Depths of Debauchery

So much has changed since the spring afternoon when I called home to my wife. The line was engaged for several attempts and then finally rang. No one answered so I called again to check the message that had just been placed.

“No new messages,” the monotone voice said.

Again, I called. This time my wife answered and I knew right away she was upset at me.

“When are you coming home? I need to talk to you in person,” she said.

“I can leave now. What’s wrong?” I queried.

“I needed to see some saved tax documents on your computer and came across some disturbing images. Are they yours?”

My heart pounded as my mind raced. She had found a cache of pornography I thought was secured.

“Images? No. I bought that computer second-hand but have never seen images.”

I could barely speak and she knew I was lying.

She began to explain the different programs she had opened in order to see the pictures. Her voice seemed to trail off as I recounted the amount of images I’d amassed over the past two years. The beautiful women, the panties, the sadomasochism and, worst of all, the men on men.

My taste for porn and for pain had escaladed from scenes of women to scenes of men doing unmentionable deeds to their equally hot subjects.

I told my prudent wife I’d be home shortly.

I checked in with my business partner on the way out and told him I’d see him Monday.

I pulled up to our wrought iron gate and was so nervous, I entered the code incorrectly. It took two more tries before it granted me access.

The anticipation of the continued discussion was awful. My armpits were soaked and my hands were clammy. There’s no way my wife would believe me in my sorry state. I had to come clean.

I had never met with anyone and had been outwardly true to her. Our relationship was dependent on her understanding.

By the time my car pulled up to the garage, she had finished loading up her car and stood with her arms crossed.

“What’s going on? Where are you off to?” I asked.

“My sister’s. I cannot be here with you now.”

“Please wait! Let’s discuss this.” I pleaded.

“Fuck off! Everything has changed,” she yelled. “You’re perverted and I don’t know you anymore!”

She climbed in her car and fired the engine. Without delay she was gone.

I walked into the house and saw that much of her belongings were gone including things that were irreplaceable to her. She had left for good.

I went to the icebox and opened a beer. I paced nervously and needed to relieve my stress. Naturally, I looked to my desktop to provide some needed material; porn that had just caused this rift.

My computer was gone along with all my files and downloads.

I called her mobile phone to ask her what she did with it.

“I have your desktop and need it to build my case against you. I want a divorce and I think you should call the attorney.”

I was stunned and pissed off. I decided to sit and write up a plan for the next couple of days.

The evening was getting late and so I drove around for a change of scenery.

My wife had good reason for her decision. In spite of our major troubles, I was preoccupied with depraved acts and images and needed stimulation.

I stopped by a porn shop in a seedy part of town and was well received by the prostitutes that strolled the sidewalks. My car usually did not go unnoticed and I stepped lively in and out of the shop.

One of the discs I chose was of men and women wrestling with painful overtones. The other was scenes from a house of pain. I couldn’t wait to get home and settle in for the night. The thought occurred to me that the theater equipment might have been taken by my wife but that wasn’t the case.

I sat down with some Aqua-glide and a cloth. The video alternated between men oil wrestling women and then wrestling other men. Every match ended with someone getting pinned and ultimately penetrated by their opponent. I was beating off with the oil when then the phone rang. I did not answer the call but stopped and listened to the caller’s voice.

“This is Dutch from ‘The Razor’s Edge’ bookstore…”

I jumped up and grabbed the phone.

“Yes? Hello?” I responded.

“This is Dutch and I’m calling to let you know you left your driver’s license here.”

“Thanks,” I said, “I’ll be by to get it.”

“That’s okay. I can bring it to you. I’m going right by your street and could drop it in your mailbox sometime late tonight.”

“Thank you. If that’s not too much trouble, I’d appreciate that,” I replied.

After I hung up, I wondered how he’d obtained my phone number. He must have looked it up since I was listed in the phone book. I was nervous and paid cash at the porn shop. How did I drop my license? Now the guy knows where I live.

I had to calm myself down and be realistic.

I began to watch the video over again and soon climaxed and fell asleep.

