Exposing Amy Ch 06

It took quite a while for my wife and I to come to terms with the fact Amy had given herself to my life-long enemies. However we eventually, albeit slowly, settled down and concentrated on looking after our children. We spent many hours revisiting the last few years, reliving the activities we had indulged in and talking out the tremendous and traumatic affect that they had upon us.

Throughout this period, we would take turns to sexually humiliate each other with taunts and jibes, using past events as a weapon to beat each other with. In this time we both had periods of dominance over the other and would use this time to take control of each other, by various means, one being enforced chastity.

Having agreed that this lifestyle had the potential to destroy us, we also acknowledged the terrific importance of our fetish and the huge impact it had on our life together. Our lust for unconventional stimulation and the sordid actions we took to achieve it, were driven by our need for a form of humiliation and shame unknown to many. The sexual disgrace we heaped upon ourselves, was an all consuming obsession and one which we needed so desperately.

Having agreed to a period of reflection, we put a stop to all future adventures until such a time as we could agree on the way forward.

We were soon to be given the opportunity to at least indulge ourselves in one of the gentler of our perversions.

I had been incredibly lucky to be given the use of a cabin as a reward for a job I had done for a customer, a cabin in an exclusive resort frequented by rich people. There was one small snag - the cabin was on a nudist site, or to be more precise, a 'clothing optional' area.

I said nothing to Amy about the nature of the retreat, until the point we slowly drove through the camp towards our cabin after checking in. Amy watched silently out of the car window as everything slowly registered in her mind. There were people in various states of undress, from completely naked to fully clothed.

It had become plainly obvious that the clientele on this exclusive site were the rich and privileged of the whole region. The journey from check-in to our cabin, only served to confirm our biggest fear, almost to a person the entire female population were 'trophy wives'.

I won't bore you with how we settled in and how we organised the kids and the cabin etc, however the time eventually came when I ordered my wife to undress and having got naked, she was commanded to go out of the front door into the garden area that surrounded our cabin.

It was show time.

It was time to order my wife with her ravaged body and saggy tits out into the midst of beautiful people. She would look appalling in comparison and I couldn't wait for her humiliation.

Amy's body had recovered somewhat from the most recent childbirth and she did not have as bad a figure as I am maybe making out. Although she could reasonably be described as chubby/thick/curvy etc. she was no different from many of the women of the world. However, amongst these trophy wives who did nothing but workout or pay surgeons, she stood out like a sore thumb. Amy's tits however were the one thing that had not recovered their original shape and had remained at her pregnant and post-natal breastfeeding size. Although not enormous in the usual sense, they were big enough to swing and sway with every step, the absence of any rigidity allowing the most erotic and hypnotic bounce. Her areola and nipples still sagged down and pointed more to the floor than forwards nowadays.

Amy continues

I was shaking like a leaf, being made to expose my baby ravaged body to these men who possessed trophy wives, was completely humiliating. In my haste to get to our sun chairs and to partially cover myself, at least from the waist down, I ran the few steps across the garden. I wish that I hadn't, as my saggy breasts bounced and bucked and swayed on my chest, creating a spectacle for the slyly watching men that I could have lived without. It was as I exposed myself to these strangers that I felt thankful that I had grown my bush again, as it afforded me a slight amount of cover and protection for my naked vagina.

Paul resumes

For a couple of days we relaxed and even Amy began to warm to the fact that men were not too subtly approaching our grassy area, with the sole purpose of looking at her bush and saggy tits. I was astounded just how many men wanted to ogle Amy, given the quality and availability of far superior and more attractive women than her. I was amazed at the attention that Amy received from men who had wives that looked exactly like you would imagine a trophy wife to look, gorgeous in both face and body. These rich and pampered women, who had nothing to do all day but go to the gym and sunbathe etc, looked immaculate. Whether their figures were a result of plastic surgery or not is irrelevant, each day I couldn't wait to force my wife with her saggy body, her flaws and imperfections, to go out further into the community and be humiliated by these 'Hollywood' wives.

