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Forfeits

By: krr1957



This story contains femdom and bdsm themes. If you are likely to be offended by such material please find yourself another story.

Forfeits – Chapter 1

The eight of us had known one another from our university days since when we had paired off and married. Whilst the other three girls were all desirable in their own way I knew that, in marrying Claire, I had got the pick of the crop. She was intelligent, vivacious and was blessed with a body that was almost too perfect to be true.

We were now all coming up on out thirtieth birthdays but we still kept up the ritual of organizing a dinner party every three months on a rotation basis. On that fateful evening Claire had excelled herself. She had cooked a wonderful Thai meal and was basking in compliments when I went to fetch the Trivial Pursuits board. This, too, had become customary. We had all enjoyed playing since University but there was now an added spice in that the losing couple had to carry out a forfeit. Tradition had it that the losing couple, having paid their penalty, got to choose the forfeit for the next game even though they themselves might fall victim to it.

David and Diane had lost last time round and their forfeit had been to spend a night in the hosts’ guest bedroom. This would not have been too bad except that the bedroom was in the process of being redecorated and there was not a single scrap of furniture or carpeting. When we met up the following day David and Di did not look at all happy and Claire suspected that they would chose a harsh forfeit on the basis that they were unlikely to lose twice in a row. 

I poured some more wine and set up the board.

“Okay, so what’s the forfeit?”

Di looked across at her husband and smiled before opening her handbag. She took out what appeared to be a steel tube. It was about three inches long, an inch and a half in diameter and girded by three flexible notched belts. She placed it into the middle of the board and everyone immediately craned forward.

“What the hell is it?”

Di seemed to take great delight in explaining.

“It’s a male chastity tube. It will fit all sizes unless one of you boys really has a surprise in store for us.”

We all laughed but I sensed an undercurrent of unease. Several of the past forfeits had been a little risqué but this one seemed to be a shade more sinister. Claire asked the obvious question.

“What about you David? Are you prepared to wear it for a night if you lose?”

David smiled.

“Of course – and you and Peter can be keepers of the key if you like.”

Adele, our self-appointed champion of fair play piped up.

“How do we know there isn’t a spare?”

Di answered her.

“You can use a padlock of your own choosing – as long as it’s a reasonable size.”

I guess, in retrospect, that it was machismo that made us play along with it. None of us wanted to wimp out in front of the others. Di picked up the dice cup to start the game and then dropped her bombshell. 

“Oh, by the way, it has to be worn for a fortnight; after all, it has to be a forfeit for both partners.”

I was willing one of the others to protest but it did not happen and before I knew it the die were cast and the game began. Over the years that we had played I guess that Claire and I had probably paid the fewest forfeits, not least because of Claire’s phenomenal range of general knowledge, and that night we got off to a good start. I thought that we were going to win at a canter but then, unusually for her, Claire made a couple of careless errors. Even I knew the answers but we had to answer alternately and I was not allowed to prompt. About an hour into the game we were in third place and Claire drew “Arts and Literature”. The question was on Hemingway and I gave a silent cheer; Claire had finished reading the book just the previous week. I looked across at Patrick, who now seemed doomed to pay the forfeit, and it was a second or two before I realized that Claire had answered wrongly.

I looked at her aghast but she just shrugged her shoulders and mouthed a silent apology.

On the next go Patrick and Petra answered correctly to go ahead of us and then, on their turn, Mark and Adele won and, because they had been the last to start, the game was over. I sat there bemused and tried to digest the implications. Di, meanwhile, picked up the tube.

“Time to get you dressed Peter.”

Claire turned to her.

“Who’s going to put it on?”

Di laughed.

“Well we can’t trust you or the boys. He might get their sympathy vote.”

In the next few seconds the atmosphere was as strained as I had ever known it to be in our small group. Over the years there had always been some innocent flirting, as you would get with any group of people who had come to know one another so well, and before we settled on our established pairings we had dated in different combinations, but there had never been any suggestion of intimacy once they were settled. I hoped that one of the men might protest because Claire was certain to and I did not want her cast in the role of spoilsport. Di rose from the table.

“Come on Peter, we’ll do it in the bedroom. Adele and Petra can come and ensure fair play.”

I waited for Claire to blow a fuse. One of her few bad points is her quick temper and Diane must have realized that she had pushed it too far. I looked at my wife and prayed that she would remain diplomatic but there was a curious half smile on her face and when she spoke it was with an unmistakable hint of amusement. 

“Don’t be too long. I’ll be timing you.”

I now looked at Mark and Patrick hoping for rescue from that quarter. I was sure that they would not let their wives get this heavily involved in Diane’s devilment but I could see that they too were nervously excited and curious.

Looking back, I should have risked their derision and called a halt right there but I suppose that I still believed that Diane would not go through with it. She took me by the hand and pulled me from my seat and the others cheered mockingly as she led me to the stairs. Less than a minute later I was in my own bedroom with my three closest female friends and Diane was locking the door. 

“The moment of truth Peter. Get undressed.”

“Di, you’re not serious? We’re going to go back downstairs and pretend that I’m wearing it right?”

“I’m very serious. No one’s ever reneged a forfeit up to now.”

She was right but then no one had ever been asked to do anything quite so outrageous before. I decided to call her bluff. I’ve got a good body. I row and play tennis and my Mediterranean ancestry has left me with dark, healthy, complexion. I also knew that I had nothing to fear in the manhood stakes as, like me, my three friends were fairly averagely endowed. I started to unfasten my belt betting with myself that Adele would be the one to break ranks. She is our paragon of virtue and easily embarrassed but she stood quietly as I dropped my trousers.

“It will be easier if you take your shirt off.”

Diane’s matter-of-fact tone was getting to me but I removed my clothes until I was standing in just my designer boxer shorts. They had all seen me in swimwear in the past and I had a feeling that this was the break point. I expected them to laugh, tell me I was a good sport, and call it a day. 

“Take them down Peter.”

I looked for a hint of a smile but Diane was in deadly earnest and now I was in trouble. All three of them were looking down at my groin and it suddenly began to appreciate the attention. I hesitated as I felt the familiar stirrings but Diane was impatient; before I could react she reached forward and tugged my shorts down. I covered myself with my hands but there was no disguising my excitement. 

“Well, well. We’re pleased to see you too. Take your hands away Peter”

“Look, Diane, let me go into the bathroom and put it on.”

“No deal. Let’s see the goods.”

I dropped my hands but now it was with a perverse sense of pride. 

“Very nice Peter but you’re going to have to lose it. Adele. Your wine glass will do.”

Petra and Adele had brought their glasses upstairs with them and Adele’s, having been recently refreshed with Sancerre, was frosted with condensation. In the next few seconds my opinions concerning Adele changed forever. Far from being shy she came forward and, without another word, she knelt in front of me and touched the cold glass to my ball sac. I yelped, as much in surprise as from the shock of the cold glass. I stepped away and clutched my manhood but the glass had had the desired effect and my erection began to wilt. 

“Hands behind your back Peter.”

I had the horrible feeling that things were spinning out of control but obeyed like an automaton and it was with a weird sense of detachment as I watched Diane kneel down to take hold of my manhood and slip the tube on so that only the head of my penis remained exposed.

“These three bands tighten it up.”

So saying Diane took hold of the first band and pulled it through its retaining loop. It made a clicking noise and with each click I felt the tube get a little tighter.

“Petra, you do the next one.”

Diane got up and Petra took her place. She giggled as she tightened the second band and Diane admonished her.

“Not too tight we don’t want it dropping off. Adele…”

Adele tightened the third band and, looking down at her blonde head so close to my groin, my thoughts became more lascivious but I had no time to dwell on them. Diane took Adele’s place again and I wondered what was coming next. The tube felt snug but its weight made it decidedly uncomfortable. Diane took a fourth band and threaded it through the first three, effectively locking them in place. She then passed it behind my scrotum before she pulled it through its own retaining loop on the tube.

“Adele, would you get the padlock out of my handbag.”

Adele did as she was asked. The padlock was small, almost flimsy looking, which was reassuring, but the added weight as Diane clicked it into place was significant.

“Di I’m not comfortable with this.”

“Don’t worry, the instructions said that it takes an hour or so to get used to it after that your body adapts to the weight.”

I thought that was a little optimistic but it did not matter. I had already decided that it was coming off at the earliest opportunity. The girls left me, laughing as they went, and I got dressed quickly and followed them downstairs. The boys cheered as I came back into the room and they insisted on a quick flash. Needless to say the remainder of the evening comprised almost entirely of a series of double entendres at my expense and, whilst I smiled along, my tolerance was getting ever thinner. Finally the time came to say goodbye and Di took great delight in flourishing the key before she got into the car and David drove off. 

Claire quickly set about gathering glasses and went through to the kitchen to load the dishwasher. In the meanwhile I slipped into the garage. I am definitely not a DIY enthusiast and I keep just enough tools to carry out the odd running repair about the house. It seemed odd, standing there in the chill air under the harsh fluorescent lights with my trousers around my ankles, but I wanted to get it over with before I went to bed. My first thought was to pry open the padlock but now, on closer inspection, I could see that it was so close fitting that I could not insert the blade of the screwdriver. It was frustrating but I was not unduly worried. The padlock was no larger than my thumbnail and it was bound to yield to brute force. Unfortunately, its size proved my undoing. I could not get a good enough grip on it to yank it free. 

I could hear Claire moving around in the bedroom overhead and knew that it would only be a matter of moments before she began wondering where I was. My final option was to use a saw. As it happened the only one I possessed was a small hobby saw which should have been perfect for the job. I decided to attack the narrow band which held the tube around my scrotum but two things quickly became obvious. Firstly, the saw had been used and abused over a number of years and the blade was long past its best. Secondly, and perhaps more telling, I could not get a good angle of attack at least not without hurting myself. 

I swore under my breath and threw the saw down. It would be easy if I could get someone else to do the job but it was going to be slower than I anticipated and there was no way Claire was going to start on it so late in the evening. I pulled up my trousers, turned off the light, and went upstairs. 

Claire was in the en suite brushing her teeth and so I got myself undressed. I always sleep naked but, catching sight of myself in the mirror, the tube made me look so absurd that I dug out a clean pair of boxer shorts and slipped them on. I joined Claire in the bathroom and, as I reached for my own toothbrush, she caught my eye in the mirror. 

“Why are you wearing those?”

“Is that supposed to be a joke?”

“Take them off … I’m not going to be wearing a nightdress.”

She said it seductively and ran a finger down the centre of my chest.

“Claire, why the hell did you get that question wrong?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that we were going to lose so quickly.”

“You mean you did do it deliberately?”

“We’ve won the last three times and we were all set to win again. It takes all the fun out of it for everyone else.”

“What about the bloody forfeit?”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t deliberately trying to come last I just wanted someone else to win. Besides I didn’t think for a minute that Di was actually serious. Look, if you feel that badly about it, we’ll get it taken off tomorrow.”

She gave me her little girl smile and then went back into the bedroom. I surreptitiously watched her in the mirror as she undressed and, as I had countless times before, I thought myself a lucky man. Claire is tall and stands only a couple of inches shorter than my own six feet. Her height is in her long legs and that evening she was wearing black stockings and suspenders which was a combination always designed to fire up my libido. As she pulled her silk evening dress over her head my eyes dropped downwards and that’s when it hit me. As Diane had said the discomfort of the tube had dulled to a background ache, which was not dissimilar to the feeling you got when lying in bed and not giving in to the urge to go to the toilet, but now my manhood was trying to follow it’s blind instincts and the pain was suddenly like a kick in the balls. I winced and clutched at my groin but Claire remained unaware. The pain passed within a few seconds but I realised that I was going to have to be careful until the tube came off. 

I brushed my teeth and splashed some water on my face but decided that a shower could wait until the morning. When I went through into the bedroom Claire was as good as her word but not in a way that I had anticipated. She was not wearing a nightdress but was, instead, lying on top of the bed in her red silk underwear and still in stockings. Usually, after a night with the gang, things would go one of two ways. Either we would end up making love, borne up by the bonhomie that the evenings engendered, or, slightly more often, we would both have too much to drink and would be happy just to snuggle up and go off to sleep.

I had assumed, given the circumstances, that this would be a night to snuggle but Claire clearly had other ideas. She knew full well that my penchant for women in classy underwear, and more especially her, would fire me up but I do not think she was ready for my reaction as I grunted with pain and sat down heavily on the end of the bed. 

