What Did I Get Myself Into?

There's a certain NYC sex shop that I like, primarily because it caters more to women than to men. I just have a feeling of discomfort browsing for my pornographic pleasure when surrounded by too many others of my own gender, or asking sex-related questions of them. I enjoy the thought of buying a toy or two from a female, subtly revealing the true nature of my perversions, without having to talk in any great degree or embarrassing detail. This particular store is located on an upper floor of a midtown high-rise office building, a discrete location with a subtle entrance. It fits the bill perfectly. There are no garish product displays, and things are tastefully presented in well-marked sections. The shop itself is reasonably small, comprised of two nicely appointed rooms, plus the storage area for the wares.

Yesterday, when my troubles began (if "troubles" is the appropriate word), I was the sole male in the shop, so I wanted to be careful not to draw undue attention to myself, or make any of the other patrons uncomfortable with my presence (I really do attempt to be considerate). There were half a dozen or so female customers in the store that I noted, but my attention was focused on the two employees themselves (I didn't stare, but thank god for good peripheral vision). My guess is that they were related, but striking up a conversation with either of them on any sort of a personal basis just came across to me as "creepy", an adjective I try hard to avoid (although, deep down, I realize that the case could arguably be made). The woman at the cash register was, if I had to guess, Slavic. I had been to Croatia many years before, and she reminded me of the beautiful women I had seen there. This particular woman was tall and thin, perhaps forty years of age. "Lithe" was the perfect description. When I say tall, I suspect she was near about 5'-11", only two inches shorter than me (so nearly eye level). For no reason whatsoever, I named her "Leda," as it seemed to fit. Buried in my memory was a Greek myth about a swan and a woman of that name, so it was something that I felt I could remember, given her long, slender features.

I do sometimes wonder if women know the thoughts that go through our heads when we see them, and the considerable level of effort that we need to expend to keep our filters engaged, attempting to hide what we're really thinking. The first thing I noticed about her was her hands, which were definitely larger than mine. Her fingers were long and lean, and had a certain elegance about them. Being the deviant that I am (which I said I desperately attempt to hide in public), my imagination slowly began envisioning those lovely, glorious fingers at work. How did I so quickly conjure up an image of her left hand cupping and fondling my privates, with the other slowly, methodically, teasingly, stroking my shaft, all while staring confidently and directly into my eyes?

I needed to change my visual image quickly, as I realized I was becoming aroused, and this was not the place to be doing so, especially with the current clientele. It did not help when I looked at her younger colleague, who was perhaps two or three inches shorter but of reasonably similar physique. Since I had given her colleague a name, I decided that this one looked like a "Valeria," so that's how I started to think of her. She had a steely gaze, and the first thing that came to mind was, I presume, a Game of Thrones reference to Valyrian steel, hence the name. She, too, was also in form fitting trousers, but I couldn't help thinking about the lovely legs contained within. I pictured her wearing a modest length skirt, and once again, I quickly began drawing on my mental canvas. Although I didn't move from my chosen spot, In my mind I walked over to her (having eliminated everyone else in this mental scenario), got on my knees in front of her, and waited for her sly smile. Her slight lifting of the hem of the imagined skirt was my signal to begin. I slowly ran the tip of my nose across her soft calves, breathed in her skin-softened aroma, gently kissed the inside of her thighs. Eagerly, I reached under the skirt and lowered her panties to expose a lovely, luscious patch of brunette hair. These lips were moist, and ready for the attention that I craved to provide.

Stop it. I was dangerously doing it again. The scene was perhaps too much for me, and it was prudent that I should depart and leave the other shoppers in peace. Truly, that's what I intended to do.

Then two new women entered the store, a bit boisterously, and they headed straight to the woman behind the counter. "We're in charge of our friend's bachelorette party, and we're hoping you can provide us with some appropriately entertaining and kinky ideas."

