This story references events in "Tanya's Party" and "Tanya's Second Party", but can be read as a stand-alone piece. There is a theme of dominance and submission throughout, as well as ENF, CMNF and partner sharing. Submitted under BDSM, but could fit in other categories too.
***
I'm the kind of person who thrives on a predictable schedule. I could never work an "on-call" job like my friend Robin, the paramedic. I need regularity. That goes for both work and my personal life.
It was really great when Michael continued the special parties with our friends. Doing them once a month gave me something to look forward to and plan for. Never mind that I was being debased and often felt mortified while it was happening. It pleased Michael, and it satisfied me in that complicated way that I find difficult to explain. The problem was when the schedule became erratic.
Work happens. Life happens. People get sick or have to miss the party for some reason that month. And you're flexible and roll with it and soon a few months have gone by. It made me antsy, and I'm never as good a partner when I feel that way. Michael and I both knew it and eventually we talked. Something had to be done.
"Baby, tell me. What do you need?" he asked. "I thought you might welcome a break."
"I did at first. The parties are hard for me. But..."
"But you get something you need from them."
I exhaled loudly, relieved that he saw it. "God, yes."
Michael sat back and appeared to think deeply for a moment. When that happens it usually means something is coming. He's scary smart, and I love that about him. Slowly, he said, "Let's get down to the real basics. What need is being served? It's not as simple as having lots of sex."
"No, it's not." I knew, but I needed it to be drawn from me. It's not the sort of thing I find easy to admit. Again, Michael was smart. He knew not to try to wring it from me like a cop on a bad TV show. He asked me to think about it.
An hour later I was at his knee. Michael put down his book and gave me his full attention.
"I need to feel humiliated. And I need it on the regular."
We talked a while more, which is to say Michael asked a lot of questions. We eventually found our way to the heart of the matter and agreed on some details. I really wanted to experience my submissiveness as authentically as possible, and I needed to be able to count on it happening. Our personal limits and safety considerations were long in place. I realized I was asking a lot of Michael here, but isn't it always the dominant who actually does the most work in creating scenes for their subs?
Of course, I had to do my share too. It came in the form of an assignment from Michael, which I liked already. We were going to create a wish list for me. Things I wanted to experience, some specific, some general, in list form. Michael would make them happen once a month. Regular.
I got to work.
The next evening I handed in my list. I sat at Michael's knee again as he read it. He was frowning. Then he began shaking his head. "No. No, this isn't your real list."
"My 'real list'?"
Michael shook his head again. "These are all too easy. You're not telling me what you really need. Show you off? Any sub might have written that. You need to go beyond maintenance spankings."
That was something we had already established as a partial fix. I got a spanking every night whether I deserved it or not. But he was right. That was just a half measure. So I had to start again and Michael gave me more specific instructions. One of his strengths as a dominant is that he makes me participate in my own debasement. This time he made me do it under threat. I had to come up with a new list, and the ideas had to be painful. They had to humiliate me in a way that would hurt - as if I were writing it for someone else.
Michael compared it to the brutal discipline in the days of sailing ships. If a man was to be flogged it might be his best friend wielding the lash. That man was told he'd best swing it with all his strength, otherwise he'd take his friend's place and they'd find someone even stronger to do the whipping. Meaning, I'd better come up with truly challenging tasks and scenes or he might make it worse for me. I had a new list the next day. But it was hard.
"Now we're getting somewhere," Michael said approvingly.
I had three scenarios on my list. The first was similar to what we had done before, but with some new details. Michael nodded, said it was very doable and could happen soon. He had questions about the second because it involved some extremes we hadn't yet explored. The third actually raised his eyebrows and made him look me searchingly in the eye.
"Really?"
I nodded shamefully. "Yes. Really."
***
I was beginning to think of this as the labors of Hercules, but I had brought it on myself. The first scenario on my wish list was to be "demonstrated" for Michael's friends. We had done a fair bit of this already, but I had added more ideas. Putting them down on paper for Michael was humiliating in itself.
