn't even stand straight out from the bodies where they had grown. All three of them were pointing downward at an angle of 45°, and they appeared to be made of granite. I had never in my life wanted something as badly as I wanted their cocks right then, and I knew I must have them no matter how much pain they gave my gaping and dripping pussy.
The six of them gathered around Glenn, two using footstools to release his arms while two others released his legs. The other two supported his shuddering body as he struggled to stand, then almost dragged him to a small table standing nearby. He was forced to bend over the table, then his feet were pulled to the widespread legs and tied in place. His upper body was then forced against the tabletop, his arms were drawn down to the front legs, and soon they, too, were held by ropes.
Our torturers took several seconds to look at our splayed bodies, and then the women gathered behind my husband while the men decided between them who would fuck me first. They quickly decided the man with the smallest penis (it was "only" ten inches long) should go first, or else he wouldn't feel anything at all after the other two had stretched my cunt far beyond anything it had ever known.
As the first ****** rubbed his organ against my sopping-wet opening, I heard Glenn groaning. My eyes were drawn from the thing that was soon to disappear inside my body, and as I looked at the table beside me, I saw the first woman's dildo was already halfway inside his ass. Then, when my lover slowly entered me, all I could do was watch his monster disappear, and revel in the all-consuming arousal I was feeling.
Over and over he shoved his cock inside me as far as it would go, then drew it slowly, oh so slowly, back out. He made me beg for it before he would enter me again, and like the shameless whore I am, I did that as I cried and pleaded to be *****.
And then I felt something I'd never before known, and my entire body tried to thrust itself at his crotch, frantic to feel his entire length pounding against the bottom of my cunt, until it at last broke through and entered that part of me that had needed him all my life. I know I was screaming for him to **** me, to rip my cunt to shreds, to destroy it for all time, and he was doing his best to do just that.
And then it was over and I was lying there sobbing as his seed slowly seeped from my body. The second man pulled his friend away from my crotch, and as he held his own monster upright so I could see the full size of it, he asked, "Sharon, do you want this one, too? Or have you had enough?"
I heard a voice pleading, "Please don't stop! **** me with it! Hurry! Hurt it as much as you can! Please!"
His only response was to smile deeply, then guide his raging manhood inside me. He made no attempt to be gentle, but instead pounded his organ inside me as fast and as deep as it could possibly go. The waves of pain that consumed me were not nearly enough to make me beg him to stop, and instead I begged him to, "**** it! Kill it! Please! Please!"
And then he was bent over me gasping for breath, and when I moved my head toward him he kissed me deeply and I had never in my life felt such love for a man as I did for him. Then, far too soon he was pulled away from my body by the third man, and my eyes fell once again to my crotch, and the sight of inch after inch of a black cock disappearing inside me.
I'm not sure if I climaxed or not as my third ****** pummeled my pain-filled cunt, but Glenn has always told me that I did. I guess I have to believe him, because he swears that he watched ever moment as I was fucked by the three men, and he also swears that he had never in his life been as turned on as he watched me being used in that manner.
As for me, I must have passed out once again, because I have no other memories of that night, and in fact none at all until the sun was shining through the window of our motel room. I hurt all over, with most of the pain in my tits, surprisingly enough. They were covered with red stripes and welts for several days after what happened to us, and I suppose it was their constant throbbing that kept my nipples distended far beyond anything I'd ever before experienced.
As for Glenn, he was still fast asleep when I awakened. After I had given myself time to come to full awareness, I very carefully lifted the covers so I could look at his crotch, just to confirm that it hadn't been a nightmare after all, but was reality.
His penis was about half erect as it lay against his abdomen, undoubtedly from the aftereffects of the Viagara he'd been given. Like my tits, it was crisscrossed with stripes and welts. It was his balls, though, that simply amazed me.
They had swollen until they looked to be bigger than baseballs, and they, too, were covered with stripes and welts. So fascinating were they that I simply couldn't resist placing my hand on them, and when he moaned with something more pleasure than pain, I squeezed them until he came awake.
As his eyes shot open, he cried out with pain, then when he saw what my hand was doing to him, to my utter amazement his legs spread wider than ever.
I was too exhausted, too filled with pain, and just too plain-old worn out to pursue that avenue right then, so I merely gave them a flick of my finger and struggled to get out of bed and run to the bathroom so I could pee. It was as I sat there on the toilet that another brand-new side of our marriage came to life.
Glenn came into the bathroom as I peed, and the sound of what I was doing must have fascinated him so much that he dropped to his knees in front of me. He crouched there until my stream stopped, and when I reached toward the tissue roll to tear off a piece, he took my hand, gazed deep into my eyes, and whispered, "Let me do that. Please."
When I placed my hand on the top of his head, he willingly let me guide it to my crotch. Then, when he was inches away, he put both his hands under my thighs and lifted them over his shoulders. I had thought of us doing that many times, but the anticipation was a pale imitation of the reality. When his tongue laved my aching pussy, licking up the final drops, I simply couldn't stop myself from forcing my cunt against him lips, and then as he licked and sucked every drop, I climaxed.
It was just about all we could do to get in the shower, then stand there supporting each other as the hot water soothed our aches and pains. I think if the hot water hadn't turned cold, we'd probably still be standing there, so I guess it's lucky that's what happened.
It took most of our remaining strength to walk to the office so we could return the key, but as soon as we walked in, we both nearly passed out. Sitting behind the counter was the black woman, Rachel, who had been one of our six torturers just hours ago, looking for all the world like the clerk at any other motel in the world.
She asked, "Well, folks, did you enjoy your stay with us? I speak for everyone here when I say that we enjoyed the two of you more than we have anyone else we've had in our recreation room. We all hope you'll come back soon, because so very much has been left undone, in terms of the possibilities available when a willing white couple gives themselves so wholeheartedly to their black Mistresses and Masters."
Neither Glenn nor I could think of anything to say, and as we stood transfixed in silence, she added, "So, what should I tell my friends? Can we look forward to showing you what we'd love to do to you during your next visit? Please don't disappoint us. Please say you'll come back. Please?"
I was the first to find my voice, and as Glenn handed the key to Rachel, I whispered, "We wouldn't want it any other way. We'll come back to you, won't we, Honey?"
All he could do was give a tiny nod, and as Rachel escorted us to the door, she said, "I'll tell the others to think of something really special for two such special people as yourselves. I can promise you that you've never in your wildest dreams imagined what's going to happen when you come back."
She then closed the door behind us, and we climbed into our car and pulled onto highway 666. I'm sure both of us were wondering if we had discovered there truly was a beast involved in the name of the road, or if that creature was waiting for our next visit to rear its ugly head and teach us the perils of letting our sexual imaginations run wild.
Chapter 2
I must have been totally exhausted by then, because I barely remember going through Cortez on our return trip. I've always found it easy to sleep when Glenn's driving, because he's the safest driver I've ever known, and I have always trusted him to get us there and back in the safest manner possible. I guess my trust in him was demonstrated on that part of our trip, because it was only when I felt the car come to a stop that I awakened.
When I looked out the window, I could see we were in Grand Junction, parked in the lot of a business close to the freeway entrance. Glenn was looking at me when I turned my head toward him, and the first words out of his mouth were, "I love watching you sleep. You're always beautiful, but when you're completely relaxed like that, it just makes me want to kiss you and never stop."
I thanked him for telling me that, and then told him something that I'd wanted to say ever since we'd awakened in the motel that morning.
