Acting Out Fantasies

This chapter is a little bit longer, and has some more nastiness in it, but brings me to the end of what I had written so far. I will keep churning out material, as I know where the story is going, and there are lots of jumping off points from there. But it will likely slow down as I have to write it, and then edit it. I do have a few days coming in the next couple of weeks to write, but I also have a job. Thanks for all the comments that have come so far.

This might surprise some, but I am a religious person, a family man, and a committed husband. Although the pretext for this story is a little bit far-fetched, I admit, I do plan to deepen the characters, and have them wrestle with what it means to be a spiritual, sexual, relational person, while still keeping the action hot. I think my faith has missed the boat on this, and I hope to generate dialogue with others about how to synergize these real parts of ourselves.

For those who are wondering about the inspiration of this story, I’ll come clean. It comes from a unique combination of the adventures I’ve shared with my wife in the last 4-5 years (she enjoys CMNF and lives it when kids are in school, being submissive, and being a “hotwife” a few times a year), and authors who wrote stories that got me off, but some of whose stories I wish I could write an ending or continue with their characters.

Some of those writers are in my “favorites” list, but include:

-Bydasea and Viredae, who have the best ending chapters of “Louise Submits” and “Luna vs. Rival,” respectively.

-LaceandHumiliation (old stories), who wrote some damn good stories about Bailey and others.

-Whoever wrote “Shaping of Slut,” whose story I wish I could find an ending to.

-Nitewriter, DamonX, and others, who I want to thank for the raw nastiness and slutiness of your characters.

GTO_Racer, who has a good thing going.

And there are others whose stories have influenced me. Thank you all for your inspiration. Don’t worry, this is not good-bye, there’s more coming soon! I just wanted to get this off my chest. Keep up the comments and feedback, I love it all!” To the story:

Fifteen minutes later, they were sitting in a breakfast café parking lot, just a couple of miles from the hotel – the place where Michelle and Pete’s life had changed forever. It was a café in an industrial area of town, a stand along building close to the street, with parking on either side of the building.

Pete, knowing how Michelle was dressed, wanted a place out of the way, and knowing that it was a school morning, he hoped they could avoid any families with children. Just as they were getting out of the car, Pete’s phone rang with a new number. He guessed it was Jim, and he was right.

As they were standing on either side of the car, Michelle was keenly aware that they were out in the open. It was a breezy day, and the alterations she had made to her clothes made her look sluttier than a hooker. After agreeing with her suggestion that slits should be cut in the sides of her shortened chiffon skirt, she had cut the slits on both sides of her skirt to within an inch of the waistband.

Without the wind, it was slutty enough, but when the wind picked up, even a little, the slits caused the material to separate, giving an observer a clear view from the side or up the skirt. And the top was no different. It was equally fickle to the wind. Michelle could feel the breeze on all her naughty bits, and shivered when she thought of the view onlookers were getting. She decided to keep her arms to her side and just act normal. She heard Pete talking to Jim.

“Hey, Jim….Yes, it was amazing…No, she’s never done anything like that before, I swear…Well, I’m not sure she’ll follow through, either. I keep thinking she’s going to snap out of it, but she keeps surprising me. The manager called our room this morning, and she went to the hotel office naked, where he punished her. She’s got red marks on her ass and tits, and she came again without being touched.”

Michelle was blushing with embarrassment as Pete spoke, not just because of what he was describing, and not just because he was talking about her, his wife, but also because two slightly older married couples were walking past their car on the way to the restaurant, just as Pete was using those words. Her attire and those words caused the two couples to turn their direction, and slow down.

They looked at Michelle, and Michelle looked at them, and her embarrassment deepened. They knew that Pete was talking about her, and she was dressed for the part. Eventually, they moved on toward the restaurant, saw them shaking their heads and looked at one another. This sense of shame caused Michelle’s pussy to begin throbbing, remembering who she was for the weekend.