“Oh, sorry babe, I didn’t realise ….”

She sat forward and we both looked down at my groin. The head of my penis was literally throbbing, as its attempt to come to an erection was thwarted, and I felt each pulse as a dull cramping pain. When I replied I could not keep the edge from my voice.

“What did you expect?”

She reached down and took hold of the tube.

“I thought, you know, that it was just a piece of jewellery. I didn’t think that it would stop you functioning.”

She had that tone of genuine tenderness in her voice that I found impossible to resist and she ran a thumb gently across the angry red head of my penis. Her hands were cool and the relief was almost immediate but within a few seconds the pain returned as my body reacted to her ministrations in a different way and made a renewed attempt to rise to the occasion. I winced as I took her by the wrist and moved her hand away. 

She looked at me slightly puzzled.

“You’re joking aren’t you? Surely it’s not that bad.”

She could see from my face that I was in earnest and she put her arm gently around my neck and pulled my head down onto her shoulder.

“Oh, you poor babe.”

She began to stroke my hair and then she lay back taking me with her. We lay for few seconds with me breathing in her perfume and watching the steady rise and fall of her breasts and then, almost without thinking, I slipped my hand into the silky confines of her bra and my fingers sought out her nipple. I was surprised to find that it was already solidly aroused as I pinched it gently between my finger and thumb and Claire shuffled her body slightly to allow me easier access.

“Mmmmm…that’s nice.”

She closed her eyes as she said it and relaxed more deeply into the counterpane. For my part I flexed my hand, turning the bra cup aside, and then I rose over her to take the hardened teat into my mouth. I have always loved her breasts, so perfectly shaped and weighted, with their dark clearly defined nipples but I had barely started to tease her with my tongue before my groin renewed its complaints and I could not help but groan. 

Claire misread the signals and she put her hand to the back of my head and pulled me more firmly onto her breast. I squirmed to try and get myself free but that only compounded her misunderstanding. She shifted slightly up the bed whilst at the same pushing my head downwards. I half twisted and used a little more force but Claire turned with me lifting her hips at the same time. I found my face pressed into her panties and I was shocked to find that they were sodden.

Claire is normally slow to come to the boil and I fleetingly wondered what had gotten her so aroused but then, in another new departure, she began to rub herself against my face. Now, whilst I like women in underwear, it is in the aesthetic sense of glamour poses, the idea of being so up close and personal with my wife’s panties had no great appeal, but Claire obviously saw it differently. 

“Lick me …”

I was so taken aback by this unusually forthright approach that, for a moment, I forgot my own difficulties. I eased my hands under the side straps of her panties so that I could slip them off but Claire pressed a little more firmly on the top of my head.

“Leave them on …”

Now we were really entering uncharted territory. This was something she had not asked me to do before and my immediate reaction was to say no and laugh it off. Cunnilingus was never my favourite activity and I usually only enjoyed it in the context of a classical soixante-neuf, when I could lose myself in my own pleasure, but then I felt a pang of guilt about our recent difficulties; if I did as she wanted I would earn myself a few bonus points and, one thing was for certain, I was not going to get turned on by it.

Claire laid back with one leg stretched and the other drawn up and I settled in between them. This left me uncomfortably half on half off of the bed but I did not intend to be long about it. Now that I could see her panties they looked distinctly unedifying. There was a damp stain which not only covered her crotch but also most of the back of them and the unmasculine thought, that we were going to ruin the counterpane, entered my head 


Forfeits



My husband Ron and I like to play sexual games. One game that we sometimes play is Forfeits, this is where I am given some task to fulfil and if I fail I have to take a note from the Lucky Dip jar and act out whatever is written on it. These have ranged from relatively mild things, such as leaving off my panties and flashing my nakedness in a pub, to very severe things like inviting a strange Master from a sex contact mag, to come and beat me. Even though I find some of these forfeits disgusting, I never the less, end up enjoying them. 

This is about one forfeit that I found particularly objectionable. There is an acquaintance of Ron's who is, to say the least, repulsive. His name is Gus and could easily be mistaken for a tramp. A Hippie type who never washes, has long greasy hair and smells to high heaven. When I read the forfeit that I was to call at this guys house on an errand for my husband and allow him to seduce me, well, I rebelled. I put my foot down. 

"That's against the rules." said Ron. You can only refuse something that could cause physical harm." He of course was right. I had agreed to the rules and being masochistic, I really revel in being made to do things. So off I went, beautifully turned out. See through blouse and no bra. Very short black skirt with splits up the side that allowed my stocking tops and suspenders to be seen and very high heels. I of course was wearing a full length Mac for walking through the streets. Gus didn't live far. When Gus opened the door he was positively drooling. I had the front of my Mac open and my breasts were visible through my blouse. 

"Come in! Come in!" said Gus and ushered me into the front room that was his bed/sitting room. There was a mattress on the floor where he slept. No bedding. The only furniture was one kitchen chair. "Have a seat." said Gus pointing to the chair. 

"Thank you." I replied as I removed my Mac and placed it on the chair so that I could sit on it. Gus sat on the mattress. He was directly level with my crutch and as I could see him staring between my legs, I opened them slightly. 

"Mmmm! Now what is it I can do for you!" asked Gus. 

"Well, Ron asked me to call and see if you had finished with the books that he had lent you." I stammered. I held a hanky to my nose, the smells in the place where getting to me. 

"Oh. Do you mean the ones with girls showing their open cunts or the ones with girls being fucked?" he asked. 

"I don't really know which ones." I said and opened my legs a bit more. I could see that Gus must have thought it was his birthday and Christmas rolled into one. He stared openly at my pussy and licked his lips. 

"Open cunt ones are great, don't you think?" he said as he moved closer. He put his hands on both of my knees and tried to prise my legs even farther apart. When his hands touched me, even though it was through my stockings, it still made my skin crawl. Here I was, offering myself to this smelly, unshaved, unwashed Hippie. I was totally repulsed and totally turned on at the same time. He raised my legs over his shoulders and buried his face in my pussy. 

"Your cunt smells lovely." he said.

"Thank you." was all I could think of to say. 

"You take good care of your cunt, don't you." he said between slurps into my inner private parts. 

"Yes I do, I like to look after my pussy." I panted, his tongue was getting to me, he was really turning me on. I suppose it was the whole bizarre situation that was helping to stimulate me. 

"Say 'I like to look after my cunt." he demanded. 

"I like to look after my pussy." I said. "AAaaaaaggghhh!!!" I screamed as he sunk his teeth into my pussy lips. 

"OK. OK I look after my CUNT." I screeched. "Suck my CUNT. Suck it!" 

"Say please." he said, looking up at me from between my thighs. 

"Please." I replied softly. 

"Not good enough." he said as he stood up, taking me with him. He turned around and dropped me onto the bare mattress. All the screaming that I had been doing had attracted attention and I could see 3 other Hippies stood in the doorway, watching. 

"Don't just stand there." Gus said to them. "Come and help." They didn't need to be asked twice. The 3 of them dived onto the mattress. I was held down as they helped themselves; they just tore my clothes off, hands where all over me, grabbing my breasts and pussy. Mouths where sucking on me. My nipples where chewed on, love bites covered my breasts and stomach. Fingers where shoved up my pussy and bottom. I was hating it and loving it at he same time. I wanted them to stop and I wanted them to go on and on forever. I was writhing, screaming, moaning. I didn't know who was doing what, I was just enjoying every minute of it. 

"STOP!" I heard Gus shout. All activity ceased. I had a feeling of disappointment as all hands where removed from my naked, bitten and scratched body. Gus raised my legs over his shoulders and placed the head of his cock against my pussy lips. He moved it ever so slowly, it glided across my clit and lovely sensations spread through my body. "You like that you horny Bitch?" he asked. 

"Ooohh yes." I replied dreamily. "Yes, don't stop. It's lovely." 

"Do you want it inside your cunt? "Yes. Oh Yes please." 

"Then ask me to fuck your useless cunt." 

"Noooo." 

"SAY IT!" 

"NO!" I screamed back at him. I then felt my ankles being grabbed by 2 of the other guys and as they stood up, I was raised up and my legs where pulled apart. A searing pain shot through my pussy as Gus brought his belt down, hard against my most delicate parts. 

"AAAAaaaaaggghhhh!!!!!" I screamed with pain and pleasure. The sudden pain in my pussy had caused me to climax. I don't know if you have ever experienced a 'come' brought on by pain but let me tell you, it is like nothing else you could ever hope to experience. 

A second smack and "YES!! Yes FUCK my CUNT. FUCK IT! SHAG IT! Do anything you want. MORE! MORE! PLEASE FUCK ME! GIVE ME YOUR DICKS, I WANT ALL YOUR COCKS. FILL ME WITH SPUNK!" I shouted all this and more. I wanted to be used, I wanted them to use me as a vessel to pour their lovely spunk into. I was the sluttiest whore who ever wanted cock. I wanted cock and cock and even more cock. Gus was on top of me, thrusting his dick into me. I was kissing him and sucking his tongue. His bad breath and rotten teeth just turned me on even more. 

My head was pulled to one side and a smelly dick forced into my mouth. I sucked lovingly on it. Cleaning it and savouring it. I worked my hand behind him and pulled him into me. I wanted him to fuck my throat, to force his big smelly dick right down my throat. I felt his dick in my throat and as I was gasping for breath, trying to breath around the huge knob that was threatening to choke me, my head was pulled to the other side. "Suck me, Baby." said this repulsive pensioner. He must have been well into his 60's or even 70's. His cock was big but as it touched my lips, it must have been too much of a turn on for the old guy. He came all over my face, some went into my mouth. I swallowed it down, loving it. 

Just then Gus came with great thrusts. He rammed his dick into me, squirting his spunk into my pussy. He had hardly finished, when he was pulled off me and another guy took his place. Just what I wanted, another cock. It slurped in and out of my spunk filled pussy. 

"Say Fuck me!" my new assailant demanded. 

"Yes Fuck me. Fuck me with your big dick. Shag me. Make me come." My words were muffled by the other guy forcing his cock into my mouth again. The 2 of them fucked in unison. One in my mouth and the other in my pussy. In out. In out went the 2 cocks. The one in my mouth came first. Coughing, spluttering as I almost drowned in spunk. I loved the taste and the amount; he mustn't have come for a week. There seemed to be gallons of it. He pulled the big cock from my mouth and dragged it across my face, leaving streaks of spunk all over me. 

Just then the guy fucking me came. He almost squashed me as he wrapped his arms around me and holding me in a very tight bear hug, he filled my pussy with even more spunk. 

They all went off and left me lying alone on the mattress. I put on my shoes and Mac and went home. When I arrived and told Ron what had happened, he was immediately turned on and he fucked me on the floor behind the front door. 

When he had recovered, he asked me about the magazines that I was supposed to have gone to collect. I had completely forgotten about them. 

"Oh well." said Ron. "You will just have to go back there again tomorrow."



Forfeits at the Restaurant



I was a virgin when I met Paul and we've been married for seven years. A change in his job meant we moved to Kent. I got a job in the accounts office at a local firm and became friendly with a co-worker Carole.

Aged twenty-nine she was a couple of years older than me and we had a lot in common and became good friends. We may have been on the same wavelength, but in looks we were very different. Carole was five feet four, with shortish blonde hair and rather small breasts. I'm a couple of inches taller with quite long dark hair and a 36d bust. Paul insists that my breasts are one of my finest features -- full and firm without being big and gross. He's certainly had hours of fun with them and he's forever touching my bum and bust as I move round the house.

One night I went out for a drink with Carole and I made a light-hearted remark about Paul never leaving me alone. Carole said that Robert was just the same and, being a bit more extrovert then I am, she went on to say how active their sex life was. 

We ended up exchanging bedroom secrets like a couple of giggling schoolgirls. I know some women routinely indulge in such talk, but I'm rather reserved and it was the first time I'd done it. I found it surprisingly arousing to be exchanging personal details with another woman. There were no objections from Paul though when I got back home and made it clear that I needed his prick inside me. 

From then on my friendship with Carole was on a slightly different, more intimate, level than with even my two oldest friends who I've known since my schooldays. 

