Penance Day

The door hardly closed behind me when Anja comes down the stairs.

"You have an appointment today."

"What appointment? There was nothing in my agenda."

"It is a last minute thing, kind of."

"What is it?"

"I will not tell, you will see. Today is a Penance Day."

I am annoyed; I had planned to fiddle around on my car as the children are not here today. Then again, the penance days up to now were not always easy, but none of them was dull. Quite the opposite, they were always very arousing even if sometimes painful.

"Alright then, what do you want me to do?"

"Go get a shower. Shave. Everywhere, hear? Get dressed, and come here again."

"Any special clothes?" I ask ironically.

"No."

Nothing more, nothing less. As this seems to be the end of the conversation, I go down the stairs.

A quarter of an hour later, I re-appear, squeeky clean inside and out, and ask,

"Now what?"

She hands me a piece of paper and I read: F. Debucher, 81 Menninge Road. I look at her, my face a single question mark.

"Well, you have the address and the name on the door bell. Go there, and be a good boy."

She grins at me, and I know that there is again something arranged for me.

The house looks ordinary, in an upper-class way: a red brick townhouse, white stone-carved window surrounds, three floors high, but nevertheless probably a one-family home.

I ring the doorbell and the oaken door opens. A woman, probably the age of Anja looks at me curiously.

"Hi," I say, "I am looking for Mr. or Mrs. Debucher."

"Ah, you must be Alex. Come on in."

I follow her through a rather classic house, which means it is imitating an English manor, flagstones on the floor, old nearly threadbare carpets, wooden wall paneling, age-darkened paintings, up a winding staircase that leads to the second floor. While walking up the stairs, I cannot refrain from looking at her: strong legs disappearing in a grey flannel skirt topped by rather large heavy hips. Nothing like Anja's tight trim shape, the woman in front of me is rather the earth goddess type. While I still finish these thoughts, she turns around to me on the landing and says, indicating at the first door down the corridor on the left:

"In there, you will find your work clothes for tonight."

I nod at her shortly, walk over to the door and think,

"Thank god, nothing kinky with this earth goddess. Just some serving or similar."

I open the door and close it again behind me, happy to have a little bit of privacy before Anja's power game takes up again.

Yes, the owner of this house must have lived in England: the same ugly but expensive carpet, the same oaken window frames, lead glass windows. And on the bed a colourful patchwork bed throw. I start to look around. Where are the work clothes she mentions?

The dresser is empty. Nothing on the sill of the bay window. Finally I recognize the white spot on the bed throw. I step closer and touch it not believing what I see: a tiny maid's apron, hardly bigger than two hands and decorated with lacy ribbons.

Angrily, I grab the flimsy thing and walk back onto the landing, holding up the tiny apron,

"Mam, excuse me. I could not find any work clothes, just this." Sarcastically, I add "I do not suppose this is the work clothes you mentioned, right?"

She looks at me from the landing,

"Yes, it is."

I bit surprised, I mentally shrug my shoulders, lay the ribbons around my hips and tie them behind my back.

"Ok, and now?"

She looks at me, slightly rises an eyebrow and says,

"Only the apron."

I swallow hard, then say,

"Only ....?"

"Yes, and get ready quickly, the guests will be here in a minute."

"Oh shit, Anja," I think, "what have you got me into again?"

-----------

An hour and a half later, I know much better what she got me into:

the earthmother has invited her friends, eight women between thirty and fifty of variable beauty, but all visibly privileged, for tea and they are served by a naked guy. Hang on, no! I am not naked, I wear a tiny apron, hardly covering my dick and leaving my ass totally naked. And I am cheerfully greeted when making my first appearance:

"Margret, you naughty women. What a nice strong man."

"Hmm, I like his apron, look how it bulges."

They sit in the drawing room and chatter away while I go around to fill up the cups, cut the cake, bring more sugar and so on.

When bending over to fill a cup, invariably a hand squeezes my buttocks, several times a particularly naughty lady dares to go further and slides her hand under the apron.

The vulnerability of my situation, the lusty glances and the preying hands squeezing my ass cheeks, dick and balls soon have me very excited.

I feel how the apron slowly begins to lift and then falls to one side; and now, nothing covers my shaved dick and balls from their view.

And this raises their interest,

"Look at this penis, how much longer will it get!"

"Good grief, it is at least double the length of my husband's. And so wide and chunky."

