The Video Store

To those now familiar with me, this may not come as a surprise, but I feel compelled, as much for my satisfaction, as for your knowledge, to write this article.

I am married with two children, a girl and a boy, in that order. One is ten and the other eight. MY wife teaches, and I work for a large IT company. I now know that I am a hundred percent homosexual. This is a closely guarded secret that is kept well away from my friends and family. That is with one exception. I realised early on that I would find it impossible to keep this hidden from my wife, and still indulge my craving.

So my wife knows, and if it does offend her, she is excellent at keeping this from me. I have strongly encouraged a quid for pro by pushing her into her own sexual pleasures, underlining what I believe to be a very open relationship. The truth is that this in not as entirely selfless as it sounds. Some might say it is completely selfish, and yet another flaw in my far from perfect character. I have as yet to confirm this, but I often wonder if this desire to see my wife being fucked by other men, is not yet another characteristic of my own bisexuality.

Over time, with my constant encouragement and active support, I am pleased to say, her interest in other men has grown. That is not to say that she does not enjoy them and is only responding to my encouragement. She most obviously does , as do I. Listening to her most detailed explanations of what are her experiences, excites me just as much as it does her. Sadly I am not invited to watch, or participate in any way, which I would love to do. In return she is not interested in any of my adventures, and much prefers that I lie to her, with excuses of work. This is not always untrue as I often have to go away with work.

People at work are very much unaware, but for a few senior very powerful men that I chose not to hide the truth from. More later.

Although my wife had promised the utmost discretion I got the impression from conversations with her girl friends, that she had been less than discrete, and has discussed my situation with them. It all seemed like a bit a a joke, and innuendos used to fly over conversations. I do not believe that their husbands are aware, and if they are, they keep very quiet about it. I really did not want to upset friends and family, and I would have found it very embarrassing to talk to them about it.

So there it was. You might have made some guesses as to my preference from some of my articles, but I would like to make it clear. I am happy in my married life and was most definitely not looking for a new relationship. I love my wife and I love my children. Did I feel there was something missing from all of these?

I was not truly satisfied. My investigations in the internet, and my flirtation with chat sites, had raised an interest in me which I was no longer able to ignore. I craved the company of men. Not all men, but some, who raised a level of excitement in me that I was unable to resist.

To me there is no such thing as an unattractive man. Regardless of age, looks, character, when I look at a man I look beyond first impressions. I may not share their opinions, their politics, nor even their intelligence. I may not even support their criminal activities, or anti social behaviour. There is always something that you can find that makes them extremely attractive, and then you find yourself in a path which leads you to want to give yourself to them. I am then unable to resist them, even though they may not feel the same way about me.

Sadly I wasted many years, and my youth trying to hide behind conventional clothing. We look at men, and we go no further than what they are wearing. We protect ourselves by making no attempts to go beyond this shield. We are terrified of the consequences and we avoid familiarity. We see them as ordinary, and no different to others which you pass on the street. Who can fail to have a reaction, when any man undresses himself in front of you, and allows you to see him as a man in all his nakedness, in front of you, in the privacy of a room. I am not talking about the mutual undressing that takes place in the changing room of a gym. Who can fail to be excited by any man having the courage to send you the message, that he wants more than the denial and repression we are so used to. We are being invited to touch and It takes the hardest of all straight men to resist.

So, if I tell you what men I like, please do not take it, that I dislike all others. This would not be true. I do have my preferences, and this tells you more about me than anybody else. I am attracted to older men. I feel that they have an experience which is often lacking in us of a younger generation. They know how to excite you, they can show you things that you never knew existed. They are controlled and determined, most unlikely to give up. They have a complete disregard of rules and restrictions, and are driven by what they know, and not by what they can not do. They are not afraid to take what they want, especially if offered

I like men that will highlight their control and underline my weakness. I need to be told, controlled, and absolved of all responsibility, which I can not handle. I do not want to feel guilty, so I do not want to make choices. I like strong powerful men. No not necessarily weight lifters, but men that control others. This could be through their wealth. The positions they hold, and the men they have under them. It could be a fearless ability to take what they want. They are leaders in their field, ruthless and determined. They have earned their success by taking it.

I like black men. I worship their unblemished bodies. Their strength. The black smooth ebony finish of their skin. Their sexual prowess, with a reputation gained through their actions over many years.

