Penance

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Be careful what you wish for.
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It has all unfolded in a rather tawdry, story-book sort of fashion, and, to be honest, I don't really know if it's a story of corruption or liberation; but this is how it happened.

---- X ----

For as long as I've known him Garth has pretty much always been a pompous ass. One of the circle of friends, he has what I call a mildly abrasive personality, but it's a matter of the old adage, "You can't choose your old friends." Oh, he could be amusing at times, still it was often more a matter of the rest of us laughing at him rather than with him. I don't really know why we put up with him, other than the fact that he's quite wealthy, has a huge house, and often hosts the group's get-togethers. So we do - put up with him, that is; or at least, we did. Who knows what will happen at the end of all this.

Anyway, for reasons quite unknown and unfathomable to me, he considers me his best friend - his confidante and go-to guy. Now, admittedly, I am not really a very nice guy. While maybe not usually be a full-on asshole, I can definitely be a bit of a jerk. So it goes.

In any case, just the other week - well, maybe three, almost four weeks ago, Garth invites me over. "Darren," he says, "I got a bit of a situation over here. I think maybe you could help. D'ya mind dropping by for a bit, this afternoon?" He won't give me any detail over the phone, but curiosity gets the better of me, so I head on over.

My knock on the door is answered by his wife, Stella, who initially stares at me blankly. Oddly enough, she is dressed in an extremely tarty outfit. She looks like she's going to a masquerade party dressed as a whore. I raise my eyebrows, "Goin' out on the town?"

Now Stella never has been much of a conversationalist. I really don't think she likes me - thinks I'm a bad influence on Garth. Anyway, she just shrugs, and inviting me in with a sweep of her hand, she says in an oddly flat voice, "Garth's in the study."

"What's with Stella's hooker costume?"

Garth confides in me, sotto voce, that he caught his wife cheating. He then shows me a phone photo someone texted him of his wife flashing her tits at a bar. I'm actually impressed more with her tits than the photo. Turns out he'd confronted her with it earlier and they'd had it out. Big shouting match, stomping and tears.

Stella had apparently tried to explain it to her husband. She'd said it was at a recent monthly after-work pub night with her the girls she works with. They'd been joined by a few guys, and she'd gotten a little drunker than usual. And she took a dare. "That's all, she claims," Garth mutters.

As weird as this is, I feel almost duty-bound to defend her. "Oh, for Christ's sake, Garth. One little flash? It's hardly cheating."

"Well," he sputters, getting more than little defensive, "I find it hard to believe that that's all."

"What?" I'm incredulous. This is strange - even for Garth. "Why the hell don't you believe her?"

Recovering his composure a bit, he replies smugly, "Come on, Darren, good looking woman - drunk?"

"For fuck's sake, man, give her a break!"

But he gets all high and mighty saying she was acting like a slut. Holding up the picture on his phone once more he proclaims, "If it acts like a duck, and looks like a duck, it must be a duck." I just shrug. Not point in arguing.

He goes on to say he'd threatened to kick her to the curb, (I don't know, can he do that, in real life?) and she'd pleaded leniency. "She's never argued the fact!" Garth announces, as if that were proof of more than her just giving up on the discussion. "In the end, I gave her an ultimatum." I raise my eyebrows for him to continue, very curious about what sort of ultimatum he would give.

Garth goes on pedantically, rather pleased with himself that I have stopped interrupting. "If she can do it for others, I told her, she can do it for me and my friends."

"Do what?"

"I told her, for the next six weeks she is to be, or at least act like, my slut - as penance, you understand."

"Six weeks?"

"Yeah, six weeks. That oughta do it, eh?"

I just shrug, noncommittal, silently asking, "Do what? Have you any idea what you're doing?" As he seems to be waiting for a response, I say, "And she agreed?" I find that hard to swallow. He doesn't seem to have the slightest inkling of the size of the can of worms he's opening.

"Yup!" With a self-satisfied grin, he sits back in his chair.

Finally, I break the cloying silence that's settled over the whole peculiar exchange. "And this concerns me, how?"

Leaning forward once again, speaking conspiratorially, he confides that he isn't really sure where to go from here. He's looking for my advice. Like a little boy who's got in too deep, he wants my help, now, in dealing with this. "This is new territory for me," he whispers confidentially - like it's not for me? - adding, with a self-deprecating chuckle, "I'm flying by the seat of my pants here."