Every now and again we went out for a meal as a foursome with our husbands. On one night out Carole and I went to the loo as soon as we got to the restaurant and for a laugh we took our knickers off and put them in our handbags. We had a bet as to which of our husbands would notice first; I was sure it would be Paul as he doesn't need much of an excuse to touch my bottom.

Well in the event neither of them noticed. As we were saying our goodbyes on the doorstep of our house, Carole and I burst out laughing and told the men they were seriously middle-aged, never having noticed that their wives were knickerless. They were annoyed at the opportunity they'd missed, but it certainly seemed to turn Paul on because he whisked me upstairs and gave me a good fucking.

We met them a month later and this time we went to an Indian restaurant. Early in the evening Paul asked if we'd be taking our knickers off again. I was about to say no, when Carole's husband Robert said he had a better idea. 

"I dare you to take them off at the table without anyone else in the restaurant noticing. If you're successful there'll be a treat. If you fail then you have to perform a forfeit." 

"You're joking!" I exclaimed.

"I'm deadly serious," said Robert in a mock offended tone. "We've got a corner table and those plants shield us. Pick the right moment and it will actually be pretty easy."

"What's the treat?" Carole asked, ever the more practical one.

"We'll go to that show you mentioned," Robert replied. I must admit that was quite tempting and I could see that Carole was impressed, but I'm more cautious than she is. 

"What's the forfeit?" I asked warily. 

"Oh we'd each have to make one up and then we'd mix them up and one would be picked at random."

Carole said OK and the men were full of almost childish enthusiasm so I went along with them. I had a pen in my handbag and we each wrote a forfeit down on a slip of paper. Once we'd done that they seemed to expect us to take our knickers off straightaway, but we told them to wait.

However I wasn't surprised when, as soon as the main course was finished, they were encouraging us to slip our knickers off. Carole's bolder than I am and she started wriggling in her seat and a minute later she coolly handed her knickers across the table to Robert.

Come on Kim said the others, but I told them they would have to wait until I was ready. After the desserts had been removed I looked around, then reached under my dress and pulled my knickers down. Everything was going smoothly until I got them caught round the heel of my shoe. Just at that moment the waiter came back. 

"Would anyone like any coff..........." he said, and stopped amazed at the sight of the customer with her knickers round her ankles. To make matters worse they were lacy red ones, which sent out an unmistakeably sexy message. 

Blushing deeply I pulled them back up, and told the others I wasn't hanging round for coffee. 

"Alright we'll go," said Robert, "but first you've got to pick your forfeit."

He put the four slips of paper in a glass and told me to close my eyes and pick one. I prayed that I'd pick the one I'd written -- telling everyone about my most embarrassing sexual experience wouldn't be too bad.

I picked one out -- and I didn't like the look of it.

"What does it say?" said Carole. I passed it to her.

"My, my Kim" she said, raising her eyebrows and reading aloud "Have your bottom smacked by the other persons partner." You wrote that didn't you Robert? I bet you were praying for that waiter to come back."

"You're absolutely right dear," said Robert with a satisfied smile.

We paid up and left and I hurried out, keeping my head down and avoiding eye contact with any of the waiters. We chatted fairly normally on the car journey back, but it seemed to me that there was a certain tension in the air. Or perhaps I was imagining things because I know I was on edge wondering what was going to happen about the forfeit I was supposed to fulfil.

It was our turn to go back to Robert and Carole's for a nightcap, so Carole and I went into the kitchen to sort out glasses and a tray. Straightaway I asked her. 

"I'm not expected to do this am I?"

Carole smiled.

"Well, Robert is a bottom man, and I'm sure he'll be very keen to do it."

"But won't it hurt?" I asked, at the same time as it dawned on me that Robert must have spanked Carole. "Has Robert spanked you?"

"Yes," said Carole. "But don't worry, it's not as though he beats me. It's really just a play spanking and I don't mind because we only do it occasionally." 

We picked up the drinks and went through into the lounge. My heart gave a lurch -- a chair was stood prominently in the middle of the floor. Robert looked at me. 

"Your choice Kim, you can either go over my knee or you can bend over and put your palms flat on the chair."

"I can't. Paul wouldn't allow it."

"I've checked with Paul and it's fine with him."

I looked at my husband and he simply nodded. I stood dumbfounded.

"Relax," said Robert. "I won't do it hard -- ask Carole. In fact, Carole, let's not leave Paul out. Would you do me a big favour and get another chair and let Paul have the benefit of your rump."

Carole went to get another chair. I was outmanoeveured. If Carole was willing then I could hardly chicken out. With two chairs in place Robert turned to me. 

"So Kim, what's it to be - over my knee or bent over with your palms on the chair?"

"Over your knee," I muttered, and he gestured me across to him. I draped myself across his lap and with a beating heart resigned myself to my fate. 

One thing I did notice as I lay there was that Robert had a very obvious erection, so this was definitely turning him on.

Robert pulled the hem of my dress up so that my knickers were exposed and I saw that Paul was copying Robert's lead. In turn he pulled up Carole's skirt so that it was rucked up round her waist. Then Robert surprised me by hooking his thumbs into the waistband of my knickers and slipping them off.

"Hey!" I protested. "No-one said anything about taking my knickers off!"

"Sorry Kim," he replied calmly. "Spankings are always on a bare botty."

I tensed as I felt him raise him his right hand, he held it poised for a second, and then it clattered down.

For the next couple of minutes the only noises in the room were the sound of the men's hands smacking down on our bare bottoms, and our yelps as we received a good spanking.

I cracked first. 

"No more," I called out. "I can't take any more."

Robert stopped, and although Carole hadn't said anything Paul also stopped. Robert didn't release me though. He gently ran one hand across my bottom.

"How does it feel?" he asked.

"Burning," I replied.

Then to my surprise he let one finger trail between my legs and along my pussy.

"That's enough Robert," I said. 

But slowly and deliberately, as if challenging me, he ran his finger back along my pussy. Then I gasped as he probed into me. Suddenly I became aware of just how wet I was down there. I glanced at Paul and Carole -- they were transfixed watching us.

"Robert, stop. Please stop." I said, but he carried on and despite myself I could feel my body responding. It was as if the spanking and the voyeuristic aspect of being watched by Paul and Carole had released some sort of erotic electricity in me and I felt really hyped up.

Robert seemed to understand this and must have felt it himself. 

"Kneel in front of the settee," he told me.

I slid off his lap and knelt down with my elbows on the settee. Robert came up behind me and threw the hem of my dress up and around my waist. Then I squealed as the full length of his cock pushed into me. Within seconds Carole was in position next to me and Paul was shafting her from behind.

Now the room was full of urgent gasps and groans, but not surprisingly the excitement was too much for the men and they both groaned and I felt Robert's prick jerk and jerk as he fired his load into me.

We all collapsed in a pile on the floor. Before tonight Paul was the only person who had fucked me, now I'd received a pussy full of sperm from his friend, while Paul has just had his wife!

My thoughts were interrupted by Paul kneeling between my legs; he was gently playing with his cock and it was rising to attention!

"I'm sorry," he said. "I've got to have you."

He mounted me and started to fuck me. I was really surprised at this -- it's a few years since he's managed two orgasms, so he must have been very aroused.

I expected him to have a fair bit of staying power, but it isn't long before he thrust deep into me and added his load to the store already in my pussy. Whatever is in the air was highly contagious because Robert was now shafting Carole and soon shot his load into her.

"Bloody hell" said Carole. "What is it with you guys? How come you were ready again so quickly?"

"Well to be perfectly honest," said Paul. "I don't think I've ever come across a more erotic situation than watching my wife being spanked, then seeing her bend over and get fucked from behind."

"Did you really enjoy watching me being fucked?" I asked Paul. He nods.

"What about you?" Carole asked Robert. "Major turn on," he said simply.

I notice this conversation is having an effect on both of them -- they're becoming hard again! I catch Robert's eye, roll onto my back and spread my legs.

"Come on Robert, make Paul's day-- fuck me again." 

Robert mounted me and to my intense delight Paul was able to watch as Robert's prick slid between my cunt lips and he fucked me. This time he had more staying power and he fucked me until I came, then he came himself.

Next it was our turn to watch as Paul got between Carole's legs and screwed the arse off her. It was a strange, but exciting, experience watching her cry out as my husband pumped his sperm into her. 

It was after midnight before we finally finished. Not unusually late as we normally sit talking for a while, but tonight there hadn't been too much conversation!

Stood at the doorway I gave Robert a quick peck goodbye on the cheek and a look was exchanged between us. It was mutual recognition of the obvious boundary that has been crossed. For the first time ever I'd spread my legs and allowed someone other than my husband to have intimate access to my body. I stood there knickerless with a mixture of Robert's and Paul's cum trickling down my thighs. Carole hugged me goodbye.

"I'll speak to you soon," she says and I know we'll have a long girlie conversation when our husbands are out of earshot.

Paul and I then drove home and went straight to bed. We were both pretty shattered, or at least I was, and I fell straight asleep.

It was relatively late when I woke, but being Sunday morning there was no rush to get up. Paul cuddled up to me and as usual his hands moved to my breasts as if attracted by some form of magnetism.

He does like a bit of sexy talk, so I wasn't surprised when he asked me if I had enjoyed last night. 

"Yes I did," I said, aware that I would have to be careful with what I said. 

"So you're an experienced woman now. Was it nice having Robert's prick inside you?"

That was a bit more direct than I'd expected and I felt an odd tremor between my legs.

"Yes it was nice."

He pulled himself tight against me and I felt the rigid heat of his prick pressing into me.

"Does he have a nice big cock?"

"Yes."

"Is he bigger than me?"

"No, about the same as you."

Paul's hand slid downwards and I parted my legs to allow him easy access to my moistening cunt. 

"Did you enjoy watching Robert fucking me?" I asked.

"Very much. You looked incredibly sexy."

"And what was it like fucking Carole?"

"It was nice. She's got a lovely tight cunt, though her tits aren't as good as yours."

All this talk was getting to me and I rolled onto my back. Paul took the hint and his cock slid between my cunt lips.

"That feels so nice. I bet Robert thought he was in heaven. He must have loved your big tits and hairy slit."

So Paul fucked me as I described the pleasure of being fucked by Robert and the warm wet feeling as he flooded me with his sperm. We spurred each other on and collided with a glorious and very noisy mutual orgasm. 

* * * * *

It was three o'clock in the afternoon when Carole rang. I took the phone into the bedroom and shut the door. It was a long conversation. I'm naturally more reserved than Carole, but I felt surprisingly comfortable discussing intimate details with her. Even so it did seem slightly odd having her tell me how much Robert had enjoyed my body. We agreed that swapping had been fun and it seemed highly likely that the men would be up for it again. 

Well that was alright with us, but we weren't going to let it become a regular thing. Carole suggested it was best to keep them waiting a bit and we agreed that it should be saved as an occasional treat.



Forfeits



I leaned in and licked at them and the silk felt oddly smooth but the overwhelming impression was the taste. It seemed stale somehow and I began to wonder how long she had been wearing them and for just how long she had been aroused. I tried not to dwell on it and licked again quickly. 

“Mmmmm…”

Her body shivered with pleasure and fired up with my own success I licked her in a series of long strokes right along her cleft which, as the silky material grew wetter, became more clearly delineated. The taste now was hot, fresh and strong and I hoped she was getting close not least because the silk was more abrasive that I might have imagined. My tongue was getting a little sore and I moved up a fraction and hoped that I had found her clitoris. Judging by Claire’s more fidgety movements I guessed that I was prospecting in the right place and this became obvious when she screwed her panties in her hands and pulled them more tightly to her mound. The material was sheer enough to show all the details of her sex and I renewed my assault at the apex of her labia. 

“Oh..Oh..Uhho….”

Claire was being more vocal than usual and she began to push her hips at me forcing me to bob my head to maintain contact but then she arched her back and stayed rigid as I finally achieved success. Her body gave a series of tiny jerks and then she slumped back onto the bed seemingly sated. I did not want to seem perfunctory and so I stayed where I was for a moment whilst she got her breath. Her panties were very wet and looked decidedly uncomfortable and as though reading my mind she touched me on the head.

“Take them off for me.”

I eased them down her legs, dropped them onto the floor, and then started to crawl up the bed but just as I drew up my knee she put her hand back on the top of my head.

“I want another one...”

My immediate reaction was to laugh but one look at her face was enough to tell me that she was not joking. 

“Claire, I’m tired.”