She had willingly asked four men, one of whom was on the phone with her husband, to take her body and do with it as they wished for the next few days. She had not only said it to them once when they were not expecting it, she had also elaborated on it, while naked, and while they recorded it on their phone cameras. And to cement it, she had asked them to use it against her if she faltered at any of their instructions.

They had given her an evening unlike any other, filled with submission, nastiness, vulnerability, exhibitionism, and more amazing orgasms than she had ever had in such a short period of time. The feeling had been so wonderful, that in the last hour, she had told her husband that she wanted him to take “ownership” of her after the weekend was over. For a brief second, she seized in anxiety at what she had done and its implications, but that was overpowered by the heightened sense of sexuality that she had robbed herself of for the last 20 or so years of her life.

She was pulled out of her thoughts when she heard Pete talking to her. “Honey, you go on in and get us a table, I’ll be a second while Jim talks to me about the weekend.”

“Ok,” she said falteringly, keenly aware that she was walking into the same establishment as those couples that had just dressed her down with their looks. They had not been looks of disgust, but instead, looks of recognition of who she was. “

We know what you are. You’re a slut.”

She was pondering that recognition as she walked in.

Am I a slut? Like, not just being slutty, but a slut? Is that the word that describes me? Just 12 hours ago, I was just a sexy wife out on a date with my husband. But here I am, waiting for my fate from my husband and my masters for the weekend, wearing the sluttiest things I have ever worn, and I’m embarrassed and humiliated…but so fucking turned on! Is this me? Is this what I want to be? Is this what Pete wants me to be? Can I be this submissive, this obedient?

All of those thoughts were swirling in her mind as she opened the door, and felt the wind lift her skirt as she entered the building.

It wasn’t long until all eyes were on her. She looked around and saw all the people with their eyes on her. The Old Michelle of 12 hours ago would have crouched in horror and cried from humiliation. The New Michelle stood still and let everyone look.

“Are you a prostitute?” the hostess asked loudly, exacerbating the moment. She was gesturing at Michelle’s outfit. “We don’t allow prostitutes in here.”

“I’m not,” Michelle croaked, looking around, keenly aware of all the looks she was getting. “My husband it outside. He’ll be in here in a minute.”

The hostess gave her another dressing down with her look. “So you’re a slut, then?” she asked, with a slightly amused look on her face. She didn’t wait for an answer, just grabbed two menus, and turned and walked toward a table…right next to the two couples who had heard Pete as they entered the restaurant. They were seated in a booth, whispering together and looking at Michelle as she was seated.

Michelle sat quietly as they continued whispering, hearing the words “brave” and “slut” mingled into their murmuring. Soon, she saw a waitress walking toward the couples’ table with a tray full of waters. But she was staring at Michelle. She carefully served them their water, then, putting her tray under her arm and holding a glass of water for Michelle, the waitress quickly turned, and spilling water as she did, she set it down in front of Michelle. The spilled water had gone all over Michelle’s crop top, causing it to cling to her rock-hard nipples, and making it see through. The glass was only half full now.

“Oops,” said the waitress, not looking sorry at all, and then she walked away.

The two couples looked at Michelle, and Michelle looked at them. She realized as she looked that her chest was heaving again, both from the chill of the air on her wet shirt, but also from the the humiliation. She could feel her face and chest redden with heat.

Where is Pete?

She looked out the restaurant window, and saw him, still on the phone. She tried to read his face, but couldn’t tell what was going on, so she let herself drift in her thoughts again.

Her thoughts were a montage of snapshots, imaginings of this lifestyle carried out. She imagined wearing this outfit to church. She imagined her nipples as hard as they were right now, with clamps on them, but she was without a shirt at lunch with her friends as they laughed at how excited Michelle was in her predicament. She imagined being naked at the office, just going through a normal day of work with clients. Then she imagined she was hosting a party, and Pete was announcing that her body was available to all the guests, but it wasn’t any party, it was her son’s college graduation party! Then she imagined she was naked at her daughter’s sorority, cooking for all the girls, who each smacked her ass as they passed by. These were all fleeting fantasies, no more than memes in her mind.