The woman who spoke did so with a bit of a brogue, and that, along with the red hair, were dead giveaways to her Irish heritage. Perhaps twenty-seven years of age, 5'5" in height, with an athletic build. Her companion was of similar age, a bit shorter, but one of the most attractive African-American women that I have ever seen. I was certainly curious to see how this conversation was about to unfold, so I staked out a position where I could see and hear, but not be in the direct line of sight. I could at least pretend not to be eavesdropping, even though I most ashamedly was.

"When is the party?" was asked by Leda, my fantasy stroker.

"Tomorrow night, beginning at 9PM" came the reply.

"If you really want something out of the ordinary I think we can provide it, but are you sure that's what you're looking for?"

"Absolutely. She's marrying the love of her life, but he's a bit controlling. We want to give her the appropriate send-off, and let her let loose in a big way."

"Well, if that's what you really want, I may have just the right idea." With that, she winked at Valeria, and I noticed that they exchanged smiles that I found hard to describe. "Evil" was the first word that fleetingly passed through my mind.

"Sorry Ladies, we need to close up shop a bit early tonight," Leda announced to the other shoppers. "We need to do a private product demonstration. If you wouldn't mind bringing up any of your purchases to the register, we'll check you out as expeditiously as practical."

That being said, the store started to empty out. I delayed an instant or two, but then put the book I was pretending to read, Venus in Fur, back on the shelf and headed, somewhat reluctantly, for the door.

"No, sir. Not you. I said "Ladies." You're needed for this" I heard, in a surprisingly forceful manner.

I must have looked as confused as I felt, but I stopped in my tracks. The other women departed as instructed.

With that, her colleague walked over, put the "Closed" sign on the outside, and locked the door.

"I need you to put your hands on the counter."

No use of the verbal nicety "please." Just a clear, concise instruction that I didn't, for whatever reason, question. I complied. It might be fun to see where this would lead (or so I naively thought).

At that moment, two very petite Japanese females exited from the other room. Whether they had not heard or didn't understand the previous instruction I couldn't say. The proprietors didn't seem to be in any rush to escort them out, and let them stay to observe. My guess was that they were each 21 or so, and barely five feet tall (but very, very cute).

I assessed the situation: I was in a locked sex shop, surrounded by six very attractive women of various ages, heights, nationalities and skin colors. I was excited to see where this might lead, but understandably nervous as well.

"OK, let's cut straight to the chase. If you want the bride to enjoy herself, based on what you've told us, we think we have just the thing."

With that, Leda walked over to the BDSM section of the shop, took a harness off the shelf, spending a few seconds to decide which dildo was best to pair with it. She made her selection (one of the smaller ones available), inserted one into the other, donned her strapon, with me still standing with my hands on the counter.

The two members of the bridal party laughed, which was more of a combination of a gasp and a giggle.

Leda provided a brief instruction (almost a command). "You've seen the cop shows. Spread 'em." With that, she used her right foot to widen my stance at the counter.

She took the head of the dildo and pressed it against me, while placing her hands on my hips.

"You get the idea," she said to her slightly astonished audience.

"We've certainly heard of these before, but never seen them used, and never on a guy. While I, for one, am excited to see this, it looks like it would be harder to do than we might be able to easily pull off," lilted the redheaded lass.

"Not at all" came the reply. Leda stood me up, and turned me around. "And you'll notice that he has not objected to anything yet, and from where I'm standing seems to be enjoying himself. Or, should I say, at least part of him is."

I had certainly attempted surreptitious leering in my past; the overt attention now being paid to my crotch was unusual and, frankly, a little embarrassing.

"But I take your point," Leda continued, "and you want a more detailed further demonstration."

With that, she reached for my belt, and undid the buckle. "Go on, she said. Take 'em off. In fact, this will be easier for all of us if you just take everything off."

I could not believe what I had just heard. Did these women really want to see me naked? Was this somehow a trap? For what purpose? Was I being lured into some sort of harassment claim? What was going on?

"I don't believe these ladies have all day," Valeria said, in a voice that was as beautiful as she was, and even a bit playful.

OK, nothing ventured, so they say. I've always been shy, and a bit insecure, but this was not the time to hesitate. This felt like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I kicked off my shoes (no time for undoing laces), and removed every other piece of clothing, folding them and leaving them on the counter (being sure to leave my socks and underwear on the bottom of the pile, as it oddly felt right to do so).