Sometime around two thirty in the morning the chime sounded. Someone was at the gate trying to get in. Sometimes drunken folks hit the button late at night but this person persevered.

“Who’s there?” I asked.

“It’s Dutch. I have your license.”

I was half awake and let him in before remembering that he was going to drop it in our mailbox. I quickly looked at the monitor to see if anyone else was entering with him but there was just one person.

A minute later the doorbell sounded and I answered.

A tall man in leather stood holding my license in his fingers. I took the license and thanked him again.

He had a friendly smile and I was disarmed by his demeanor.

“Hold on a second. I’d want to repay you,” I said as he turned away.

“Nice pile of bricks,” he said as I fumbled through my wallet.

“What? Oh, yea. Thanks,” I said.

“May I come in?”

I sensed things were getting a little strange and I didn’t respond. Instead I handed him a fifty. He surprised me by squeezing past the narrow opening I thought would have blocked him.

“How’s your ‘Penchant for Pain’?” He asked.

My face turned red as I stood dumbfounded.

“Your video,” he said.

“Oh, that. I…I haven’t watched it yet,” I said.

“That’s a good video. Let’s watch it now,” he said unabashedly.

“Now? You and me?!” I replied as he headed into the living room.

Dutch sat down on the sprawling sofa and shook the remaining amount of beer in the bottle.

“Do you have any more? Get me one, will you?”

I stood there with my arms crossed wondering what in hell this guy was doing.

“Are you going to get me a beer?” he asked.

I turned around and headed to the kitchen. I grabbed a beer and brought it to him.

“Open it,” he demanded.

I returned to the kitchen for the opener and my heart raced. It didn’t take me long to realize things were about to get weird. I decided not to panic. Any other time I would have made a scene and pressed the panic button.

I brought him the beer as the video was rolling.

We watched it for awhile and I sat nervously wondering what was about to happen next with Dutch. I was aroused at the movie contents but felt extremely inhibited with this big stranger sitting next to me.

“Aren’t you going to use this?” asked Dutch as he gestured to the Aqua-glide.

I sat and stared and then decided to assert myself.

“I think you need to go now. It’s late.”

Dutch stood up and held out his hand.

I obligingly shook it as he pulled me to my feet.

“Perhaps another time,” he said as he handed me his card.

I did not look at it until he walked out the door and down the driveway.

The card only read: ‘The Punisher’ and had a couple phone numbers.

My heart pounded as I watched him wave at the monitor on his way out the gate. I began to assess the previous half hour as the pain video continued playing. My mind raced in cadence to the screams of slaves that filled my house. Before I stopped the video I recognized the sadistic main character was indeed the man who moments before sat on this very sofa. Dutch was the punisher in the movie and I quickly stopped the disc. I looked at the cover to make sure and saw that it was a local, independent production. It was very late but I wanted to watch the remainder of his sessions.

He punished both men and women throughout the movie and I was once again aroused.

Before I began stimulating myself, I picked up the phone and reached his voice mail.

I didn’t know what to say other than to apologize for my rudeness and invite him over again.

I hung up the phone and wondered what I was getting into. I went to sleep and awoke to the noon sun.

When I went down to the kitchen I saw that someone had called. It was Dutch.

“I’ll be there at nine tonight. Be ready.”

I didn’t have an idea of what that meant but I nervously looked forward to our get together.

Nine o’clock didn’t arrive fast enough but he was punctual.

My gate opened and a big motorcycle slowly climbed the drive.

I stood by the door and could hear him dismounting and gathering his gear. His advancing footsteps were followed by a hearty knock on my door.

I opened the door as he pressed his way in. He was carrying an old doctor’s bag and dropped it on the floor in front of me.

“You know what I’m about so now is your chance to end this before it starts,” he said.

I responded somewhat defensively,

“Do you know what I’m about?” I asked.

“I can see by your wealth you’ve hurt people along the way and now you want me to return the favor,” he replied.

“That’s extremely judgmental…”

“Well, I’m extreme and I’m the judge. Take your clothes off!” he interrupted.

I stared at him as he ordered me to disrobe in my own home.

“Take your clothes off NOW!” he barked.