She gave me her pouting look which I have always found difficult to read. Her face might break into a smile but it was equally likely to develop into a scowl. In the end the decision made itself. I could do nothing to relieve my own situation until the morning and playing the considerate lover gave me an opportunity to retake the moral high ground. She smiled as I lowered my head once more but it took an effort of will. In all the years of our relationship Claire had always been very fastidious about keeping a neat and closely trimmed bikini line but more recently she had opted for a more natural look and I suspected that she intended it as an subliminal slap in the face. Now her nest of tight black curls was cold, wet and reeking and not at all appealing but I steeled myself to the task. I pressed two fingers to her labia and parted her slightly and then began to lick gently with just the tip of my tongue. She was surprisingly hot and she leaked moisture at the first touch but I avoided the temptation to push right in and concentrated on her labia which firmed beneath my touch.

“Don’t stop…I like that…”

I did as she asked licking each side in turn and with each stroke her legs opened a fraction more until I could work freely on her inner lips and then I naturally moved on upwards towards her clitoris. It was at this point that she put her hand back on my head and kept it there.

“Not yet…”

I immediately felt a surge of irrational anger. Claire knew that I could, and would, only do it out of love for her and that I hated it when she used her hands to guide me. On the one hand, I suppose, it was the symbolism, it seemed to reinforce the idea that one person was beneath the other in every sense, but there was also the resentment of the suggestion that I was, somehow, in need of guidance. As far as I knew I did not leave her disappointed.

I was about to shrug her off when she began to breath more quickly and I decided to simply carry on and get it over with. I firmed my tongue and pushed it inside to be greeted by a fresh gush of moisture and an appreciative yelp from Claire. Her muscles began to flex, hugging my tongue almost painfully, and, at the same time, she twined her fingers in my hair and pulled me more tightly to her. She was flooding with excitement, forcing me to swallow to keep up with her, and I was grateful when, finally, she tugged at my hair and drew my mouth onto her clitoris. 

My tongue was sore but I made one last effort and licked at her in a series of rapid flicking strokes which was almost guaranteed to take her over the edge but I was surprised at the strength of her reaction. She almost lifted off of the bed as a frenzied climax began to shake her and, as she took hold of my head in both hands and pulled me to her, it was though she was seeking an anchor point to save from taking off. Claire is a strong woman and I am not sure that she realised just how uncomfortable I was but she was totally lost in a private universe of pleasure and she did not release me until the last of the tremors abated and she fell back with one final sigh. 

Afterwards I felt odd and, looking back, I guess it was because that, in some way, I felt used. It had always seemed to me that our lovemaking was so special because it was selfless but what had just transpired somehow seemed to have crossed a boundary. 

I got up and went through into the bathroom where I spent a little longer than necessary brushing my teeth again and then I ran a bowl of hot water and dipped my face. As I dried myself I looked at the tube in the mirror and, for a few seconds, I was tempted to go back downstairs and try again with the saw but I now felt a new tiredness to add to the effects of the alcohol and I padded back to bed.

Claire was already asleep, the remains of her clothes tossed casually on the floor, and I crept in beside her. I rechecked the alarm to make sure that I had enough time to get the tube off before I left for the airport in the morning and then I turned out the light. I closed my eyes but sleep did not come easily. My hand seemed to keep creeping down to my groin of its own accord but examining the tube in this way was self defeating. My brain assumed that my hand was headed south for altogether different reasons and I was soon suffering the cramped pain of a frustrated erection. Finally I disciplined myself and locked my hands together behind my head and after that I must have started to doze. 

My dreams were both vivid and strange. At one point I awoke sitting on the edge of the bed in a cold sweat and I had to look around the bedroom to reassure myself. In my mind I had been in the room with Di, Petra and Adele and they were coaxing me to put on the tube but I was resisting. I refused to get undressed and I called out to Claire but she did not come. The three of them were taunting me, calling me a wimp, and then they pushed me onto the bed. I fought, but I struck out half-heartedly with the uneasiness of a man who had never hit a woman, and they took advantage of my reticence. Petra and Adele sat across my body, pinning me down, whilst Di ripped my trousers off. I kicked out blindly but Di sat across my legs and I could do nothing as she slipped the cold tube on to me. She told me that it was wrong of me to resist and, as a punishment she was going to fix the bands of the tube another notch tighter. I begged her not to but I was overcome by pain as she fulfilled her promise and then I woke up.

It took a long time for my heart to settle and for sleep to take me once more but it was only to be assailed by an older, more familiar, nightmare. I have always been mildly claustrophobic and I would often have dreams of suffocation only to wake and find myself struggling with the bed clothes. This was one such dream. I was finding it hard to breathe and I felt myself getting hotter. I willed myself to take deeper breaths but there was a weight pressing on my lungs and then there was the awful moment when my brain told me that my eyes were open but all that I registered was darkness.

I tried to yell but my mouth was gagged and then, through the blackness and chaos, there came something familiar, something to latch on to. It was a taste, sour sweet, and it brought with it all my memories of the previous evening and a blessed return to consciousness. 

“Good morning sleepy head.”

Claire was kneeling over me with her legs astride my head and her weight resting on my ribcage.

“What the hell are you up to?!”

“Oh, don’t be like that. I enjoyed last night, it was really something special. I was hoping that you would give me a little morning treat.”

I licked my lips reflexively and the taste suggested that she had already taken a self service approach. I felt annoyed and jerked my shoulder to signal my displeasure but Claire thought I was being playful.

“Oh, no you don’t.”

She slipped her weight forward and, because my hands were still linked behind my head, she was able to pin my arms. 

“Claire, get off! I’m not in the mood and I’ve got to get to the airport,”

In fact mood had little to do with it. It was simply a position that I hated to be in. I could not even enjoy soixante-neuf unless I was on top. I know that this had rankled Claire from time to time but I was just not comfortable with it.

“You’ve got plenty of time. Come on, make me come, and then we’ll get that thing off and you can fuck me senseless before you go.”

Only then did I remember the tube and with it the obvious knowledge that this was not a morning to upset her. With as much good grace as I could muster I put out my tongue and started to lick at her dark bush. For her part Claire shimmied further forward, positioning her sex over my mouth, to grant me easier access but, pinned as I was, I could not reach her clitoris without straining my neck. Nevertheless I made the effort knowing that it was going to be the quickest way to satisfy her but Claire was in no hurry. She lifted herself slightly so that I could only reach her with the tip of my tongue and then she cupped her breasts in her hands and began to brush her nipples with her thumbs. This was quite brazen, even by Claire’s standards, but the results were obvious as she started to moan and drips of moisture began to fall into my mouth. 

I hoped that I managed to disguise my disgust but Claire seemed oblivious as she used her fingers to part herself and settled heavily onto my face. Her weight was uncomfortable but I could now get at her clitoris and met with immediate success. As I drew the engorged bud gently between my lips and licked firmly her body began to tremor but, as the pleasurable feelings grew, she seemed to lose all control. Within seconds she was grinding herself onto my face and I was so shocked I could not even protest. I closed my mouth to spare my tongue but it seemed that she had no further need for it. Her damp pubis felt almost abrasive as she worked herself up over my chin, nose and forehead in a series of violent jerks that came from the hips. Mercifully her orgasm was as short-lived as it was violent and she settled back onto my sternum as she attempted to gather herself. 

As I looked up into her face, sheened in perspiration, her eyes looked wild and it was a while before she seemed to draw herself back to the present. When she did, she got off me and kissed me on the tip of the nose.

“Thank you. Mr. Bond”

The reference to 007 was a small jibe. Back in University, when we were still dating the girls, we had a boy’s night out and Patrick said that our partners were good looking enough to be Bond girls. That started a debate about who was who. Diane was easy. With her English rose good looks and cultured voice she resembled Fiona Fullerton. Adele could be taken for the blonde spy in “From Russia With Love” whose name none of us could remember, and Petra, with her exotic Cuban ancestry, could only be Barbara Carrera. That just left Claire and my three friends seemed in no doubt. They did not believe that I had not seen the resemblance and when they gave me the name I was amazed that I had not spotted it myself. Claire was Maud Adams, the actress who played Octopussy, which in itself gave rise to a few ribald remarks. 

The actress was a Swede by birth and both she and Claire have the same clearly defined Nordic bone structure and striking blue eyes. They also had in common a thick head of dark curly hair and a self-confident look which some people took for haughtiness. Unfortunately the girls got wind of our conversation and we had all had our legs pulled about it ever since.

“Now for the other half of the bargain. Let’s go downstairs and I’ll get the saw.”

“A saw? Isn’t that a little drastic?”

“It’s the only way. The padlock is too tight fitting.”

“You know best.”

We both slipped on dressing gowns and went down to the kitchen. Claire put the kettle on whilst I went into the garage. Having thrown away the saw the night before I now had to look for it. I found it lying on top of a pile of dust sheets but I cursed as I retrieved it. The blade was broken in two and must have been much weaker than I thought because the canvas sheets had ensured a soft landing. I took it back into the kitchen and Claire stated the obvious. 

“That’s not going to be much good.”

“Can you get to the shops this morning? I won’t have time in Scotland. I’ve got two meetings and making the flight back will be tight anyway.”

“Okay, I’ll see what I can do. Are you going to be all right?”

“I’ll have to be.”

Forfeits - Chapter 2 

When I arrived at the airport I drove to the executive car park and went through into the lounge where Sheila, my business partner, was already waiting. I picked up a coffee and Danish and a complimentary Financial Times and went to join her. The meetings in Scotland were simply a chore. We were going up there to do little more than show our faces and to stand our clients a good lunch but Sheila, ever efficient, had all the latest sales statistics to hand and she proceeded to bring me up to speed. 

It was good to get my mind onto something else because, up to then, I had done little more than think about the tube. With the aid of a tight pair of pants I no longer had a problem with the weight but I could not shake the feeling that everyone was looking at me. Even as I sat speaking to Sheila I kept expecting her to look down into my lap but that was a nonsense on all counts. For one thing the tube hardly showed and for another Sheila was happily married and in the five years we had been partners there had never been a hint of impropriety.

I skimmed the paper and had just finished my coffee when our flight was called. The executive lounge had a dedicated gate and so formalities were kept to a minimum, particularly on domestic flights, but, dumb as I was, I had completely forgotten about the metal detectors. I stood in line with Sheila waiting to go through the arch and I broke out into a cold sweat. I could not think straight, the best I could come up with was to feign illness, but if I faked a collapse it would be hard to avoid an examination anyway. 

We were shuffling ever closer and then Sheila was going through. She retrieved her laptop as it came out from the x-ray scanner and then waited for me as I stood frozen at the portal. I felt a cold trickle of sweat running from my arm pit and knew that, if I backed down now, I would probably be stopped on suspicion. 

I braced myself and took a single, unnatural, giant step through the arch and the resultant beep seemed like the loudest sound in the world.

“Excuse me sir. Do you have keys, coins, or any other metal objects?”

The official was a pretty, petite, blonde who managed to look sexy notwithstanding the drab gray uniform she was obliged to wear. She flashed me a patient smile as I took out my car keys and showed them to her.

“Please put them in the tray and step back through.”

I was caught in no mans land and left with little choice. I stepped through the arch and cringed as it beeped again.

“Please step this way again sir.”

I heard people tutting in the queue behind me as the beep sounded for a third time.

“Would you have any objections to being patted down sir?”

I knew that I was flushed with embarrassment which was compounded when I saw Sheila’s puzzled expression. I looked desperately towards the x-ray scanner but it was staffed by two more females and there was not a male official in sight. I leaned closer to the blonde and spoke quietly.

“I don’t object but there is a religious implication. Would it be possible to be searched by a male officer?”

The blonde looked both surprised and exasperated and I suspected that most men would be only too eager to co-operate. When she spoke again her tone was more officious.

“We only have three staff on duty sir. I could call a colleague down from the main terminal but we will not hold the flight and you will not be allowed to board without being searched.”

Sheila was looking at her watch and I could see that she was about to intervene. I had no choice. I leaned forward to whisper again. 

“Okay, you can search me, but is there somewhere a little more private?”

She now looked really pissed off. She called one of her colleagues over from the scanner.

“Stand in for me. I’ll be two minutes.”