"And his foreskin; he is not circumsized!"

They suddenly all gather around me, stare at my rock hard dick. I am mortified, the only naked person in the room, standing in their middle while they stare at me, a tea tray in hand and feeling how the blood races through my veined shaft.

The landlady grabs my left ass cheek, squeezes it and lays a cool hand around the root of my penis, then smiles at her friends,

"This, ladies, is one real source of pleasure. Low on calories, no sodium or conserving agents, no sugar ... It is perfect." She waggles with my dick and I feel the blood pulsing even more. The others laugh. But before she can sing more praise of the penis at hand, the door bell rings.

"Ah, that must be the maître de plaisir," the landlady says, lets go of my purple helmeted maze and returns shortly afterwards with ... Sergij.

I cannot believe my eyes, the servant of Madame Deuter, that sadistic and probably gay bastard, probably also lent out by his employer to the earthwoman. He carries in his hand a small sports bag which he sets down at a free chair.

He courteously goes around the room, kiss the ladies' hands and then stops in front of me,

"You again? You really seem to like these kinds of things. Are you a glutton for pain?"

The ladies laugh out loud at his witty remark before he sits on a chair and has me serve him a cup of tea.

"What was that you said, Ellen, dear," the earthwoman enquires, picking up their previous conversation, "your husband's is not even half as long as this?" she nods in my direction.

Ellen, a grey mouse of a woman, grey skirt, greying hair, even her blouse is a greyish tint of white, grey her skin, even her slightly bony body seems grey. Embarassed by everybodies attention, but also boldened by it, she replies,

"Well, maybe half as long, maximum and nowhere near as wide. And let's not speak about hard...." She sadly shakes her head.

"What do you mean, hard?" they enquiry. "You want to tell us your husband has a punctured tire?" asks one of them. Everybody stares at her blankly.

"What I mean is: he cannot get it hard?"

Ellen is visibly embarrassed, hesitates and then spills the beans:

"Not like that, you know, not just spontaneously. He needs encouragement."

"They all need that, fancy underwear, dirty talking, all that." The women sadly nod agreement.

But Ellen is now willing to really give an insight,

"No, no, that is not what I mean, he needs ... well,.... other things." Now she has their undivided attention,

"What sort of other things, wanking him?"

"No, other things, kinkier..."

"You give him head?" They look at her open mouthed now.

"I tried that as well ... it worked kind of."

A smallish matron, round everywhere with rosy apple cheeks and a bun, blurbs exitedly,

"Mine goes off like a rocket when I do THAT." Everybody turns around to her in surprise, she flushes furiously, until Ellen pushes out,

"No, I have to hit him. White a hazel rod. Or a riding crop. On his bum. That is the only way to get him hard and have him come in no time at all. He rubs his thing while I do it."

Another women, tall, bony, a little haggard, hesitates, then finally grabs her courage with two hands and stammers,

"I have to play around with his sphincter while he wanks himself. I even agreed once to stuff his backside with a rubber thing. But I will not do that again. It was so embarrassing hearing him moan and wheeze and shudder, not to speak of the mess he made."

Cooing and consoling sounds from the whole round, while Sergij grins a huge toothy grin at me. What is he up to?

"Sergij, " says the lady of the manor finally, "you seem to be an expert in men's pleasure. Are all men that kinky? Do they all like these filthy things?"

He is not shy for an answer,

"Madam, all men are kinky in some way or another. They all like naughty games, but not everybody likes the same things. Some even do not know what they like."

"How do you know what a man likes then?" she shoots back immediately.

"You don't," he says with a wide grin at me, "you just have to try." Oo ohhh, I do not like the direction this conversation takes. As if they could read my mind, all their eyes are suddenly on me.

Finally the grey mouse asks the fatal question,

"Do you know what Alex here likes?"

He looks me up and down, grins a bit, then replies to my horror,

"I don't know, but we can find out if you would like to." They seem a bit taken aback by this perspective, but he goes on, "No worries, I will handle the trying part. Obviously, anyone who wants to assist me is more than welcome." He searches the room with his eyes, then asks Mrs Debucher,

"I did not expect the conversation to turn to spanking. You would not have a cane or a rod or something like that?"

She replies without thinking,

"Why, yes I do," while getting up it dawns on her what the others might think, she blushes a deep crimson, and adds hastily, "my father used to be a school teacher. He kept a cane when retiring."