"No duh!" I think, but although I keep quiet for the moment; my mind is spinning wildly.

He trusts me, he says, and trusts that I'll know what to do. What can I say? So I just shrug, noncommittally - leaving the ball in his court. Garth responds with a sly grin, having apparently misunderstood something from our non-verbal exchange that was not intended.

"Stell," he calls, "come in here for a sec, will ya?" She enters promptly, as if she were waiting for the summons, and as she does, scanning our faces, Garth gives me a not-so-subtle nod - passing the baton, as it were.

I ask, her, "Do you know what he's planning here?" She nods. Turning back to Garth, "Are you sure about this?" I ask him.

"Absolutely," he says with transparently false bravado, then adds, rather irrelevantly, "Do the crime, you do the time!"

The turning back to Stella, I ask, seriously wondering, "Are you really prepared to go along with this?"

She nods again, then says, stoically, "If this is what it takes."

Well, 'in for a penny, in for a pound!' I figure. I straighten my shoulders, and say with as much authority and machismo as I can muster, "In that case, come over here and suck my dick!"

Stella hesitates a moment - a moment that stretches between us. I hold her gaze and she holds mine, both of us stealing sidelong glances at Garth - both of us waiting for him to do something. And, for my part, at least, expecting him to. But Garth, whose face remains blank - surprised, but blank, is silent and still.

Ever so slowly Stella approaches, steadily, as if being reeled in. The whole thing is so surreal. It's like it's happening to someone else. She gracefully kneels between my knees, and it feels like a dream as she unzips me and pulls out my, now, semi-erect penis. Her eyes stay fixed on mine. Her husband's presence apparently forgotten. The moist smoothness of her warm lips, as she lowers her face to engulf my growing member, quickly brings me back to 'here and now'.

I gotta say, she gives me a more than adequate blow job; and I am, to my chagrin, rather too quick. Rocking back into a crouch, she lifts her head and looks at me, questioningly - as well as... what? Puzzled? Embarrassed? Mortified? She's left a mess in my pubic beard, so, not wanting her to get a swelled head, I simply say, "Real sluts swallow! We'll have to work on that." A little disappointment further tinges the complex of emotions painting her face. Still she produces tissues from somewhere and mops me up.

"Try again on Garth," I demand. She turns, crouching at his knees, and begins to release his cock with all the spirit of an automaton. They are both obviously uncomfortable, and after only a short time with his wife mechanically bobbing up and down on his struggling erection, Garth pushes her away. She tentatively backs out of the room, in silence, and heads for the bathroom.

Switching gears effortlessly, as if none of this has just happened, Garth informs me, in an unnecessarily hushed tone, that he has banished Stella to the guest room. "Until she gets through all this - until she gets it out of her system." I figuratively give my head a shake. He speaks as though she had chosen this. As though he has magnanimously allowed it rather than required it.

After a surprisingly companionable conversation with Garth, during which we discuss but don't dwell on the current situation, I get him to call Stella back into the sitting room, answering his curious look with, "I just want to try something, before I leave." She enters the room warily, and I beckon her to stand next to me.

"Well, slut - no more pretense, eh? Now you can be yourself; you can be the tart you are. What a relief!" I speak casually, trying to goad her while silently dare her to protest. Stella looks at me - at both of us - suspiciously, as if trying to detect a trap. As I speak, I insouciantly reach under her brazen micro-skirt, and flip the gusset of her panties aside, firmly catching and holding her gaze. While she still had a bit of a deer-in-the-headlights look about her, a bit of a wide-eyed puzzlement, as though she can't figure out how she'd gotten into this predicament, she isn't quite as shell-shocked as she had been during the initial blow-job.

I begin to finger-fuck her, talking softly the whole time. "My, my. You're damp!" Stroking my fingertip along her furrow, getting longer and deeper at every pass, I chuckle, "Slick and getting slicker!" Maintaining my slow pace, I continue to caress her slit, from her clitoris to her anus. I can see her beginning to tremble - running shivers through her body. "Getting excited, are we?" She just grunts in reply. Her face contorts, as she tries to fight the inexorable arousal. "Let yourself go. It's what you want, isn't it? To be a slut? This is what sluts do, you know - just go with it - enjoy!"

