Anger Made My Wife A Slut 1

Authors Note: This is another

FICTIONAL

story. All characters in the story are

FICTIONAL

with the exception of my wife and I. All of the actions and conversations in this story are

FICTIONAL

.

*****

Since Janice's gangbang in Marcus and Ronnie's basement and the time she invited some of her friends over so that I could be their waiter for the evening, our lives had changed considerably. I had taken a job in the compliance department of a mid-size mutual fund dealer and the fact that I now had a steady salaried income rather than an unpredictable commission based payout had taken a fair amount of stress out of our relationship.

Our sex life had picked up considerably too. We spent the August long weekend at a hotel in the Niagara region and spent most of the time in the room. Janice's sexual exploits had certainly rid her of some of her inhibitions and, finally, I was the beneficiary.

There were still days when she worked from home and I sometimes wondered if Jeff or Marcus or somebody had spent the day but I had no proof and, to be honest, I wouldn't have objected much if they had.

The company that I worked for allowed many of its' Financial Advisors to maintain offices in their homes. Many rented office space in commercial buildings and some worked out of Head Office. The bulk of my job was to visit the Advisors and make sure that their premises and practices were compliant.

One beautiful mid September day I was scheduled to audit two practices in farming communities an hour or so outside of the city. I enjoyed visiting smaller communities because the people were invariably more friendly and open and certainly more hospitable. I was told by the chief auditor not to pack a lunch because I would certainly be offered a home cooked meal when I had completed the first audit. The downside to the day was that I wouldn't get home until at least eight o'clock.

It was a little after eight when I got home and, as I drove past the house on my way to the underground parking entrance, I noticed a familiar car sitting outside. It was an old, very large green Buick with gold stripes down the sides and white-walled tyres. The car belonged to Marcus and, despite the fact that to most people the car looked hideous, it was his pride and joy. I debated whether to keep driving and head to a bar or go inside to see just how many inches he had crammed inside my wife. I had beer in the house and so I decided to go in.

As I went in through the basement door I expected to hear grunting and wailing but, to my surprise I just heard whispered voices. When I got to the living room my wife was pouring a beer for me and Ronnie was sitting on the couch leafing through some papers.

Ronnie smiled and said "Hi."

"What do you want?" I snapped. I knew she wasn't there on a goodwill visit.

"I have a proposition for you." She answered. She maintained her smile and for some reason that annoyed me.

"I'm not interested." I tried to be firm.

"Well I am." Said Janice as she handed me the beer.

"Tell him about the event." She asked Ronnie.

"Every year we have an event for charity. This will be our seventh. It is getting bigger and better every year." She explained.

"Which charity?" I asked.

"Actually it's several charities. They have all been set up to help the black community in the city and surrounding area. They help kids stay out of gangs and stay in school, give them business skills to help them find jobs or even start a business. There are sports programs to keep them active and teach them teamwork and there is also a food bank type of program for low income households."

"So what is my wife's role?"

"Actually, I wanted to invite both of you." She replied.

"So what are our roles?" I was growing impatient.

"We need busboys and waitresses." She answered.

"Stop beating around the bush. Tell me the truth. Why don't you just hire waitresses and busboys?"

"Ok, the event takes place in a hotel downtown. We know the owner well. He is prominent in the black community. He will shut his hotel down for the entire weekend for the event."

"How come you don't just hire the staff or use the hotel staff?" I interrupted. "And why does the hotel close for three days?"

"I was getting to that." She was doing a good job of keeping her cool. "We prefer volunteer staff so that we don't have to pay them. That allows us to give as much money to charity as possible. The event lasts until Sunday evening because many of the guests fly in from all over the place and we want to give them value for money so that they keep coming back. It costs the guests $5,000 each for the weekend."

"Ok, why have you chosen us?" I asked.

"Well, to tell you the truth, as the event gets bigger and bigger, it gets harder and harder to find enough white waitresses and busboys."

"Wait. Why do you need white waitresses and busboys?" This sounded a bit sinister to me.