"I love you too, Honey. I've always loved you, or else I'd never have married you, but since last night happened, I just . . . it just seems like I love you ten times more than I ever have. When I was watching them whip you, and then **** you like that, it just . . . just opened up a part of me that I never even guessed had always been there. I think constantly about stuff like that, but I've never had the strength to say anything about it. But now . . . well, now that I know you've had the same dreams that I've always had, well . . . it just about makes my heart burst because it makes me love you more than I ever thought possible."
He took me in his arms and kissed me deeply, which is something we have never done in such a public setting. We've both always been very reserved when it comes to showing our affection for each other in public, but right at that moment nothing else mattered but us demonstrating our love for each other, and showing that what had happened just a few hours ago did nothing to change that.
After we pulled away from the kiss, he sighed deeply, then said, "I'm completely worn out, and it's not safe for me to drive like this. Do you want to drive for a while, or would you just rather stay here while I have a nap?"
I told him I'd rather do the driving, because I was anxious to get home and think about what had been done to us at the motel, and what it meant for our future.
And that's what we did. While he slept in the passenger seat I headed east on I-70, doing my best to pay attention to the road, which was more difficult that I thought it'd be, mainly because I just couldn't stop my mind from reliving every moment of the previous night, from jerking awake while being chloroformed and then waking up again and finding my naked body stretched tightly across what just had to be a version of the rack where people were tortured during the Inquisition.
Every stroke of the whips that marked my body and brought forth my agonized cries, and every one from the three men who did their level best to tear my husband's genitals from his body flashed through my brain. Every second of Glenn's **** by the three women, and of mine by the wonderful monsters of the three men came back to me, and just like that I felt my pussy juices begin to flow, and I knew that my panties, then my slacks, and last of all the seat beneath me would soon be soaked.
It was in that condition that I drove us to the freeway exit west of Denver, where we would leave that highway and head north toward our home. It was only when I braked the car to a stop that my husband awakened, and then sat up and saw where we were.
We changed drivers there, and it was when Glenn was climbing inside the car that he hesitated and stared at the seat. The wet spot was easy to see, and as he looked up at me he smiled deeply, then said, "It looks like you've been thinking about last night. Right?"
I merely fastened my safety harness in place as I answered, "What else is there to think of, Honey? Last night was the hottest, most-exciting thing ever. For me at least. I don't know about you."
His only response was to lean over the seat where I'd been sitting, then take a slow, intense lick of what I'd left for him. When he at last got in place behind the wheel, he answered my unasked question by saying, "It was the best ever for me, too. I've wanted that stuff for what seems like forever." He paused for a long time as he sat there, then added, "I hope it won't be the only time for us."
I lay my head back and relaxed, suddenly tired all over again, and as I felt myself falling asleep I reassured him.
"No way will it be the only time. We're going back there just as much as they'll let us. I can't live with the idea of thinking we'll never see them again, and I want them to do all that stuff over and over again, just as much as they want."
Then, as I thought of something else that had occurred to me during the long drive on the freeway, I continued, "Honey, we have to talk about something really important." When I saw he was giving me his full attention, I said, "I was fucked my three men last night, and all three of them climaxed in my womb. I've always been on birth control pills since you've known me, so you probably think nothing will happen, but one thing I do know is that the pill isn't perfect. Women do get pregnant while using it. So, . . . so it's something we need to be thinking about."
His gaze became even more penetrating and his breathing more ragged as I said those words to him, and it took him several seconds before he could answer my implied question.
"If you have a baby, it'll be half you, won't it? And that's enough to make it mine, and I'll love it more than my own life. When I was watching them breeding you last night, just about the only thing I could think about was that maybe each man was putting his baby inside you, and that you would have three babies for us to raise. Or even more, if that's the way it turns out. Whatever, they'll all be mine, and I'll be the best daddy any kids ever had."
His answer gave me so much comfort that I immediately stopped worrying about any consequences that might come from last night, or from the next time or the time after that. I was so relaxed right then that I could no longer fight off the sleep that my body craved, and I didn't know anything else until we were sitting inside our garage and the overhead door was closing behind us.
____________________
Because of our late start that morning, it was already dark when we reached our home, and despite our naps during the drive, we barely had the strength to heat some microwave pizza and have that for our dinner. We then went to the bathroom to get ready for bed, and as I nearly always do, I sat on the toilet to pee before getting in the shower.
I don't know what it was that made me look up at Glenn as he undressed, but just the sight of all the stripes and welts across his chest and his crotch, especially those on his seemingly-always erect penis, made me recall what he'd done that morning when we were in the motel bathroom. As he stood there naked, with his dick jumping up and down just as it had done the previous night, he was staring directly between my legs and his mouth was hanging open as he gasped for breath. I knew exactly what he was thinking as he listened to the sound of my stream hitting the water in the toilet bowl, and as I remember how velvety-soft his tongue had been when he licked me dry, I became just as aroused as he seemed to be.
Instead of reaching for the toilet tissue, I said casually, "Honey, I've decided there's no reason for us to waste paper for this part. Get down here and lick my cunt."
I think my use of that vulgar term for my pussy turned both of us on even more than we already were, and as he dropped to his knees between my legs, I hurried to lift my thighs over his shoulders. As soon as I was in position, his face disappeared between my legs and I again felt the incredible sensation of his tongue laving every inch of my slit, almost as if he were thirsting to death and only my pee could satisfy his craving.
At last his tongue found my clit, and then I was lost. The wave of lust that swept over me was unbelievable in its intensity, and I started cursing him for being nothing but a "piss-drinking wimp," and "a sissy boy who loves it when women fuck him in the ass," and . . . well, I'm sure you get the idea. I suppose I'd still be doing that if my orgasm hadn't consumed me, and after that it was all I could do to prevent myself from falling off the toilet seat as he licked and sucked that oh-so-very sensitive part of any woman's body.
We eventually ended up in the shower, and after luxuriating under the stinging jets of hot water for a few minutes, he washed my still-aching body while I turned and spread to give him access to every place that needed soap and water. Then it was my turn to wash him, and I did my very best to make it pleasurable for him, until only his striped dick and his swollen balls remained.
I very tenderly washed those parts, and then very casually spread the slit wide open with one hand while getting the soap suds as far down it as I could. His whining and whimpering as the soap burned his tender parts was music to my ears, and intensified my efforts to give him as much pain as I possibly could.
I began to stroke his penis, while at the same time alternately caressing, then squeezing his baseball-size balls to get his attention. At last, when he could stand it no more, the first spurt of cum jetted from his slit, taking all the soap with it. I had been waiting for that to happen, because I had no interest in swallowing soap suds, and between the first and second spurts I took him in my mouth and sucked him with every bit of my strength.
After that, nothing remained but to dry each other, then brush our teeth and jump in bed. It was as we lay there in the relaxed euphoria of onrushing sleep that I asked, "Honey, do you like being my cuckold?"
That brought him wide awake, as I expected, and his rushed response was the only answer I needed to confirm that he truly did need to see his wife being fucked by other men.
"I love it! I've always wanted that for you, because I know I'm not a good lover, and I know other men can give you what you deserve. When you let me watch them breeding you last night, it was everything I'd ever hoped for. I can't even begin to tell you how much I loved seeing you like that."
I then asked a question that had been nagging at the back of my brain all the way home.
"I read a story not too long ago that was supposedly written by a woman who'd been cuckolding her husband for several years. She said that her present lover had always insisted that she never allow her husband to have sex with her, and that she'd done that. She never did explain just how she did that part, other than to say that they'd done something to him (her husband) that made him unable to have sexual relations. Do you have any idea what that means?"