There is an air of acceptance creeping into her quickening breath. "That's right! Getting into it now, aren't we?" Trying to stand still, Stella's breath deteriorates into a ragged panting as she becomes increasingly aroused. "Oh my, you've really got yourself into something, this time, eh?" She nods and groans.

As her body jitters and shakes, and she mewls softly, "Oh, oh, oh," I remove my hand. I'm not sure whether she actually climaxes or not, but that wasn't the important part of the exercise. I give her a smack on the bottom before turning my attention back to Garth, who has been watching intently.

"Definite potential there," I assure him, as Stella, understanding her tacit dismissal, leaves the room. Still, there is almost a sashay in her step as she disappears into the hall.

"Who's flying by the seat of his pants now?" I ask myself, silently.

A couple days later Garth invites me to drop by, once again - this time to tell me about the poker night he's arranged with some of the boys. He intimates that it can be Stella's coming out, as it were - her slutdom debut. "Stella can be hostess slash waitress slash barmaid; doing whatever that entails. You know what I mean?" He gives a sort of 'nudge, nudge, wink, wink,' gesture. He's kind of excited and apprehensive. I get the feeling that he's covering up his real feelings - which I suspect are fear and confusion. Notwithstanding, it is clear that his imagination is already running rampant, although he's not confident he's doing the right thing. "What do you think?" he asks, looking for my approval.

I'm casual about it. Any decisions are his to make. "It's up to you, eh? She's your slut." I give him a 'There I've said it' kind of look, spotlighting the elephant in the room. I shrug - like it's no biggie. He's trying hard to be okay with this all, after all it was his idea to begin with; furthermore, he has an ego that won't let him back down. I just leave him to contemplate the possible ramifications of what he's proposing, steering the conversation into less shark infested waters.

As the conversation slows, he tells me he has to go somewhere, for an afternoon appointment. He hems and haws, transparently waiting for me to take my leave, but I don't take his heavy handed hints, having formulated an agenda of my own. Garth finally excuses himself, and goes out leaving me alone, in his house, with his wife.

As soon as he's gone I take her up to their bedroom and fuck her - on Garth's bed. No foreplay, no pretentions. I just toss her onto her back, flip up her skirt, draw her panties down her legs and peel open her blouse, before releasing my sword and climbing aboard. She is shocked and stunned by my presumptuousness, cooperating only mechanically, to start. Not really cold, but absent. I pound her hard and fast, hissing through my teeth as I empty my load into her - her cunt well-lubricated despite her reluctance. But, instead of letting her up as I pull out, I slide down her tummy, settling my mouth at her bush and my hands on her boobs. As I eat her with relish, rhythmically twiddling her nipples with my fingertips, she begins to warm up and loosen up, and eventually starts to really get into it.

Turned on by her growing response, my cock recovers its fortitude so I rise up from time to time, for a bit of in and out, before returning to my beaver pie feast. Between pounding her pussy with my rampant cock and gobbling up her pussy-juice, I manage to give her several orgasms - the most intense of her life, she later claims.

"You know," I tell her, as we slowly settle back into reality, lying side-by-side with our clothing askew and our skin glistening with sweat, "if you're really going to be a slut - go the distance in this penance thing - you'll have to practice. You'll have to become comfortable with, or at least familiar with - as well as somewhat skilled at - a whole variety of sexual situations. I mean, you'll have to experience them at the very least." I was trying for the professorial approach - trying to make it all sound legitimate and proper. What surprised me was the way Stella was listening, as though what I was saying had merit, as though my baffle-gab was worth considering. She watched me intently as we both sat up. "And that'll take practice!" I announce, as she idly re-adjusts her blouse, finishing with, "This is where I can really help. I believe that is Garth's intention in involving me."

- - - - - - - - - - - - X - - - - - - - - - - - -

As the week ends, four of us guys - me, Garth, Mike, and Aaron - gather at Garth and Stella's for the much anticipated poker night. Dressed her skankiest, in garments bought especially for the occasion, Stella is the image of a streetwalking hooker. Encased in a plunging super-stretchy tee, her tits stand proud, her nipples well-displayed. Her tiny, shiny skirt sits above her stocking tops, allowing glimpses of her thong when she bends. Balancing high atop her stiletto heeled platform shoes, Stella moves about the room with impressive confidence, as she circulates in and out, getting us drinks and replenishing snacks. It seems to me that she is playing the role like a natural, accepting our lewd suggestions - about what sort of snack we'd really like, how she looks, what we'd like to do with her, to her - with an almost relaxed ease.

