This is the second part of a story I published some time ago. I want to thank all of you who kindly commented and voted on the first chapter, and who contributed suggestions for this. Those suggestions that I have not included in this story are stored away in my mind and I'm sure I will find a suitable context in which to use them. It tells the tale of a submissive wife who is being forced to expose her body to a gathering of both friends and strangers. As her humiliation and exposure progresses I now intend to continue the story from the perspective of the wife. Her name is Brianna and her humiliation continues here:
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I stood before our guests, almost naked to the waist.
I did not understand what was happening to me. I had had little preparation for the ordeal I faced. I have been married to my husband Paul for 7 years. Up to a year ago, when we had our first child, our marriage had been very loving and our sex life tender and, I thought, very satisfying to us both. However, since the birth of our child there has been a progressive change to our sex life. Paul has become more demanding and has required me to perform acts with which I have not felt comfortable. Whenever I demurred from something he wanted of me, he became more insistent and I found that his domination over me eventually forced me to concur with whatever he wanted. I have come to realise that he now treats me as a submissive and although I don't like the role, I must confess that I do get increased sexual gratification. Whilst these more extreme sexual demands remained in the privacy of our own bedroom I have been content to adopt the submissive role he has imposed upon me, but this was about to change.
When Paul told me of the projected party at our home, there was no indication of what he had planned for me. I duly went through the routine of preparing for the party and we sent our daughter off to my mother for the weekend, happy in the expectation of a good time and a short relief from the demands of our young child
The evening had started so ordinarily and the changes that had brought me to this surreal nightmare had been made in small incremental steps. It began with my husband Paul insisting that I wear the most revealing and provocative clothes as I played hostess to our guests at the party in our house. The embarrassment I felt when I first entered the room dressed as a slut was swiftly eclipsed as my husband humiliated me in front of the gathering.
I thought my husband loved and respected me, instead he has used his almost hypnotic power over me to humiliate me in public. He openly unbuttoned my blouse almost to the waist so that my breasts in the flimsiest of bras were exposed. As I was made to serve drinks to the gathering I could feel the men's eyes on me staring at my chest as the blouse gaped open. But my husband was not satisfied even with this and he made me strip off the blouse with everyone watching. When I tried to conceal my breasts, bulging out of the inadequate coving, he actually grabbed my arms from behind so that I was blatantly exhibited to everyone as he turned me to face the whole room, my tits thrust out as he pinned my arms behind me. I couldn't believe it when he then encouraged two of the men to fondle my breasts and then shockingly he told one of them to scoop one of my tits out of the bra. I couldn't help it when my breast was exposed to show that my aroused nipple had become engorged and was sticking out from my tit like a pencil.
I now stood in the centre of the room and all eyes were on me. I looked down at my body, one of my tits was encased in the thin lace of the black bra but the other lay obscenely exposed atop the crumpled cup of the bra.
I raised my eyes to plead with my husband, but he repeated his words, "Brianna, you've been told what to do, we want to see you stripped to the waist, take off your bra. We want to see both your tits."
Again he was using that low whisper that I found so compulsive. I was unable to refuse, but the tears were rolling down my face as I raised my hands to the clasp behind my back. My fingers fumbled at the clasp and suddenly it seemed to fall apart and I felt the straps slide down my arms and the sheer garment fell to the floor. I just stood there, my eyes closed, and the tears of shame coursing down my cheeks. I stood seemingly paralysed like a rabbit in a light beam. I was in a room filled with people, but I had never felt so isolated and alone. I raised my eyes, and there was not a sound in the room. Everyone was just looking at my body. I felt shame and humiliation. There was no rational reason why I should. I had only followed my husband's bidding; the shame should be his.
Paul's voice broke the silence and seemed to break the spell that had come over the room.
"I think we'll have some music now. Brianna will you oblige?"
Strangely I was shocked by this bland request. How could my husband continue in such an offhand manner as though nothing was happening, whilst his wife stood stripped to the waist in front of all our guests. I moved like an automaton to the hi-fi , conscious of my breasts swaying and bouncing as I walked. I turned on the music.
Paul spoke again, "Lewis, won't you ask Brianna to dance."
