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The following is intended for adult readers who want to read fiction
about and women in adult situations. Anybody who is not legally
permitted to view such material should read no further. All rights to
this are reserved by the author. Permission is given to archive
this in places where no fees are charged for legal adults to
view it and if no words are changed, including this disclaimer. Hope
you enjoy.
Games Amanda Plays Part 1
By Hector’s Pup
05/26/98
At first I was the lucky recipient of a loving and attentive wife. By
the end of our ten year marriage, there was a new word for loving and
a new slant on attentive. In the beginning, our games were playful
and, dare I say, romantic. We might be found teasing, daring, role
playing, roughhousing, experimenting, surprising, or competing with
each other. As time went on, my participation in orchestrating our
game playing was completely usurped by Amanda. What was once playful,
became humiliating, embarrassing, or painful for me by the time I
called it quits.
In other discussions about Amanda, or her family, I have explained
about some of the unusual costumes I was required to wear, rituals I
was required to perform, and demeanor that was expected of me. This
all must sound pretty strange. How could I allow her to dominate me
so? Well, it was gradual, started off very enjoyable, and I guess I
just have somewhat of an addictive personality. There was also a good
deal of operant conditioning involved as well.
There was a time I inadvertently got Amanda back, however, for some of
the things she had done to me. It was on the occasion of her 25th
birthday. She had come home from a late day at work, where some of
the gals stayed after with her to give her a small celebration. She
came in the house through the kitchen, but stayed in there a while.
What had happened is that, she had been given some gag gifts of sex
toys and a harem slave-girl outfit, which outside of a pale blue cast
of the sheer material that matched her eyes, would give her body under
it no protection from admiring eyes at all.
She undressed in the kitchen, put her clothes in the washer, and
dressed up in the harem outfit with nothing on underneath. To see her
in this outfit, would reveal a bond we shared together in keeping our
pubic areas clean shaven, not to mention her exquisitely shaped firm,
natural 36D’s I was so fond of.
As she opened the door to the dining room, she announced, "Oh, Honey.
Where are you? I have something to show you." When she heard no
answer, she walked into the living room totally unprepared for. . .
"Surprise!" We all yelled, coming out from curtains, behind
furniture, and lurking in the front hall. There we were, her parents,
her and sisters, my and sister, and several
couple-friends we have in common. There Amanda was, frozen, legs
slightly apart, eyes wide, mouth open, her left hand holding up a
strapon toy to the side, and her right, a leather cock harness,
lotion, and a plastic bag dangling from a finger with misc. goodies,
to the other side.
Before Amanda could react, like drop the toys and cover herself, her
sister Kara gave her a hug and wished her "Happy Birthday". She was
in so much shock, she almost stood emotionless while trying to get
back in control of her situation. Next her other sister, Jenna, gave
her a hug with birthday wishes before she could do anything again.
Amanda forced smiles and "Thank You’s" back to each, still holding the
toys to the side, as each of the women in the room came forward with a
"birthday hug". Amanda, the "one person receiving line", was not
through, however, as most of the in the room seized the
opportunity to have body contact with my voluptuous, essentially
naked, wife. As the held her close to their bodies, she forced a
smile to everyone she looked at except me whom she glared at. When
the receiving was done, she put down the things and walked over to me
to give me a very public "thank you" hug and kiss. To the rest of the
room, it looked passionate as she bent a knee and raised a foot up in
back, but for me, it meant a heavy blunt object pressing my balls into
my body, with the whispered message in my ear, "Enjoy your fun,
because you’ll have your day!" Then out loud, "Thank you Sweetie."
"I’ll just go up stairs for a bit and change into something a little
less comfortable, if you’ll excuse me." She said to the assemblage.
"It will just take a minute." Amanda said as she tried to beat a
hasty exit.
Kara and Jenna were having too much fun with her unlucky happenstance
to let her escape then, and no one was eager to stop them. Each
hooked an arm and escorted her to the middle of the couch and sat with
her as guards. Why don’t we have you see what your and friends
have brought for you first." Jenna said. "This is from Pat and me."