Arabs whose dark mysterious look hide an ability to do and get anything they desire. The penetrating eyes which seem to search out your soul. Their mastery gained from years of using young males for their pleasure.

Pakistanis whose strength derives from a complete disrespect of rules and laws. They take their satisfaction, not ask for it.

I like the strength and disregard of authority very often found in Eastern European men. Their roughness, strength and the fear they generate.

These are the men that excite me.

I am not looking to fuck anybody. This I do with me wife, and it is enough.

I am looking to be fucked. I am looking to take a penis in my mouth and to try my best to give that man the best cock sucking experience ever. I am looking, in those few minutes that I have them inside me, to control them in reaching their most wonderful orgasm. I want them to be pleased with the pleasure that I give them. I want them, even if it is for a few minutes, to be satisfied. I get my pleasure from giving myself to them. Put bluntly I believe that some would class me as a “slut”, and I do not have a problem with that. I accept that it is the best description for the pleasure that I crave. I need their approval and their praise.

Everything is a fine balance. In my case I have to balance the personal risk, against the potential for exciting sex. In some cases the risk is worth taking, but this is not a philosophy which I would recommend to everybody. I do not always get it right but I do try and research every opportunity very carefully. It works for me, and so far I have been fortunate.

This was the case this weekend. My wife was going with a married couple, friends of ours, to a swingers party. It was not the first time for them, but the lack of male to male action, did not arouse my interest. The children were staying with the in laws, and I had an alternative plan set up. This was another of those long weekends working in Glasgow, or so I told the wife.

In one of the many BDSM sites in the UK my interest had been aroused by a group calling themselves the Bulldog Club. They were looking for a willing male that was interested in participating in the games that they were planning. I had been finding out more information in the last five weeks, and I had several telephone conversations with one of the organisers. The number on the website was not listed, and I was still very unsure as to where in the level of risk this was. This was a group of men 40+ who had the use of a large house somewhere in Scotland. The plan was that they would buy my plane ticket to Glasgow from where I would be picked up and taken to the house. There I would enjoy all kinds of delight.

Speaking to the contact my interest was caught by the number of boxes I could tick from my likes above. There was the possibility that he might have been lying, but I had worked out from the sound of his voice, that he must have been around 50. I shared my information with him, and he had no hesitation in saying that we were a perfect match. Especially when I told him I was thirty five and married with two children. I have to confess that I believed everything he told me, and my excitement at what appeared to be on offer was unbounded. He suggested that if they liked me, other opportunities would arise.

So it was, having wished my wife the best of parties, I was on a flight to Glasgow. The whole thing had been playing on my mind for weeks. Sleepless nights, erotic dreams, early morning hard ons and a huge amount of sexual anticipation, was not the best encouragement for rational thinking. This was an opportunity that had long avoided me, and I was in no mood to let it pass. I needed very little convincing. I was scared but at the same time excited. I had tried to put all thoughts of danger out of my mind, but really I was one desperate bitch on heat. I ordered my complementary Scotch Whiskey and settled down to the short flight. I am not sure how many of these I had drunk but at the time of landing I was replete with Dutch courage.

In Glasgow airport there was a man waiting for me with a card with my name on it. He had been paid handsomely, to pick me up and take me to the destination. It was clear that he was not prepared to talk, and all my questions went unanswered. The one thing he did say was that this was a regular fare for him, and very lucrative. He was not who would be driving me back.

Once we got out of the perimeter of the airport he stopped at the side of the road, and coming round to the back door, gave me a black velvet bag that I was to put over my head, and not take off until I was told to. He then placed some handcuffs on my wrist, which were attached by a short chain to straps fastened to my ankles . I could not lift my arms to get anywhere near the bag over my head, which I could now see was well padded and completely opaque. I felt slightly less fearful, as he would not be doing this, if the intention was to kill me.

We seemed to have been driving for hours, but after what seemed to be a drive up a bumpy dirt road the car came to a stop. The driver told me to stay in the car. I could not move anyway so it was an odd request. I heard his door open and shortly afterwards close. His footsteps on the gravel moved away from the car, and I eventually heard the sound of him knocking on a door.

It was not long after these, that what seemed like a large group of people, approached the car, and my door was opened. There was a lot of whispering, but I then heard the commanding voice of my contact.