"Hands back on the counter. Actually, it's better if you put your elbows on it. That will provide a better angle," Leda said.

"And ladies, the rest is easy. Just remember to use enough lubricant, as my guess is that this is not something he's used to."

I thought she was merely going to lead up to the act, not actually perform it. As she walked over for the Astroglide gel, my assumptions were rapidly falling by the wayside. The swan myth was coming back into my mind, but the roles from that story were being reversed. Leda was the one exerting full control here, and was very much in charge.

The stroking that I had imagined before was now taking place, but not on me. Instead, she was preparing her dildo for insertion into me, and I still had not objected. What was I thinking? Was I thinking?

With that, I felt the tip press against my anus. "Remember to breathe," she instructed in a tone that was surprisingly but refreshingly tender, "as that will make this a lot easier." In five progressive strokes, each advancing further than the previous, she was fully inside of me.

"See how easy that was? Now it's just a case of doing what you want, for as long as you want, as hard or soft as you want, and enjoying yourself." Her thrusting was oddly pleasurable, albeit very, very unfamiliar.

"And you have options." She pulled out of me (leaving me suddenly feeling achingly empty), and walked over to the cushioned bench that was by the door, which I had not really taken note of before. "Kneel on this" came the new directive.

No stopping now. I did as I was bid, and she once again entered me, this time a bit more quickly and forcefully (and easily) than the first time. One of the two Japanese girls walked over in front of me, gently stroked my cheek, pushed my hair back, and ran her finger across my lips. Without saying anything, it was clear that she wanted to place it into my mouth, have me caress it. First one, then two, then three fingers (fortunately, she had small hands).

"You have the right idea," said Valeria, but you have not taken it quite far enough. If you are going to have a memorable hen party you need to step up the game."

She followed Leda's lead, almost to the letter. A moment later, she was standing in front of me, similarly attired. "You said that the bride will be marrying a controlling man. She'll likely enjoy turning the tables, or at least seeing them turned, for a night."

With Leda ploughing me from behind, Valeria ordered me to fellate her. She enjoyed telling me to "kiss it", "lick it," "go deep", and suck it." The members of the bridal party appeared to be in semi-awe of what was being done to me. My peripheral vision, source of so much joy beforehand, now noticed that the two Asian women had taken out their cellphones and were brazenly recording the events. One of them was taking a rapid succession of photos, taking particular note of my facial expressions, while her friend appeared to be videotaping the festivities. "Spitroasted in public" was not the thought I had in the morning as to how I was going to spend my day. How had I allowed this ignominy to be captured for posterity?

There was further conversation between Leda, Valeria, and the advance members of the bridal party, but I can't say I recall much of the particulars. I think I was somehow a bit too shocked. Stunned may be a better word.

The "product demonstration" went on longer than I might have thought at the onset; perhaps because both ladies were really enjoying themselves, and the show that they were putting on at my expense.

"Well, what do you think? Do you want both of these, as well as the gel?" asked Leda at the end of her performance.

"As much as we enjoyed the show, and know the rest of the bridal party would, too, it seems a bit impractical. Where would we find another guy who would allow us to do that to him?"

This time it was Valeria's turn to step up. "That's easy," she said. "You don't need another guy; you just use this one. You've seen how this is done, and we can guarantee that he'll enthusiastically be there for you."

Turning her attention to me, she directed me to lie, face up, on the bench. My modesty was gone, my hormones raging, and I was as excited as I have ever been before. I've fantasized about CFNM before (clothed female, naked male), but never, never thought that I would experience it with such enthusiastic (and beautiful) women. I couldn't yet imagine how they were going to have me climax, but I eagerly anticipated that it would be one of the most volcanic ejaculations of my life.