She said, as she handed Amanda the first present.
Amanda made a good haul with presents, not another sex toy in the
bunch, but at a tremendous cost to her pride, dignity, and track
record of always being charge. Like a corporation, that cost would be
passed on to me. Like the time she arranged for me to be the
entertainment at a bachelorette party without telling me.
It was a lady, Amanda’s age, at her work named Jennifer that was
getting in a couple of days. Amanda picked out some
humiliating attire for me to wear under my jeans and western style
shirt to have me think of her while I slaved away at what ever Sally,
Amanda’s boss, wanted me to help with. Under my jockey’s, she had me
wear an elastic band covered in pink silk with a white cloth, silver
dollar sized disk attached, embroidered with "#1" in bold
lettering. This went snugly around my cock and around behind my balls
at the top of my scrotum, but not too tight, just enough to keep me
semi-hard, equipment thrust out a bit, and thinking about it. Under
my shirt, she had me wear a pink tank top which had a set of silver
handcuffs placed along the chest where my nipples would be centered in
each cuff with the inscription beneath, "Love Slave". At the middle
on the edge of the low neckline in front and for the same on the back,
were sewn little white bows.
Amanda said that Sally was way behind in the arrangements and needed
all the help she could get. I was to cooperate fully because Sally
was her new boss and she didn’t want to hear that I did otherwise.
Amanda’s directions were clear enough but must have been written down
wrong, because I ended up at a door leading down to a basement of a
bar where diner theater was played off and on throughout the year.
There was a burly guy at the door who stopped my advance, telling me
there was no theater tonight due to a private party.
"Oh, it’s okay then. I’m here to meet Sally Rogers to help out with
it."
"Oh, then you need to go in this other entrance." He said, as he
walked me along the side of the building around to the back to a door
with a etched Formica sign reading "Service" and below it in chalk,
"Stage Door".
He opened the door for me, I walked in to a relatively dark space, and
the door shut with a clink on its own. A somewhat harried woman poked
her head around a curtain and said "Yes?"
"Oh, hi. I’m looking for Sally Rogers. I’m here to help out. Do you
know where I can find her?"
"What is it exactly that you do?" She said.
"I’m here to do anything she needs me to do."
"Hang on. I’ll find her for you."
There was a din of women’s voices punctuated by laughter, a raised
voice here and there, and an occasional rustling of chairs. As I
started to peek around a curtain to look see, the head of a slightly
tipsy woman suddenly approached my face and we nearly gave each other
knots on our foreheads.
"Hey there. They call me Sally to my face, and a lot of other things,
I’m sure behind my back. Are you Amanda’s squeeze?" She held out her
hand. "Glad to meet you. Thank you for being such a good egg on such
short notice. Why don’t you start by circulating the floor and serve
drinks or something to get the feel of the place." She said with a
wink.
She seemed a little oddly brazen, and I wondered what she was like
without the booze at work. I didn’t have long to wonder though as she
grabbed my wrist and led me onto and across the stage, down the one
step at the other side and over to the bar. She walked around me and
slid my denim jacket off me, handed it to the bar tender, looked me up
and down and handed me a tray. She patted me on my butt a couple of
times and waved me into the room full of women sitting around tables
having a raucous time.
It was like I was a magnet passing through iron filings as I started
to walk between the tables to a table I spotted that needed another
pitcher of beer. As I neared, heads turned and hands went out to
touch my butt, my legs and crotch, until I used the tray as a shield.
When I came back with the pitcher, the ladies were a little more
reserved since they didn’t want me to spill the beer on them.
While I was getting all of the tables caught up with their brew, Sally
got up on the stage and acted like a frustrated comedienne, telling
some lame jokes. She got her share of laughs, either with her or at
her, but she was a little too over the alcohol limit to too much care.