"It's become a bit of a tradition." She replied.

"I get the feeling that you're trying to hide something from us." I argued.

"No, I'm trying to explain everything but you keep interrupting. Will you let me finish?" she demanded.

I nodded.

"Alright. The event starts at seven on Saturday evening with a formal dinner. The waitresses will be allocated a certain table and she will only serve that particular table. The busboys are there to clear away the used dishes and clean up any messes. The busboys have no interaction with the guests other than that." She explained.

"What do you mean by 'allocated a table'?" I asked. "How does that work?"

"As a way to raise more money for charity the waitresses will be auctioned. Each table will bid for a waitress and the table with the winning bid owns that waitress until the dinner is over."

"And when the dinner is over what are our roles?" I enquired.

"The busboys clear the tables and then become waiters. The waitresses entertain the guests as required." She replied.

"Explain 'as required' for me." I knew what she meant but I wanted her to say it.

"Use your imagination." She huffed.

"How many people are involved?" I demanded. "And how many of them are white?"

"We have fifty tables of eight, fifty waitresses and, at the moment, forty nine busboys." She answered. "Aside from the waitresses and busboys the only white people there will be three of our benefactors. They are big contributors to our charities and they always leave immediately after they have finished dinner.

"I've already signed my contract." Janice piped up.

"So you have already made your mind up. Have you done the math? There's four hundred black guys and fifty white women. You are going to be fucked silly, humiliated and treated like a whore." I was incredulous.

"I have done the math and yours is a little off. It's not four hundred black guys. It's closer to four hundred and thirty when you include the hotels kitchen and bar staff. Yes, I will get fucked. Perhaps that's what I want. Don't bother with the word whore either because I'm not getting paid and as far as humiliation goes maybe our definitions of the term are different." She was annoyed at having to defend herself.

"Are you coming or not?" she demanded.

Ronnie offered me a contract. "This is a generic contract. It's the same as the one Janice has signed. You tick the box that says you are doing this of your own free will. You don't need to tick the boxes to certify that you have taken care of your own birth control and that you will not refuse any request that a guest has. If you are going to come sign at the bottom."

"Do the guests sign a contract?" I asked.

"Yes they do. They have to declare that they will not use violence or endanger anyone's health and they have to provide a doctors' report stating that they have been tested for STD's and the results were negative." She assured.

I gave the contract a cursory look over and signed it. I figured that, even if I didn't see much of my wife, I would at least get to watch plenty of other girls getting fucked. As I handed the contract back to Ronnie I noticed the title "Reparations Dinner 2016". Had my wife noticed that? If she had, did she know what it meant?

"When does this take place?" I asked.

"Next Friday. Dinner starts at seven so be there by six".

"What should we wear and which hotel is it?"

"Uniforms will be provided and your wife knows the hotel." Ronnie answered.

I found long term parking near the hotel and we walked the half a block to the front door. The door was locked so I knocked and an older black guy in a hotel uniform opened it and invited us in. As he lead us through the hotel lobby I noticed several black guys in smart suits sitting around. I tried not to look at them as one of them gave a whistle. There were a few lewd comments about some of the things that they were going to do for Janice later. I glanced at her face and noticed that she was smiling.

We reached a pair of beautifully carved wooden doors. The hotel guy pushed them open and ushered us in. We found ourselves in a huge ballroom. At one end the dinner tables were set up. I didn't bother to count them. Next to the area with the tables was a large dance floor and next to that was a stage.

The black guy pointed to a door and said to my wife "your changing room is through that door" and then he pointed to a door on the opposite side of the room and told me "that is where you will change."

He turned and strolled back towards the lobby.

I gave my wife a hug and told her to be careful. She said "I will. Love you." We kissed briefly and headed towards our respective changing rooms.