I flashed Sheila a “not to worry” smile and followed the blonde into a small side room. It struck me then that I had probably been my own worst enemy. Had I conceded to a cursory check at the arch I might have got away with it. Now, the blonde had little option other than to do it by the book. She asked me to stand with my arms away from my body and my legs apart. She ran her hands quickly and professionally over my arms and trunk and then knelt to check my legs. My heart stopped as she patted firmly up both sides of my left leg and I felt her thumb brush at the tube but she carried on and checked my right leg. When she stood up again I gave an inner sigh of relief and smiled dumbly.

“Thank you sir. Would you mind telling me what you’re wearing?”

“Wearing?”

“I’m going to have to ask you to remove your jacket and take down your trousers.”

She spoke in a detached, professional manner, but that did not help my embarrassment.

“Look, surely you have a male colleague available?” 

She sighed.

“Do you have any luggage on the flight sir?”

“No, just my carry on, why?”

“Because I can clear the flight to go whilst you wait here for a more senior official.”

I looked at her but there was no sympathy in her eyes. It was a stark choice and it was mine for the making. The simple equation was that I was going to be embarrassed anyway it was simply a question or whether or not I compounded it by missing the flight and having to give awkward explanations to Sheila. There was nothing for it. The woman would probably have a laugh about it with her friends but I was unlikely ever to see her again. I took off my jacket and folded it over the back of a chair then I unfastened my trousers and, letting them slip to the floor, I noticed that she backed off slightly and turned sideways on. It occurred to me that she was expecting to see a weapon of some description. When she saw the tube outlined by my pants she looked slightly perplexed but she relaxed just a fraction. 

“And the pants please sir.”

Having come so far there was no point baulking at the final hurdle and so I dropped my pants and stood there with the tube on show. When she spoke again the studied professionalism was missing.

“What the hell is it?”

I was tempted to bullshit and tell her that it was a splint but the padlock could not be explained away.

“It’s a chastity tube.”

She looked fascinated as she stepped forward and tentatively reached out to touch it.

“Do you mind?”

“Yes I bloody do! I’ve told you what it is.”




Forfeits



“So you did sir, but, do you know, this looks to me like a smuggling device.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be so bloody naive! Besides, would anyone be stupid enough to try and smuggle contraband in a metal container?”

“You might well ask but, equally, would anyone be stupid enough to try and get through an airport security system undetected with a metal chastity tube?” 

She had me and she knew it.

“Cheer up. I think it’s very sweet. Who’s got the key?”

“My wife.”

I was not about to increase my embarrassment by confessing that the key was being held by my friends.

“That is so sexy.”

As she said it she lifted the tube and felt its weight.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not after a while.”

“And can you…you know…get an erection.”

“No. I can’t.”

As she said it she ran her thumb idly over the exposed head.

“Please don’t do that.”

“What? This?”

She rubbed a little more purposefully and I felt an initial surge as my blood started to course. When all was said and done she was an attractive young woman and I was a red blooded male. 

“Look enough’s enough. You’ve seen what you had to see. Can I get my flight now?”

She seemed to ponder this but she carried on stroking me the whole while. 

“You know what. I find this a real turn on. That a man, in this day and age, would be prepared to wear a chastity device. Were you a naughty boy?”

“No I bloody wasn’t.”

“So it’s symbolic?”

“I suppose you could say.”

She did not stop rubbing me, and I could feel the onset of the cramps, but now she was reaching under her skirt with her other hand. 

“Look, this has gone far enough.” 

“It’s up to you. By rights, as I can’t examine it in detail, I should call my section leader, who is a woman by the way. She, in turn, might have to call the duty doctor, another female, and I think I would be duty bound to tell your friend why you will have to miss the flight.”

“You’re not serious.”

“Try me.”

“What do you want?”

She smiled as she pulled down her panties and stepped out of them.

“I want you.”

“I don’t follow,”

“If you do as I want you’ll catch your flight. I’ll even arrange for a clearance on the return flight on “medical grounds””

She left me with little choice but I still did not get her drift. Then she made it perfectly clear.

“Lie down on the floor.”

So many thoughts went through my mind in those next few seconds. Most of them centred on the undesired prospect of cheating on my wife but in a bizarre sense these thoughts were counterbalanced by the argument that I was wearing a chastity tube and, was therefore, incapable of cheating. 

I laid down, after all, what choice did I have?, and shortly thereafter I discovered that cheating was measured in degrees of intimacy. The blonde came and stood with her feet either side of my head and I could discern her pubis, covered with a frizz of light hair, within the confines of her heavy dark skirt. I felt ridiculous lying there in my shirt and tie with my trousers and pants bunched around my ankles and, only as she began to lower herself, did the thought cross my mind that the door had not been locked. She hitched her skirt as she settled on my face and then she let it drop plunging me into darkness.

She had not lied about being turned on. She literally squelched as she came to rest on my mouth but I was more shocked when I felt her warm lips closing around the tube. She sucked hard and began to move her head up and down as though the tube was not there and my body made its inevitable response. Within seconds I groaned as I gained a partial erection, only to have it cruelly pinched back, but the blonde took it as a sign of success. She gave an urgent wiggle of her hips and rubbed her sex across my face in an unspoken demand. 

Even now I had no wish to be unfaithful. I had been happily married for seven years and I guess, like every other man, I fantasized about sex with other women, even real women of my acquaintance, but I never entertained the prospect of actually taking it any further. I closed my mouth and hoped that she would be content with the mild torture that she was inflicting on me but it was not to be. She opened her knees, coming down even more heavily on my face and, at the same time, she moved slightly backwards. Suddenly I found myself with my nose buried in her sex and deprived of all air. I opened my mouth reflexively and she immediately slid forward again using her weight to keep my lips apart. 

The temptation to bite her and teach her a lesson was strong but I could not risk the humiliation of Sheila finding out what the problem had been. I could take the embarrassment within my circle of friends but I would never live it down if it became known within the tight knit professional community that I was a part of. 

Very slowly I put out my tongue and eased it inside her and she immediately wriggled down to draw it further in. At the same time she swirled her own tongue around the head of my penis with a frightening display of expertise and I felt myself continuing to swell. I thought that my body might have learned but I was sadly wrong; some human instincts just cannot be overcome. Her lips were still closed around the tube and the pain gave the illusion that they were acting like a vice, taunting me to an erection only to crush me back with an unyielding strength.

I winced, and felt a tear at the corner of my eye, but a new pressure was craving my indulgence. My tongue was being squeezed in a clear signal that I was not being active enough and so I started to thrust it at her as best I could but in the near total darkness beneath her skirt it was almost as though I had lost direction. I had never been in this position before with Claire. Sometimes, when I went down on her, things could become quite frantic but I always felt in control. Now, in the close confines, taste and smell seemed stronger, almost malevolent, and it was as though her sex had grown in size. I realized that claustrophobia was causing my mind to play tricks and I tried to breathe regularly through my nose and focus on the rhythm. 

She shifted again, allowing me to get to work on her clitoris and, as I used the tip of my tongue, she began to mimic me. She licked at the very end of my penis and it seemed as if she was trying to ease her tongue into the opening. The sensation was odd, slightly arousing but, on balance, discomforting, and, as if sensing my unease, she tried even harder. I was not sure what was worse, a frustrated erection or the maddening motions of her tongue but, one thing was for sure, I had to bring her off as quickly as possible.  

I renewed my attack, flattening my tongue and licking hard, making sure that each broad sweep along her sex took in her clitoris. I was getting hotter by the second and perspiration, hers or mine, I did not know, began to sting my eyes but her movements were getting more frenzied and I stuck stubbornly to my task. Finally, she relinquished her grip on my manhood and knelt up over me to concentrate purely on her own pleasure. Within a few seconds she gave an almost masculine growl as the walls of the dam burst and she started to climax. She tried to keep herself still, to savour the sensations, but her body twitched as she was overcome by the powerful contractions. She rested painfully on my face for a moment or two and then, as she rose unsteadily to her feet, the room’s chill air immediately cooled the moisture on my face. 

I sat up as she moved across to a small sink in the corner of the room where she ran some water and washed her face in a perfunctory manner. When she was finished she took up a small hand towel from its rail and dabbed her face but then she put it under her skirt and began to clean herself off. When she was satisfied she threw the towel in my direction and I was so startled that I let it hit me in the face.

“You might want to freshen up.”

I kept my anger in check as I pulled up my trousers and approached the sink. I slooshed water onto my face from the running tap and then tried to find a dry patch of towel. It may have once been white but it was now a dingy gray and smelt of stale biscuits and sex. I threw it aside in disgust and did as best as I could with my handkerchief. As I did so I looked up at the clock and assumed that I had missed the flight which, in some respects, was just as well, as the bedraggled image that looked back at me from the rust edged mirror did not make a pretty sight. My hair was unkempt and my shirt and tie were ruined. It did not matter too much as long as Sheila made it but she was going to be very angry. 

“You’ll have to hurry.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Did I forget to tell you? Your flight was delayed for half an hour. If you run you’ll just make it.”

She laughed as I left the room seething with anger. I ran with my jacket in one hand and my bag in the other. As I rushed panting on to the plane it was clear that I was the last to board and the angry looks from my fellow passengers added to the embarrassment of my disheveled appearance. I slumped down next to Sheila and the plane wasted no time in taxiing away

“Where the hell have you been?”

“I’m sorry. It was a pen.”

“What?”

“A pen. It went through a hole in my pocket and got into the lining of my jacket.”

Sheila looked extremely dubious and I squirmed as she cast her eyes down to my damp shirt. When we arrived in Edinburgh I had the taxi stop at the first men’s outfitters that I saw and I bought, and changed into, a new shirt and tie; the shirt was creased but anything was better than the rank rag I was already wearing. By the time that we arrived at our client’s offices Sheila’s patience had worn thin but the rest of the day went to plan. We had our discussions, had a pleasant lunch, and, much to my surprise, I found that the bitch at the airport had been as good as her word. For the return flight I was spared the embarrassment of the metal detector although it was clear from the smirk on the face of the male officer who patted me down that word had got out. ‘As we boarded Sheila asked for an explanation but I cut her short and told her that I refused to discuss it. 

I finally got home in the early evening, still in a foul mood, but as I came in the front door it was to be greeted by a wonderful smell. I had eaten enough at lunchtime but I found a fresh appetite when I appreciated that Claire had cooked my favourite meal. I walked into the dining room where the table was set for two including two chilled glasses of Vinho Verdi. Claire’s disembodied voice came through from the kitchen.

“Take a seat. It’s ready.”

I sat down and she entered with a plate in either hand. I immediately did a double take. She had obviously splashed out on a new dress and it was stunning. It was black, shoulderless and cut high on the leg. It gave the impression that she had been cocooned in a ribbon of black silk and I had an immediate urge to run my hands over it. 

“Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful.”

I bit back my next instinctive question, which was to ask how much it had cost, and focused on the plate that she put down in front of me. It bore a swordfish steak perfectly steamed with a slice of lime and, to accompany it, a simple salad with colcannon mash and an onion marmalade. I knew that a lot of time had gone into the preparation of the meal but it was worth it. For the next half an hour I was in gastric heaven and it was only as I finally put down my knife and fork on an empty plate that I posed the question that I wanted to ask.

“So to what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“It’s just my show of appreciation…for last night…and this morning.”

She looked so sexy as she said it that I could have ravished her right there on the table but a jolt from my groin reminded me of the one thing that I had, for a short blissful period, forgotten. I bit my lip as I tried to keep the pain in check but my discomfort was tempered by the knowledge that the damned thing would not be on for very much longer. 

We sat and chatted until the bottle of wine was empty and then Claire went back to the kitchen and returned with dessert. Once again it was my favourite. A dark mousse made with outrageously expensive bitter Mexican chocolate and flavoured with a touch of mandarin brandy. I ate mine with almost boyish greed and then noticed that Claire had hardly touched hers. After a decent interval I asked.

“Aren’t you eating yours?”

“Why, would you like some more?”

As she said it she smiled, dipped a finger into her bowl, and brought her chocolate tipped nail to her lips. She looked me in the eye as she licked it clean and the message was not lost on my manhood which lurched painfully inside its steel prison. I could wait no longer but, as I pushed my chair back, she dipped her finger a second time and offered it up to my mouth. I held her stare as I licked the delicious confection from her finger and when it was gone she dipped it again. This time she hooked it slightly so that it came free bearing a generous dollop but, as I leant across to lick it up, she moved it away from me. 