And now please show your appreciation to Amanda’s fella who has
consented to help the party effort." She said as she insistently
waved me up to join her on stage for a bow, I thought. She looked at
Jennifer and said into the microphone, "This one’s for you, Honey." I
could tell who Jennifer was now, because she was the only one in the
room who seemed to be more embarrassed than me at this point, and the
only one not clapping.
My embarrassment went up a couple of notches, however, when Sally put
the microphone back in its holder, goosed my rear and backed away from
me leading continued applause until she was off the stage and I was
"on". The house lights dimmed somewhat and spots from the two back
corners flooded me with lights.
Too surprised to move and needing to adjust to the lights, I realized
"Oh No!" as the telltale music started to fill the air. Amanda’s
words started to fill my head "I expect you to cooperate fully with
Sally. She is my new boss, and I can’t afford to hear that you did
otherwise. Is that perfectly clear?" She had said kissing me sweetly.
What I should have heard in my head was, "Gotcha!" First, I tried to
get with the rhythm and put some kind of coordinated movements
together. This I think was becoming humorous.
Moving on to something I could accomplish, I started unsnapping my
shirt, one snap every few bumps and grinds. When I was pulling the
shirt off down my arms in back, the ladies started to laugh at my
undershirt.
Now I did hear Amanda’s voice say, "Gotcha!" in my head.
The was tight around the cuffs and I had to unbutton them while
inside out to get them off. My haste only prolonged the task. Once I
got it off, I started to quickly get the frilly tank top off, but
stopped in mid-stream when I heard Sally’s voice over the PA, "Not so
fast there cowboy. Take your time. We’ve got all evening. Lets
dance." She said along with the same lyrics that came along in perfect
timing in the song that was playing.
Movement was the ticket at this point to help drain some of the blood
pressuring my head from embarrassment. As I was able to get a little
more into it, I would hear encouragement from Sally’s voice filling
the room with "That’s it." "Push it." or "Do it." and so on.
Not totally together yet, I started to unbuckle my belt. I stopped
when I heard the voice say, "Aren’t you forgetting something Big Boy?"
"Oh, yes." I realized, "My boots and socks first. Duh! Why don’t I
try and make this even more humiliating than it already was." I
thought sarcastically to myself.
With no chair, I just sat down on the floor of the stage to try and
pull them off. As I did this, the room full of women swept up to the
edge of the stage with their chairs like objects in a wave washing
onto a sandy beach. Now I was really close to them, a wall of faces,
some seated, some standing behind. As long as they didn’t pounce on
me as prey, I figured I’d be able to survive this.
It was apparent to most that I would need some assistance with the
boots, because my feet had swelled from the excitement. The voice
called for volunteers, and three women, one dragging Jennifer with her
chair, came on stage. They sat Jennifer down to the side in front for
the best seat in the house. The with a short flared skirt
and loose sheer blouse, put my foot between her legs and tried to pull
my boots off backwards. Her struggles with it gave me a delightful
view of her and the tops of her in her lacy bra. The
other, a in a form fitting knit mini-dress, grabbed my foot
and stepped over my leg with her alabaster gams and went straight for
the "pull forward away from me" position. Her straining gave me a
view all the way up to her pantiless crotch. "Yep! A natural
head." I mentally noted.
"Hey Gwen. Do it like Aubrey there. Let’s go gurl." The ominous
voice directed.
When Gwen stepped over the other way, she still was having trouble.
"Hey cowboy." The voice loomed. "Give the Lass a leg up." With that
I placed my other foot on her pantied bottom. I wiggled my big toe in
her crack right before I pushed as she pulled. Off came my boot as
Gwen had to take a few steps before she could stop her momentum.
Watching that beautiful ass, with my boot sticking out of it as it
jiggled away, was helping me get over the embarrassment of the moment.
She turned to look at me over her shoulder with a smile as she rubbed
her bottom before stepping back into the audience.