In the change room I saw a number of clothes racks with uniforms hanging on them. I quickly realized that they were hung in alphabetical order and so I found mine and looked for a place to change. The room was set up like a pro sports team changing room and I found a locker with my name on and started to get changed. The uniform consisted of a white dress shirt, black dress pants, black socks and shoes and a pair of very utilitarian white underpants. I have no idea how but my uniform fitted perfectly, as did all the other guys. I guess that Ronnie had done this enough times to be able to size everyone up perfectly.

There was no conversation in the room and, if I was anything to go by, I figured that the guys were all probably more nervous than the girls were. I sat down and tried not to think of what my wife would be doing for the next two and a bit days.

After what seemed like an eternity the door opened and Ronnie came in.

"Gentlemen." She announced. "Firstly, thank you all for coming. I just want to go through a few things with you. Shortly you will file out through that door and gather in front of the stage. Please stay to the left hand side. Your significant others will be gathering on the other side. Please do not try to talk to your wife/girlfriend etcetera. A short film will be shown. Please watch it. It gives you an idea of our cause. When the film is over please make your way around the edge of the hall and stand ready to do your busboy duty when called upon. When the dinner is over you will be given further instruction. Now, this is important. This weekend your ladies do not belong to you. She belongs to our guests. If, during the course of the weekend, you encounter your lady do not engage her in conversation. If she is otherwise engaged, do not stand and watch and, under no circumstances try to interfere. This was all outlined in your contract. Any questions?"

A few guys shook their heads but none spoke.

"Ok, follow me." Ronnie instructed.

She settled us in front of the stage and disappeared off into the ladies changing room. Against my better judgment I looked over my shoulder. The sight was very intimidating. I saw four hundred pairs of eyes staring back at me and it really did seem that they were all looking specifically at me. I quickly turned my head and looked at the screen.

A few minutes later the noise in the room increased dramatically and I realized that the other door was open and the ladies were filing out. I tried to spot my wife but I couldn't see her in the crowd. As soon as the girls were out the huge screen at the back of the stage lit up. The room got very quiet.

A series of old sepia images appeared on the screen. They were pre civil war pictures of black slaves working in fields, cutting down trees and clearing land while their white overseers watched. Then some stills of a slave auction followed. Naked black men, women and children were being bought and sold and branded with their new owners mark. There were pictures of slaves being punished by whipping.

The atmosphere in the room took on a very hostile mood. There were cries of "shame" and "you're gonna pay".

Next there was film of the Montgomery bus boycott and the Detroit riots. Images of segregated restaurants and washrooms appeared and that was followed by film from what I guessed was the 1960's of black girls stripping and dancing for a room full of white guys. I didn't like the way the evening was shaping up.

The hostility was palpable when a picture came up of a black man hanging from a tree while men in white hoods and robes walked away.

The feeling in the room got better when a series of pictures of famous black people appeared. I recognized Magic Johnson, Reggie Jackson, Malcolm X, Spike Lee, Sidney Poitier and Thurgood Marshall. There were many more that I didn't know.

Film of the black power salute at the 1968 Olympics drew a cheer and footage of Muhammad Ali beating the crap out of a white guy brought an even bigger cheer. More footage of black girls stripping and dancing for white guys came on but quickly faded to scenes of white women stripping and dancing for a room full of black men and getting gang banged. I prayed that the video of Janice's time in Marcus and Ronnie's basement wouldn't come up. Thankfully it did not.

The gangbang scenes continued for a minute or two until they faded out to be replaced by Martin Luther King Jnr's voice repeating "I have a dream."

As the screen went dark the busboys were instructed to take up positions around the edge of the dining room. I tried to be as close to the middle as possible in the hope that I would be able to see Janice. It was just a hope because I had no idea what table she would end up on.

As I took my position I noticed that a platform had been put up on the stage and a black lady was stood there with a microphone in her hand. The auction was about to begin.

The ladies had been instructed to line up near the steps at the right hand side of the stage. The woman with the microphone called the first girl up. She looked very nervous and embarrassed as she got up onto the platform.

"Gentlemen, who will start the bidding for this property?" called the lady with the microphone.