I could feel Glenn come wide awake as I spoke those words, and his semi-erect penis achieved full erection faster than I would have thought possible. As I held it tightly in my hand, he tried to stammer his way through his answer to my question.
"I've read stories like that for several years, and most of them . . . maybe all of them . . . talk about that part . . . you know, about the husband being modified . . . so he can't . . . have sex with his wife . . . ever again." He then fell silent for a long time, and the only thing that told me hadn't fallen asleep was the throbbing in his dick as I held it.
It took my question to get him started talking again, because I asked, "Well, what did she do to him? What do you mean by 'modified?' I need to know, Honey, because maybe I'll have to modify you if they want me to do that part. Tell me."
He took a deep breath, then started his explanation with a question.
"You probably know what a 'eunuch' is, don't you?" he asked. At my soft, "Yes," he went on, "Well, the traditional way to make a eunuch is to . . . to . . . castrate him. If a man's wife does that to him, in almost every case he'll lose any desire to have sex with her. So, maybe that's what the woman in the story you read did to her husband."
There was something about his emphasis of the word "traditional" that made me think he was keeping something from me, and I wasn't about to let him get away with it.
"You said a traditional eunuch was a man who'd been castrated. So . . ., what's a 'non-traditional' eunuch?"
I could almost feel the heat from his face as it blushed in embarrassment (which is something I've always thought was very endearing about him), and I could tell by the way he hesitated to answer my question that something was going on. So, I continued to press him to explain the difference between those two categories of eunuch, and after a while, he did.
"Well, the other type of eunuch is a man who has had the . . . the other part . . . removed. That way he can't . . . well, he can't . . . have sex at all . . . anymore."
Although I knew exactly what he was talking about, some perverse part of my personality insisted that I embarrass him as much as possible just for the fun of it, so I asked, "What's the 'other part' you're talking about? What other part would be removed to keep him from having sex with his wife?"
Again there was a significant pause, but as I knew would happen, at last he haltingly explained what he meant.
"She'd cut off his . . . his . . . penis."
I suppose I should have taken pity on my poor husband, but as before I just couldn't allow him to get away with whispering that final word, so I asked, "What was that word, Honey? I couldn't hear what you said. What part was it that needed to be cut off?"
He had to clear his throat twice before he was able to say what I needed to hear, which was, "She'd cut off his penis, but let him keep his other parts. That way, his testes would continue to produce sex hormones and he'd be desperate to have sex, but there would be no way for him to do that. I've read several stories about men like that, and how they're so desperate to please their wives they'll do anything she asks, and he'll be the best slave in the whole world."
"Would you do anything I want if I'd cut off your dick, Honey? Would you be the best slave ever for me? Is that what you're saying?"
His one-word answer of, "Yes," was nothing but a whisper, but it was what I was suddenly desperate to hear.
As I released my grasp on his penis, I whispered back, "Then that settles it, Honey. If my lovers don't want you to ever again fuck me, I'll have them help me cut off your dick, and then you can be the best slave ever to all of us. I think that's the perfect answer, don't you?"
I guess he was beyond answering by then, but as for me I was bone tired and I was already half asleep. So, as I usually did when I was in that condition, I rolled over on my tummy and told him to rub my back.
And that was the last thing I remember of that night.
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I deliberately teased Glenn for the following three weeks, never, ever referring to the month's-end trips that had been our habit to take for several years. I could tell that he was becoming increasingly concerned about where we'd go the following week, or even if we'd go somewhere. But, at last I took pity on him, and two days before the final Friday of June, I said, "I called Rachel at the motel and made reservations for Friday and Saturday nights, Honey. She was really glad to hear from me, and even more thrilled when I told her we'd be staying with them for two nights. She told me they'd been working on their plans for us, and the extra night would be just great, because they'd been afraid they couldn't do everything they want to in just one night. Anyway, I told her we'd leave here after your last class Friday morning, and we'd be at the motel before dark. I also told her about what you wanted done if they didn't want you to be able to fuck me ever again, and she said they'd have everything ready in case we had to do that to you."
And then all we had to do was wait for the fateful day, and I took advantage of his increased arousal to work on his attentions to me when we were in the bathroom together. I had already been thinking about making him extend those same attentions to our friends at the motel, and I was really excited to see how they would respond when they learned of my plans for my husband.
It promised to be a very-good weekend, indeed
Chapter 3
I was already waiting in the University parking lot closest to the building where Glenn teaches when he hurried out of the door. Our car was already loaded, and in a matter of seconds he was behind the wheel and we were heading south toward the freeway that would take us west.
Surprisingly enough, we talked very little as we traveled, but I'm sure both of us were thinking furiously about what would happen to us that night, and then the next night after that. I know my nipples were so engorged they hurt, and my pussy was literally on fire as I thought of the three huge cocks that would soon be battering at its rear wall. I'm sure that if I had merely flicked my clit, a tremendous orgasm would have consumed me, but since I wanted to save it for my black Masters and Mistresses I left it alone. After all, both of us had already accepted the fact that we craved nothing more than to be the slaves of those wonderful men and women, and I felt I owed it to them to not masturbate unless they ordered me to do so.
The trip went pretty much as the one over those same roads just one month earlier, but far from commenting on the beautiful scenery that was rushing by, we did little else than sit silently, locked in our own fantasies about what would be done to our bodies in just a few hours. I do know that my husband was just as aroused as I had been the entire day, because the bulge in his trousers was the biggest I'd ever seen on him. And then I had something even hotter to think about, because I could not help but believe that in the very-near future, he would no longer have a bulge down there. As that thought swept through my brain, I couldn't stop myself from asking him a question I'd never thought to ask.
"Honey, is there a name for the type of eunuch you're going to be after we cut off your penis? I mean, surely someone has come up with something better than 'non-traditional eunuch,' haven't they?"
As I was sure would happen, his face blushed bright red, but quickly returned to its normal pink as he answered my question by saying, "Yes. I'll be what's known as a 'functional eunuch.' That means that I'll have the desire to have sex, and in fact my desire will be stronger than anything I've ever experienced, but I won't be able to satisfy it because my penis will be gone. In other words, I won't be able to function like a normal man, and that's why I'll be called a functional eunuch."
I thought about that for the next mile, then added my own thoughts to his.
"I think that'll be just the hottest thing ever, don't you? God, just imagine how turned on you're going to get when we torture you, and how much you're going to want to empty your balls, but it just won't happen, will it? Probably just the fact that you can't cum will make you more desperate to do it, won't it? Don't you think it'll just drive you crazy with wanting to cum?"
The only answer he gave was short and to the point.
"Yes, and that's why I think it's the best choice for all of us. I've dreamed of being a eunuch for most of my life, and just the thought that it might happen tonight or tomorrow night, or maybe on our next trip to the motel is just the best thing ever. I don't know how I'll ever be able to wait for you to do that to me."
And then we were past Durango, heading west, and then a few miles later we were at Cortez and turning onto Route 666.
And then we were turning into the lot backed by the motel we'd been thinking of constantly for the past month.
Just as we came to a stop at the office door, it swung open and Rachel stood there shading her eyes as she tried to identify us through the sun's glare on our windshield. Then, when we were in the shade of the building and she could see our faces clearly, her own lovely face burst into the most-beautiful smile I'd ever seen.