But, when I coax and cajole her into offering felatio to the two guests at the poker night she's genuinely shocked, like she didn't expect to be doing anything of the sort. "Hey guys," I blurt, gesturing toward Stella's face, "How would you like to feel those luscious lips around your root?"

Their attention secured, they both initially express their doubts, throwing their glances from me to Garth to Stella. "Yeah, right!"

"No, really. Stella loves to give head, don't you, slut?"

Eyes wide - shock turning to bewilderment, Stella glances at Garth before turning her stare on me. I give her a meaningful nod, and she slowly, nods back, with a breathy, "Yeah."

"All right then," I say, like the director, "who's first?" Moving to the couch in the living room, Aaron drops his pants before sitting down, and Stella moves wraith-like to kneel before him and take him in her hand. After a moment's pause, she drops her head to fully engulf him, and begins to bob energetically, if somewhat mechanically, on his prick.

Initially she's still rather disconcerted, but woodenly compliant. When Aaron cums in her mouth, she attempts to swallow it all, before moving stiltedly to the waiting cock of Mike. Soon, however, she starts to get into it this second time around, and becomes fully involved by the time I take my turn. As I cum, I grip her head to stay fully inserted, and she, surprising us all, suddenly and unexpectedly orgasms - wildly - falling off my root and collapsing on the floor in front of Garth.

After recovering a moment, she reaches for Garth, intent of giving him his turn, but, following a brief and tentative start, he declines her ministrations, gently pushing her away, and a short while later the evening breaks up leaving just the three of us there. Garth is subdued and more than a bit stunned. Silently and awkwardly, he shuffles about, helping Stella clean up the bottles and snacks. For her part Stella is demure, and apparently oblivious to the crusting cum marring her hair and her top. Garth retires quietly once the cleanup is done, and as Stella shows me out, she admits, quietly, that she actually enjoyed the evening. "I think it's the exhibitionism and naughtiness that turns me on as much as - maybe even more than - the actually sex."

Change is happening, I observe to myself, looking into her eyes briefly, before kissing her on the cheek and wishing her a good night.

- - - - - - - - - - - - X - - - - - - - - - - - -

Stella's parting admission intrigues me. I decide to take her at her word, so, striking while the iron is hot, I set to arranging a challenge for her. Now, serendipitously, Garth is working afternoons, so I invite six of the circle around to my apartment - a studio - bed out in the middle - in the open. I swear all the guys to secrecy - for as much as that's worth in affairs of sex, but whatever.

I bring Stella over first, then explain what she's in for. She's at first rather aghast. I inform that she is to fuck each of the guests - our friends - one at a time. When she sees the arrangement she balks a bit, but defers in the end. Stella removes her clothing and lies back on the bed, waiting to see what transpires.

I have them draw numbers, and although the guys are a little shy at first, they get into it. "Hey, what are friends for?"

A little subdued to start, the activity rapidly flares in intensity - getting almost too loud to talk over. The others stand around drinking, watching and chatting. When a spectator moves to join the couple I remind them, "Hey, we're all just learning here, folks! Let's keep it one at a time, please." A couple of the more adventurous cocksmen go down on her, disregarding the wet, well-used state of her pussy. Many, many orgasms are to be had - Stella herself having a good proportion of them.

I remark that opportunity seems to nurture libertinism. The offer of attractive sex seems to bring out the licentious in these otherwise staid, ordinary guys. As the host, I'm last in the first round. A few go twice.

- - - - - - - - - - - - X - - - - - - - - - -

I don't see Stella for the next couple days, and I don't imagine that Garth has arranged any adventures for her, so I think I can safely assume she went without. Next time I'm in the neighbourhood I drop by, about mid-day. I pass a young fellow doing yard maintenance in the front. We exchange a nod, as I knock, enter, and find Stella in the kitchen. "Hey there. How's my favourite slut? Have you done the gardener, yet." She lowers her eyes, and, with a faint trace of a smile, shakes her head no. "A real slut would have been considering that by now," I advise.

When he knocks on the front door to say he's done, I suggest she invite him in. "Tell him you want to give him a good tip."