“Quiet guys, try to calm yourselves”

With that he was down at my feet releasing the straps that held my ankles, followed by the removal of the handcuffs. I was told to keep the bag on, and I was carefully manhandled out of the car and into the house. I don’t believe that from the point I had left my house my penis had been anything other than hard. I confess that from the point I had left my wife at home I had been very aroused. It seemed like I was taken down a corridor, and then through a door down some steps, into what smelled like a cellar. Somebody must have put heaters on, as it was excessively warm.

There was no attempt to communicate with me, my guide stripped me of all my clothes, and I felt his hand on my bottom, causing an involuntary movement through my body. He pushed me towards, what I then found out was a wall, and he clamped both my wrist on bracelets attached by chains, high on the wall above me. I stood there, my face against the wall, still unable to see anything, my arms being pulled wide apart in the form of a cross, now unable to move. I was trembling in anticipation of what was going to happen. I could not stop the noises that I was making, but it could be nothing less than an expression of my weakness, and a loss of control. Nothing happened, and I heard the man move away, and walk up the steps, and out of the cellar. I heard the sounds of the door being bolted, not that I could have escaped my chains anyway.

Face against the wall, I thought I could smell the sweat and sex of those that must have been here before me.

I had been there, what seemed an eternity, when somebody came in and offered me a comfort break. I gratefully accepted. Once in the cubicle, but out of sight of the man that had taken me there, I was allowed to remove the bag. When I finished, I followed instructions and put it back on. I was escorted back to the cellar. I dared not ask if I could be allowed to sit on a chair. This was not part of their plan, and I was manacled back into position.

I had a long time to think, but I was trying to divert my attention away from the excitement on my cock. I was worried that thinking about it, was likely to make me orgasm, and I so desperately did not what to do so at this stage. The cruellest torture would be that they kept me here without being penetrated in any way, and then sent me home. In my dreams, since I had known about this weekend, I had been unable to think of nothing else than being fucked by many men and sucking their cocks to swallow their cum. Desperate may be, but that night in the video store in Brussels, had left me with a desperate need for more.

Instead, I though of some of the conversations that I had with my wife and her girlfriends. Especially those that arose my suspicion, that they had been told a lot more, than what they were willing to admit. Very often their conversations in my presence would end up talking about homosexuality, and how exciting it seemed to them. They wondered what men got up to, and what they did. They talked about how great it would be to be part of this, so that they could watch and learn. One of this conversations pointedly used the word “slut” as somebody who abandons themselves totally to the need for sex. I remember feeling that my private conversation with my wife had obvious been repeated for the benefit of her friends. She had often addressed me as a slut.

The cellar was getting unbearably hot, and the sweat was dripping off me. It seemed like hours since I had arrived. I was beginning to feel hungry, and without any offer of a drink, very thirsty. Perhaps this was part of the plan. To increase the tension and accentuate the fear.

There was movement upstairs, and as the bolt of the door was opened I could hear the talking and laughing of a sizeable group. I heard them as they came down the steps, and the laughing seemed to get louder. I felt embarrassed. I wondered if I was causing the right impression, or was I an object of ridicule. It hurt and I felt diminished. The bag was pulled from over my head, and for the first time, I could look around the cellar. I was still facing the wall, so I had to strain my neck to turn round. The cellar was very dark and the only light was a red bulb on the middle of the room. The corners where in darkness. Around me was a group of people standing and watching. They all had masks on, and long dark black gowns with long floppy sleeves. Looking closer, I could see that the gowns all had hoods, which were in most cases, pulled over the heads of the wearers. They were all protecting their identities which worried me.

One of the members of the groups came forward and said.

“I shall go first”

What surprised me was, this was a woman speaking.

She was holding something but I could not see what it was. I then heard a swish as her arm came back, and then forward with great force. I winced with the burning pain on my back and could not stop the gasp from my lips. Not waiting for me to recover, she again pulled her arm back, and in a lunatic frenzy repeatedly struck my back. I have never known such pain. I was unable to stop myself from crying.

“Whose next then?”

I had not expected anyone to have been so cruel as to continue, seeing how much pain I could bear. This was never part of my conversations with the contact. My complaints did not deter them, and somebody else took what must have been the whip from the woman, and set about raining blows on the bottom of my back, with even greater ferocity. I was in agony, tears flowing down my cheeks. I had learned my lesson, silence was the sensible option.

“I had thought that you would be able to resist this. I was not aware how weak you really are”

I could not see who was doing the speaking, but I dared not complain in case I provoked them into more painful punishment. Another women stepped forward, and insisting on taking the whip set upon the cheeks of my bottom, which were soon burning, red raw, and bleeding.