What I think I liked best from our past parties was being outside myself. Feeling so mortified from exposure that it was like watching it happen to someone else. I wanted Michael to put me through my paces. Demonstrate me for his friends as if I were a trained pet. Talk about me like my feelings were of no consequence, as if I weren't even there. And I wanted to be "forced" to perform a couple of very personal, intimate acts.
Michael made it happen for me the following week. Of course, he told me about it days before so I could worry, build it up in my mind and dread it. When the day came I was in our living room in gym clothes. Black yoga pants tight enough to be obscene from some angles, and a snug white shirt that showed off my belly. Michael texted me to say he was nearly there, and I began my workout. I was on the floor stretching my hamstrings when the four of them came in.
I didn't know exactly who it would be, but it turned out I knew all of them. Geoff had played with us before, having attended some parties. Michael had granted him "pussy privileges", and he took full advantage. He was always rough and demanding with me. Jack had heard about the parties, but not attended one yet. But it felt like a punch in the gut when I saw Troy was with them. He was a friend of mine, and I suddenly realized why he was here. Although it wasn't specifically on my list, I had told Michael I wanted to be humiliated and used by a platonic friend. Someone who I never thought of in that way and considered "safe". Michael was taking the opportunity to combine scenarios, no doubt knowing it would make my little submissive head explode.
Despite my asking for this and having a good idea where it would go, I felt suddenly panicked. It's one thing to talk about it, but another entirely for it to actually happen. When you have hardcore kinks like I do, things can get real awfully fast. It was Troy's presence that really threw me. We had worked in the same office when he was an intern. Only a year out of college, he was cute and innocent and I treated him like a little brother. But I had a tendency to over-share about my sex life because I could see how it horrified and fascinated him at the same time. I would tell him something dirty I had done and his reaction would be one of, "My god, that's terrible... what else?"
And now, Troy was going to see me put through my slutty paces.
I shook myself back to reality in time to notice Michael giving me a subtle nod and I delivered my line: "Sit down boys. I'll bring you something to drink and then do my workout in the other room."
"Drinks would be good," Michael said obligingly. "But don't worry, you can exercise here. We're not doing anything important."
Taking their seats, the guys watched as I brought sodas, bottled water and snacks (Michael never allows alcohol when other people play with me). I could feel their eyes when my back was turned, my yoga pants pretty much showing the outline of everything I had underneath. A baseball game came on the TV and I hesitatingly went to resume my workout. My exercise mat was to the side, giving the guys an unobstructed view of both the TV and me.
I began stretching again, knowing it would show a lot of skin. I didn't know exactly how Michael would make it happen. Would he just turn them on me, like a pack of wolves? The idea made me gasp with horror and excitement. Or would he turn it around and make me beg to service them, humiliating me with my own compliance?
After the stretches I began a series of calisthenics. I was painfully aware that some of them looked just like sex positions. On my back doing crunches, I imagined myself doing as Michael had taught me - allowing myself to be taken no matter how roughly, head turned to the side, nice and quiet so as not to distract the man who was using me. Then on my hands and knees to do leg lifts, the position obviously giving everyone in the room ideas. I couldn't decide if it was more provocative to face away from the group, or look toward them. It turns out, there's no way to be in that position in front of a group of men without it appearing lewd. I felt flushed and wondered if it showed.
The ballgame had apparently reached a point of drama. "I bet he strikes this guy out," Geoff said.
"No, he's getting tired," Michael countered. "Base hit coming up."
Sure enough, the hitter did his thing and the guys cheered.
"Want to bet next time?"
Geoff was laughing. "Sure, I've got a whole five dollars on me."
Michael looked pained. "I'm a debit card guy. No cash here. Tell you what - Tanya will cover me on the next bet."
My ears perked up, but I pretended to not be listening. I was into my yoga poses now, and was keenly aware of how the guys were watching me like hawks. I could tell Troy was trying not to be obvious about it, but he was definitely getting an eyeful.
Soon the game offered another opportunity for wagering and Michael issued the challenged. "This batter ends the inning. Get that five dollar bill ready." Geoff nodded and they watched incredulously as the batter not only didn't make and out, but hit a home run. The guys laughed uproariously. I found out later the game was recorded and Michael knew what was going to happen.