Before too long she returns with a very long, very slender bamboo cane and hands it to Sergij.

Sergij slightly grins at me, then says,

"Well Alex, will you assume the position?"

"What? I ... come on Sergij. You can't .... "

He interrupts me angrily,

"Bend forwards, stretch out your arms and put them on the armrest of the sofa. And don't make me use the 'M word'."

Hastily I bend forwards and feel terribly vulnerable with my naked ass in the air, this sadist with a long cane standing behind me. My dick has gone limp a while ago.

"Usually," Sergij uses the tone and modulation of an university teacher, " we can see already a light hardening of the penis after five or six cane strokes." Without waiting, he hits me hard and fast on my ass, smack One!, smack Two!, smack Three!, smack Four!, smack Five!, smack Six!.

The cane bites mercilessly into my cheeks. When he stops I see flashes of light behind my closed eyes, my breathing goes shallow and wheezing .....

He looks at me expectantly, still grinning, his pants bulging .... waiting a few seconds, then swinging my hanging dick back and forth like a pendulum with his cane,

"No, this does not seem to be HIS fetish." He pulls back the cane, then hits me hard and fast again, smack, smack, smack, smack, smack, staring at me again. I see how his crotch bulges. "A few strikes more, we want to be sure, don't we? It would be a shame not to find out he likes it only because of laziness and haste."

Expectantly, he looks at my limp dick again, then turns to the women again,

"Please note that even if he does not particularly like this, others might." With this, he lightly rubs his crotch. Some of the women snigger.

"Ok then, the cane is not Alex' hidden sin. Let us see." He sets the cane aside and grabs one of my burning ass cheeks and I feel suddenly his large finger pressing against my sphincter. Before I know it, he presses and squeezes my anal ring with his fingers. Not bad, but not really arousing.

"Hmmm, " Sergij presses and squeezes my ass appreciatingly, "he is a little cramped from the spanking, but we can handle that." The women now all look spellbound how Sergij opens is sports bag and choses a small tube. The bastard! I think.

Grinning widely, he squeezes a generous amount of lube on his hand and then returns behind me,

"Ladies, maybe your husbands do not know this, but any penetration is easier with a little lubrification." Without warning, he presses his middle finger hard against my ring muscle. I resist only very briefly, before the pain can really set in and I force myself to relax, let his rough finger penetrate my ass, spreading my ring and sliding into me.

"Thats a good boy," Sergij, appreciatingly squeezes my ass, "he lets me fingerfuck willingly his asshole." I see how the ladies move closer, want to see more of his finger that disappear in my firmly muscled ass. Suddenly, I feel a second finger and fell how he presses his finger deeper and deeper into my backside.

"Ahh, ladies, this is a real pleasure, Alex here seems not unexperienced with pleasures of the backdoor."

"Oh look!" The bony lady squeeks excitedly."He is fluffing up, he likes being boned from the backend."

Sergij curiously looks at my dick which is as a matter of fact slightly fluffed up, and says, again all-teacher-style,

"I do not want to contradict you, but I think this is rather the effect of my fingers pressing against his prostate gland." The ladies look at him rather questioningly and Ellen says what they all think, "Prostate gland? He seems to have a stiffening rod, doesn't he?"

To illustrate his point, Sergij presses his finger deep into me, giving me this deep burning feeling of a prostate massage.

"See, no full erection, just some stiffening. This is by the way something which has an effet on any man. I does, however, not mean that Alex here likes particularly being anally finger fucked. If on the other hand, Ellen, you can give me a hand...."

He grabs her hand and lays it around my halfmast stiffy. When I feel her dry warm hand, I immediately get harder.

She first seems to want to pull back, but Sergij holds her hand in place, then starts to slowly wank me with her hand. That is to much. In about two seconds, I go from slightly fluffy to „hand-me-a-nail-and-I-hammer-it-into-the-table"-stiff.

Ellen stares at her handywork and starts to slowly wank me, grinning now from ear to ear. She smiles at Sergij first, then at her friends,

„He seems to like THAT."

Sergij grins back,

„You seem to have a good hand with strong men, Ellen." Everyone laughs out loud while I am bent over and feel her warm hand wanking my mast. And then she really surprises me,

„Who knows when I will see another dick like this one," she say, kneels downs and licks my dick head, slobbers over my shaft and swallows half of it.