I do not know how much longer this onslaught continued but I had now reached the point when the pain seem to subside, and I could no longer feel it. The inflicters of my pain appeared to be quite satisfied with themselves, and were congratulating themselves for their choice of guest.

Off they went again, leaving me hanging there, suffering the most acute pain, as the salt of my sweat reached the scars on my back and bottom. Could it be that they had over estimated my experience in BDSM, and were disappointed by my reaction. I blamed myself for not being better prepared for this. Perhaps they did not expect a nubie and were disappointed. It had not gone well, and I did not know what I could do to make amends.

Still hanging there by my wrists, my arms aching, and the handcuffs rubbing against my skin causing a bleed. I was desperate to relieve myself but my requests were being ignored. Consequently, I was not able to stop myself from pissing, and now I was standing bare foot on a puddle of my urine. The heat in the room was not helping, and I was now smelling the acrid smell of my piss.

I heard sounds again, and soon after the door opened. Unlike the time before they were more subdued than they had been, and I hoped that they would not continue their assault on my body. The front man came forward and undid the handcuffs. I nearly collapsed on the floor but I held myself up. He turned me round so that I was now facing the group.

The group with the, exception of the two females, where clearly of African, Caribbean, and Pakistani origins. The females who had been the most vicious with their whipping, were white. I was taken aback. I had assumed from the name of the club, the Bulldog Club, that it would be a mainly white group. In a way I was pleased that I had been wrong, but was apprehensive about the continuing punishment. I wondered if my own white origin had made me the obvious choice as a guest. Did they have the same attraction for white people as I had for those of an ethnic background. Was this their opportunity to take out their frustrations, from the injustices which they had to endure on a daily basis.

I could see that some were looking attentively at my groin, and looking down I saw what was of such great interest. The pain had overcome my body, but I now realised that somehow, I had the most rigid hard on, which had persisted through all that time. Had I been so excited by the pain and the phycology of punishment, that I had such a sexual reaction to it? Was I perversely enjoying the pain that was being inflicted.

I had no time to think, my wrists were again place in the handcuffs, but this time I was facing my tormentors. One of the women stepped forward and in her hand she had what I would describe as a riding crop. With no compassion, she flicked it at my erect penis doubling me with the pain. I would have fallen had I still not been hanging from my wrist.

“I hope that hurt as you do not appear to have learnt the lesson of respect. This is the way we deal with trash, and sluts like you deserve no better”.

A further onslaught on my stomach and breast followed, and soon I was again in flows of tears.

The other women stepped forward and seemingly wanting to better the efforts of her female friend, rained the most vicious set of hits on the top of my legs. I could feel that many of the hits had cut into my skin, and blood was flowing down my body. One of the men came forward and in an act of kindness wiped my sores with a damp cloth. My body was shaking, and trembling, I could not make it stop.

Another of the men came forward, and although I could not see what he was carrying in his hands, I soon discovered that he had nipple clamps attached together by a chain. These he clamped onto my nipples, which although appeared to be less painful than the beating that I had, the pain grew the longer they remained on my tits. This was a new experience for me, but I was feeling an increasing urge on my groin for relieve. I

I was so ready for them to fuck me but I dared not ask.

Having achieved their objective they all turned round and left saying that they would be seeing me tomorrow. I thought I would die hanging from my wrist, all through the night, but an hour later my carer came in to sooth my wounds, and to take me to the bathroom. This time on our return, I was given a blanket, and a bowl of soup and bread, and told that he would see me tomorrow. I heard the door being locked from the outside. No windows made escape impossible but the thought had never crossed my mind.

Oddly the experience had left me feeling that I could withstand the pain, and use it to my advantage. I was beginning to miss the vulnerability that my chains offered. I also felt very strongly that my addiction was wrong and I needed to be punished if it was to be put right.

My body was wracked with pain but I was still driven by the excitement that had never abated, and I had long forgiven them for their actions.

Next day my carer was back. Food had been provided and I was also invited to have a bath. With all the bruises and cuts in my body this was a painful experience. I also had the opportunity to examine my prison, as I could not describe it as anything other than that.