She knew she should be ashamed of these thoughts (fantasies?), because they all involved her debasement, being on display. But she wasn’t ashamed. She was actually excited, imagining what it would feel like to be in those situations.

Do I really want these things to happen? These are all the people I know and love, and I’m actually reveling in my degradation. What is wrong with me?

What pulled her out of her thoughts was the sight of Pete walking up to their table. He sat down with a sigh, looking distant. He was so lost in thought, he hadn’t noticed all the eyes on him as he walked to the table where the slut was sitting, nor had he noticed Michelle’s newly see-through top.

“Well?” Michelle asked. “What did he say?”

Pete was still not responding, just staring absent-mindedly at his menu. So Michelle tried again. She wasn’t’ whispering, but talking in a normal voice. “What did Jim say they are planning for me today?”

Pete looked at her, suddenly intense and focused. “I love you, Michelle. I really do. And I realize that this was my prodding that brought this on, but before we talk about what the guys have in store for you, I need to know, 100% that this is what you want. We need to really think this through and decide that this is what

we

really want. After they get done this weekend, it will be hard to keep this all hidden from our friends and family. I mean, this is the real deal.”

Michelle could see that Pete was having trouble with this, even though she would be the one experiencing it. She put her hand on Pete’s, but didn’t say anything.

“I wish I could understand this all,” he said. “Just to get some perspective. I mean, we’ve been married for years, and never was there even an inkling that you were like this, that this was inside of you.”

“I didn’t know that this was inside of me, either.”

“I don’t believe that,” Pete said. “You had more of this thought out than you let on.”

“I really didn’t,” she replied. “I let them dictate the events.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. What I mean is that a woman who has been sexually conservative and mostly uninterested in sex all her life doesn’t just give her body to a group of men she has never known. You had clearly thought about this particular fantasy for a while. This was not just some impulse decision. I’m trying to understand, why, after all these years of rejecting your sexuality, of living so guarded, you couldn’t tell me that this was boiling under the surface.”

“You’re right, Pete. I’m not exactly sure how to answer this. What I know is that I have not been frigid, I have been repressed. You know our religious background. We share that together. And that all still matters to me. For my whole life, I have lived and acted on the assumption that woman not only have to protect our bodies, but our minds and spirits, from all of the “evil” stuff that comes with sex.

Did you know that my mom actually told me that sex was ugly and evil before marriage, but wonderful after marriage. I guess I never got past the “ugly and evil” part of it. And so, despite all the thoughts and fantasies that came from those magazines, I never really tried to be anything but what she was: a responsible, sensible suburban mom.

“I mean, there were stories about women getting peed on, about women have sex with lots of men, about women being spanked just to be spanked. I let them turn into fantasies that I imagined being a part of, but they were also gross, and so completely different from what “normal life was.

“As I told you last night, even after we got married, I actually had a good fantasy life, but I felt like all of my fantasies were so weird, I was scared to share them with you. That’s why I didn’t ever answer you when you asked about them. I didn’t want you to leave me.

"And then we had kids, and raised them, and now they’re all graduated and in school. I guess over the years I just taught myself not to give time or attention to those thoughts, because I felt like I had already established a way of life. I didn’t want to shock you.

“But then you broke the dam. You kept insisting that something had to be done; you kept pushing. So when I came up with this particular idea which we are living out now, to give myself away to strangers to do with as they please, was the only thing that made sense. It was them enacting their fantasies on me, not me having to take responsibility for how extreme they were. The control is given to others. The possibilities are endless. They tell me what to do, you tell me what to do, and I don’t have to worry about my guilt.

"I guess I can detach myself from my actions by being made to do things. Like last night, if Tommy had not told me to lick his ass…”

She looked up from the table as she heard a gasp. Pete was looking at her, she knew, but she had not thought about everyone else hearing her. The booth with the two couples had been listening. The waitress, who had now brought Pete his water, had been listening. They had all heard her confession, and they were all stock still, staring in disbelief that this innocent woman, who generally looked well put-together, was confessing to things like this.

