The Hunger Ch 09

I highly recommend reading chapters 1-8 before beginning this chapter. While this chapter can be read as a stand alone story it is entirely dependent on the events of the earlier chapters. A writer thrives on your feedback. Please take a moment to vote and leave a comment if you feel so inclined. Your votes are greatly appreciated. I hope you enjoy my scribbling.

++++++++++++++++++++++

I awoke from my post-orgasm nap and found the bed empty except for Amy's small body. She was curled up in a small ball on the other side of the bed. I left her sleeping contentedly and went looking for the others. I found Sharon, Jim, and Mike lounging on the deck, doing their best to kill a pitcher of margaritas. Sharon offered me one and I accepted. Jim inquired about Amy and I told him that she was still asleep when I had left. He said he was going to go check on her and as he started to get up, she appeared at the door and joined the rest of the group on the deck.

We sat around and chatted for a while. At least part of the conversation was a sort of "after action" report of our communal play time. The kidding, as usual, was light hearted and jovial. I was given a hard time about being "the queen of squirters." Amy accused Sharon of monopolizing the men, and Sharon shot right back about her monopolizing me. Amy informed us that Jim had ruined her asshole for all other men.

I noticed the growing shadows on the deck and asked what time it was. Jim checked his watch and said that it was 5:15. I had made arrangements for Ken and Lynn to pick me up for our "date" at 7:00 so I knew I needed to get moving pretty soon. I got up and mentioned that I was going to go start getting ready and Amy and Sharon said they would be along shortly to play "maid." Mike and Jim said they would just hang out and watch a ball game and try to stay out of the way while I was being "dolled up." Amy shot back that "slutted up" was probably a better description. I just smiled and went to the room where I had my stored my luggage.

I decided to attack the most difficult item on my "pre-date" checklist first and decide what to wear. I started digging through what I had brought with me, mostly newer items that I had recently added to my "slutwear" wardrobe. All of these items had lain unused in the guest bedroom since my arrival. I found my makeup and toiletry bag and set it aside to take to the bathroom. I was trying to layout some possible wardrobe combinations on the bed when Amy and Sharon arrived. Their excitement was clearly evident. They jumped right in on giving me their "advice," although that turned into a discussion between the two of them as to what would be the "hottest," which left me on the sidelines as a casual observer for the most part. After careful consideration and heated discussion they seemed to come to a consensus decision and as almost an after thought, it was presented to me for my approval.

I was left to ponder my circumstances and this process while my two friends carried on this animated discussion. My mind was awash with a cornucopia of different thoughts and images. Certainly excitement was foremost. The process of getting ready for my "date" took on an aura that was almost like foreplay. Although I was no stranger to the dating scene, this was like no date that I had ever prepared for. The fact that I was going to be enjoying sex later was pretty much a given, and getting ready for it was almost like part of the pre-sex ritual. I found myself growing slightly aroused as the anticipation of what was to come mounted. At the same time, I was left to consider my current circumstances from a remote view point. A short time ago I would have found this scenario simply bizarre. Here I stood nude, watching and listening passively, while two close friends argued and discussed what I should wear that would make me the most attractive and "fuckable" by two other people that were not much more than strangers. What amazed me the most, perhaps, was that in the context of my new lifestyle, my mind was able to accept all this as almost normal.

I had to admit that I was generally in agreement with their combined wisdom concerning my outfit. Once this decision was made, which included lingerie and shoes, I was hustled off to the master bathroom to begin my bath and personal preparation. Amy guided me into the shower and Sharon said she would lay out the stuff from my toiletry bag. Amy, now fully into her personal maid role, quickly had me soaped, shampooed, and conditioned. She even shaved me. Although I had shaved my legs, pits, and pussy before leaving for the camp, she said she wanted to make sure I was "as smooth as a baby's bottom." She seemed satisfied with herself when found a few stray hairs and a patch of stubble on my pussy that I had missed. She also did some required shaping and trimming of my "landing strip," as I had begun to refer to it.

When we got out of the shower, Amy dried me. I saw that Sharon had been busy. My stuff was spread out all over the counter top and she was busy filling my newly acquired enema bag in the sink. She turned and looked at me and holding it up said, "This was a good idea, especially when you want to be really, really clean." Amy voiced her approval as well.