The shouting caught me off guard and I hastily undressed down to my underwear. My clothes were under my feet in a heap as he gestured for me to remove my underwear.

He unbuckled and unzipped his bag before snapping it open.

It was full of an assortment of bondage gear including whips, leather, chrome handcuffs and other gear meant for pain.

There was an unspoken agreement that I was to endure something unpleasant at the hands of The Punisher.

He rifled through the bag and tossed a wad of leather my direction

“Put those on!” he commanded.

It took me a moment of examination to find these were leather short-shorts.

I shimmied them up my legs to discover they were probably a size too small. I zipped them up as Dutch placed a leather hood over my head.

I could not see anything but could hear the handcuffs jingle and click as he bound my wrists together.

“Come on! We can’t stay here,” said Dutch.

He led me to his motorcycle and placed a helmet over my hooded head.

Before I knew it we were heading somewhere and there was no turning back.

I was feeling dizzy as we sped through corners and accelerated. The roar of the engine mirrored his eagerness to bring home his latest find. The sound of the city was not as prominent which indicated we were somewhere between my home and the suburbs.

Dutch killed the motor and helped me up. Then he walked me down an outside flight of steps and into a cool room.

He shut and locked the door behind us and continued to push me down a hall and into another room.

Dutch removed my helmet but left the hood in place. He pulled another set of cuffs out and placed them around my ankles.

I had the natural urge to panic but I suppressed my anxiety.

“Dutch, what’s going to happen to me?” I asked.

He stopped for a moment and replied, “Nothing that you didn’t see in my video.”

That was little comfort since I witnessed whips, sodomy and oral servicing.

“I won’t kill you,” he assured me.

“No more questions!”

He pulled me down so that I was on all fours and then straddled my upper back.

I couldn’t see anything as he held my head in place and locked it in a device that prevented any movement.

He wrapped leather straps tightly above my knees and fastened them in place. Soon my legs were spread wide and he unfastened my handcuffs. He brought both arms up behind me and once again locked them in place. The position was not comfortable and to keep me from moving my lower body forward, he fastened my ankle cuffs to the floor.

I sat there looking forward as he walked around me. Suddenly, with both hands, he yanked the zippers down the sides of my shorts. This caused the back to peel open completely. Dutch had his pants unzipped and proceeded to violently rape me as I struggled in my confines. He had done everything to maintain control thus far until the moment he knew I was his.

“My boyfriend was wrongfully terminated by your company, man. This one’s for him!” yelled Dutch.

My mind raced over the many past employees but it didn’t matter. An erect cock was furiously pumping in and out of me while I tried to breathe through the hood.

The pain was unbearable and not how I’d envisioned. I finally passed out.

I came to and was lying on my back without any restraints except for the handcuffs. I laid there for several hours and fell asleep in the silence.

I never really slept as I stared from the floor at some of the bondage gear around the room. I found myself completely aroused at the thought of my experience.

My erect penis needed release now. I got up to find some lubricant but to no avail. I searched the drawers with one hand while clutching my nuts with the other. I felt I was being watched after hearing footsteps quickly approaching the stairs. In my frustration I ran back to the pad just as the door opened.

“You’re wanted upstairs,” said Dutch.

“But first, I’m fitting you with this hood. On your knees, little girl, and hands behind your head!”

I dropped to the floor.

After the cuffs were in place he pulled out scissors and began cutting off my hair. Then came the electric shears from the nape of my neck to my forehead. Finally a razor and cream. He shaved my eyebrows for good measure. Dutch’s tightly packed pouch was an inch from my face while he shaved my head and occasionally would bump my nose. “In due time” he observed. It was truly a strange scenario for me except by now I was ready for anything. He wiped my head with a wet cloth and was finished.

I was smooth as silk.

“It wears better,” he said.

The latex hood covered my eyes but left my nose and mouth exposed.

“This is to protect the not-so-innocent,” he said wryly.

“Oh, and put on these thigh highs and skirt,” he demanded.

I stood up as he worked the latex leggings from my toes to my crotch.