She was embarrassed and felt her face and chest flush again. But there was something else that she felt. It was like she felt another dam burst. If admitting that there were fantasies to Pete was the first dam; and if giving her body to the men last night was the second dam; then owning who she was had to be the final dam.

I am a slut. I love that these people are hearing all of this. I’m proud of this.

She went on, inviting those listening to keep on. She vaguely noticed that the waitress had turned and gone back to her station. “Last night, if Tommy had not told me to lick his ass, I would have never done it. But he did tell me to, and once he did, I not only wanted to do that, I wanted to go above and beyond. I heard all of those men moaning when I did those things, and I felt both powerful and proud. I would have done just about whatever they asked me to do, because I knew it was turning them on, and turning you on.”

She fell silent for a minute. Both she and Pete were taking it all in, lost in their thoughts. The silence was broken by one of the wives in the booth next door. “That is certainly some story,” the woman said. She was a fairly skinny woman with bleached hair pulled back into a pony tail. She looked maybe 55 or so, but was still in remarkably good shape.

“I was in your shoes when I was younger. Both John and I made the decision to give it up, though,” she said, motioning to her husband. “He encouraged me to embrace that inner slut that I think is in all of us women, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I had so many commitments to society to fulfill, and while I made the right choice, there are many days that I think back to that moment and wish I had chosen a different way. I say, if your husband is on board, and you can afford to do it, go for it, make the most of it.”

Michelle looked at Pete. “Are you on board?”

Pete stared at her for a minute before replying. “Michelle, if you go forward, you are going to be having sex with lots of men this weekend. Not just vanilla sex, but hardcore, nasty sex. Like they’ll stick their dicks in your ass and make you clean them off with your tongue. They’ll make you parade around naked on a boat with nipple clamps on in front of a lot of people on that lake. And there are other things they’ll make you do. Are you OK with that?”

He expected her to cringe in repulsion, but instead she was processing, taking it all in. “Well, after all those asses I licked last night I didn’t get sick. So I guess if I’m turning them on I’ll be OK with that. But I’m also asking you. Are you OK with that?”

“I’m not finished yet,” he said in reply. “They also have plans for you to submit to their girlfriends, and let them punish you for doing all of these things, and doing them with their spouses. These women will probably spank you and flog you and embarrass you. Are you OK with that?”

She got a sheepish look on her face, mixed with a little bit of a smile. “Like what kind of punishment? Bob spanked me last night, and the manager again this morning. And it was such a turn on. I never thought I’d like it, you know that. But I did. Would they do what Bob did to me?”

“Yes, Michelle, they would. You’re doing crazy stuff that these women won’t do with Mike and Jim and the guys, and that makes them jealous and angry. What would you expect from them?”

“Well, I guess I’d deserve it,” Michelle said, and Pete noticed her squirming in her seat.

Pete continued on: “And with Mike? Jim checked with him, and you would be prancing around naked or close to it in front of a bunch of people from that man’s neighborhood for that party he talked to you about. They’d turn you into a free use slut for the afternoon and evening. Do you know what that is, Michelle?”

She shook her head.

“That means that you would be tied up or restrained and unable to resist whoever wanted to fuck you, however they wanted to fuck you, and whenever they wanted to fuck you. Are you OK with that?”

Pete noticed her squirming even more. “Does all this turn you on Michelle?”

She nodded her head.

Pete continued on: “Are these things you really want? Because the one that takes the cake is Jim. He told me these plans, and then he said that his night with you will be special, because it will be done right in front of all those people that you know. It will all be right there in the open, and you can’t undo it, and they can’t unsee it.”

He leaned in closer. “Babe, look at me. Are you hearing what I’m saying?”

“Yes honey, I hear you. I can’t explain it more than I already have, but yes, it all turns me on! Even though I’m not sure I want it, it turns me on. Like I said last night, I’ve never been hotter than I am right now.”

“Good for you sweetheart,” said the blond, butting in. She was getting some interesting looks from the other three at her table, but she didn’t seem to care. It was like she was trying to correct a wrong in her life from years ago, which she was.