She stood outside the door, holding it open for us to walk through, and then followed us inside. I was surprised by the ferocity of her embrace as she threw her arms around me and drew me close so we could kiss. She plunged her tongue deep into my mouth, and then when I did the same, she quickly withdrew hers and closed her teeth around that tender part of my body.
She held on to my tongue for what seemed an eternity, with every second biting deeper and deeper until my fear threatened to overcome my arousal. At the very second I was more afraid than turned on, she released her hold, and then stepped back so she could look deep into my eyes.
"You're more beautiful than I remember, Sharon," she said as she held my gaze. "All we've talked about is how the two of you loved what we did to you last month, and how we're going to do so much more tonight and tomorrow night. I hope you're ready for some really serious pain, because we're not going to hold back with you like we did last time. Tonight will be for real, and tomorrow will be even better."
She then turned to Glenn and put her hands on his shoulder to draw him close. She didn't kiss him, but just held him close before she stepped back and stared into his eyes as she'd done with me. Sighing deeply, she said, "And you, Glenn, we've been thinking of you, too. Sharon has been sending me e-mail constantly since you guys left last month, and she's been keeping me up to date on the progress you're making when you serve her in the bathroom. That's something you're going to have lots of opportunity to demonstrate over the weekend."
Taking a moment to collect her thoughts, she continued, "She also told me how fascinated you are by the idea of being a eunuch. I have to admit that all of us are also fascinated by how you want it done. We've castrated men before when we take them and their wives in service, but this will be the first time we've ever cut off a slave's little pecker. We're all really interested to see if you actually do become the 'best slave ever,' like you've been telling her. You'll have plenty of time to convince us about that, won't you? We've been thinking of keeping you here so you can serve all of us every night and day for as long as you last. How long that'll be, . . . who can say?"
She then burst into loud laughter, and when I saw the stunned expression on Glenn's face I couldn't help but join her.
_____________________________
More to follow, folks. If you have any ideas for inclusion in the next chapters, please write to me at: sharon_smif@gmx.com.
My husband and I live in Colorado, but I think you'll understand if I don't get any more specific than that. I do this not so much because I value our privacy, which I do, but rather I want to protect the guilty, to coin a phrase. Actually, since no one in this story is either innocent or even guiltless, I guess you could say that everyone involved is guilty.
So, with that part explained, on with the story.
Both of us have high-stress jobs, and to give us some relief from that aggravation we've been in the habit for several years of devoting one weekend per month to driving to a part of our beautiful state we have not visited in a long time, if at all. We both love seeing the new sights, as well as talking to people we've never before met. And that's what we were doing when this story began.
We take turns selecting a route for us to follow, and when it was Glenn's turn to choose the roads we'd drive for our May getaway, he said, "I was looking at an old Atlas last week, trying to come up with a part of the state we've never visited, and I saw there's actually a highway numbered "666" down in the southwest corner. Maybe it would be fun to see if it's a "beastly" road, as the name implies."
For those of you who aren't familiar with the Christian Bible, that reference is probably puzzling; however, the others reading this story will know that 666 is the Biblical number of the beast. Anyway, I just wanted to explain why a highway bearing that number would seem to have sinister overtones to some people.
We drove in a westerly direction from our home along the Front Range of the Rockies, and when we reached Grand Junction we turned south, heading for the town of Durango, then to Cortez, where we saw the road sign pointing toward the highway we were looking for. By that time we had driven that far, we'd been on the road for more than 450 miles, and were so tired that we swore we'd take the first motel we came to, no matter what, so that's what we did.
The name flashing on the neon sign beside the highway was "666 MOTEL," which gave no clue about the nature of the place. It wasn't really run down, but it definitely wasn't a five-star type of business. It was old enough to have what used to be called "cabins," rather than having all the rooms grouped in a main building. That really didn't matter to us, since about all we wanted to do was grab quick showers and hit the sack. So, by the time is was barely twilight, both of us were sound asleep.
And that's when things got really strange.
At some point during the dark of night, I struggled to come awake as something was pressed against my face, covering my mouth and nose. I knew I was having a nightmare, but that didn't make my desperate struggles to breathe any less frantic. I remember trying to hold my breath, because deep in my brain the word "chloroform" was running amok. However, holding my breath didn't have much effect, and at last my lungs demanded air, and my mouth fell open and I inhaled.
My next clear memory is of being flat on my back, and my first thought was that I had, indeed, been having a nightmare, and when I awakened I was still in the motel's bed, and all was well. That thought was very fleeting, because as I became more aware of my body, I realized that rather than wearing my pajamas, I was stark naked, and the very-next thought was that my arms were stretched over my head and I could not move them, no matter how hard I tried.
My next clear thought was that my legs were spread so far apart they seemed to be pointing straight out to both sides of my body, and I knew my private parts were not only visible to anyone who cared to look at them, but they were also gaping wide open due to the extreme stretching. There was also something covering the upper part of my face, although it definitely had cutouts for my eyes, as I quickly learned.
It was at that moment when I suddenly recognized a sound I'd been hearing for several seconds, and there was no question it was coming from Glenn, and he was groaning in pain. It took several attempts before I could make my eyes open, but when they did so at last, I saw that my husband's equally-naked body was several feet in front of me, and was fastened to some sort of framework.
The framework was nothing but a large, metal rectangle, with the short sides at the top and the bottom. A rope had been tied to each of Glenn's wrists, and the other ends of the ropes had been stretched tightly to the upper corners of the device, lifting his feet above the floor. Other ropes had been tied to his ankles, then stretched to the bottom corners and tied off, holding his body in a suspended spreadeagle. What I felt covering my face was quickly explained, as I saw that he was wearing a type of mask usually called a "domino," and like mine, his covered just the upper part of his face.
I saw all that before it dawned on me that his penis was rampantly erect, and it was jumping up and down like a metronome measuring his heartbeat. It was then that I realized that what I had thought were groans of pain were actually moans of arousal coming from his throat, and I knew the only explanation for what I was experiencing, seeing, and hearing was that I really and truly was having one of the types of dream I'd experienced since entering puberty.
The reason I was so sure about what was happening was that I'd had dreams as well as waking fantasies very-much like what I was then experiencing. Not only that, but those fantasies had been a part of literally every sexual thought I'd had from the first time I started masturbating even before I reached my teens. I knew that what I was seeing and feeling was just another of my masturbation fantasies, although never, ever had they been as realistic as what I was experiencing right then.
It was only when a woman walked between the two of us that I began to doubt my assumption that I was dreaming, because she had the darkest skin I'd ever seen and I'd never had anyone like her in any of my dreams. Then, to add to my dawning sense of confusion, two more black women, just as beautiful as the first, came to the side of the table where I was bound. All three of them were wearing dominos, adding to the tiny sense of fear that I could feel growing deep inside my brain.
One of them said, "I think she's awake now, Rachel, and the Viagara has him harder than he's ever been, I'll bet. Let's get started on them."
The third woman added, "Yeah, I think they're both ready. I've never seen a white bitch's cunt dripping as much as hers is. I'll go call the guys so we can have a little fun with these two."
She then disappeared from my sight, and I heard her calling out, "Come on, guys! They're both awake now. He's hard as a rock and her cunt's dripping all over the place, so let's have some fun with them."
And that was when I suddenly realized that my pussy actually was flooded with my juices, and my nipples were so hard they hurt. The first woman's reference to Viagara told me why my husband was so aroused, and I assumed I'd been given a similar drug to turn me on just like him. If that truly were the case, then both drugs had worked to perfection, because both Glenn and I were thrusting our crotches back and forth, signaling our frantic need for sexual release.