The walls were bare, made of stone, with obvious signs of dampness. It would not seem that the heating was on every day but most likely it was switched on needed. The floor was bare, flagstone badly worn by historic use. Apart from the chains and handcuffs used on me the first night, there was a cross in the shape of an X on one of the walls. At the vertices of the cross there were iron manacles fixed firmly to the wood. It had a pivot on the middle which allowed it to be turned around 360 degrees. On one of the corners of the room there was a wooden bench which apart from the manacles at each end, also had belts spaced out along its length which could be securely fastened on the opposite side.

Some sort of hobby horse with chains and cuffs, attached to the base of its four legs. These could be shortened to allow for the size of the person chained. The design was consistent with most other structures in the cellar. Designed to securely restrict the person whilst leaving him available to others to take advantage of.

One last device was similar to what can be seen in a maternity suite, but much lower to the floor. A stirrup, to which a persons legs and arms could be fastened, thus making it possible for them to be penetrated whilst unable to protect themselves.

A locked cupboard resisted my efforts to open it, so I was unable to examine the contents.

I had no way of telling what time it was, but what felt like much later in the evening, somebody came in, and I was securely attached to the cross with my arms and legs spread out and my face to the wall. I had not realised that this could be pulled away from the wall to facilitate the attachment of a person, and then pushed back into position so that your whole body was suspended by your wrists and ankles. My head was then put in a harness which was clipped to the bracelets on my wrist. All I could see was the wall a few inches from my eyes, and it was impossible to move my head in any direction.

The manacles cut into my wrists and ankles making them rather painful. But when the whole structure was pulled up away from the floor so that I was suspended only by my irons, the pain was acute. I heard a box or a platform being place behind me and I suspected this was to facilitate the access to my body for all those men.

one very significant factor in all this, comes down to the kind of person that I am. I am not somebody that oozes in confidence, and is demanding of others. I worry, and I am most indecisive. People take advantage of my helpful nature. I have also had a fairly religious upbringing, where the difference between what is right and wrong has been defined for me. The feeling of being trapped and unable to defend myself excites me. It is a state which leaves me totally available to those who want to use me. I am unable to stop them. I am free of the guilt which I would normally feel as a result of my actions. I am absolved from any of the blame.

I felt my penis take an interest, giving me a very warm and pleasurable feeling. I had resigned myself to be used. they were free to do with me what ever they liked. I was high on pain, and revelling in my weakness..

It was about thirty minutes after I had been fastened to the cross that the group came in, but I was unable to see them. Somebody put on some very loud music which was a mix of rock and orchestral.

I was so excited, my prick was standing erect and I could feel the trickle of wetness coming through the pores. I was anticipating the feel of a cock probing my hole and was so totally ready for it. Through my mind I tried to imagine whose cock it was going to be to penetrate me first. I was torn between the idea of having a large bearded Pakistani, or the long thick black ebony member of an Afro Caribbean background. Both were running wild in my imagination, and my body was reacting to the pleasure and excitement they would give me. I was trembling, even though it was unbearably hot in that room. Spasms were travelling all across my naked body, and I was moaning like a bitch.

When somebody put their hand on my bottom I struggled to move, but that did not prevent me from crying out aloud.

“Oh my God”

and moaning with such pleasure that it would have seemed more appropriate for a cat on heat.

It was at this point that my fear was completely forgotten, and all I could think, was of the many cocks that would soon be fucking me, and sharing their seed. I wanted them all, and as I had already told the contact on the phone, I did not want rubbers to be used. He had promised me that they would not be interested in anything less, and it was a condition of my invitation this weekend.

I could not stop the shivering, my arse was already demanding the penetration of those beautiful men. I waited for somebody to push themselves forward, and I hoped it was going to be, the short stocky man with the long beard.

Somebody approached me and I felt the head of his cock press against the rim of my hole. He was so wet. I tried to move to accommodate him but I was trussed up like a cow for the slaughter.

I tried to say something, but I was too far gone, and no words came out of my mouth. Just the pathetic whimpering of somebody whose life depends on being fucked, and have them come inside them. I had watched enough videos to appreciate the beauty in which some men just gave themselves to everything, while others hesitated. I knew that I was one of the first kind. Anything which gave my lover pleasure, was alright with me.

He pressed but could not get in. I prayed that he would not give up, and let somebody else take over. I could feel his body against mine. His thick beard rubbing the sores on my back. His belly pushing against my spine, and his dusky brown penis full of the built up cum which he was desperate to shoot inside me. I can not put into words how much I wanted that man inside me. I was so wet, and I wanted him to be the first.