Lewis was one of the junior partners in my firm, essentially my boss. He is a young good looking man, and normally I would enjoy the prospect of dancing with him, but now as I stood before him, stripped to the waist I inwardly cringed. He took me in his arms and we began to dance to the slow beat of the music. Momentarily I forgot my state of undress as we moved around the floor, but then I became conscious of his hand on my bare back. Although his hand was only gently stroking my spine I again realised my situation. This appeared to trigger the rest of my body and I felt all the sensations of my bare torso rubbing against him. He was holding me at a respectable distance from him as we dance, but this only served to gently rub my nipples against the cloth of his jacket. Inevitably I felt my nipples become aroused and begin to swell. When the music finished and we moved apart I felt the eyes upon me and I knew the cause.
I have what are known as puffy nipples. This means that, when aroused, the large aureole swell like small mounds on the top of my breasts with the nipple itself poking out erect. I had always been proud of my breasts, because the site of this prominent feature always excited my husband. But now, on public exhibition I wished that my breasts and nipples were less conspicuous, concealing rather than magnifying my arousal. When the music ended, Lewis stepped back from me, still holding both my hands, his eyes swept down my body to my swollen chest.
"Brianna," he said, "I hope you enjoyed the dance as much as I did." His eyes remained focussed on my breasts as he spoke.
From as if in a dream I heard my husband's voice say, "Well Lewis, from the look of the condition of her tits I would think she enjoyed it every bit as much as you did."
I remained silent, aware that my husband's words had focussed the attention of the whole room on my breasts and engorged nipples.
"Tell us Brianna," my husband continued, "Tell us how your tits feel, with your sticking out like that."
I looked at him, "Oh please Paul, stop this now, don't make me do this. You know my breasts begin to throb when I'm like this."
Paul was unrelenting, "Stop referring to your breasts, they're your tits, and I want you to show everyone what they look like when you start to get hot. Cup your tits in your hands and show them off to us."
"Paul, please, I can't," I begged.
Paul looked at me for a moment more and then he turned away. He scanned the faces around the room and his gaze settled on Roger. Oh no, why did it have to be Roger.
I knew that it was not by chance that Paul had chosen him for this next step in my humiliation. Roger had been our neighbour for two years now, and through all that time he had barely hidden his desire for me. I could feel his eyes staring at my body whenever we met. I had seen him looking at me in our pool, from his adjoining garden in a way that made me feel very uncomfortable. I was sure that one time at least he was jacking off from behind the cover of the garden fence as he looked at me. His eyes seemed to go right through the clothes I was wearing and it didn't seem to bother him even when my husband was present. Although he could be considered attractive, I found him creepy and avoided him as much as possible.
"Roger." he said, "it seems that Brianna has forgotten her duties as your hostess. Perhaps you would oblige us. Please show our friends and neighbours my wife's beautiful tits."
Roger arose from his seat and came towards me, his face positively leering. He circled around and came up behind me, his arms slipping around my waist and I cringed as his hands cupped my breasts I shuddered as I felt his thick fingers caress and squeeze me.
He whispered into my ear as he fondled me, "Oh that's good. I've waited two years to get my hands on your tits. You are really going to enjoy this, but probably not as much as I am."
He dragged me around the room lifting my breasts into the face of each man in turn, roughly fondling and palpating them. By the time he had pulled me round half the men in the room I looked down and saw that my puffy nipples were fully distended. they looked like two small eggs sat atop my breasts. When he had circled all the men he forced me before Sue, one of the two women present, and squeezed my breasts with particular maliciousness. I almost cried out as I felt a sort of wrenching sensation in my left breast.
Sue sensed that something had happened and looked closer at me. "Oh my god," she said, "just look at that."
I felt Roger stretch to look down at my breast over my shoulder. I knew what he was doing to see. I knew it but I couldn't believe it. I looked down at my breast and I saw the white droplet at the top of my nipple. It had been a month since I had stopped breast feeding my child and I thought that my milk had dried up. I was obviously mistaken.
He looked at Sue, "My God what's that?" he said stupidly.
"What do you think it is you fool, it's milk. The dirty bitch is flashing her tits when they're still full of milk."
Roger looked blank for a moment and then said, "You mean that her tits have still got milk from the baby?"
"Squeeze them some more and you'll soon see." said Susan. "She's like a cow with full udders".
Roger gripped my left breast with both hands and squeezed hard. I cried out in pain. I looked down to see that the droplet of milk had grown and begun to dribble down my breast.