I went to the clubhouse on the second night, after two days of secretly watching Amy being flirted with and downright ogled.

"Let's not beat about the bush Carl, I said to my friend, tell me, how come Amy is so popular with all the guys when you have such trophy wives with you."

"Your wife is a perfect example of 'Plain-Jane' ordinary womanhood, it's that simple. To be brutally honest, most men find the flaws and imperfections in an 'ordinary' woman to be both interesting and arousing. If I can talk frankly without causing offence, you have to realise that all the women here are for show, whereas Amy looks real, common and dare I say it -- available. Her appearance is purely sexual."

Although I didn't like his choice of words, I secretly knew and was quite aroused by, the truth of them.

All this talk of Amy doesn't take into account the inferiority that I felt myself. These bankers, lawyers and accountants etc. had so many advantages over me, yet I had one ace to play and I didn't intend to waste another minute.

I summoned Amy from the lounge area into the bedroom.

"Get dressed, your outfit is on the bed."

Amy was dumbstruck.

There on the bed, awaiting her attention, was the brand new chastity belt I had secretly bought, and now demanded she put on.

"For God's sake Paul, I can't wear that here, everyone will see!" she complained.

That was the idea.

I had been surfing internet sites for clips and pictures of women in the chastity section and had come across a seemingly innocuous photograph of a woman on the beach. This woman was playing with a bat and ball and was wearing a bikini, yet underneath that bikini was her chastity belt, in full view for all to see. That simple picture had been the basis for this whole vacation and how I planned to spend it.

Amy continues

Even though I had not given up my shameful flashing and still loved to let men see my body in its saggy and embarrassing condition, the presence of a chastity belt had become a secret between Paul and I. Now however, as I stood before the mirror, naked except for the wonderful symbol of chastity imprisoning my sex, I felt elevated to new level of eroticism. I felt like a common tart whose husband found it necessary to keep her from other men's cocks by way of a physical barrier and all who saw me would know it.

My new belt was different to the last one, as my first experience had been in a rather cumbersome leather lined chrome belt. This new, more discrete prison, did not have the broad straps of the old one, it was minimalist. The waistband was a small thin belt which fit around my middle and was not even the size of a garter belt. The two straps which ran down were just pieces of delicate chain which met together between my legs. The two chains each fastened to the flared metal piece which covered my pussy mound but allowed my bush to be wonderfully evident beneath. I couldn't wear a small sexy bikini or thong with the belt as it would have looked too blatant, so I wore the bigger, fuller 'normal' bikini bottoms. This did not make the chastity belt so obvious as to be crude, however, anyone who saw me dressed like this, would be left in no doubt whatsoever of what I was wearing beneath. The smooth bulge that covered my pudenda was clear and obvious beneath the thin white material. I was dying with embarrassment but somehow managed to act and conduct myself throughout, as though absolutely nothing was amiss.

I felt the familiar tingle between my legs as I considered my reflection, I hoped my unsuspecting audience would find me as cheap, tacky and trashy as I felt.

I was everything the other women were not.

The impact amongst the male population was like a red rag to a bull. They probably had no inclination to fuck the common slut in number 47 but once they were confronted with such an obvious sign of unavailability, it succeeded in doing nothing but stir the egos. How could an arrogant powerful man, who had whatever he wanted, be denied by this common little tart in a chastity belt? It was the ultimate challenge to not just their virility, their charm, or their attractiveness to women but to their boastful power and arrogance.

Paul continues

We decided Amy would not to go the supermarket naked, or with her belt in full view, instead my wife would shop topless, wearing a see through wrap-around her waist. This semi-transparent view of her chastity belt (or on days it was removed - the black triangle between her legs,) was just barely visible, providing the teasing type of nudity rather than outright nakedness. This tease enticed and seduced these men into competing to get near her and to have the best view of her.

Amy readied herself to go out and get a few things we needed for dinner.

The vision of her freshly pumped nipples was crude yet erotic and the semi-transparent sarong covering her lower half, exposed just the merest glimpse of her bush. This covering of her womanhood was tantalising to the watching men, being just able to make out the tell-tale black triangle was sexy and inadvertently we had created a 'mysterious' aura around my wife.

