My Wife's a Whore

At long last, my wife and I were finally one step closer to what I pictured as a major breakthrough in our sexual relationship. We are both somewhat private and proper and the subject of sex rarely comes up after we leave the bedroom. Only recently did I secretly discover her interest in something more than ordinary sex. Every once in a great while I will come across a steamy novel of hers but recently I found one by author Anne Rice and one about someone named 'O'. I saw a trend in her reading material featuring women in a submissive if not slave-like role in and out of the bedroom.

I can discern fantasy from reality pretty well and it did not change my views despite her darker tastes. But two weeks ago she showed up in bed wearing her hair in a ponytail. Since we have been married she has kept a ritual of combing her hair out for several minutes just before coming to bed. When she made advances moments later I noticed she was wearing a rubber thong. This was extremely unusual and I did my best to be nonchalant although I was extremely aroused. It's not easy when this tall beauty is straddling my abdomen. Almost immediately she maneuvered to where her hands were gripping the headboard and her hair was there for the pulling. I did not let go as I watched her transform into a very vocal and whore-like creature.

Things were about to change.

We had both agreed last Friday to visit an artsy theater and watch an old movie called 'Belle du Jour'. Innocently enough, I brought up the idea of having a drink afterward since my mother would have our three-year old until the following day. We met after work and got settled into the sparsely filled movie room. I had seen this movie before and I paid close attention to Cyan during the first five minutes. The main character has an argument with her husband aboard a carriage. The man orders the drivers to stop and the woman is whisked to nearby trees and tied. The drivers proceed to undress and whip her. Meanwhile, Cyan is slowly shifting and squirming within her seat. The rest of the movie is filled with similar dream sequences and afterward Cyan said nothing. Her behavior told me she was still digesting the scenes and after we had stopped for a few drinks, she began to rave about the movie.

"Would you consider that movie soft porn?" she asked.

I had seen my fair share of porn before but easily conceded.

"Yeah, I suppose it had the basic elements of porn," I replied.

Cyan sipped from her wineglass to conceal a sly grin.

"We've never seen a porno together," she observed.

"Together?" I shot back with a wink.

Cyan took another sip.

At this point in the conversation I decided to tell Cyan about an underground club I'd read about (on the internet but I omitted this fact to soften the suggestion). It is similar to theater sports but volunteers get to perform sexual favors and crowds can watch.

Not surprisingly, Cyan had never heard of the club but her barrage of questions made me well aware of her interest in visiting such a place. I was truly taken aback. In a very short amount of time, this daughter of a Catholic deacon was making strides in her sexual liberation and with me at the helm, no less.

The club was in the basement of a mainstream club called 'La Muir'. On the off chance we'd be visiting, I obtained a code word from their nondescript web site. It proved to be essential as we descended the flight of stairs to a tough-looking man in leather. He looked us up and down and was judging us on our business attire but half-willingly let us in the steel door.

The music was near concert level as we made the first corner. We stopped in our tracks at the sight of a dozen or more people watching a stark naked couple having sex right on the floor. Everywhere we looked there was some sort of activity going on and an audience to boot.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

Cyan nodded without looking directly at me.

I did not want this to seem like my idea completely so I asked her on occasion until I was convinced she was okay. This was another world to us but we weren't alone in our appearance. There were other people of varying ages sitting with friends or actively participating in the debauchery. It didn't take long to notice the men and women who openly stared at Cyan as though she was expected to do something for them. One woman in particular touched her thigh and later grazed her breast. I could not tell what Cyan was thinking as she quietly continued to people watch. This place gave license to anyone to touch or say anything to anybody it seemed. We sat on stools at a table next to a woman who was being nailed from behind. She even took a sip of her drink while the guy sweated and pumped away.

I would be remiss if I didn't say I was aroused by this.

I had never seen a female bartender wearing a half-cup bra serving drinks. Her nipples and tattoos were in plain view.

Cyan and I ordered a drink and I was happy to see her relax a bit. Her hand found my leg and patted my inner thigh – a hint of reassurance and perhaps a little foreplay.

"So where's the theater sports thing?!" she asked.

"I don't know," I responded. "Let's ask the waitress."

Cyan leaned over to the woman and she gestured at a small corridor in the corner.

We grabbed our drinks and headed that direction.

There was someone standing at the door requesting a ten-dollar fee from each of us. We willingly paid the money and were given a ticket stub for the door prize. The 'prize' was to be called on stage and be subject to the whims and desires of the audience members – or so I read. I told Cyan about the drawing and she quickly threw in her ticket.

"I never win anything anyway, "she said with a smile and a shrug.