The sound of bare feet drew my eyes to the side of the room, just in time to see three black men, also masked, walking through a door there. Literally the only thing my eyes would focus on were their genitals, because I had never in my life seen one penis, let along three, that were such monsters. I'd fantasized about them, of course, which I'm quite sure every other girl in the world has done at one time or another. I've always known those particular daydreams started the first time my father took me with him to have one of our mares bred at a neighboring farm, and for the first time in my life I saw a penis that was huge beyond anything in my experience. Forever after, I thought of one of those monsters invading my body, and I continued to do so even after Glenn and I were married.
The three huge cocks leading the men into the room were no fantasy, though, and my whole body vibrated with the need to feel them inside my pussy, and with more than a little fear of what they would do to that part of me that my husband still found so tight, even after several years of intercourse. The part of my brain that tried to tell me that he wouldn't be able to feel anything after this night was pushed to the background by the part that screamed for me to be ***** repeatedly by all three of the monsters that were just then approaching my stretched and spread body.
It was then that I heard one of the men saying to the women, "We brought the floggers to use on them. Is that what you want, Rachel?"
The eager way the three women each accepted one of the whips was all the answer anyone needed, and that answer was reinforced as they swung the thongs through the air as they practiced with them.
At last the woman named Rachel turned to me, and as she used the handle of her whip to tease my pussy, she told me what I had to look forward to.
"Sharon," she said (being fully awake and aware by then, I knew she had learned my name by looking at the motel register), "I suppose you already know this is for real and not just a dream, and before we're through with the two of you we're going to whip both of you and then you'll both be fucked where it'll do the most good."
She gave me a second or two to come to terms with what she'd said, then continued, "Since we believe in the idea of 'ladies first,' we're going to let you go first. What you have to do is tell us where to whip your husband's body, but with the understanding that your own will be whipped in the same place. Then, once we decide those parts of your bodies have had enough, I'll ask Glenn to choose where he wants us to whip you, and we'll whip both of you there. Do you understand?"
I tried to make my mouth beg for our release, but my brain was no longer functioning as anything other than an extension of my pussy, and its frantic demands for orgasm were the only thought in it. I could do nothing but nod my head in answer. That must have been good enough for Rachel, because she quickly asked, "Where do you want him to be whipped, Sharon?"
My glazed eyes moved to his suspended and stretched body, and the way he was thrusting his chest toward me, coupled with my own aching nipples, told me what I needed to say.
"His useless nipples," I gasped. "Whip them as hard as you can!"
The three men had already assumed positions in front of Glenn, and almost before the final word had left my lips, their whips came whistling down to his chest. I barely had time to see the livid, red stripes blossom across his nipples before Rachel and the other two women began to whip my breasts with every bit of force they could muster.
The strokes went on and on, and soon I was screaming in pain as those tender parts of me experienced what it truly meant to be whipped. I have to confess that I have many times used a leather belt to do that to myself when I was masturbating, but the pain I felt then was as nothing to what the three women were doing to my nipples and my melons.
The strokes went on and on, until at last the women were standing beside me with their arms hanging down and their open mouths gasping for air. The men, too, were breathing rapidly as they tried to regain their strength, and the only sounds in the room were the pitiful cries of pain and agony both Glenn and I were making.
At last our torturers recovered their strength, and Rachel turned to my husband and smiled at the sight of his distended penis still bobbing up and down. She asked, "Where do you want us to whip your wife, Glenn?"
His eyes were so glazed over that I wasn't even sure he could see me as he raised them toward my abused body, but that didn't keep him from gasping, "Her cunt! Whip her cunt really hard! Whip her between her legs as hard as you can!"
The woman replied only, "So be it," and then the women and the men exchanged places. I watched in fascination as the three black women raised their whips high in the air in front of my husband, and then paused there as his whimpers filled the room.
As for the three men, they surrounded my captive body, raised their own whips to the ceiling, and held them there as they looked deep into my eyes and smiled.
I saw the first thong strike Glenn's erection and heard his scream almost at the same time as I saw one of the men swinging his whip toward my widespread crotch. My own scream of agony must have been the signal the others were waiting for, because the arms of all six of our torturers became blurs as our crotches were whipped again and again. My cries of agony blended with my husband's, until at last the echoes rebounded from the walls of the room. And then I heard no more, as I lost consciousness.
My next memory is of being slapped awake by one of the women, and as I forced my eyes open I saw that Glenn was either already awake or he hadn't passed out as I had. To my utter amazement his distended penis was still completely hard, even though it was crisscrossed with red stripes. His balls were already swelling beyond anything I'd ever seen between his legs, but even with that they were no match for what the three black men had been displaying ever since they'd entered the room.
When she saw that both of us were aware enough to understand her words, Rachel turned toward me as she said, "It's your turn again, Sharon. What do you want us to do to your husband now? Remember that you'll get the same thing."
I don't know where my answer came from, except that it must have been my deep-seated need to satisfy a longing that I'd had ever since I watched our mare being bred by the stallion all those years ago. Drawing a deep breath to give my brain a chance to focus, I whispered, "I want you women to fuck him. I want you to fuck him just as hard as you can. Please do that to him. Please."
They must have rapidly understood what my words implied, in terms of what would be done to my own body, because all six of them broke into laughter. At last they became quiet, and then watched Rachel walk over to a cabinet fastened to a nearby wall.
I saw her open one of the doors, then take something from inside the cabinet. It was when she turned and walked back toward me that I saw she was holding three strap-on dildos, and my heart began to race as I thought of what my husband would soon be experiencing. My heart raced even more as I looked at the three huge cocks, so large and heavy they couldn't even stand straight out from the bodies where they had grown. All three of them were pointing downward at an angle of 45°, and they appeared to be made of granite. I had never in my life wanted something as badly as I wanted their cocks right then, and I knew I must have them no matter how much pain they gave my gaping and dripping pussy.
The six of them gathered around Glenn, two using footstools to release his arms while two others released his legs. The other two supported his shuddering body as he struggled to stand, then almost dragged him to a small table standing nearby. He was forced to bend over the table, then his feet were pulled to the widespread legs and tied in place. His upper body was then forced against the tabletop, his arms were drawn down to the front legs, and soon they, too, were held by ropes.
Our torturers took several seconds to look at our splayed bodies, and then the women gathered behind my husband while the men decided between them who would fuck me first. They quickly decided the man with the smallest penis (it was "only" ten inches long) should go first, or else he wouldn't feel anything at all after the other two had stretched my cunt far beyond anything it had ever known.
As the first ****** rubbed his organ against my sopping-wet opening, I heard Glenn groaning. My eyes were drawn from the thing that was soon to disappear inside my body, and as I looked at the table beside me, I saw the first woman's dildo was already halfway inside his ass. Then, when my lover slowly entered me, all I could do was watch his monster disappear, and revel in the all-consuming arousal I was feeling.
Over and over he shoved his cock inside me as far as it would go, then drew it slowly, oh so slowly, back out. He made me beg for it before he would enter me again, and like the shameless whore I am, I did that as I cried and pleaded to be *****.
And then I felt something I'd never before known, and my entire body tried to thrust itself at his crotch, frantic to feel his entire length pounding against the bottom of my cunt, until it at last broke through and entered that part of me that had needed him all my life. I know I was screaming for him to **** me, to rip my cunt to shreds, to destroy it for all time, and he was doing his best to do just that.