For a second or two I felt childishly peeved but then I was shocked to see her put her hand under the table. When she revealed it again her finger was almost clean and my heart rate increased. Even as I tried to come to terms with what she was doing she scooped up another generous finger load which disappeared in similar fashion. I was dumbfounded but Claire looked unfazed as she put her elbows on the table, laced her fingers, and rested her chin on the back of them.

“It’s all yours…come and get it…”

In all the years of our marriage we had never explored anything quite like this, the closest we had come was me sipping champagne from Claire’s navel, and now I had very mixed feelings. It was a uneasy blend of lust, greed and misgiving and Claire continued to stare at me as I ran the whole gamut of emotions. There was something about her look that finally drew me in and it was only afterwards that I realized that she had been daring me. 

I made to rise but Claire stayed still and spoke huskily.

“Under the table…”

Had I thought it through I would have seen just how demeaning her request was but, not for the first time, I was a slave to her charms. I dropped to my knees and, lifting the heavy damask cloth, I crawled underneath. In the half light I could see that, unbeknownst to me, she had, at some point hitched up her dress and, if she had been wearing underwear earlier, she was not wearing it now. She had her legs spread wide and, as my eyes adjusted, I could see that her pubis was coated with chocolate. 

Somewhere, far at the back of my mind, there was a twinge of revulsion but that same sense of the forbidden was serving to stoke the fires under my primal instincts. I went forward on my knees and then fell upon her like some ravening beast. I heard her laugh as I licked at her nest of curls but then she shifted herself very slightly so that I found myself lapping at her labia. It was then that I realized that she had worked some of the dessert inside herself. Almost without thinking I darted my tongue at her but the taste was altogether different. It was no longer a rich goo but, instead, a warm brown runnel in which the taste of chocolate was overpowered by her own essence. I was not sure whether I liked it or not but I thrust my tongue deep inside her for a second taste and, as I did so, she said something which I misheard. It sounded like “Good dog” and I replayed it in my mind to try and make more sense of it. 

I decided that, on balance, now that the first flush of madness had passed, I was no longer enjoying it and I tried to retreat but Claire, sensing my intentions, brought her hand under the table and put it to the back of my head. She pulled me back into the sticky swamp and when she spoke I had a flashback to childhood.

“You haven’t finished yet.”

It could have been my mother’s voice at the dining table and I found myself licking again without thought. Claire gave a fresh peal of laughter and then her body began to jerk in that familiar way. As she came her body exuded more chocolate syrup which I caught up on my tongue and swallowed and the feeling was not unlike the warmth of praise that came from presenting a clean plate.

When I finally crawled out from beneath the table I felt faintly ridiculous. I was perspiring and I had to wipe chocolate residue from my mouth with the back of my hand. Claire, by contrast, looked completely composed. From the waist up her dress had remained unruffled and anyone coming into the room and seeing her at that moment would have no idea what had just transpired. For my part I found her seemingly cool demeanour arousing and my hand involuntarily dropped to my crotch as I felt the steel starting to bite. 

“Claire, have you got the saw?”

Her eyes widened and then slowly closed.

“I’m so sorry…”

“What do you mean “you’re sorry”?”

“I completely forgot. I wanted to make this evening so special for you and what with the dress and the food and everything…”

“Claire!”

I could not help but shout but when she looked back up at me her eyes were teary and I felt like a bastard. She had obviously put herself out and now I seemed unappreciative. I moved to her and put my arms around her but I must admit that, at the same time, I took a look at my watch to check the time. There was a hypermarket not too far away that stayed open very late and I felt a momentary relief but then it occurred to me that I had drunk far too much to allow myself to drive. 

The frustration I felt was almost overwhelming but, as I continued to comfort Claire, I succumbed to a sense of resignation. When all was said and done it was just a matter of a few more hours. With that in mind I suggested an early night. I loaded the dishwasher and we went upstairs but it seemed odd to be going to bed so early without the obvious motive. As it was Claire’s pleasure had obviously taken its toll because she fell asleep, with her head on my chest, within minutes. 

The strain of the day finally caught up with me and I joined her in a deep sleep which remained undisturbed until morning. I had a series of odd dreams the last of which centred on the blonde from the airport. I had failed to satisfy her with my mouth and she was fiercely angry. I tried to pacify her but, whilst I was in the same room, with it’s worn out institutional furniture, there was something different. I could not get up from the floor and when I lifted my chin it was to find that my arms and legs were spread and fixed with four large metal staples which pinned my wrists and shins. I grew frantic and tugged at them but they were driven deep into the floor itself and they could not be moved. The blonde stood over me mocking my efforts and then she took up station between my legs. She was wearing a pair of heavy Oxford shoes with highly polished steel toecaps and, even as I begged, she lifted her foot. I began to scream before the well aimed kick was delivered but it became a blood curdling wail as she drove the toecap into my balls with all the strength she could muster. 

I woke up instantly but I could not shake off the pain and it took a few seconds to realize that I had woken with a frustrated erection. Claire was still asleep at my side but her hand had unconsciously found its way down between my legs. I rolled out of the bed, waking Claire in the process, and rushed to the toilet. My need to urinate was desperate but for some seconds my body refused to cooperate. When I finally managed to relax my bladder it came with a painful rush and, by the time I had finished, I was sweating heavily. 

I stepped straight into the shower and was finally able to relax under the cascade of warm water. After a few moments I soaped my hair and it was as I was rinsing it that I became aware of Claire’s presence. She had slipped into the shower and she began to nuzzle herself into my back sharing the benefits of the stinging spray. I turned to face her and she immediately kissed me before leaning back against the side of the stall.




Forfeits



“Soap me…”

She knew I could not resist. I loved the feel of her wet slippery skin beneath my touch. I filled my hands with a generous measure of the expensive shower gel that she favoured and I began by caress her shoulders. She closed her eyes and sighed as I slid my hands in ever increasing circles and then she raised her arms up over her head. I teased her by easing my soapy fingers into her armpits but I could not resist for long. Her breasts, glistening with water, were far too tempting. I began by pushing gently at them with the palms of my hands, feeling her nipples slowly engorging, but then I moved my hands beneath them so that I could appreciate their exquisite contours. 

Claire was purring but I was becoming increasingly aware of a growing pain in my groin which almost seemed to sneak up on me. I immediately stood back and Claire opened her eyes in surprise. When she realized that I did not want to continue she looked childishly disappointed but then she lifted her leg and rested her foot on the narrow tiled ledge at the rear of the stall. With her womanhood brazenly on display she gave me a coquettish smile.

“Please?…”

My thoughts were immediately dragged back to the previous evening and I found I still had a vague sense of disgust about what she had made me do but, in an odd way, I guess that is what made me give in. She stood there literally clean but also, in some way, pure and, as I knelt down in front of her I knew that I was trying to purge the unwanted memories. She came quickly and violently and had to hold onto my head with both hands to keep her balance on the wet surface.

When she had recovered she offered to wash me but, knowing how arousing I usually found it, I declined. We both got out and dried off briskly before donning our bath robes.

“I’m sorry about yesterday. I’ll go to the shop this morning on my way into work.”

She kissed me lightly on the cheek as she said it and I was touched. It also saved any rearranging on my part. I knew I had a busy day and our “out of town” office meant I would have to go well out of my way to get to a shop myself. I was even happier when I arrived at the office an hour later and my secretary told me that Claire had already rung to say that she had been successful.

It was an odd day. As it turned out, I was very busy but my mind was never distracted enough that I could forget about the restraint altogether. I still had this peculiar sense that everyone knew and particularly so with Sheila. The more I tried to act naturally, to make up for my behaviour the day before, the more stilted I became. In the end I left work earlier than usual and was pleasantly surprised to find that Claires car was already in the drive. 

I let myself in the front door and smiled. Claire had the hi-fi cranked up and I often chided her for still being like a teenager in that respect. My own particular penchant is for film music, which I listen to at reasonable volumes, but Claire will listen to almost anything and loved nothing more than to pile on the decibels when she was home alone. On this occasion she was listening to another of those interminable angst-ridden females laying her soul bare to the accompaniment of thrashing, quasi country and western, guitars. 

I went through into the living room and I dropped my briefcase in shock. Claire was lying on the sofa with her eyes closed. She was completely naked and her whole body was sheened in perspiration. Her hand was between her legs working an obscenely large black vibrator in and out of her sex and she was raising her hips to meet it. It looked as though she was holding herself just at the edge of orgasm and the high colour in her cheeks suggested that she had kept herself teetering at the brink for quite some time. 

I knew that Claire masturbated when I was away on business, after all “what’s good for the goose”, but I had no idea that she owned a vibrator. In my mind I had often pictured her using her fingers, and that particular image had served me well on some lonely nights away, but this vibrator seemed like a betrayal. What did she imagine when she used it? Surely no one could match up to its prodigious proportions in real life and, worse still, did it mean that she found me inadequate?

I stood rooted to the spot as the track came to a finish and I found myself holding my breath. Claire, for her part, was panting as she held the vibrator still, presumably waiting for a new musical accompaniment. The next track was slower, quieter, and, as it started Claire’s eyes half opened. For a second she registered shock but then, without missing a beat, she opened her free hand and beckoned me. 

I walked towards her in a daze and, as I drew near, she pulled me down onto her and before I knew it we were kissing passionately. My Versace suit was going to be ruined but I was overcome by pure lust. I even managed to ignore the inevitable pain in my groin as I enfolded her in my arms and our mouths meshed in a frenzy. After just a few seconds Claire broke off to draw a heaving breath and at the same time she took my hand and guided it down between her legs. She relinquished her own hold on the vibrator and pressed my hand to it. It was hot, slick with perspiration, and the humming vibration felt odd. I had never held one before and it was almost as though it was imbued with a life of its own. 

Claire put her hand to the back of my head and pulled my mouth back down to hers. As she did so she lifted her hips slightly pushing herself against the vibrator. It dawned on me that she wanted me to be a bit more proactive and so, clumsily at first, I began to ease it further inside her. It was so large that I was terrified of hurting her but I found that I was able to push it deeper with frightening ease. 

Claire groaned and pulled my mouth more tightly to hers and I tasted blood as her teeth accidentally nicked my lip but the sharp pain was as nothing to the fierce spasm that clutched at my groin as my manhood fought to come to erection. I wanted to pull away but she put her free hand on mine urging me to thrust the vibrator in and out. I was still unsure of myself but she began to thrust her hips with an almost animal-like passion and I found myself pistoning the black monstrosity ever faster.

She could no longer kiss and draw the necessary breath at the same time and so she broke off and pulled my face into her shoulder. Her mouth was now at my ear and in between heaving gasps of air she screamed at me.

“Yes! YES!…Fuck me!….Harder…Faster you bastard!”

I had never heard her like this and I was appalled but, at the same time I was turned on by it and the ever increasing pain of my frustrated hard on was almost becoming too much to bear. I was on the point of wrenching myself away when her body suddenly stiffened beneath mine and she held on to me painfully tight as her long denied orgasm passed through her body like a high voltage current. 

“OH FUCK!….YESSSSsssss!”

It seemed to take an age to finally relinquish its hold on her but, as it did, her arms went limp and I rolled from her and fell to the floor. She lay slumped on the sofa, the vibrator still lodged deep inside her, and every now and then she was shaken by another pleasant after shock. For my part I felt a complete wreck. My suit was crumpled and damp and there were some stains that were not going to be easily removed.  

We remained like that for a few moments with Claire coming down from on high and me trying to get my confused thoughts into some sort of order. Finally, with an audible sucking sound, Claire removed the vibrator and switched it off. With a beaming smile she got to her feet.

“I’ve got something for you.”

She went to the kitchen and returned with a carrier bag. She looked excited and my own excitement matched hers when I saw the ironmongers logo She handed it to me and I felt the reassuring weightiness of it.

“Clever girl!”

I could wait no longer. I stripped out of my clothes there and then strewing them heedlessly onto the floor.

“I’ll need your help.”

“Okay, tell me what you want me to do.”

I removed my boxer shorts and Claire reached forward and gently took hold of the tube. 

“That looks sore.”

She gently rubbed her thumb over the livid purple head which did indeed have a strangled look about it

“Claire, that’s not helpful.”

I smiled at her and she released my manhood which had begun to twitch frustratedly under her unintentionally arousing ministrations. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

I upturned the carrier bag, dropping the saw onto the sofa, and then my face fell.