A cry of "one hundred bucks" came and everyone laughed.

Agonizingly the bidding went up in ten dollar increments and the "property" was told to dance to try to entice higher bids.

"Come on guys, this is for charity remember?" pleaded the woman with the microphone.

The girl on the platform tried to dance but she was very wooden. Finally the bid reached $280 and the woman yelled "Sold! Next please."

The "property" exited stage left and made her way to her table. I wondered what it would take to loosen her up.

The auction continued at a brisk pace. Some of the girls danced very well and they generally were well bid on. There was one short plump girl who had hardly stood on the platform before a bid of $1,200 came from one table. There was no follow up bid and she headed towards her table.

When Janice's turn came there were only a dozen or so girls left. The guys knew that the bidding would increase as the number of girls dwindled and so they were trying harder to get what they could. For her part Janice did not want to be one of the lowest priced girls and so she put on quite a show for the guys. I noticed Ronnie hustle over to a particular table and say something to one of the guys. She pointed at Janice and nodded her head vigorously. The guy yelled a bid of $2,600 and my wife was sold.

The third last girl was a stunning Nordic looking woman who sold for a high bid of $5,300. When the last girl was sold the woman with the microphone announced "Congratulations on your purchases guys, let the games begin."

I was only three or four tables from Janice and didn't have a bad view. For the first time I took note of the girls uniform. They wore a white blouse that had two buttons on it, a low cut black bra (I later found out that it was a half cup bra), a short black skirt, white stockings and heels. I couldn't yet tell what they wore underneath the skirt.

As soon as she reached her table Janice was told to undo the buttons on her blouse. She did so without any ceremony. Her first duty was to take drink order from the guys at her table. She asked the first guy and he shook his head. She got closer to him and he had her bend at the waist while he gave her his order. She followed this instruction with every guy around the table making sure that they had a good look at her half covered tits.

She went to the bar, picked up a tray and ordered the drinks. With her tray full she made her way back to her table to serve the guys. Again, as she gave each guy his drink she bent at the waist. This time the instruction was to shake her tits when she served the drinks. When the last drink was served she stood up straight and I noticed that she had a smile on her face.

I heard a bit of a commotion come from another table and looked over in case there was a spill or something that I had to clean up. As it happens the commotion was due to one of the girls removing her blouse.

When I looked back over to Janice's table I noticed that she was bent over as a guy spoke to her. She shook her head and looked confused. The guy said something else and she smiled and nodded her head. She had already put her tray down and was soon crawling under the table. It wasn't hard to guess what she was doing under the table and, when she re-appeared a few minutes later I noticed that she had cum dripping down her face. She tried to grab the guy's napkin to clean it off but he wouldn't allow her. He said something to her and she picked up her tray and headed back to the bar.

While she was at the bar there was a tremendous crash nearby. A girl had dropped a tray of drinks and I grabbed a cloth and headed over to help clean up the mess. Soon after Janice came by with her tray of drinks and, even though we had been told not to, I stopped her and said "Nice face!"

"Thanks." She replied. "The guy told me he wanted to paint my face but I didn't know what he meant. I do now though. I can't clean it off until I have delivered these drinks."

"Nice bra too!" I told her.

"Yes, I expect it will be coming off soon." She smiled and winked.

She hurried off to serve the drinks and clean up her face. I finished cleaning up the spill and went back to my position against the wall. I had a look around the room and noticed that most of the girls had already taken off their blouses, some of them were already topless and a few had lost their skirts. One of the ladies at a table close to me had taken her blouse and skirt off and I noticed that what she was wearing she wasn't a thong but the tiniest black panties I had ever seen. I assumed then that all of the girls were wearing the same.

Soon dinner was ready to be served and Janice loaded up her tray and delivered each meal as she was instructed. While the guys were eating dinner there wasn't much for her to do except fetch the occasional drink. Each time she served a drink she bent at the waist and shook her tits and for the first time I realized that when she bent over her skirt rode up over her ass and the guys were getting a great view from behind as well.