The Adult Story Hub

The following is intended for adult readers who want to read fiction about men and women in adult situations.Anybody who is not legally permitted to view such material should read no further. All rights to this story are reserved by the author. Permission is given to archive this story in places where no fees are charged for legal adults to view it and if no words are changed, including this disclaimer. Hope you enjoy.

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

You can reach me at: hectorspup@hotmail.com