Somebody brought some gel and I felt him stick his fingers rubbing it around my entrance and the front part of my passage. I felt his fingers stroking my prostate and screamed in delight. I waited, he tried again, and this time with a little effort, he was pushing my passage open. I felt him move inside me. One, perhaps, should not thank God for the pleasures of the body, but this was worthy of prayer, and the man that was fucking me was more of a God than a man. I was in such joy. At times like this I always wish that my wife could see what this meant to me, so that she could appreciate how much it was now part of my life, and how much pleasure it gave me.

“Man you are so beautiful. I love your cock. Please push it deep”

I just about got those words out. I was in such a delirium.

I heard him say something but all I could make out was the last words “slut” and “bloody whore”.

I didn’t have a problem with that, it was not something that I wanted to hide. Such pleasure it gives me, far outweighs the insults implied.

I had no complaints about the man that was probing my inside. Although not the longest I had experienced, he made up by its girth. This was a cock that rubbed all around my back passage. He moved in such a slow and caressing way, that my moans must have drowned those talking around me. He would hold still, and then by forcing his member to throb, so excite my prostate that it would send me into peaks of ecstasy. I screamed every time he did this. I wanted him to know how much I liked it.

I had no idea what this man looked like, apart from what I had already said, but if there was any shortcomings, he made up for it in his obvious experience in fucking men. Each time he moved his cock in, he would drive me into a frenzy. I could not scream loud enough.

I have no idea as to how long he spent, slowly moving in and out of my back passage. I had lost all track of time. The heat he generated in me, was making me drip sweat by the bucket full. My heart was struggling to pump blood through my body, and the shortage of oxygen prevented any form of speech. Unsure, whether I was aware, or in a state of unconsciousness. I was transfixed in the most pleasurable of trances. I was in that state where you feel your body giving up but it is so deliciously exciting that you no longer care.

He must have been close to orgasm. His screams drowned mine. I could hear him struggling for breath, having pushed himself so far. I could feel he was hot, and struggling. His sweating body pressing against me. I could smell his sex, and I could tell, that he must be close to coming. .

He was going mad, pumping his cock inside me, pushing as far as it would go, so much that it was painful. It had been a while since a man had fucked me. He was grunting and moaning as he did so. His hands round my neck, I could feel the pressure increase. I could hardly breathe and I felt weak. I was going to pass out. I recall feeling an increase in the intensity of his fuck. As I started to loose consciousness my whole body was pulsating. I had never experienced this effect before. Thankfully at that point, with a scream, he exploded his cum deep inside me. I could feel its warmth as it moved deep into my body. Jet after jet, each accompanied by another of his screams. I thought it would never stop, and I hoped it would not. With the final scream he slumped onto me, as I revelled in a body full of his cream.

It took him a little while to recover his strength, and as I felt the drips from his penis getting weaker, I also felt his cock loose its strength. Now flacid, he withdrew from my most satisfied arse, and moved away.

I did not have long to wait. As soon as he moved away from me, another man was pushing his rigid cock inside my arse. I was well packed with cum, and he did not need any gel to push his penis into me. I again gasped with the pleasure that I felt as his cock pressed against my prostate, and pushed deep into my passage. I could not see the man that was now fucking me, but I could certainly feel that he had a much longer cock, equal in girth, to the man who had just serviced me.

This one seemed to have been greatly affected by what he had seen, and experienced over the last minutes. He was already so near to having an orgasm. Once inside me he was unable to control himself. It must have been at the second push, that he gave a loud grown, and I felt him spill his seed inside me. I could not believe how long this lasted. After many spurts of his semen I was already replete, and when he eventually pulled out, I felt the cool treacle of sperm going down the inside of my leg. Grateful for what he had given me, I hoped for much better control from the next man to fuck me.

Thankfully this one was a master at fucking. As he came in I felt more of the sperm going down my legs. Slowly he started to move into me, and as he did, he moved the muscles of his penis, sending me into peaks of the most wonderful pleasure. He would stop at the point in which the bulbous head of his cock was pushing against my prostate. Then he would make the gentlest of movements each time sending me into ecstasy. As I screamed he pulled the hair at the back of my head, and his verbal abuse was shocking. He impugned my character, and diminished the little self respect that I had, from the treatment that I had already received. I could not help myself. I was manacled unable to move, unable to say anything meaningful. It was almost like I no longer had a tongue, or the means of speech. I felt that I deserved everything he said and it was adding to my excitement.