He pulled the black latex mini-skirt up around my waist. It was a tight fit but flowed loosely over my butt and thighs.

I imagined I looked pretty whorish and his ‘associates’ were going to treat me accordingly. That’s okay because tonight I deserve it.

He clipped a leash onto the attached collar D-ring and lead me up the stairs to a crowd of ten to twenty people - mostly men.

I could hear their voices and they were talking about me or sex or both.

Dutch knew there were a lot of people and little time so not a moment was wasted leading me to a wooden structure and binding my body. My ass, of course, was raised and exposed and my head was perched and fastened in place.

I could hear the people forming a single file line around the room and then were given some sort of card indicating what depraved act they were to perform.

“I got assfuck,” one said.

“Me, too,” said another. Then another.

One woman yelled, “Blowjob!” Everyone laughed.

“Here, I’ll trade you for ‘Flogging’”, a man replied.

The sound of several zippers caught my attention along with the creaking sound of leather - lots of leather.

Then I heard the jar of lubricant I’d been looking for earlier. My skirt was grabbed, hiked up and tucked under the waistband. Next came an erect penis that drove into my asshole fast and hard - not unlike master.

“OH!” I screamed. “OH MY GOD, NO!”

Before I could get out another exclamation, Dutch’s penis had found its way to my lips. He drove through my lips and teeth and didn’t stop at my tonsils. It slid deep into my throat -so large I could only breathe through my nose. His two hands wrapped their way around the back of my latex-bound head and guided me back and forth at an increasing pace. His pulsating cock let loose several loads that streamed down my throat before he stepped back.

The penis that wormed its way in and out of my ass with constant pounding had spent its load and was pulling out to make way for someone else in line.

When an ejaculation found my face, it spilled down my chin After one man had spent his load on my face, a woman sidled up and wrapped her legs around my head. She had an unusually long clitoris and the more I nibbled the more she became aroused. The moment a whip came down on my ass, legs and back, she began to orgasm - only to be pulled off and willingly fucked by someone right there. She, too, felt the sting of the whip.

One of the more sadistic of the group struck my butt and nuts with a wooden spoon before putting out his cigarette on my ass cheek.

I thought Dutch might intervene for my safety until I heard his voice coaching others on where to strike me. At least two guests were whipped while they fucked me. The pain from all the pounding was excruciating - my ass seemed both numb and on fire.

After an hour or so, I began to lose count of those that took me. Some guests let me know they were recharged and back for more. Some I could tell were repeats by the names they’d called me earlier. Some would pull out and cover me with semen - something I could feel on every part of my body only to be washed off occasionally by someone’s urine.

My cock was engorged and aching for release. I was surprised no one had yet grabbed hold - until one of the few women stuffed her panties in my mouth and buckled a strap-on dildo around her thighs. Her friend positioned herself under me and began to suck my entire length before I came. She must’ve swallowed what seemed like a gallon.

After six or seven hours, the crowd had left and I was left there to wonder what was next. I ached in every possible place and sorely needed a shower.

Someone other than Dutch undid my confines and carried me to a waiting car trunk. I was driven for awhile and left stark naked in downtown. It was very early Sunday morning and only few people were around.

I was running down the street in all my glory never staying in the same area for more than a couple seconds to catch my breath. I finally made it back to my house.

I drew a bath and got myself cleaned up. I decided to take the entire week off and get my affairs in order.

I wanted to convince my wife the computer images weren’t mine. I’d had a taste of pain and I was quenched. I had no desire to continue with the depravity. I had healed, for the most part, by the following Friday.

Someone had rang the gate buzzer and when I looked at the monitor, they had gone. I walked down the driveway and could see a small box in the grass. Someone had tossed it over the fence and I quickly opened it.

There was a disc with the words, ‘Penchant for Pain II’.

I bristled at the thought of what might be on it. Sure enough. My entire ordeal had been recorded from the moment I stripped off my clothes to me jumping my fence stark naked following the session. Not a condom was used during this big cum festival and I can only hope for a clean bill of health. Fortunately, Dutch was the only identifiable player in this movie. My identity was protected and my reputation is still in tact.