“Oh, for fucks sake!”

Claire suddenly looked anxious.

“What’s wrong?”

“You silly bitch, this is a bloody woodwork saw!”

I regretted the harshness of my words as soon as they were out of my mouth but this new frustration coming on top of everything that had gone before was simply too much. Claire looked at me in shock and, without another word she stormed from the room. I wanted to apologize and shouted after her but she did not answer. I struggled back into my undershorts and followed her upstairs only to find the bedroom door locked. For the next twenty minutes I pleaded with her but she would not open the door and so I had little choice but to go back downstairs. I got myself a beer from the fridge and considered my options. There was still time enough for me to catch the store but I would still need Claire’s co-operation. I had just decided that I would get dressed and go in search of what I needed when Claire came in. She had obviously showered and she had dressed casually in jeans and tee-shirt but I could see from her face that she was still in a black mood.

“Claire, I’m really sorry…it’s just that this bloody thing has got beyond a joke.”

She remained silent for a couple of awkward moments and then, weighing her words carefully, she replied.

“I want you to carry on wearing it.”

“What?!”

“I want you to wear it for the whole fortnight.”

“Claire, what are you saying?”

“It seems to make you more…attentive…and besides, it’s one way that you can prove your fidelity.”

Alarm bells immediately began to ring. The question of my fidelity had become a sore subject of late and, in all the years of our marriage we had not had such heated arguments as we had experienced in the last few months. 

One of the things that had initially drawn us together was the shared intention not to have children. We were both looking to make a success of our careers and we both had unfulfilled ambitions. Neither of us wanted to be tied down for a large part of our lives raising offspring – or so I thought. As time went by I found that my outlook had changed. Part of it was growing older and feeling a little jealous watching other fathers with their kids in the park and I had started having daydreams about having a family of my own. 

When I broached the subject with Claire she was painfully blunt. She did not want children and more pointedly she could not understand why I refused to have a vasectomy. I could not really answer that myself. I suppose there was the spurious and often used excuse that I would feel “less of a man” but, in the early years of our relationship, even Claire was prepared to concede that we might have a change of heart. Now, she was saying that her mind was made up and, if I loved her, I would have the operation. The fact that, up to now, I had refused was to her mind a slight and proved that I contemplated the prospect of another relationship. 

As I looked into her eyes I knew that we had reached a hiatus.

“What if I refuse?”

“Then I’ll leave you.” 



Forfeits - Chapter 3

Those few simple words came as a hammer blow. I loved Claire without reservation and never in my wildest imaginings had I contemplated a life without her. I pleaded with her to be reasonable but she was resolute. I had to wear the tube for the whole fortnight or else.

Once I came to terms with it it seemed easy. I had already managed three days surely eleven more would not prove difficult? In the event I got to day seven before I broke. I had never gone so long without coming and I started to find even the most mundane things stimulating; wafts of perfume even the curves of a vase would set my imagination to work and every time there would be a pain to remind me. 

At home I felt an irrational need to prove my love to Claire but I was rewarded with her new found, seemingly voracious, appetite for cunnilingus. I had never known her so demanding. I found myself between her legs both morning and night but the final straw was her turning up unexpectedly at the office. That particular morning I had already spent twenty minutes bringing her to a sleepy orgasm when she insisted that she wanted another. I girded myself and put my tired tongue to work but two minutes later the door bell rang. Claire pushed down on my head and told me ignore it but I was expecting some couriered documents which I needed for a meeting. I eased myself up off of the bed, donned a bathrobe, and went down to sign for the package. When I got back upstairs I found Claire in the bathroom where she greeted me with a stony silence. Nothing I could say served to change her mood and so I left the house under a cloud. 

At the office I quickly became submersed in the preparations for my meeting and it was a surprise when, a little after eleven my secretary buzzed through to say that Claire had arrived. She was a very rare visitor to the office and usually only when she was meeting me to go out in the evening. I rose to meet her as she came in dressed in a smart two-piece business suit which pulled off the trick of being both formal and sexy at the same time. She was carrying her burgundy attaché case and so I assumed that she was between meetings herself. 

“Darling, what’s up?”

She did not answer immediately but turned round to lock the door behind her. 

“We have a little unfinished business…”

She gave me a smile as she breezed past me and sat down in my black leather office chair. Even then I expected her to open her case and produce some sort of document that needed signing, I have lost count of the number of times that we had sent buy and sell orders to our stockbroker with only one signature instead of the two required, but I was in for a shock..

“Kneel down baby.”

For a moment I looked at her uncomprehendingly but the message became appallingly clear as she raised herself slightly and pulled her tight skirt further up her legs. I could not help but stare. She was wearing black self support stockings but no panties. My heart raced and all my instincts told me to call a halt there and then but the sheer lewdness of the situation gave it a hideous appeal. This was my office, the spiritual centre of my business empire, and what Claire was suggesting seemed almost sacrilegious but a sudden pain in the groin told me that my mind was losing its battle with my body. 

There was also the prospect of being caught in flagrante, people were bound to question a locked door in the middle of the day, but this too only added more spice to the situation. I felt myself literally getting hot under the collar but Claire sat there coolly, expectantly, and in her mind there was only going to be one outcome. 

I was almost in a trance as I reached towards the blinds on the large picture window but Claire brought me up short.

“Leave them open…”

I looked at her in disbelief. I enjoy a spectacular view from the top floor but the shape of the building means that, were any of my business partners minded to look out of their windows, they could see into my office. I knew it was madness but I was caught up in a whirlwind; almost before I knew it I was kneeling before her as she lazed back further in the chair presenting herself lewdly for my attentions. As soon as I started to lick her she leaked moisture like a sodden sponge but, notwithstanding this evidence of her arousal, it took me fifteen minutes to bring her to a screaming climax and I was thankful for the rooms efficient soundproofing. 

As soon as it was over Claire was a picture of brisk efficiency. She stood up, straightened her skirt, and said goodbye. She had left the room even before I got up from my knees. I locked the door after her and went to my en suite washroom. There, I splashed some water on my face and took a long hard look at myself in the mirror. I knew I was being demeaned and, worse still, at the cost of more and more physical discomfort the question was what was I going to do about it?

My immediate thought was to buy another saw but then I would have to enlist someone’s help as I was certain that I would harm myself if I tried unaided. The second choice was one that I had been toying with for a day or two and now I decided to act. I phoned the hospital, found out what I wanted to know, and then told my secretary that I was taking the rest of the day off. It would mean postponing my meeting but my mind was made up.

I made good time in the car and forty five minutes later I pulled up onto the sweeping drive. I hesitated at the front door but then jabbed at the doorbell. After a full minute there was no answer and so I rang again with part of me hoping that the hospital was wrong but, seconds later, the door opened and standing there, perspiring, in a black leotard was Diane. 

“Peter, an unexpected pleasure, how did you know I would be home?”

“I checked at the hospital. They told me that you were not on shift so I took a chance.”

“Why didn’t you phone?”

It was a simple question but the answer was that, had I had to announce my intention in advance, I would probably have lost the courage. 

“I was in the area I thought I’d surprise you.”

“Well you’ve certainly done that, I was working out downstairs in the gym. Come on in,”

She preceded me down the hall and I could not help but cast my eyes down to her shapely, lycra clad, buttocks and I was immediately and painfully reminded of my predicament. 

“Can I get you a drink?”

“No thanks, I can’t stay long.”

“Okay, so to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Di, I’ll come straight to the point. It’s this tube. I don’t want to alarm Claire but I think I’ve developed an infection.”

“Oh Peter, I’m sorry! Let me see.”

“What?”

“Get undressed. I’ll take a look for you.”

“Di, I’d rather see my own doctor, if you’ll let me have the key, I’ll drive over there now.”

“No. I insist. Come on. Don’t be shy.”

I hesitated. To me Di was the friend I had known since university, I rarely thought of her as a doctor, but with the lie I had told I had painted myself into a corner.

“Di, I’d rather not.”

“Don’t be silly. I’ll be back in a moment.”

She returned with a medical bag and took out a stethoscope.

“Have you had a temperature? Any palpitations?”

“No. Look Di, is this ethical?”

“Well the truth is Peter you present me with a dilemma. If you do have an infection as a result of the tube I made you wear I’m not sure where I stand with the medical council. You’ll be doing me a favour if you let me examine you.”

Put like that what choice did I have? I got undressed and she ran the stethoscope over my heart and lungs before she turned her attentions to the tube. She hefted it in the palm of her hand and then gently manipulated my testicles before she stood up again.

“There’s just one more thing I need to check out.”

I could not quite believe it as she put her hands to her breasts and brought her already prominent nipples to erection through the sheer lycra material. I immediately hissed a pained breath through my teeth as my manhood reacted as it inevitably must. Diane smiled and playfully pinched my cheek.

“I think you’re telling me fibs. Everything seems fine to me. I think that you just want to come out to play.”

“Di, please, this bloody thing is inhuman! If you don’t give me the key I’m going to have to cut it off and I think Claire will be pretty pissed.”




Forfeits



She was silent for a moment or two but then I saw a smile form at the corners of her mouth.

“So I guess that Claire has discovered the pleasure to be had from keeping her man under control?…”

She said this in such a way that I immediately began to wonder if her husband David had been subjected to a similar form of torment. What unfolded thereafter was to leave me in no doubt. 

“…Did you know that you can have an orgasm of sorts whilst you’re wearing the tube?”

“How do you mean?”

“Do you trust me Peter?”

“Of course I do, we’re friends.”

“Leave your clothes and come with me.”

“Di,…I can’t be unfaithful to Claire.”

“I’m not asking you to be, silly.”

She led the way down to the basement which had been converted into a gym. I had been in it before but there was one new piece of equipment dominating the room that I did not recognize. It looked like a metal bed frame with the springing removed and then set on its end. There were a number of pulleys and counterweights attached to it but their purpose was unclear. I stepped into the arch that it formed but I was still none the wiser. 

“What is it?”

“It’s something I’m evaluating for the hospital. It’s for patients recovering from spinal injuries.”

My natural curiosity got the better of me.

“How does it work?”

“It’s essentially an exercise device except that it’s more finely calibrated. Amongst other things it allows for the fact that our arms are slightly different lengths and things like that are important when you are considering load bearings on damaged vertebrae. Put you feet here.”

She indicated two footplates which were fixed to a track which ran across the frame. More intrigued than ever I stepped on to them and Diane immediately knelt down and draped a webbing harness around each foot. They hung loosely over the top of my feet and at the back of my achilles until she flicked two catches whereupon they immediately tightened. It was not unlike a ski binding but an experimental tug showed that it was not a quick release mechanism. Diane stood up again.

“The patients’ feet have to be in the same position for every exercise session so that the leverage is always the same and we can take consistent measurements. Okay, raise your arms and take hold of the bar”

“Di, where is all this leading?”

“Just bear with me.”

I shrugged my shoulders and then reached up. In order to do so I had to lean forward slightly but I was able to rest my arms on two padded metal braces. Once I had hold of the bar she snapped down a lever at the side of the frame. The braces immediately closed around my arms holding them rigid. 

“This ensures that the patient works with their back and not with their arms.”

This was all very fascinating, but I could still not see what it had to do with my particular problem, and I felt uncomfortable as Diane walked around the framework surveying me from various angles. Finally, I decided that I had had enough and I tried to withdraw my arms only to find that they were fixed fast. 

“Di, undo these please.”

“All in good time. The mechanism allows weight to be added one gram at a time but I think for someone fit and healthy like you we should work in kilos” 

As I watched she counted off some ten kilo weights which were suspended just in front of me and then she removed a cotter pin. The weights, regulated by a series of pulleys, slowly began to drop but as they did so the two braces which held my arms began to be pulled upwards and slightly away from me.

“Di! What’s going on!”

“Just relax.”

I tried to fight the inexorable pull but I had nowhere near enough strength and then I noticed, with horror, just how far the weights still had to drop. 

“Di!”

The strain on my arms and lower back was increasing by the second and I made another superhuman, but unavailing, effort to resist. My shoulders were burning and something in my back gave an ominous crack. 

“It sounds as though you could have made use of this sooner. You should get yourself a better office chair.”

“Di!”

She stepped forward and slipped the pin back in immediately stopping the weights. 