And then it was over and I was lying there sobbing as his seed slowly seeped from my body. The second man pulled his friend away from my crotch, and as he held his own monster upright so I could see the full size of it, he asked, "Sharon, do you want this one, too? Or have you had enough?"
I heard a voice pleading, "Please don't stop! **** me with it! Hurry! Hurt it as much as you can! Please!"
His only response was to smile deeply, then guide his raging manhood inside me. He made no attempt to be gentle, but instead pounded his organ inside me as fast and as deep as it could possibly go. The waves of pain that consumed me were not nearly enough to make me beg him to stop, and instead I begged him to, "**** it! Kill it! Please! Please!"
And then he was bent over me gasping for breath, and when I moved my head toward him he kissed me deeply and I had never in my life felt such love for a man as I did for him. Then, far too soon he was pulled away from my body by the third man, and my eyes fell once again to my crotch, and the sight of inch after inch of a black cock disappearing inside me.
I'm not sure if I climaxed or not as my third ****** pummeled my pain-filled cunt, but Glenn has always told me that I did. I guess I have to believe him, because he swears that he watched ever moment as I was fucked by the three men, and he also swears that he had never in his life been as turned on as he watched me being used in that manner.
As for me, I must have passed out once again, because I have no other memories of that night, and in fact none at all until the sun was shining through the window of our motel room. I hurt all over, with most of the pain in my tits, surprisingly enough. They were covered with red stripes and welts for several days after what happened to us, and I suppose it was their constant throbbing that kept my nipples distended far beyond anything I'd ever before experienced.
As for Glenn, he was still fast asleep when I awakened. After I had given myself time to come to full awareness, I very carefully lifted the covers so I could look at his crotch, just to confirm that it hadn't been a nightmare after all, but was reality.
His penis was about half erect as it lay against his abdomen, undoubtedly from the aftereffects of the Viagara he'd been given. Like my tits, it was crisscrossed with stripes and welts. It was his balls, though, that simply amazed me.
They had swollen until they looked to be bigger than baseballs, and they, too, were covered with stripes and welts. So fascinating were they that I simply couldn't resist placing my hand on them, and when he moaned with something more pleasure than pain, I squeezed them until he came awake.
As his eyes shot open, he cried out with pain, then when he saw what my hand was doing to him, to my utter amazement his legs spread wider than ever.
I was too exhausted, too filled with pain, and just too plain-old worn out to pursue that avenue right then, so I merely gave them a flick of my finger and struggled to get out of bed and run to the bathroom so I could pee. It was as I sat there on the toilet that another brand-new side of our marriage came to life.
Glenn came into the bathroom as I peed, and the sound of what I was doing must have fascinated him so much that he dropped to his knees in front of me. He crouched there until my stream stopped, and when I reached toward the tissue roll to tear off a piece, he took my hand, gazed deep into my eyes, and whispered, "Let me do that. Please."
When I placed my hand on the top of his head, he willingly let me guide it to my crotch. Then, when he was inches away, he put both his hands under my thighs and lifted them over his shoulders. I had thought of us doing that many times, but the anticipation was a pale imitation of the reality. When his tongue laved my aching pussy, licking up the final drops, I simply couldn't stop myself from forcing my cunt against him lips, and then as he licked and sucked every drop, I climaxed.
It was just about all we could do to get in the shower, then stand there supporting each other as the hot water soothed our aches and pains. I think if the hot water hadn't turned cold, we'd probably still be standing there, so I guess it's lucky that's what happened.
It took most of our remaining strength to walk to the office so we could return the key, but as soon as we walked in, we both nearly passed out. Sitting behind the counter was the black woman, Rachel, who had been one of our six torturers just hours ago, looking for all the world like the clerk at any other motel in the world.
She asked, "Well, folks, did you enjoy your stay with us? I speak for everyone here when I say that we enjoyed the two of you more than we have anyone else we've had in our recreation room. We all hope you'll come back soon, because so very much has been left undone, in terms of the possibilities available when a willing white couple gives themselves so wholeheartedly to their black Mistresses and Masters."
Neither Glenn nor I could think of anything to say, and as we stood transfixed in silence, she added, "So, what should I tell my friends? Can we look forward to showing you what we'd love to do to you during your next visit? Please don't disappoint us. Please say you'll come back. Please?"
I was the first to find my voice, and as Glenn handed the key to Rachel, I whispered, "We wouldn't want it any other way. We'll come back to you, won't we, Honey?"
All he could do was give a tiny nod, and as Rachel escorted us to the door, she said, "I'll tell the others to think of something really special for two such special people as yourselves. I can promise you that you've never in your wildest dreams imagined what's going to happen when you come back."
She then closed the door behind us, and we climbed into our car and pulled onto highway 666. I'm sure both of us were wondering if we had discovered there truly was a beast involved in the name of the road, or if that creature was waiting for our next visit to rear its ugly head and teach us the perils of letting our sexual imaginations run wild.
Chapter 2
I must have been totally exhausted by then, because I barely remember going through Cortez on our return trip. I've always found it easy to sleep when Glenn's driving, because he's the safest driver I've ever known, and I have always trusted him to get us there and back in the safest manner possible. I guess my trust in him was demonstrated on that part of our trip, because it was only when I felt the car come to a stop that I awakened.
When I looked out the window, I could see we were in Grand Junction, parked in the lot of a business close to the freeway entrance. Glenn was looking at me when I turned my head toward him, and the first words out of his mouth were, "I love watching you sleep. You're always beautiful, but when you're completely relaxed like that, it just makes me want to kiss you and never stop."
I thanked him for telling me that, and then told him something that I'd wanted to say ever since we'd awakened in the motel that morning.
"I love you too, Honey. I've always loved you, or else I'd never have married you, but since last night happened, I just . . . it just seems like I love you ten times more than I ever have. When I was watching them whip you, and then **** you like that, it just . . . just opened up a part of me that I never even guessed had always been there. I think constantly about stuff like that, but I've never had the strength to say anything about it. But now . . . well, now that I know you've had the same dreams that I've always had, well . . . it just about makes my heart burst because it makes me love you more than I ever thought possible."
He took me in his arms and kissed me deeply, which is something we have never done in such a public setting. We've both always been very reserved when it comes to showing our affection for each other in public, but right at that moment nothing else mattered but us demonstrating our love for each other, and showing that what had happened just a few hours ago did nothing to change that.
After we pulled away from the kiss, he sighed deeply, then said, "I'm completely worn out, and it's not safe for me to drive like this. Do you want to drive for a while, or would you just rather stay here while I have a nap?"
I told him I'd rather do the driving, because I was anxious to get home and think about what had been done to us at the motel, and what it meant for our future.
And that's what we did. While he slept in the passenger seat I headed east on I-70, doing my best to pay attention to the road, which was more difficult that I thought it'd be, mainly because I just couldn't stop my mind from reliving every moment of the previous night, from jerking awake while being chloroformed and then waking up again and finding my naked body stretched tightly across what just had to be a version of the rack where people were tortured during the Inquisition.
Every stroke of the whips that marked my body and brought forth my agonized cries, and every one from the three men who did their level best to tear my husband's genitals from his body flashed through my brain. Every second of Glenn's **** by the three women, and of mine by the wonderful monsters of the three men came back to me, and just like that I felt my pussy juices begin to flow, and I knew that my panties, then my slacks, and last of all the seat beneath me would soon be soaked.
It was in that condition that I drove us to the freeway exit west of Denver, where we would leave that highway and head north toward our home. It was only when I braked the car to a stop that my husband awakened, and then sat up and saw where we were.
