“Ouch! Take it easy!” Faith hissed. She reached back and rubbed the welt from the crop. Her dark nails were striking against her bare flesh. “I think you're supposed to start light,” she whined. “Now kiss it to say you’re sorry.”
I did kiss it. In fact, as I dragged my bottom lip over it, I flicked it with my tongue. It was very warm and the heat on my lips caused me to automatically run my hand up the inside of her thigh, seeking even warmer areas. The very softest skin is there. Touching the inside of her thighs with my hand always draws me in. Touching that skin with my cheek always winds me up.
I trailed my tongue-tip around the contour of her ass cheek and let my warm breath play across her vulva and bush. My hand moved up.
Ever so slightly, Faith pushed her ass more firmly to my face. I flicked my tongue at her labia and moved my hand so that my fingertips could just slip between them. She pushed her ass toward me a little harder.
One finger, then two, slipped into her and I used them to pull her to my face. I lapped hard where my fingers entered her and continued to her asshole. Faith pulled her cheek away and thrust back again.
Now my fingers were working and the audible squelching made Faith pant. She edged toward orgasm, I pulled my face and fingers away and gave her another swat with the crop. Not quite so hard. She flinched but wiggled her ass at me again. Now she had a welt on both cheeks. I gave her several more swats, alternating the force and timing until she turned her head to me. Her face was flushed beneath the blindfold. “Tie me on the cross-thingy and fuck me!”
I stood and helped her off the bench, guiding her by the hand to the fancy St. Andrews Cross where I buckled her ankles into the restraints. But the wrist cuffs wouldn’t quite reach and I wasn’t sure how to adjust the straps. “Everything OK?” Faith asked.
I shot a questioning look past Faith and one of the men who had quietly filtered into the room with Marcus and Rashid mimed how to adjust it so it would reach Faith’s wrist.
The strap lengthened, I guided her right wrist up and fastened the padded cuff. Her cheeks were still red and I could feel her whole body twitch beneath my touch as I reached for her left arm. I placed my free hand lightly on her ass while I leaned close and pressed my lips to her ear. “I have a surprise for you.”
She must have already heard something because she turned her head toward the group she could not see. “How many?”
“Four, counting me.” She held her breath for a second.
“Easter Egg?” I whispered.
Faith drew a shaky breath and considered it. “No. Not yet. But keep asking.”
( . )( . )
In the hotel bathroom, I stepped out of the shower as she was putting on eye-makeup. She took some pains to tell me that she had no real expectations for the night, and neither should I.
“From what I know, the place is pretty laid back,” I offered, toweling off. “We can observe but we don’t have to touch or be touched.”
“You get that from Fetlife or something?” she asked. Her face was comically close to the mirror as she dragged the pencil along her eyelid.
“Not just them, I asked the whole internet.”
“Well, we need a signal phrase so we can tell each other to cool it,” she said.
I doubted it would be me telling her to cool it. “Icepick?” I offered.
“Right. If I had to say icepick! icepick! icepick!, people would think we were psychopaths.” Faith laughed. “No, something that we can slip into a conversation that won’t seem too strange.”
Faith and I decided, since it was the Friday of Easter weekend, to use Easter Egg. It wouldn’t draw attention in a conversation, but it would certainly stand out if we found ourselves in a…situation.
“If one of us says it once,” she said, and pursed her lips for the dark red lipstick. “Stop what we’re doing. If I say it twice, I want to go home.”
“OK. Do we have a signal word for gangbang?” I joked (sort of).
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t get your hopes up.”
( . )( . )
We’re not natural minglers, Faith and I. We can hold our own in small groups of four or five people. But our inner wallflowers emerge in most group settings, especially where someone is holding forth in a large group.
As soon as we got to Fabriano’s, we were whisked along on a tour for the newcomers. Big Frank was billed as a sort of bouncer, but I gathered he was more of a ringmaster when it suited him. He was heavy but he looked like he had played Left Tackle for the Bears back in the days when they wore leather helmets. His nose had been broken and set badly. His bald head shone as if it had been waxed. He sounded like a local, I guess, but his beefy hands had an Italian accent–they illustrated and emphasized everything he said.
And he said a lot.
“You folks,” he pointed one ham at the people next to us, “can use the kitchen here for your drinks. The booze is whatever you brought but we have a wonderful selection…” And here he swept his big hand grandly over the card table of garnishes and mixers. “...of mixers and delights.” He went on to tell us, at length, about the cocktail onions that his wife pickles for these parties.
He took us upstairs to the second level, which had a large gathering room at the back of the building, and an even larger room at the front with a dance-pole, and some smaller rooms off to the side. I was itching to explore, but Big Frank was in museum-guide mode. “We installed that pole in 2017,” he clapped his hands. “And I have seen shows that blew my socks off.” He went on about dance contests over the years as I zoned out scanning the crowd. “Maybe you like to dance?” That snapped my attention back to Big Frank. He seemed to be offering his paw to Faith.