The problem was that I loved how I was being treated and I had lost all sense of shame. I was the worst type of whore, one that gives herself for nothing, because she is desperate for sex.

He would take me close to orgasm, and then pull out and leave me pleading. This carried on until I could take it no more. I was making a real spectacle of myself, tears flowing, loud sobbing, and pitifully begging him to finish me off.

This continued much to the amusement and hilarity of all those watching around us. They joined in with the taunts and the abuse, and when I did not expect it, the riding crop was again used to great effect. I wish I could have brought myself off, but I was in no position to do so. My penis was erect, in the free space between the legs of the cross, and I was not able to rub myself against the wall. It was so stiff, and so desperate to come, that I had the most intense need to wee, even though nothing would come. The pain on my back was nothing compared to the pain that was building up on my groin.

Luckily as this went on, the pleasure he was getting from tormenting me, proved to much, and with the loudest of grunts, he brutally pushed his cock as deep as he could get it and with an enormous shudder, filled me with the heaviest load of cum that I had ever enjoyed. I orgasmed straight away, as he kept on coming, and coming, inside me. Somebody must have been expecting this, as my cum had been collected in a glass, and asking me if I was thirsty, brought it to my lips. I swallowed every drop.

Men desperate to satisfy their need could not wait to take their turn. No sooner had one withdrawn when the next was pushing his beautiful member into me. Most so excited by the events that they were unable to delay or sustain their hard on, and were soon filling me with their warm gorgeous cum. I could no longer discern the size, or differentiate between each of their cocks. But their fucking, as far as I was concerned, never felt mechanical. My brain was fully synchronised with my body, and every fuck sent me to heaven. Although I could not see any of my lovers, I knew that they were all of ethnic origins, and that was enough to sustain me with the highs, which I was experiencing.

I do not know how many men fucked me that night, or even how many of them came back to fuck me again. The cum coming from my bottom was more of a slow flow than a trickle. The stimulating smell of their testosterone kept me permanently engorged, and I had experienced multiple orgasms. The bottom half of my body was covered in what they had shared with me.

By the time they had all been fully satisfied, my insides felt used and sore. I had thought that my experience in the Brussels Video Store could not have been surpassed, but the intensity, coupled with the up and downs of this night, blew my mind.

It was possibly and hour later, that somebody came down and released me of my cross. I fell asleep straight away, oozing cum as I did so.

Next morning I was woken up, and after a short comfort break, and a bath, I was taken to the low bench, onto which my wrists and ankles were securely fastened. I was on my back. Leather straps were fastened across my leg, thighs, hips, waist, stomach and chest. My head was pushed against the surface of the board, and a belt was tightened across my forehead, which prevented any movement.

I lay there for a while. Each second increasing the tension and my excitement. I thought I knew what was coming next, and I was not to be disappointed.

When the group came in they were still wearing their masks and gowns.

A special stool, was placed across my chest, but not resting on it. This had legs which rested on two set of tracks that went along the length of the bench.

A very dark black man, who I thought must have been in his late fifties, came forward. He sat on the stool facing me, and with his legs on either side of my stretched body. He then positioned himself by moving the stool forward.

He stopped astride my chin. I could just about see his belly, protruding out. He had lifted the gown holding it up under his arms. I felt the moistness of the head of his cock against my lips. I had thought that sucking cock was something that went against my sensitivities, and I had not ever seen myself taking to it. That was until that first time, when the beautiful thick black rod had been forced into my mouth. It was the only time that I felt I had any power. The control it gave me over men and the obvious pleasure they got out of me was sufficient motivation. I also discovered the real taste of male sex, and the pleasure it gave to suck cock and swallow cum.

The experience had shown me that men love their cocks being sucked. It was the only way for me to control their pleasure, and to expose their weakness.

You need to feel with you lips and tongue how sensitive they are, and how they react to your touch. You have to hold it in your mouth as they reach the moment of climax. The cum they deposit in your mouth, is a precious commodity, and a sure sign that if nothing else, you had the ability to get them to do something very special. They love it when you demonstrate your willingness to take it in your mouth and swallow it. This is the ultimate service that you can do for them.

I could feel the head of his cock on my closed lips. I had the slightest of taste from his secretions as he tried to get me, to take it into my mouth. I open my mouth and let it come in. Although it was painfully difficult with my head strapped down, I made an attempt to lick as much of it as I could. The taste tempted my continued interest, and I continued to lick all around the head of his penis, as I held it firm with my lips. The sound of his moans spurred me on, and I licked and sucked, gently caressing its length with my tongue. He leaned forward to get maximum penetration, and I nearly gagged, when he pushed it against the back of my mouth.