Amy ran a brush through my hair and said we would attend to my hair afterwards. Sharon instructed me to lay down on the floor and sort of curl on my side into a fetal position on a towel she had placed on the floor. Amy helped by hanging the bag in the shower. I was in a kind of daze and uncertain of what they would be doing to me next. This was all so new to me. I quickly felt the lubed nozzle being inserted in my back door. I saw Sharon reach over and grab the little valve on the hose and the next thing I felt was warmness flooding my bowels. Sharon pulled up a chair from the vanity and Amy kneeled down next to me. I soon felt cramps start and when Amy asked if I was cramping I nodded and she started to massage my belly. Meanwhile Sharon began a rather lengthy monologue about the benefits and techniques of enemas. I had no idea she was so knowledgeable on the subject. I was really glad she was helping me out this first time. She went into an extreme amount of detail: temperature, volume, using a mild soap, clear water rinses and even the rate at which you should let the bag drain. I was starting to really feel full and the cramps were getting more intense. I looked down and could see a slight bulge in my abdomen starting to form. I was amazed. This sure wasn't like those little disposable fleet enemas.

The sensations were different then anything I had ever experienced. Fullness, some pain, and yes some pleasure, were all jumbled together. Finally, when I thought I was about to explode, Sharon announced I had taken enough and turned off the flow. She removed the nozzle and Amy continued to massage my belly. Sharon told me to hold it for a few minutes. It was strange; I could feel the fluid moving around inside of me. After a few minutes, Sharon told me to expel the liquid while she rinsed and prepared the bag again with clear water for a rinse. Amy helped me up and I made my way to the toilet. I just barely made it to the toilet in time. I didn't think the water was ever going to stop flowing out of me. The procedure was repeated again, and once again I felt the same cramping sensations. I think the flush may have been even larger then the first batch.

I couldn't help thinking about this process. It was just another significant change in my life and outlook. Never in a million years would I have previously imagined preparing myself to this extreme, much less having someone else help me prepare myself to have my ass fucked. Just as extreme was that this fact struck me while I lay there; my belly full and stretched. My life was changing quickly and I freely admit that I was not at all unhappy with the changes and the results of those changes. I felt alive and more in touch with my needs and desires then ever before. There was a freedom in this fact that shocked me. That freedom was in my ability to admit to myself, and to others close to me, that I had desires and needs that conventional society, to which I was more accustomed, would not accept, much less approve. I had found a new society, a new acceptance, with friends like Jim, Sharon, Mike, and Amy. They were not only friends but also my support group as I came to grips with the changes my life was going through. In them, I found not only support, but understanding by kindred spirits who had gone through similar changes in their own lives. I realized these changes were a process and dynamic and I couldn't help but wonder what other changes were in store for me.

I do have to admit I felt really good after the rinse was expelled. Sharon pronounced me "cleaned out." She changed nozzles and she repeated the process with warm, clear water for a quick douche. I made the comment, jokingly, that I thought I may have been cleaner, and definitely emptier, than I had ever been in my life.

I was then directed by Sharon to her bidet. The bidet was a luxury that was relatively new to me. I had first experienced it during my first visit, but it was a luxury I had quickly learned to appreciate. I quickly washed and freshened myself up "down there" and was ready to finish my preparations.

I was then sat down on the vanity chair and Amy and Sharon got to work on my hair and makeup. I have to admit it felt nice being attended to, almost like spending the day at a spa. They did a remarkable job. Sharon dried and styled my hair while Amy worked on my makeup. My makeup may have turned out a bit more extreme than if I would have done it myself, but I had to admit I looked good. She said she was going for the "classy slut" look. If that was her goal, I guess I have to admit it was a huge success. I brushed my teeth before she applied a heavy layer of bright red lipstick, topped off by a final layer of lip gloss. Amy called the color of lipstick she chose "cock sucker red." That got a good laugh from all of us.