Her friends stare at her in disbelief while I now really enjoy the situation. Being sucked in front of all these ladies, and Ellen certainly knows what she does. She keeps a steady pace and god, she really sucks! I really get into things and I am ready to give her the best of me, my juice, when suddenly a voice is heard,

„Madame est servi." The French maid stares amazed at the scene in front of her, seven ladies staring with rapt attention at one of their friends sucking a muscled hung guy in a waitress' apron, he is bent over a sofa with several fingers of another guy up his bum.

She then shyly repeats in English,

„The dinner is ready."

Ellen slows her pendulum movement, opens her jaws, my hard dicks plops out of her mouth, she blinks her eyes as if she awakes from a dream, then jumps up.

The eartmother smiles and says then quite motherly to her friends,

„Let us have something to eat. I am sure the boys can play without us."

While her friends trundle over the the next room, she turns to Sergij,

„Give him a hard shafting with the big toy. We want to hear him come while we eat." She squints at Sergij, looks me up and down once more, then turns and follows her guests to the next room.

Sergij opens his sports bag again and emerges with an absolute monster dildo. Certainly 10" long, black, but that is not the worst. It most be fully 5 inches wide, not at its tip, but towards its base.

I stare at him in horror. He approaches, then says to me,

„Moan!"

„What?"

„Moan, for god's sake, and not too little".

Not understanding, I moan loudly.

„Yep, thats good," he wispers, „moan longer," and while I moan, he wispers in my ear,

„If I impale you on this thing, I'll rip your ass open and it will all get very messy. Moan more."

„The lady of the manor likes this dildo, but hardly anyone else can take it. Moan, come on, moan louder." I moan and mooh.

„I suggest a deal." I moan more, but look up at him.

„I get the tip of this thing up your ass, not more, we smear goo all over it and you moan and mooh as if you were split in two and coming at the same time." I look horrified at the huge dildo, but clearly realise that he is right: the tip of the monster is clearly slimmer than the base, maybe 2 ½ inches not more, whereas the bottom is gigantic. If he impales me on this, he WILL rip me apart.

I stare at him furiously, then ask,

„What's in it for you?"

„I have a nice appointment in half an hour, where someone really appreciates my treatment," he grins at me," Not somebody as ingrateful as you;"

Finally, I nod and feel how he immediately slides the monster through my ass crack.

He smears it up and down my crack, and then I feel the knobbly head press against my ring. Remembering his instructions, I start to moan and gargle loudly. He grins at me and without warning rams the head of the monster into my ass. I scream and feel how my ass cramps around the bulbous head.

After that, Sergij moves it just slightly while I start to moan, sigh and finally pretend to come with high pitched, shuddering screams, mixed with moans. I breathe heavily and stay bent over while I feel how he pulls out the dildo from my ass. I pretend to be short of breath while I recover from the stretching I received.

I do not feel like getting more attention from the earth lady and her frined. I just press myself up from the sofa, turn around and go upstairs, get dressed and leave as quickly as I can this oh so hospitable house.

-----------

Driving home is a somewhat awkward experience, I feel how the monster's tip has stretched my ring but I am copeing remarkably well, but the whelts from the cane are much worse. In every bend of the road, I try to take the weight off the ass cheek that is at the outer side of the curve, failing each time miserable, which is punished by firy pain shooting through my bum.

I finally drive down the hill in front of our house and am surprised to see next to Anja's car a large BMW exactly like mine.

Looking at the license plate holder, I can read the leasing companies name. Yep, must be someone from the office. But who chooses a Chianti-coloured car 5series BMW with blue leather seats? Too flashy... looks really gay ... unless.. unless it is a woman.

„Arghhh," I think, "what is the office bitch doing at my house, and why now?"

Do you have a bitch at the office? I don't mean 'do you have your personal bitch', but is in your office also a woman that is a real bitch? One that can do everything she wants because she has incredible looks, whenever she appears all the guy are salivating, and anyway this is a man's world, so she has to be even more macho than the rest of the bunch?

Well, meet Clarissa.

Clarissa is the office bitch in this field sales office I work in. See her, and you begin to salivate; she talks to you, it is getting hard to breathe. She makes some saucy remarks, you have problems to hide your erection and you gladly let her steal the ideas you had for a project.