Amy had been seen by many men imprisoned in her belt, which had made her look alluringly out of reach. Now when men saw her unchained and her pussy vulnerable and exposed, it caused many a semi erection in these competing predators. Men who were far superior to her, now lusted for the common tart' that was my wife.

Amy resumes

The previous day, I had found being in the shop totally naked except for the gossamer thin sarong, a heart stopping experience which left my face beetroot red the whole time I had been there. On the following day, I again covered myself with a wrap, I felt equally as embarrassed being in a supermarket with my breasts exposed but when I bumped into a group of four men shopping for beer for their BBQ, my mind threatened to meltdown. Paul had made me pump my nipples prior to going out and now as I stood in front of these men, who had such beautiful wives, I felt incredibly inferior.

The heaviness of my laden breasts caused my huge nipples and areola to sag downwards and my exposed tits swayed, bounced and jiggled with every step, in a humiliating but incredibly erotic walk around the supermarket. My embarrassment caused my nipples to firstly tingle with the thrill, and then betray me as they filled with blood, further engorging as they swung backwards and forwards as I reached for items on shelves. It was so erotic and embarrassing to have such a flawed body that it turned me on. As I turned the corner of the aisle, taking me out of view of the four men, I approached the open top freezer. In what I can only describe as an aberration, I reached for two packets of frozen peas and furtively looking around to check I was not being watched, I hurriedly clasped both freezing bags to my tortured and excitedly throbbing nipples.

By the time the men rounded the corner again my saggy and unattractive (or so I believed) tits were in a condition that I found completely and utterly humiliating. I heard gasps from the men and out of the corner of my eye I watched as they all stood to admire me. They even stopped me and kept me in conversation so that they could look at me close up for as long as they wanted.

I was excited, yet my nipples were warming and losing their obscene swelling. I made my excuses and waited until they had again rounded the corner, before rushing back to the freezer compartment and re-icing my bare areola to their former glory, frantically and hurriedly pulling and twisting my nipples as harshly as I could stand.

Once again my tortured and abused nipples were the centre of attention as I again passed the men. If the state of my engorged, elongated and rock hard erections were not enough embarrassment to bear, then the fact that these men knew what I was doing was totally humiliating. They knew I was parading myself for them, they knew that I was twisting and pulling at my areola and milky breasts every time I disappeared from view, I was making a complete fool of myself like a pathetic woman, not seeking approval but seeking derision.

On reaching an isolated corner they paused, causing me to stop also. Surrounding me they became sniggering and arrogant, they thought me a cheap and common trollop, which only succeeded in playing to my fantasies. I wanted to be a scared and inferior underling and not a confidant mature mother.

Trembling, not with fear but slutty arousal, I could see myself in the reflection of a glass display cabinet. I had succeeded in making myself a cheap, classless, crude and vulgar slut and the emotions running through the common slag in the reflection, were humiliating to say the least.

The man who appeared to be the 'alpha male' reached for my throbbing excited nipple and took it between thumb and forefinger.

"Nice saggy tits babe, you like men looking at you don't you," he said sneeringly.

As he began pulling and tugging, twisting and squeezing my already tender and ultra-responsive hard nipples, I gasped and groaned aloud.

"Please don't," I whimpered, in as pathetic a voice as I could realistically use without risking putting them off abusing me and spoiling my desire for them to look down on me.

As the milk began to slowly drip, drip, drip, from my stimulated areola and engorged buds again, I cried,

"Please don't."

A second man stepped forward and slowly opened the front of my sarong, baring my most private part to their gaze. He surprised me by gently and softly cupping the swell of my vagina. I gasped and whispered another pitiful and unconvincing moan of,

"Oh please don't, please Sir don't."