I was again left to reflect on my situation as I sat there while Amy and Sharon doted over me. The crux of this reflection was "why was I doing this? Why did I need this? What part of my personality and sexuality led me to feel this need to play the submissive role?" It certainly was not, as so many unknowing people may assume, some history of abuse in my past. And it clearly was not some romance novel inspired fantasy of being swept off my feet and "taken" by some Prince Charming. This need I felt was more raw, more basic than that. It seemed to be something that was an intrinsic part of my sexuality. It was something from deep within that part of ourselves that we usually fear to acknowledge and accept. My submissive fantasies were something that I had previously only been willing to address in the heat of passion when I was able to let my guard down. Only at those times when my lust had overridden that part of my brain that refused to recognize that this was something integral to who and what I am. The conscious part of my self image was hard wired to only see myself as a successful, professional, enlightened woman. Yet at the same time, that image was always in stark contrast to a more feral part of me, buried deep in my self-conscious, that yearned for a freedom that I was unable to admit to myself. It was only because of the recent revelations and changes in my outlook on life, and the shifting paradigm of my sexuality, that I was able to start coming to terms with this side of myself. I was left wondering what other revelations the night would have in store for me.

While I had come to terms with this part of my sexuality, I also had come to realize it was not all of me. I could not see myself as a committed slave in a 24/7 BDSM relationship. I had come to see this as only one part, one side, of the whole of my sexuality. Being a submissive was not how I saw myself. It was only a role in the larger cosmos of my sexuality. I did not feel like I could simply limit myself to being "just" a sub. Admittedly, it was an experiment. I was testing myself, testing my limits, and exploring.

Time was starting to run short so I was quickly moved to the bedroom to get me dressed. I had a strange thought. I almost felt like I was back with my high school girlfriends, getting ready to go to the prom. When I recalled that I had lost my virginity on prom night, I thought that perhaps the comparison may be appropriate on several levels. In the back of my mind I knew that this night was going to being something new and different and while my mind was largely occupied with getting ready, I couldn't help but feel a certain degree of dread, fear, and at the same time expectant excitement. I was excited but I also had this fear that I may be getting in over my head with the kind of play that I knew I could expect with Ken and Lynn.

When I started getting dressed, or rather being dressed, I realized this is where the comparison with my prom stopped. I would have never been allowed out of the house dressed like this. My conservative parents would have been horrified, to say the least. Amy and Sharon first wrapped me in the new corset I had purchased. It was a royal blue color, made from a satin material, and had two sets of laces that ran up the back. I had never owned a corset before but had been strangely drawn to it. I was reassured by the lingerie shop owner that it was a "proper" heavily boned corset, and not a "decorative" type that was apparently more common these days. After it was on me, Sharon instructed me to lean over the end of the bed and they began to tighten the laces. Oh my gosh! What had I gotten myself into? After several minutes of tightening and re-tightening my body was confined and reshaped by the garment. I was repeatedly instructed to inhale which was soon followed by a tightening of the laces. The procedure was repeated time and again as the grip of the corset slowly embraced me. Finally, Sharon and Amy were done and they moved me over in front of a full length mirror to see the results.

I couldn't believe it. First off, I had cleavage! The corset pushed my breasts up and together. Sharon pulled down the lace cups until my nipples were left exposed. The resulting "open cup" was almost like a shelf bra. The under wiring in the corset lifted and supported my breasts from beneath but at the same time left them exposed on top. Her fingers produced an electric shock on my nipples as they casually brushed them while rearranging the top. I next noticed my constrained waist. It had to be at least 3 inches smaller then my normal 22 inches. This caused my body to have an exaggerated hour glass shape and caused my breasts and hips to be more exaggerated as well. No one would ever accuse me of being big hipped, but the corset sure made them look more prominent. Finally, I noticed that the corset made my ass push out a bit and my cheeks seemed to be more on display. I had to admit I was pleased, even if I was having a hard time learning how to breathe with the corset constraining my diaphragm. When I mentioned that, Sharon informed me that I would just need to learn to take smaller, shallower breaths. I decided that I needed to have a discussion with her later about how she seemed to know so much on the topic of corsets and corsetry. I was quickly coming to the realization that Sharon had a very far ranging knowledge in areas I would have never imagined.

Sharon noticed my struggle while trying to breathe with the corset on and she placed her hand on my belly and offered some instruction. "Take small, shallow breaths," she said, "don't fight the corset. Your diaphragm is constricted so you aren't going to be able to take deep breaths."