I could tell he was not going to last long, and with the loudest of moans he spilled his seed straight into my mouth. I held my lips tight around his cock encouraging more of his seed to come into my mouth. As his whole body pulsated, more of his cum spurted into my mouth. He had the wholesome taste of a real man. My mouth so full that I was in danger of some spilling out. I swallowed quickly to make more room as he continued to deposit more of his cum. I licked my lips and opened my mouth to show him how much I appreciated what he had given me. The silky stickiness of his cum swirled around the inside of my mouth, coating all sides of it. I made sure that I prolonged his pleasure by letting him see how I swallowed every drop of cum leaving my mouth empty of the foamy white liquid.

Two more men followed. Another black man in his late fifties, tall and slim, and one of a dark dusky complexion, who might have been from the far east. I treated both with the same love and care as I treated the first. Both rewarded me with the most capacious load of seed which I gratefully swallowed.

I could feel that the rest of the group were getting very restless, and from my position on the board, I could see many of the gowns being pulled up over the heads. The masks stayed in position but It seemed that they were all now naked. I was surround by lots of naked men frenetically holding their cocks and trying to excite themselves. The truth is that they did not seem to need the excitement, as they were already showing signs of all the excitement they could handle. As they rubbed themselves, each trying to outdo each other, they would get nearer me in anticipation of coming off.

Some of the men were well in front and their fast approach led me to open my mouth. With loud groans one after the other they directed their ejaculation into my mouth, giving way for the next man to do the same. In no time my mouth was full of come. I had little time to savour it. I swallowed fast trying to keep up with the mass of men that were coming off, with increasing speed. Mouthful after mouthful, there was no lull in their efforts to relieve themselves. Eventually they were no longer able to politely give way and there was semen coming from all directions round me. Into my mouth and over my face, hair and chest covered with the white seminal fluid. Unable to cope with the speed by which it was filling my mouth, all I could do, was to swallow as fast as I could. Often unable to swallow fast enough I would come close to choking, unable to breathe or clear my throat, before some more men ejaculated into my mouth. It was spilling out of my mouth and all over my chin and neck.

I thought it would never end but even they had to stop at some point. I must have drunks gallons of their foamy silky substance. I have often read that the taste is salty. That is not my experience. it does have a very subtle taste with small variations between men. It does stick to your mouth coating it with a consistency which is unlike anything else I have ever eaten. The taste is not strong, but it moves smoothly through your mouth and throat as somehow it was a lubricant. How could I not describe what I had just experienced amongst the most wonderful and pleasurable things that men could give you. It was my heaven and I loved it.

The final humiliation came, when one of the ladies, who I had been told were the wives of two of the men, straddled across my groin and pushed my rigid penis into her soaking wet vagina. There she was uncontrollable. Screaming, desperate for her own release, she went mad moving up and down its length. It took no time for me to orgasm and shoot all I had deep into her vagina. Disappointed that I had come off too early, her hand and fingers went to her clitoris, and like a devil possessed, rubbed it fiercely until she had the most enormous orgasm, shooting her juices all over my body. The other woman must have been warned against embarrassing her husband as she did not follow.

I was then allowed to shower, given a bite to eat, and handed an envelope, which I still remember, had the princely sum of £4,962.84. This had been collected from donations by individuals of the group. I have wondered ever since of the 84p. Was this all I was worth to that one person.

The black bag was put over my head and I was driven back to the airport where I got the Sunday Evening flight to London.

That night my wife noticed the state that my body was in, and called me a stupid, weak, desperate slut. Previously she had told me that her party had been a success. She and her friend, and her friend’s husband, had joined up with two single men, and she had been fucked by all three, including her friends husband, while her friend had made it with the two. She was not pleased with my wife as she felt that fucking her husband was a step too far.

I hope this helps you in getting to know more about me, and perhaps are more sympathetic about my complete lack of shame. If like me you are a kindred spirit you must understand that I have little choice as to who I am, and will understand what I do.

The weekend taught me that there is a very small divide between pain and pleasure. What I went through, heightened the intensity of the sex, to a level which I had not known before. After this, it will be a lot harder to achieve anything like the same satisfaction.