My tormentors thought my pathetic pleadings were generated by fear but my submissive attitude was a deliberate act, designed to arouse myself into an excited and shameful humiliation. My molester was not crude, he fingered and toyed with my pubes, lightly pulling the hair a few times before gently running his fingers over the swell and the cleft of my outer lips, which made me unconsciously open my stance to allow him access (this action was not lost on my abusers, as glances and smirks of understanding passed between them). My disgraceful action enabled him to locate my swollen inner labia and my overheating clitoris. He slid a finger into my saturated softness and we all heard the squelch of arousal.

Another pitiful and unconvincing moan of,

"Oh please don't."

This was met with an attitude that was contemptuous and dismissive, these men were used to doing as they pleased.

I was in a supermarket for god's sake and a complete stranger was squeezing my tits and causing them to ooze their sweet load, whilst another had a finger deep inside my wet pussy.

What the hell was becoming of me?

The spell was suddenly and frustratingly broken by the noise of another group in the adjoining aisle. The men left me nonchalantly, politely and courteously but not before the man who had explored my intimate soft flesh, had put his finger in my mouth.

I tasted like a bitch in heat.

In all this potential sexual tension, I suppose it was inevitable that it would come to a head and find its release. However the way things worked out were not the way either I or Paul expected. We had discussed the fantasy (or hopefully very real) scenario of being used by these men. We even discussed how I could pretend to be so drunk or drugged that they could do whatever they wanted to me and Paul was so wasted that he was out cold, whilst watching through barely open eyelids.

This was not to be.

Nothing had materialised for the rest of the week, the fantasy remained exactly that, except for bouts of exhibitionism the last days were relatively uneventful. On the day to check out, our car was packed to the rafters with our stuff and it was decided that I would be given a lift back by one of the couples we had become friendly with. At the caravan park, Paul had left an hour before with the kids and I was packing up ready to follow when one of the men from the supermarket incident approached me. Cutting a long story short, he hit on me and the only way I could keep him at bay was to allow him to kiss and fondle me a little.

What I didn't plan for, was Paul's father being called out to fix a plumbing problem on the park, who whilst moving around trying to source the problem, saw us in a compromising position.

When we relocated to get away from everyone who knew our secret, we had not deliberately moved nearer to Paul's home town but the coincidence of returning there came into play.

When the pest had been scared away by John my father-in-law, I sat and talked to him, explaining that what he saw was embarrassing and,

"Please don't tell Paul".

I could have explained what the real situation actually was, but it suited me better for John to believe that I was here alone with this man, whilst Paul and the children were at home.

My reason?

I instantly decided that a long held fantasy I had, one which had been secretly with me since I first conceived to a stranger, was suddenly a real possibility. I wanted the final humiliation for Paul, to be me being bred by his father.

In this instance it was actually unfortunate that Paul's father was a decent, honest and honourable man and it was clear from the outset that he had no desire to 'rat-me-out' or to cause problems between Paul and I. I begged him not to tell, and hinted at the hold he had over me and the advantage he could put it to.

I attempted to corrupt him, however he constantly assured me that as far as he was concerned the matter was closed.

I desperately needed him to be convinced to take advantage of me, although there was no way that the kiss he had witnessed was worthy of blackmail, every time I saw him (which was deliberately often after the incident) I constantly hinted and sowed the seeds in his mind that 'I would do anything' as long as he didn't tell my husband.

John was showing signs of catching on to the situation but not quick enough for my needs. I eventually I decided to take matters into my own hands and invited John to come to my house to 'keep me company' whilst Paul and the kids were away one night.

On the evening in question, I had prepared myself for the aberration that I was about to perform. Paul and I had agreed that I was not to take any form of birth control anymore, therefore with my husband being impotent, fidelity would become my birth control. Knowing that I was fertile and receptive, my womb ready to be impregnated, only added to the intense sexual anxiety as I sat nervously waiting for Pa to turn up (to further emphasise the depravity of what I was doing, I decided to refer from now on to John as Pa, it made my actions even more reprehensible and therefore wildly exciting). When the doorbell rang I nearly jumped out of my skin and with shaking hands I opened the door to be confronted with not just Pa but Paul's brothers Andy and Gary.