We changed drivers there, and it was when Glenn was climbing inside the car that he hesitated and stared at the seat. The wet spot was easy to see, and as he looked up at me he smiled deeply, then said, "It looks like you've been thinking about last night. Right?"
I merely fastened my safety harness in place as I answered, "What else is there to think of, Honey? Last night was the hottest, most-exciting thing ever. For me at least. I don't know about you."
His only response was to lean over the seat where I'd been sitting, then take a slow, intense lick of what I'd left for him. When he at last got in place behind the wheel, he answered my unasked question by saying, "It was the best ever for me, too. I've wanted that stuff for what seems like forever." He paused for a long time as he sat there, then added, "I hope it won't be the only time for us."
I lay my head back and relaxed, suddenly tired all over again, and as I felt myself falling asleep I reassured him.
"No way will it be the only time. We're going back there just as much as they'll let us. I can't live with the idea of thinking we'll never see them again, and I want them to do all that stuff over and over again, just as much as they want."
Then, as I thought of something else that had occurred to me during the long drive on the freeway, I continued, "Honey, we have to talk about something really important." When I saw he was giving me his full attention, I said, "I was fucked my three men last night, and all three of them climaxed in my womb. I've always been on birth control pills since you've known me, so you probably think nothing will happen, but one thing I do know is that the pill isn't perfect. Women do get pregnant while using it. So, . . . so it's something we need to be thinking about."
His gaze became even more penetrating and his breathing more ragged as I said those words to him, and it took him several seconds before he could answer my implied question.
"If you have a baby, it'll be half you, won't it? And that's enough to make it mine, and I'll love it more than my own life. When I was watching them breeding you last night, just about the only thing I could think about was that maybe each man was putting his baby inside you, and that you would have three babies for us to raise. Or even more, if that's the way it turns out. Whatever, they'll all be mine, and I'll be the best daddy any kids ever had."
His answer gave me so much comfort that I immediately stopped worrying about any consequences that might come from last night, or from the next time or the time after that. I was so relaxed right then that I could no longer fight off the sleep that my body craved, and I didn't know anything else until we were sitting inside our garage and the overhead door was closing behind us.
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Because of our late start that morning, it was already dark when we reached our home, and despite our naps during the drive, we barely had the strength to heat some microwave pizza and have that for our dinner. We then went to the bathroom to get ready for bed, and as I nearly always do, I sat on the toilet to pee before getting in the shower.
I don't know what it was that made me look up at Glenn as he undressed, but just the sight of all the stripes and welts across his chest and his crotch, especially those on his seemingly-always erect penis, made me recall what he'd done that morning when we were in the motel bathroom. As he stood there naked, with his dick jumping up and down just as it had done the previous night, he was staring directly between my legs and his mouth was hanging open as he gasped for breath. I knew exactly what he was thinking as he listened to the sound of my stream hitting the water in the toilet bowl, and as I remember how velvety-soft his tongue had been when he licked me dry, I became just as aroused as he seemed to be.
Instead of reaching for the toilet tissue, I said casually, "Honey, I've decided there's no reason for us to waste paper for this part. Get down here and lick my cunt."
I think my use of that vulgar term for my pussy turned both of us on even more than we already were, and as he dropped to his knees between my legs, I hurried to lift my thighs over his shoulders. As soon as I was in position, his face disappeared between my legs and I again felt the incredible sensation of his tongue laving every inch of my slit, almost as if he were thirsting to death and only my pee could satisfy his craving.
At last his tongue found my clit, and then I was lost. The wave of lust that swept over me was unbelievable in its intensity, and I started cursing him for being nothing but a "piss-drinking wimp," and "a sissy boy who loves it when women fuck him in the ass," and . . . well, I'm sure you get the idea. I suppose I'd still be doing that if my orgasm hadn't consumed me, and after that it was all I could do to prevent myself from falling off the toilet seat as he licked and sucked that oh-so-very sensitive part of any woman's body.
We eventually ended up in the shower, and after luxuriating under the stinging jets of hot water for a few minutes, he washed my still-aching body while I turned and spread to give him access to every place that needed soap and water. Then it was my turn to wash him, and I did my very best to make it pleasurable for him, until only his striped dick and his swollen balls remained.
I very tenderly washed those parts, and then very casually spread the slit wide open with one hand while getting the soap suds as far down it as I could. His whining and whimpering as the soap burned his tender parts was music to my ears, and intensified my efforts to give him as much pain as I possibly could.
I began to stroke his penis, while at the same time alternately caressing, then squeezing his baseball-size balls to get his attention. At last, when he could stand it no more, the first spurt of cum jetted from his slit, taking all the soap with it. I had been waiting for that to happen, because I had no interest in swallowing soap suds, and between the first and second spurts I took him in my mouth and sucked him with every bit of my strength.
After that, nothing remained but to dry each other, then brush our teeth and jump in bed. It was as we lay there in the relaxed euphoria of onrushing sleep that I asked, "Honey, do you like being my cuckold?"
That brought him wide awake, as I expected, and his rushed response was the only answer I needed to confirm that he truly did need to see his wife being fucked by other men.
"I love it! I've always wanted that for you, because I know I'm not a good lover, and I know other men can give you what you deserve. When you let me watch them breeding you last night, it was everything I'd ever hoped for. I can't even begin to tell you how much I loved seeing you like that."
I then asked a question that had been nagging at the back of my brain all the way home.
"I read a story not too long ago that was supposedly written by a woman who'd been cuckolding her husband for several years. She said that her present lover had always insisted that she never allow her husband to have sex with her, and that she'd done that. She never did explain just how she did that part, other than to say that they'd done something to him (her husband) that made him unable to have sexual relations. Do you have any idea what that means?"
I could feel Glenn come wide awake as I spoke those words, and his semi-erect penis achieved full erection faster than I would have thought possible. As I held it tightly in my hand, he tried to stammer his way through his answer to my question.
"I've read stories like that for several years, and most of them . . . maybe all of them . . . talk about that part . . . you know, about the husband being modified . . . so he can't . . . have sex with his wife . . . ever again." He then fell silent for a long time, and the only thing that told me hadn't fallen asleep was the throbbing in his dick as I held it.
It took my question to get him started talking again, because I asked, "Well, what did she do to him? What do you mean by 'modified?' I need to know, Honey, because maybe I'll have to modify you if they want me to do that part. Tell me."
He took a deep breath, then started his explanation with a question.
"You probably know what a 'eunuch' is, don't you?" he asked. At my soft, "Yes," he went on, "Well, the traditional way to make a eunuch is to . . . to . . . castrate him. If a man's wife does that to him, in almost every case he'll lose any desire to have sex with her. So, maybe that's what the woman in the story you read did to her husband."
There was something about his emphasis of the word "traditional" that made me think he was keeping something from me, and I wasn't about to let him get away with it.
"You said a traditional eunuch was a man who'd been castrated. So . . ., what's a 'non-traditional' eunuch?"
I could almost feel the heat from his face as it blushed in embarrassment (which is something I've always thought was very endearing about him), and I could tell by the way he hesitated to answer my question that something was going on. So, I continued to press him to explain the difference between those two categories of eunuch, and after a while, he did.
"Well, the other type of eunuch is a man who has had the . . . the other part . . . removed. That way he can't . . . well, he can't . . . have sex at all . . . anymore."
Although I knew exactly what he was talking about, some perverse part of my personality insisted that I embarrass him as much as possible just for the fun of it, so I asked, "What's the 'other part' you're talking about? What other part would be removed to keep him from having sex with his wife?"