Her face went bright red and she let out a little chirp. “Nope!” I was half afraid I would hear “Easter Egg! Easter Egg!” just ten minutes into the night. But Faith took a breath and resolved to play along. “I’m at least a bottle of wine away from pole-dancing!”
I laughed along with the crowd and gave her an admiring look to say how much I appreciated her game. Big Frank moved the group to the next exhibit. In the attic was a couples-only place with several beds in one big room. The second floor, as I said, had the big lounge and dance floor and two small rooms (only a little larger than closets) for individual couples. The first floor had the kitchen and another lounge, a locker room, plus some actual bedrooms with four-poster beds. Every room in the place had a theme: jungle room, cowboy room, vampire room, and so on. And bowls of condoms and handi-wipes and baskets of cleaners were near at hand in every room of the house.
The basement was split into two large rooms: on one side, a sort of medical exam room had an examining table with stirrups and all the accessories, focused lights and gleaming trays full of fearsome-looking instruments. Faith whispered in my ear, “Nope.” Across from that, another room was labeled The Dungeon.
“We shouldn’t go in there, now.” Big Frank said and peeked in the curtain anyway. We heard a sharp crack and a hiss of breath from the other side. “You don’t walk in on someone’s scene,” he said, still looking. Then he shook himself free of the vision and pointed up the stairs we had just come down. “See them lights up there?”
We all turned to see two tiny lights above the door into the kitchen. One was dark and unlit. The other gave a steady red flash. “Red means ‘occupied,’ green means ‘spank-my-hide’!” Frank let out a wheezy laugh and herded us back up to the main level.
Faith and I checked out all the rooms at our own (mostly) leisurely pace. While most guests were in sexy lingerie or button-down shirts, they were really just sitting around talking. I say ‘mostly leisurely’ because, in one of the bedrooms on the ground floor, the door was ajar as we walked past. I could see a middle-aged woman on the bed between two younger men on their knees. One of them was trying to put his whole fist into her while she bucked her hips and moaned around a mouthful of the other young man’s cock. A man who appeared to be her companion, sat in a chair at the foot of the bed rubbing her feet and encouraging her.
Faith pulled me by the wrist to hurry past. “No gawking.”
We kept running into the same few people as we flitted from one area to the next. Lots of guys (and a few women, too) checked out Faith, and a few chatted us up. But we kept moving, pouring ourselves very small drinks so we could keep our wits but also so we could continually have an excuse to return to the kitchen to top off and look to see if the red light was off yet.
Faith really wanted to see the dungeon. She likes to be tied up and she loves to be spanked, but we had never had a chance to go into a “real” dungeon with furniture and such.
Our timing was terrible. Four times in a row, we passed a group who seemed to be coming up from the basement as we were entering the kitchen. But the red light was always blinking.
Finally, we stepped out to the deck behind the building to share a joint. There were several people out there smoking and chatting and getting some cool air. Marcus and Rashid, a couple of guys we had been bumping into all night, appeared. I offered them the joint and they came closer. “I guess there’s some sort of pole-dance contest that’s going to start in a few minutes," Marcus said, nodding to the second floor. He looked at Faith. “I bet you’d be a contender.”
Already, we could see through the window that the stairs were crowded as everyone began to go up to the dancefloor and the adjoining lounge.
Faith dragged on the joint and held the smoke for a long time. She looked them up and down, then looked at me.
“Don’t get your hopes up,” she said, exhaling a long stream of smoke and shooting me a meaningful look.
At first, I was disappointed, then I remembered our conversation in the hotel (Do we have a signal word for gangbang? I had joked. She had answered with, don’t get your hopes up). Was that a code? I’m sure my face flushed. I felt a sudden stirring down below.
“Well, what’s your song?” Marcus asked. “I can go up and see if they have it.”
“You choose,” she said. “If I’m feeling it, I’ll dance. If not, I won’t.”
Faith and I went in hand-in-hand and joined the line snaking up the backstairs. But just as my foot touched the bottom tread, Faith pulled me into the kitchen. “Look, the light’s off. Let’s go check out the dungeon while we have a chance.”
Marcus and Rashid had already gone ahead on the stairs and were turning the corner for the next flight. I couldn’t tell if either had seen us duck into the stairs for the basement.
( . )( . )
I guided her right wrist up and fastened the padded cuff. Her ass cheeks were still red and I could feel her whole body twitch beneath my touch as I reached for her left arm. I placed my free hand lightly on her ass while I leaned close and pressed my lips to her ear. “I have a surprise for you.”
She must have already heard something because she turned her head toward the group she could not see. “How many?”