My diversionary moment over, it was back to work. I started to dance,
now looking the women in the eyes, trying to turn them on with my best
guess of a bump and grind a might do. I slowly lowered my jeans
pausing at my knees feeling the tightness between my legs. The band
around my genitals was making me hard and keeping me hard. When I
looked down, I realized how ridiculous I was beginning to look with a
large lump in my jockeys. The voice reminded me to move on, "Lets see
leg. Yeah!"
As I continued to dance in my underwear, I plotted how I would get out
of this without showing my banded genitals to these sex-craved women.
I put my hands under the tails of the undershirt and looked
quizzically to where Sally was standing asking her with my expression
if now was an okay time to remove the embarrassing costume. She
nodded so I tossed it out of my sight off stage and danced right up to
Jennifer grinding my crotch into her face. She sort of reached up to
touch my balls as if in a dream to check if this lump were real. It
felt good so I let her linger a little. When she removed her hand, at
the end of the song, I kissed her cheek and said, "Good luck with your
marriage." Then I kind of bowed and backed up.
"Boos", calls for "take it off", "more skin", and the BIG voice over
the PA "Where do you think you’re going there, Stud? Do your thing.
I mean, show us your thing.", stopped me in my tracks. The ladies
yelled "Yeah!", some whistled, all applauded, and I guess it wasn’t
going to be so bad if they were really going to be turned on by it.
With a coy smile, as if to say, I really didn’t mean it, I came back
with renewed vigor. I was actually hopping to it. I first lowered
the back to show them my firm buns with the front waist band hung up
on the tip of my cock. Jennifer stood almost all the way up as I
approached her and looked down the top at my tent pole and knapsacks.
She turned to her friends smiling with an expression that communicated
"Wait till you see what’s coming next."
It was time, so down came the jockeys all the way. Some of the ladies
went silent as they gazed upon my hairless, trussed up crotch. Others
filled the sound void with calls, whistles, and applause. With my
balls sticking out in front, my erection purple with pronounced veins,
and the whole area bald as a baby’s bottom, everyone wanted to feel me
up to see what it felt like. "Oh my god Ladies. This one is bald at
the other end." Loomed the voice, pointing out the obvious. I heeded
their call and approached the edge of the stage and greeted them
across the front like Leno when he opens his show, only it wasn’t my
hands they were shaking.
I had to pull away quickly at a certain point so I wouldn’t explode in
front of them. When the moment subsided a bit for me, I went over to
Jennifer for a private feel. She just couldn’t get enough of it. She
removed the band, but not before sending me into a pain zone when she
failed to keep the band open enough when pulling it off my balls, lost
her grip, and let it close around the middle of them, squeezing them
against my cock.
From my reaction, she knew she had caused a great deal of discomfort
and felt badly that she had to cause more to release my balls from
their confinement. She grew very motherly toward them, lightly
stroking them, then massaging them and finally, she unbuttoned her
blouse, pulled me to her chest by her hands on my bottom, and cradled
them between her breasts. With one hand on my butt keeping me close
and the other running up and down my shaft with her thumb running the
course of the underside, I shot my pent-up load straight up to her
chin. The acted as a lubricant as she continued to stroke me
despite my body motion pleading to "please stop".
"Now did that make them all better?" She said, as she dabbed a couple
of fingers in the on her neck and tasted it to see what she
thought about the potion.
With the band off, some of them wanted to feel me again and they
crowded around me on the stage, talking to me as if we were mingling
at a party. I tried to be as conversant as I could under the intense
stimulation I was receiving, but they had me padding in place,
lurching, and melting under their varied techniques. Before they were
through with me, several shared my cock in their mouths wanting to see
what it would be like to suck on a hairless cock. From their
reactions, I’m sure some of their husbands and boyfriends will be bald
down there pretty soon.
There are many more examples I can recount, because Amanda pays back
in "Spades". Please check back for another installment, if the spirit
moves you.
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You can reach me at: hectorspup@hotmail.com