I had not told her the door prize was optional and her odds of 'winning' might be one in one.

We walked into the tiny auditorium to find only about three seats available. About twice as many men filled the seats as women and the thirty or so people all looked our direction as we made ourselves comfortable. Cyan rested her head on my shoulder and I could tell she had overindulged on the wine.

"Don't fall asleep," I reminded her.

"I wouldn't dream of it," she said with a yawn.

Just then, A hot woman bounded from behind the curtains. Her yellow rubber top was bulging and I could almost see up her matching skirt. The crowd cheered as she raised a small fishbowl containing about five tickets.

"Oh, my god!" Cyan groaned.

It was obvious she was most likely going to be called onstage and she began to shrink down in her seat.

"Cyan?" the lady said as she held the ticket high. "Ms. Cyan?"

"I'm going to kill you!" she said under her breath as she stood up.

The woman in yellow extended her hand and helped Cyan up a step before the hoots and whistles.

"Hello, Cyan. You're new here. My name is 'Cat'."

"Yea...I'm not exactly sure what I'm doing here but you will tell me, right?"

Cat looked around the room at all the smiling faces.

"Everyone will tell you," she said with a forced chuckle.

"Is that your husband or boyfriend in the audience?" asked Cat.

Cyan turned and pointed my direction and nodded.

"That's the man I love," she replied sarcastically.

Cat walked to the edge of the stage and asked an audience member to pick up a card beneath their seat. The person obliged and raised it in the air for everyone to see. The crowd clapped at the #3 displayed.

It had some cryptic meaning known to everyone but us it seemed.

"Are you a good wife?" asked Cat.

Cyan nodded right away. "Yes!"

"Yes, ma'am." corrected Cat.

Cyan gave her a brief but incredulous look.

"When your husband walks through the door at night and it appears he's had a lousy day, what do you say?"

Cyan threw up her hands and said, "How was your day?"

"Then what?" asked Cat.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Cyan quickly replied.

"You say, 'I'm sorry to hear that, honey. How can I make it better?'"

Cyan smiled and looked my direction.

"I'm sorry to hear that, honey. How can I make it better?"

The audience chuckled in anticipation.

"Well," said Cat. "You can start by getting on your knees."

Cyan let out a laugh and covered her mouth.

"Get on your knees!" Cat said impatiently.

Cyan turned to speak and received a full -on slap across her left cheek.

The audience was stunned.

My wife had just been slapped hard across the face by a woman she did not know.

Instinctively she lowered herself to her knees and stared straight ahead. The audience warmed up to her response with a small applause.

Cat stepped in front of her and ordered her to look up and make eye contact. Cyan continued to stare at the woman's naval ring before slowly lifting her head.

There was a burning sense of eroticism in the air and I had no idea what was going to happen next.

Quietly, a burly-looking man appeared from the wings and handed Cat a collar and leash.

My heart was pounding as Cyan remained motionless and the collar was fastened around her neck.

Cat slowly walked behind as Cyan's head began to turn.

"Eyes forward, bitch!"

Once again, Cyan obeyed.

The leash was clipped.

"I bet you like being called 'bitch', don't you?" Cat remarked.

Cyan remained silent but looked to the ground.

"Huh? You whore. Slut. Stupid Cunt."

The last word caused Cyan's eyes to widen and quickly dart. Her face was beet red and this did not go unnoticed as Cat came around to face her.

"You like this, don't you, slut?"

Cyan continued to look at the floor with her arms crossed in front of her.

"Otherwise you wouldn't be in this place. You could've left the moment I slapped you!"

Cyan turned to look my direction but was reprimanded.

"Don't look at him, bitch! He would've rescued you by now if you didn't belong here!"

I almost felt badly for her but the woman was right. Cyan was an assertive enough person to leave if she didn't feel right. And as seemingly awkward as this situation became, I was completely aroused.

"I bet those nipples are rock-hard beneath that padded bra of yours."

Cyan's jaw dropped in disbelief but she said nothing.

Something told me the audience would find out soon as Cat's assistant reappeared and held the leash for her.

Her careful fingers began to unbutton Cyan's cashmere sweater. Cat forced her arms to her side and removed every last button until her bra was visible. Cyan turned her head to the ceiling with closed eyes and held her breath as the sweater was pulled and folded back. Her breasts weren't very large but her nipples were almost always erect. She's wanted bigger breasts but her great thighs and big butt were well worth the price.

Cat tossed the sweater aside and swiftly released the clasp in front.

That night would be no exception as her great nipples heaved upwards. I could read her lips as the words 'Oh, god' were drowned out by the unruly audience.