“Four, counting me.” She held her breath for a second.
“Easter Egg?” I whispered.
Faith drew a shaky breath and considered it. “No. Not yet. But keep asking.”
I fastened her left arm and kissed the back of her neck. She was trembling now. I put my hand on her ass again and reached between her legs and slowly inserted my ring finger into her soaking pussy. Her soft inner thighs were soaked.
I inserted another finger and came back to her ear. “Should I get my hopes up?”
Her mouth was hanging open as she ground herself on my hand. She turned her face to kiss me, then relaxed against the cross. “Does this lay back?” she asked, loud enough for the room.
I could see the whole base of the contraption was designed to turn into a sort of a table on a pedestal, but the mechanism wasn’t obvious. I looked questioningly at Marcus and the others. They had moved closer. One shrugged.
“If I can help?” said a familiar voice from the curtained entrance. It was, of course, Big Frank pushing through the curtains, followed by the two young dudes that had been on the bed with the cougar earlier. He flicked the switch that turned the light above to red and waded through the guys to put one of his big mitts on the post close to Faith’s face and manipulated a series of pins to transform the vertical cross into a horizontal one. “Miss, I’m gonna pull this release to lower the cross. You just let yourself go with it. It won’t fall over.”
Faith smiled happily at his voice. “Thank you, Big Frank. I wondered if you were one of the gawkers.”
He patted her wrist as he eased the cross into its flat position. “Always here to help,” he said.
The cross clicked into place and Faith was now lying spread-eagled with her ass up, secured at the wrists and ankles, her head dangling in the air. I was standing at her right knee, tracing my finger up the back of her thigh. Big Frank, after rummaging in the chest behind, came up with an attachment that would allow her to support her head then took a half-step back (still standing close to her left shoulder). He eyed her butt cheeks hungrily. Marcus, Rashid, and the other (now three) guys spread out in a semicircle around us.
“Does this thing rotate, Big Frank?” she asked, her long honey-colored hair almost touching the floor.
“It does,” he said, bending down to release another pin. With very little effort, I swiveled her around a few inches without moving my hand from her thigh. My finger brushed her labia and I felt her twitch. The others were close now. They could see how wet she was.
“How would you like this next part to go?” Faith asked me.
I parted her labia and touched her clit with my fingertip lightly, lightly, waiting for a spark. “In my story…” I answered, drafting and revising in my head. “I supervise a very thorough paddling of your behind by these fine men until you ask me to decide, amongst all these guys, who is first in your mouth…and which mouth is first on you.”
Faith smiled.
Big Frank and Marcus immediately offered to provide a spanking.
Faith slowly ran her tongue along her dark lips. “Big Frank, come down here.”
He leaned over to her face. “While my husband and those others are spanking me, can you keep me occupied up here?”
“Oh, I can surely do that,” he grinned. He unzipped his pants and she let him drag his heavy cock along her cheek before she spoke to Marcus. “Marcus, my husband has a heavy hand with the crop. Can you fetch a flogger for him?” She ran her tongue along the underside of Big Frank’s big member.
Marcus, and two others, wheeled around and went immediately to the rack of whips and floggers. In ten seconds he was back, handing me a flogger with a wooden handle and thick leather straps almost three feet long. Big Frank told me to aim for the broadest part of her ass and back, being careful not to let the ends snap around her sides or shoulder where they would sting. As instructed, I laid a satisfying and solid thwack on her ass. “You sure you don’t want to hunt Easter Eggs?” I asked her.
Faith thrust her chin forward to encourage Big Frank to push his fat cock into her throat. I gave her several more lashes and handed the flogger to Marcus and stepped aside. “Careful, fellas,” I said, winking at Big Frank. “Don’t spank her hard enough to make her clench her teeth!” She raised her hips to wiggle her butt and moaned around a mouthful of Big Frank. His eyes rolled back.
For a long time, all of us took turns with various floggers and canes and whips and crops. The blindfold soon came off and anytime Faith didn’t like a particular instrument, she pulled away from the cock in her mouth and told us to move on. On the other hand, we could rotate her on the cross so one guy could flog her and another could ‘keep her occupied’ at the head of the table.
It was mesmerizing, and I might have gone on for hours, had Big Frank not elbowed me. “She may not know it now, but that’s going to hurt something bad tomorrow if we don’t stop.”
Faith gave me a look to say she was ready for something different, so I reached out and took the paddle (actually, by now, a big spatula) from the guy who had given her the last whack. “Paddling’s over, fellas. She’s had her fill. Let’s let her off this thing.”