As I lay there, Valeria guided the first of the Japanese girls to me, and made it clear that she wanted her to sit across my chest, facing me. I had to suppress a laugh, as I thought I saw that she was wearing "Hello Kitty" underwear as she straddled me. Laughing at that time somehow felt like it would be inappropriate and a bad idea. Various words were going through my head, and choosing just one felt impossible: Surreal, absurd, amusing, unbelievable, and certainly memorable.

Her companion was also directed to straddle me, but placed back- to-back with her friend, so staring directly at my very-erect member. I so yearned to be touched by someone. Even my pornographic imagination had difficulty conjuring what was to come next. I struggled to visually record every detail that I could, as this situation had the potential to feed my fantasies for years.

Leda and Valeria had each stepped away for a moment, but now returned. Everyone in the room was smiling in one way or another. And then...

I don't know what Valeria had in her hand that was so cold, but when it was applied to my genitals, there was a very unpleasant sensation. Had I not been weighed down by the two women sitting atop me I likely would have bolted upright, but their collective weight prevented me from doing so. The Seinfeld episode involving "shrinkage" was quickly recalled and painfully applicable. My expectant and needy erection was gone in a self-protective instant of biology in action.

Valeria was obviously not acting alone. Leda leaned in, and within a few seconds, I heard a reasonably subtle but certainly audible "click", but as I did not have direct line of sight did not immediately comprehend what had just occurred. There were combinations of laughter and gasps emitted in the room. The Asian women stepped away and, with horror, I realized what had just happened. I had never before seen a cock-cage, but one was now most assuredly connected to my body. Leda slowly threaded the key onto a leather necklace, making sure to draw attention to my shocked expression, as the other women did not appear to be looking at my face at the time.

"We told you that we could guarantee you that he would enthusiastically participate in your party. This key is your guaranty."

With that, she walked over to the black woman, and tied the key around her neck. I suspect she was chosen as her blouse was lower cut than her friend's, and the key nestled itself beautifully in her cleavage.

"Admit it," said Leda. "Wearing that key, and what it represents, excites you. You now have full control of his masculinity. He will submit to you. You may be smaller, weaker, younger, but none of that matters. Look at his eyes and you can see exactly what I mean."

It was hard for me to meet her eyes, as I suddenly found myself avoiding anyone's gaze, and just began to look down. Never before have I paid so much attention to people's shoes. The eye contact that I so strongly desired before now felt uncomfortably undesirable.

"And that's not all of the advantages, either," piped in Valeria. "When you have that key around your neck, not only can you do what you want to him, you can also get what you want from him. You and your friends can ask him anything you want to know, and he'll tell you. Think of it like a game of Truth or Dare, but you get to keep asking for Truths with no limit. You want to know his fantasies or innermost thoughts? He'll tell you. Inside, he's probably dying to tell you but you'll be giving him permission to do so. You want to know the first time he came? He may be embarrassed, but he'll crack like an egg. Want to know the longest he's ever given head? He'll give you whatever details you want to know. Heck, he'll even give you things he doesn't think he would. The thing he's likely most afraid to give you: His name, yet he'll provide that too, if you ask."

The conversations that were occurring around me were as if I almost wasn't there. I wanted to reject everything that was being said, but there were two related problems: One, I couldn't find my voice to speak and, Two everything that was being said I knew, deep down, to be true.

Somewhat dismissively, Leda turned to me and said "OK, time to put your clothes back on and get ready to go." She turned to my keyholder and asked, "where do you want him to meet you tomorrow evening? Here, write it down on this piece of paper. We can then discharge him and settle the tab for your new items. We can even add a few new ones to surprise him after he's left the room, if you're so inclined."

They were serious. I kept expecting to be let in on the joke, but the joke was on me. Once my clothing was on, with the new edition securely in place, I was handed the piece of paper with the rendezvous instructions and escorted out of the shop. Meekly, I left.

Which brings me to the present. Here I stand, waiting on street corner on the Lower East Side, scanning the arriving traffic for the arrival of a black stretch limousine. I know who two of the occupants will be, but have no idea how many others will be with them, other than the bride herself. I seriously hope this is a small car, with a female driver. How long will they keep me? What will they do to me, or have me do for them? What secrets will I be forced to reveal?