The woman couldn't resist a few pinches as Cyan surged forward. The assistant held the leash tightly and kept her from falling to the floor.

Now Cyan was on all fours and I wondered if I should've intervened. A hard smack on her buttocks by Cat's playful hand let me know the line had not yet been crossed. Cyan knew it was her call as she continued to let herself be handled and humiliated. I had not pictured her being onstage and topless twenty minutes earlier but it looked like a dream come true. Men and women in the audience were getting off on my wife's treatment and I was somehow okay with it all - even as more than one digital camera flashed on occasion.

It was becoming apparent there weren't any holds barred in this spectacle. Cat grasped the hem of Cyan's skirt and pulled it over her waist. She wasn't wearing the rubber thong unfortunately, but her satin boy-shorts were just as crowd pleasing. I couldn't take any longer. I reached to my right and felt through her purse to find a travel size bottle of hand cream. I could not help it at that point in time but to remove my cock from my trousers and slather it heavily. I felt absolutely sinful beating off in public but no one seemed to notice except those nearby who wondered how I was taking this ordeal. Could they blame me?

Cat ran her hand up the backside of my wife's panties and let out a yell when she felt how wet Cyan had become. Cyan's head dropped in frustration as Cat continued to massage and probe her slave's panties. I could see her fingertips glisten in the spotlight as she began parading her find to the audience. Cat whispered something into her assistance ear and he responded by unzipping his leather pants. Cyan had looked up long enough to see what was happening but looked down in concern. A quick tug on the leash had her head and hand at the ready as he reeled her closer. My wife's hand disappeared momentarily and grappled beneath his pants. Soon, a semi-erect cock emerged within her grasp only to be shoved toward her open lips. He entered but held still a moment before pulling out and letting her perfect her grip.

I felt some initial anger toward the assistant. What gave him the right to violate my wife? He was well aware I was seated right there in the audience. He wasn't so big and ordinarily I could probably take him in a fight. But this didn't bother me for long since a hidden curiosity took over my better senses. I silently hoped to witness him climax in my wife's mouth or on her face.

Cat took the leash as the man held Cyan's head in place and began fucking her throat violently. Cat stepped over her subject and pretended to be in a rodeo intermittently slapping Cyan's butt and pulling on her reigns.

And there I was: watching my wife, the mother of our child, undressed and on stage, orally performing for some well-hung stranger - not to mention being ridden by a dominatrix before an unruly crowd.

The audience began to stand up as the guy was getting closer to climax. He let out a yell and pulled her head up tightly by the ears. Her veins bulged and she had taken his entire length while his load shot down her throat. I heard her gasp for air as he pulled out and semen dripped from her lips to the floor.

This was very surreal.

I had not noticed an audience member quickly take to the stage with cock in hand and replace the spent assistant. I fully expected him to be ejected from the stage but I realized there were no rules. I could only hurry to get onstage and take my wife's waiting backside before someone else did. She was certainly not going to stop them, the whore ~ Ha,ha!

Cat stepped aside with a smile as I pulled Cyan's panties to her knees. She hardly seemed to notice as she serviced the young man in front of her. My cock was not going to take much more before I drove it into her slippery hole. I pumped furiously as a line began to form in front and behind us. Cyan's body went tight in convulsions as she climaxed on my cock. I, too, came quickly as both of us were more than ready.

As I slowed to a stop, it occurred to me these ten or more men (and a woman) were anxious to fuck my wife. I slowly pumped while working on an exit strategy. I pointed at my watch toward Cat and she knowingly started to calm the people.

The crowd booed and made sour faces at Cat but complied reluctantly.

The man finished himself off in Cyan's mouth before joining the crowd back to their seats. Cyan swallowed the semen without considering her option to spit it onto the floor. I was just a little ambivalent about this but it reinforced my wife's willingness to walk on the wild side, so to speak.

Cat led us behind the curtain and toward an exit.

"Thank you for being great sports. I hope to see you both again. Really." she said in earnest.

Cat turned and hugged Cyan and gave her a small kiss on the lips. Both their arms reluctantly let go and I could see the gratefulness in my wife's eyes.

We grabbed her clothes and purse and safely made it outside.

"You've got something on your chin," I said to her as a reached to brush it away.

My hand stopped just short as I identified it as leftover semen.

"Oh god!" I shouted.

Cyan laughed like she had not in a long time as she chased me with a threatening kiss. But something in me relented as I let her pull me close and kiss me with her sullied lips. The ice had broken and we both knew we would tread in the same waters again soon – and with some shame but fewer inhibitions.

Later in the week she admitted no intention of stopping the group that night.

Perhaps next time we will let the audience decide when the show's over.