Big Frank was gently caressing her fiery red ass but he reached behind him to stop Rashid from unbuckling her ankle. “Hold up, hold up there,” he said. Frank backed the others away and stepped between Faith’s legs and leaned over to her ear. I couldn’t see his hand, but I had the idea it was in her. “Now Faith,” he said quietly (though the room was so still we could all hear everything he said). “You’ve let every one of us paddle you tonight and some of us have even gotten to feel your sweet mouth on our cocks. You don’t owe nobody nothing.” The others leaned in almost imperceptibly.
Big Frank continued, “But I have a feeling we could do a lot more for you if you wanted us to. Would you like that, miss? More?”
I had dreamed of this for a long time. It was our go-to fantasy. Faith was always asking me to describe, as I pounded her from behind, how I would direct traffic with three, four, or more men. Usually, if I talked her through a scenario with a line of guys eating her, then fucking her and spraying their cum on her ass, she would squirt so hard it would soak my thighs. Even so, I fully expected Faith to say, nope, time to go. Easter Egg.
“I want them to fuck me,” Faith said. Her voice was low. For a split second, I thought I had imagined it. She turned her head and looked at me. “I want to get fucked by all these men. But I want us to trade places, honey.”
No one had expected that–not me, not Big Frank’s friends, not Frank. A wolfish grin spread across his face. The others sprang to the restraints, hurriedly uncuffed her, and helped her off the rack.
“The whole time you guys were paddling me,” she twisted her face around to see her nearly-glowing ass then put her hand on my shoulder. “I was thinking of your mouths on my pussy…and what I wanted to do to him.” Her voice was sultry as she said that last bit.
“Big Frank,” she said. “How about you help my husband onto the cross?”
They all turned to me.
“You think you can handle seven cocks, seven mouths, and fourteen hands?” I didn’t doubt it. But I wanted to ask before I was restrained.
“Unless you want to say Easter Egg?” Faith purred.
Big Frank locked the St. Andrew’s Cross in its original upright position, then he and Faith fastened the restraints to my ankles and wrists. Faith had already directed some of the others to carry a curved bench over and position it in front of the cross. Now, as she lay back on it with her face close to my cock, she spread her legs, looked up at me and said, “Who eats first?”
I nodded to Rashid, who was closest anyway, and he fell to his knees immediately and pressed his face into her bush. I had seen Faith receive oral sex from other men before, but this view was novel. Even so, it wasn’t always easy to concentrate on the view because Faith was gobbling up my cock and balls hungrily. Some of the others pressed in close so they could rub her tits and pinch her nipples, all of which made Faith groan around my cock and thrust her pelvis into Rashid’s face.
Every few minutes, I would say, “Switch,” or “Another,” and nod to whoever was next. I was enjoying this strange mix of restraint and control. And so many different techniques! Some had quick tongues, some lapped in long strokes, some used their fingers, and some (like Marcus and Big Frank did all of the above). I could tell from her sounds and the way her body undulated or quivered which ones were bringing her to orgasm. For those, the interval between switches was much longer.
Finally, while Marcus sawed her vagina with two hooked fingers and flickered his tongue like a hummingbird on her clit, she began to moan and thrash and I could see his face, even more than the others, was positively soaked.
“Tell him to fuck me,” she said and flicked her tongue along my taint. “Hurry.”
“Fuck her, Marcus,” I commanded.
Faith quickly turned over on her knees and her elbows on the headrest of the bench. My cock was only out of her mouth for a few seconds. As Marcus raised up on his knees (his beard and mustache dripping) Big Frank slapped a condom in his hand before he could get to his feet. This is a well-oiled machine, I thought.
Up to this point, Faith (knowing my body as well as I knew hers) had regulated her cock-sucking – easing off when she felt me getting close, then slowly turning up the heat. But as soon as Marcus’s cock was in her, she moaned and strained to swallow more, reaching up and stroking my cock into her mouth while she pushed her butt back to meet his thrusts. When Marcus had finished, followed by another, and another, I tried to pull my cock out of her mouth but she stretched to chase after it. I won’t last long like this, I thought and began to scan the room for a distraction.
Just as Big Frank knelt down and began to push the head of his fat cock, big as a racquetball, against her opening, my eyes swept over the entrance to the dungeon. Half a dozen people or more were crowded around the door watching. I had a sort of out-of-body experience at that point. Suddenly, I was seeing this from the vantage point of the doorway: me, naked and suspended from the cross; Faith on her knees, devouring my cock while Big Frank slammed into her from behind. Five other men, some holding their clothes, one still holding a flogger with long red straps. I had one last dreamlike thought: they should be dressed as Romans.
As Faith, impaled on Big Frank’s big cock, went from moaning to wailing, I finally let go and exploded in her mouth. By then, my cock was at the very back of her throat and the sound that came from her mouth was “Golgotha! Golgotha!”
The little crowd at the door clapped and cheered.
We went home sore and satisfied, unable to rise again for three days.