“You’ll be amazed. You feel uncomfortable now but over the next couple of hours I’ll be able to add at least another couple of kilos.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Pain, Peter, pain. The pleasure centres in the brain stem are triggered by nerves coming up from the hypothalamus. These run in parallel to the nerves that trigger autonomic pain responses and some doctors have speculated that, at one time they were indiscernible. This would help to explain why so many people take pleasure from having pain inflicted upon them..”

“Okay Di, you’ve had your little joke, now release me.”

“Oh there’s no hurry. David’s away on business for a couple of days. We’ve got the house all to ourselves.”

“Di, come on now, I’ve got things to do.”

“I won’t be long.”

“Di! Come back here!”

She ignored me completely and went back up the stairs. I continued to shout after her but there was no reply and I tried instead to extricate myself from the apparatus. The only result was to markedly increase the pain in my back and arms and my thighs, too, began to make their protest. I gave up the struggle and began to consider the absurdity of my situation. Here I was, naked but for a medieval anachronism, effectively shackled in the basement of one of my oldest friends. 

It was more than half an hour before Diane returned by which time my patience had worn thin but, on the assumption that she had now had her fun and would release me, I held my tongue. It was obvious that she had taken a shower. Her, still damp, hair was pulled back severely from her face and secured with a large hair clip and she was now dressed in a black crop top and matching short skirt. It almost seemed that she had dressed for the gym again except that she was now wearing an expensive pair of black ankle boots with a short spiked heel. She had used a light, fresh, floral scent which now pervaded the room.

“Hi, missed me?”

“Very funny Di. Just undo me.”

“Sorry Peter, no can do. I promised you an orgasm or, at least, the semblance of one, and that’s what you’re going to get. Let me tell you what’s going to happen. To start with I’m going to tan your arse. Whilst I do that you’ll be gagged, not because it’s going to hurt, well not much anyway, but because you will, no doubt, be very indignant but you won’t be saying anything that I want to hear…”

I looked at her literally open mouthed and I was on the point of bursting into laughter as she continued unabashed. 

“…After that we’ll move on to something a little more demanding at which point I’ll remove the gag because, quite frankly, screaming does it for me.”

I could no longer restrain myself. I began to laugh. The dominatrix thing held no appeal for me but it had to be said that Di was hamming it up well. I just assumed that she would laugh along but her face remained deadpan as she turned away from me. 

In one corner of the room was the steel gray locker that David had bought because it reminded him of boarding school and Di now opened it. When I saw the contents it changed my perceptions of two of my best friends for ever. The locker was full of S & M paraphernalia. There were restraints of different kinds and a variety of paddles, canes and even whips. Neither of them had ever even hinted at an interest in this erotic nether world and even now I could not imagine either of them as participants.

“Di, what the hell is all this?”

“It’s as I said. There is pleasure to be had in pain and, over the years, David and I have experimented with it.”

As she spoke she ran her hand over a line of gags which were hanging on the inside of the locker door. She chose one that looked like a giant bulldog clip attached to a leather harness and, even as she approached me with it, I could still not quite believe it. What I really wanted to do, like a schoolboy in possession of a salacious secret, was to rush home and tell Claire what I now knew. 

“Di, I’m seeing a whole new side to you.”

My attempt at levity was clearly lost on her.

“Don’t worry Peter, before this afternoon is out, you’ll see a whole lot more.”

Before I could react she reached forward and pinched my nose viciously between her thumb and finger.

“Di, that hur…mmmmfffff!”

She deftly slipped the gag into my mouth and I resisted as the rigid plastic plates pressed down on my tongue but as soon as she released her grip on the two wings protruding at the front the plates sprung apart forcing my mouth open in the process. By using all the strength in my jaw I managed to close them by a couple of millimetres but I was forced to give up after just a few seconds and the plates immediately recovered the lost ground.

I tried to swear but I could manage nothing more than a few incoherent nonsenses which only a dentist would be able to interpret. Di came around behind me and I shook my head furiously but she used the leather harness like a pair of reins and tugged none too gently. With my head back it was easy for her to thread the buckle of the harness and fix it tightly in place. 

My fury must have been obvious from the colour of my face but she ignored me and carried on as though it was perfectly natural behaviour. Returning to the locker she perused the contents for a moment or two before taking out something that resembled a cricket bat in miniature. Holding it in one hand she slapped it experimentally into the palm of the other and then moved around behind me. 

“This will tenderize your flesh a little and the heat will act on your groin. After that we’ll drive the pain deeper and you’ll find that, as you clench your glutaeus, as you inevitably will, it will start to affect your prostate. At that point it will be up to you. With a little more pain you should be able to achieve a dry orgasm, not as satisfying obviously, but then I’m guessing that you’ll take anything you can get.”

At that moment I was beginning to seriously doubt her sanity and I tried shouting again but all I could produce was meaningless noise.

“Make as much noise as you like. The basement is soundproofed and, nowadays, I can really make David scream.”

This brought me up short. Even now, in spite of everything, I still had a vision of David as the dominant partner. This suggestion that he was in fact the submissive turned all of my thinking on its head. Without another word she raised the paddle and slapped it across my buttocks. It was not a hard stroke, in fact it probably travelled less than twelve inches, but the crisp splat echoed from the walls. I jerked indignantly but she was already in the process of striking for a second time.

“I’m glad to see you stay well toned.”

The pain was not great but the paddle did sting and I was furious but, no matter how I tried to convey it, she carried on striking me with measured, leisurely blows. Over the next few minutes she must have struck me more than twenty times and I could feel my flesh glowing.

“You really colour up nicely. I wonder what Claire would say if she could see you now?”

That thought only served to compound the embarrassment that I was feeling. In my minds eye I saw us around the dinner table with Di regaling our circle of friends with the story of how she had tanned my arse. 

“Now, let’s do that again with a little more feeling.”

I struggled inside the framework and tried to yell in protest but she simply laughed at me.

“Try not to get too excited.”

She took up her stance once more but this time she held the paddle well back. I drew a breath waiting for the next slap but hoping that the joke was now over. When she did strike me I nearly broke my spine. It was a full bloodied stroke, delivered at speed, with the weight of her body behind it. As I screamed I was driven forward in my restraints and lost my balance. The pain was awful and the sickening splat was something that should not have been heard outside of a butchers shop. It must have been obvious that it was not humanly possible to take another stroke like that and so I waited for my imminent release and the opportunity to rip into her. 

How naïve I was. The second stroke, when it came, seemed, if anything, even more powerful than the first. Through the blinding veil of pain I was dimly aware that she had aimed lower this time but I had little time to dwell on it before she struck me twice more with equal ferocity. There was no doubt that she was working to a pattern and the sudden realization that she was not just hitting out with all the strength at her command but was, in fact, fully in control struck cold fear into my heart. 

The knowledge that she was my friend was forgotten as I simply concentrated on survival. There were tears in my eyes and, as she continued to strike, I cried out continually but the gag was all too effective. She stopped after twelve strokes but it was a while before I appreciated that my ordeal was over. The pain was spreading out from my buttocks to the base of my spine and the back of my thighs and I feared that some permanent damage had been done. I could not believe it when Di reappeared in front of me with a broad smile on her face. 

“See, it’s amazing how much pain you can take…when you’re forced to. I need to get myself a drink then I’ll come back down and we can get started on part three.”

I hoped my face expressed my complete disbelief in what she had just said and I tried, in vain, to yell at her but she had already turned on her heel and started to make her way to the stairs. At a guess she was probably gone for a good quarter of an hour during which time an odd thing happened. The pain grew greater, and I could not keep the tears from my eyes, but now it seemed to be creeping around to the front of my body. I took deep breaths and tried to ignore the burning sensation but then I noticed a tingling in my balls. It quickly developed into a maddening itch that I was desperate to scratch but I had no choice but to put up with it. As the minutes passed I thought I would go insane and I found myself jerking involuntarily but then, to my own surprise, I felt the onset of an erection. It was as though I was being betrayed by my own body. I could not believe that, in the midst of all my anguish, I could react in that way but the vicious cramps that quickly added to my other woes were proof in themselves. 

Diane chose that moment to return and the smile on her face suggested a frightening understanding of everything I was going through.

“Do your balls need scratching?”

Diane was usually very cultured and to hear her speak in this way was odd it itself but by then everything was a living nightmare. I braced myself as she came closer but she moved around behind me and I felt her fingers working at the buckle of the gag. Even with the harness unfastened I did not have the strength in my jaw to close the two plates of the gag and I had to wait until she came back in front of me and squeezed it sufficiently for me to expel it. For a second or two I used my tongue to explore for damage. All my teeth seemed intact but there was a slight tang of blood where the upper plate had pressed against the roof of my mouth. I wanted to swear at her but my throat was raw and I was all too aware that I was still totally helpless. 

She left me for a moment and returned with a bottle of cold water. She opened it and held it to my mouth and I sipped gratefully.

“Come on Di, you’ve had your fun. Right now I want to kill you but we can both walk away from this and pretend it never happened..”

She appeared to ponder this for a moment or two but then she smiled.

“Peter, you’ve come this far, it would be a great pity to miss the best part.”

“Di, I’m telling you, this stops right now or there will be serious trouble!”

I do not know why but, at that moment, I let my eyes drop. Her quicker breathing was evidenced by the rise and fall of her breasts within the tight confines of her crop top but, more tellingly, her nipples were so fiercely erect that I could even make out the dimpled areolae. Any lingering doubts that I might have been harbouring about the seriousness of her intent were immediately dispelled. She was doing this for herself and herself alone.

She turned her back on me, ignoring my final protestation, and walked slowly over to the locker. After a couple of moments thought, she reached in and then, having hesitated for an instant, she took out a vicious looking whip. This time it had to be a joke. The thing was formed from a single plait of shiny black leather which, at one end, had been braided to form a handle and then tailed away for another eighteen inches to create a single lash. It looked unused and the way in which she was hefting it in her hand to get a feel for it seemed to bear this out. 

“I was going to go easy on you Peter but, frankly, your attitude is starting to piss me off.”

“My attitude! Di, you’re the fucking freak!”

The last vestiges of her smile disappeared in an instant to be replaced by a mask of heartfelt anger and I knew that I had made a serious mistake.

“Di, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

“It’s too late for “sorry””.

She moved behind me and her well toned body, formerly an object of beauty, suddenly took on an aura of menace.

“Di!, for heavens sake think about this!”

“Oh, believe me Peter, I am thinking about it.”

The next thing I knew I was screaming. I heard her grunt a split second before the leather cut into the flesh of my buttocks like a hot wire. The pain was instantly doubled as my body instinctively tried to fold itself and I found myself jerking against my restraints.

I had still not quite regained a grasp on reality before she struck for a second time. If anything, the second strike was harder still and the pain traveled the roads to my extremities in the blink of an eye. It was as if my brain had decided that the pain was too much for my buttocks alone and that my whole body should share the burden. 

I wanted to reason with her but my barely formed words turned into another scream as she struck for a third time. I could not take much more; there were spots in front of my eyes and my heart was racing. I tried to brace myself for the next stroke but now, for reasons best known to herself, she paused. The following few seconds seemed to last forever. My ears were ringing but I could hear her breathing heavily and I dared to believe that my ordeal was over. I was badly wrong. The fourth stroke fell preceded by a sickening, drawn out, whoop which told me that she was using the full sweep of her arm. 

I just had time to brace myself before the leather exploded onto my buttocks and I had a vision of my flesh splitting. The pain was unbearable and I wondered why my body did not shut itself down. Why was my nervous system still functioning? I wanted to pass out, to no longer be a part of this nightmare, but relief would not come. I made a titantic effort and found my voice.

“Di, for pities sake!”

Suddenly, I felt her leaning across me. She put her mouth to my ear but what stuck in my mind was the feeling of her intensely erect nipples as they literally poked into my back. She was almost obscenely aroused. For a second or two she said nothing but then I felt her fingertips moving across my buttocks surveying the lattice of ridges that she had created. 

“I’m disappointed in you Peter. I had you down as a tougher man than David.”

It was then that I discovered that male weakness and male vanity are different sides of the same coin. She moved away from me and I knew, with hideous certainty, that she was going to whip me again but an irrational, stubborn, pride compelled me to try not to cry out, to try and prove myself better than her husband. Looking back I realized that this was just as she planned it and, if I could have seen her face, I am sure I would have found her smiling.