Again there was a significant pause, but as I knew would happen, at last he haltingly explained what he meant.
"She'd cut off his . . . his . . . penis."
I suppose I should have taken pity on my poor husband, but as before I just couldn't allow him to get away with whispering that final word, so I asked, "What was that word, Honey? I couldn't hear what you said. What part was it that needed to be cut off?"
He had to clear his throat twice before he was able to say what I needed to hear, which was, "She'd cut off his penis, but let him keep his other parts. That way, his testes would continue to produce sex hormones and he'd be desperate to have sex, but there would be no way for him to do that. I've read several stories about men like that, and how they're so desperate to please their wives they'll do anything she asks, and he'll be the best slave in the whole world."
"Would you do anything I want if I'd cut off your dick, Honey? Would you be the best slave ever for me? Is that what you're saying?"
His one-word answer of, "Yes," was nothing but a whisper, but it was what I was suddenly desperate to hear.
As I released my grasp on his penis, I whispered back, "Then that settles it, Honey. If my lovers don't want you to ever again fuck me, I'll have them help me cut off your dick, and then you can be the best slave ever to all of us. I think that's the perfect answer, don't you?"
I guess he was beyond answering by then, but as for me I was bone tired and I was already half asleep. So, as I usually did when I was in that condition, I rolled over on my tummy and told him to rub my back.
And that was the last thing I remember of that night.
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I deliberately teased Glenn for the following three weeks, never, ever referring to the month's-end trips that had been our habit to take for several years. I could tell that he was becoming increasingly concerned about where we'd go the following week, or even if we'd go somewhere. But, at last I took pity on him, and two days before the final Friday of June, I said, "I called Rachel at the motel and made reservations for Friday and Saturday nights, Honey. She was really glad to hear from me, and even more thrilled when I told her we'd be staying with them for two nights. She told me they'd been working on their plans for us, and the extra night would be just great, because they'd been afraid they couldn't do everything they want to in just one night. Anyway, I told her we'd leave here after your last class Friday morning, and we'd be at the motel before dark. I also told her about what you wanted done if they didn't want you to be able to fuck me ever again, and she said they'd have everything ready in case we had to do that to you."
And then all we had to do was wait for the fateful day, and I took advantage of his increased arousal to work on his attentions to me when we were in the bathroom together. I had already been thinking about making him extend those same attentions to our friends at the motel, and I was really excited to see how they would respond when they learned of my plans for my husband.
It promised to be a very-good weekend, indeed
Chapter 3
I was already waiting in the University parking lot closest to the building where Glenn teaches when he hurried out of the door. Our car was already loaded, and in a matter of seconds he was behind the wheel and we were heading south toward the freeway that would take us west.
Surprisingly enough, we talked very little as we traveled, but I'm sure both of us were thinking furiously about what would happen to us that night, and then the next night after that. I know my nipples were so engorged they hurt, and my pussy was literally on fire as I thought of the three huge cocks that would soon be battering at its rear wall. I'm sure that if I had merely flicked my clit, a tremendous orgasm would have consumed me, but since I wanted to save it for my black Masters and Mistresses I left it alone. After all, both of us had already accepted the fact that we craved nothing more than to be the slaves of those wonderful men and women, and I felt I owed it to them to not masturbate unless they ordered me to do so.
The trip went pretty much as the one over those same roads just one month earlier, but far from commenting on the beautiful scenery that was rushing by, we did little else than sit silently, locked in our own fantasies about what would be done to our bodies in just a few hours. I do know that my husband was just as aroused as I had been the entire day, because the bulge in his trousers was the biggest I'd ever seen on him. And then I had something even hotter to think about, because I could not help but believe that in the very-near future, he would no longer have a bulge down there. As that thought swept through my brain, I couldn't stop myself from asking him a question I'd never thought to ask.
"Honey, is there a name for the type of eunuch you're going to be after we cut off your penis? I mean, surely someone has come up with something better than 'non-traditional eunuch,' haven't they?"
As I was sure would happen, his face blushed bright red, but quickly returned to its normal pink as he answered my question by saying, "Yes. I'll be what's known as a 'functional eunuch.' That means that I'll have the desire to have sex, and in fact my desire will be stronger than anything I've ever experienced, but I won't be able to satisfy it because my penis will be gone. In other words, I won't be able to function like a normal man, and that's why I'll be called a functional eunuch."
I thought about that for the next mile, then added my own thoughts to his.
"I think that'll be just the hottest thing ever, don't you? God, just imagine how turned on you're going to get when we torture you, and how much you're going to want to empty your balls, but it just won't happen, will it? Probably just the fact that you can't cum will make you more desperate to do it, won't it? Don't you think it'll just drive you crazy with wanting to cum?"
The only answer he gave was short and to the point.
"Yes, and that's why I think it's the best choice for all of us. I've dreamed of being a eunuch for most of my life, and just the thought that it might happen tonight or tomorrow night, or maybe on our next trip to the motel is just the best thing ever. I don't know how I'll ever be able to wait for you to do that to me."
And then we were past Durango, heading west, and then a few miles later we were at Cortez and turning onto Route 666.
And then we were turning into the lot backed by the motel we'd been thinking of constantly for the past month.
Just as we came to a stop at the office door, it swung open and Rachel stood there shading her eyes as she tried to identify us through the sun's glare on our windshield. Then, when we were in the shade of the building and she could see our faces clearly, her own lovely face burst into the most-beautiful smile I'd ever seen.
She stood outside the door, holding it open for us to walk through, and then followed us inside. I was surprised by the ferocity of her embrace as she threw her arms around me and drew me close so we could kiss. She plunged her tongue deep into my mouth, and then when I did the same, she quickly withdrew hers and closed her teeth around that tender part of my body.
She held on to my tongue for what seemed an eternity, with every second biting deeper and deeper until my fear threatened to overcome my arousal. At the very second I was more afraid than turned on, she released her hold, and then stepped back so she could look deep into my eyes.
"You're more beautiful than I remember, Sharon," she said as she held my gaze. "All we've talked about is how the two of you loved what we did to you last month, and how we're going to do so much more tonight and tomorrow night. I hope you're ready for some really serious pain, because we're not going to hold back with you like we did last time. Tonight will be for real, and tomorrow will be even better."
She then turned to Glenn and put her hands on his shoulder to draw him close. She didn't kiss him, but just held him close before she stepped back and stared into his eyes as she'd done with me. Sighing deeply, she said, "And you, Glenn, we've been thinking of you, too. Sharon has been sending me e-mail constantly since you guys left last month, and she's been keeping me up to date on the progress you're making when you serve her in the bathroom. That's something you're going to have lots of opportunity to demonstrate over the weekend."
Taking a moment to collect her thoughts, she continued, "She also told me how fascinated you are by the idea of being a eunuch. I have to admit that all of us are also fascinated by how you want it done. We've castrated men before when we take them and their wives in service, but this will be the first time we've ever cut off a slave's little pecker. We're all really interested to see if you actually do become the 'best slave ever,' like you've been telling her. You'll have plenty of time to convince us about that, won't you? We've been thinking of keeping you here so you can serve all of us every night and day for as long as you last. How long that'll be, . . . who can say?"
She then burst into loud laughter, and when I saw the stunned expression on Glenn's face I couldn't help but join her.
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More to follow, folks. If you have any ideas for inclusion in the next chapters, please write to me at: sharon_smif@gmx.com.