Sharon and Amy gleefully proclaimed the corset a success and Amy even made the comment that it was a shame to waste it on Ken and Lynn. She jokingly said I was too good for them and she thought she might want to kidnap me and keep me for herself tonight. When Amy grudgingly accepted my promise to wear the corset for her some other time, she acquiesced.

As I looked at myself, I had a thought. This was not the utilitarian corset of a Victorian woman who only wore it to adhere to some fashion norm of the era. This was the corset of a woman dressed for sex. I saw that in my own eyes as well as the way my body was covered. This was a body not corseted to satisfy some long dead societal convention of a supposedly sterile, sex starved era, but rather it was a body corseted to arouse and titillate and bring forth the sexual desire of her lovers. I had to admit it brought forth some of my own deep, dark desires as well. My how times change!

After a quick discussion, during which I was once again left as an observer, it was decided that I would forego wearing panties. My mobility was obviously limited by the corset and Sharon and Amy had to help me put on the wide lace top stockings that I had bought to go with the corset. I was unable to help fasten the garters after the hose had been stretched and smoothed along my legs. Wearing hose, as opposed to pantyhose, was still new to me, but I was quickly learning to appreciate the sexiness and freedom they afforded. I was next helped into the heels that Sharon and Amy had chosen to go along with my outfit. I had bought them on a whim, and while I found them very sexy, I had thought them to be totally impractical. They were at least 4 ½ tall with ankle straps that I was totally incapable of buckling on my own in my current corseted state.

After I was in the shoes I was once again moved to the mirror and Amy and Sharon stood behind me admiring the view appreciatively. I have to admit, I was a bit shocked at what I saw. Could this be me? The combination of makeup, stylish hair do, corset, hose and heels made for a pretty impressive appearance. I loved the way the heels and hose made my legs look and I especially liked the way my already enhanced ass was being pushed out atop the heels. The garter straps added a nice touch as well. I couldn't help but make a joke about how I might get a nose bleed from being up that high.

Finally, I was helped into my dress. It was a black silky number that I thought was a sort of throw back to the disco era. It wrapped around and tied off with a silk ribbon. The hem was fairly short and just barely covered the lace tops of my hose. A hint of lace could be seen when I moved, just enough to be a tease, I thought. The neckline was plunging and came just to the top of the corset. My nipples could easily be seen poking though the thin, silk fabric. "Easy on, easy off," Amy commented with approval. Another obligatory trip to the mirror was required. Damn, I have to admit I looked pretty hot, if I do say so myself. I was pleased, more so than I thought possible. I was pronounced as "eminently fuck-able" by Sharon and Amy chimed in her agreement with her comment of "Uber Slut." They both cooed over my appearance like a couple of over sexed mother hens. I have to admit that my appearance went a long away in bolstering my self esteem and confidence. That in itself was worth the effort.

After a set of sexy, dangling ear rings were added, Sharon announced that I was "almost ready." This mystified me as I had no idea what she meant by her comment. My confusion was rectified when she pulled out the anal plug that she had given me from behind her back. I had forgotten that I had thrown it in my bag, almost as an after thought while I was packing for the weekend. Amy giggled, and steered me back to the bed. She bent me over the footboard and flipped up the back of my dress, exposing my ass.

Amy took over lubing my ass and Sharon took responsibility for the plug. Amy seemed more then happy to bury her fingers back in my ass again. She seemed to get a little carried away in making sure it was more then adequately lubed. I couldn't help but chuckle a little at her anal fixation. I also couldn't help but gasp as her fingers were buried in my ass. I felt them reluctantly leave my ass and then heard Sharon's instruction to "relax." I relaxed my sphincter and felt the plug being slowly pushed into my ass. I grunted when the wide flange pushed through and then a moan escaped my lips when it slipped in far enough for my stretched asshole to close and clasp around the smaller neck of the plug. I was told to stay bent over and then felt what I assume to be Amy's fingers holding a tissue and wiping away any excess lube that still coated my ass. Amy delivered a swat to my ass and moved the hem of my skirt so that it was once again was draped over it.