I got a plate with some food and a glass of wine. I took it upstairs with me. At least when I went to my bathroom this time, I wasn’t dripping with cum. Only the last man had not used a goldone, and he’d been drained before he used my ass. I used the toilet to relieve myself before filling the tub with hot water and a little bath oil.

I eased myself into the tub after setting my glass and plate on the edge. The tub was deep and long and I could cover myself with the steamy water. Eating the occasional bite while sipping the wine, I luxuriated in the water, letting it soak away the soreness, the filth, the scent of whore. Twice I added more hot water, soaking at least an hour. When I rose up from the tub, I almost felt human again.

There were more housekeeping tasks that should be done, so I went down to the dining room and found most of the food had been put away, the dishes put in the dishwasher or draining in the sink. My guests were more thoughtful than I gave them credit for. I grabbed another glass of wine and ate another slice of cheese and a bit of meat. I found the pillow I’d knelt on, and removed the cover, throwing it in the wash. I needed to make up a larger load, so went into Pietro’s office to pull the sheets and blanket from it. Giovanni was there, lying naked on the bed, waiting for me.

“I want to change these linens,” I said, setting my wine down, “and wash them. You could help me change the bed.”

“Why bother? They’ll be a mess before breakfast.”

Did it make a difference? It wasn’t too bad, with most of the men using condoms when they fucked my ass. He had a point. They’d get worse.

He told me to lie down on the bed. Supposing he intended to fuck me again, I lay on my back and spread my legs, the obedient little whore.

“Not yet,” he said, “on your stomach.”

Thinking he intended to use my ass, I said, “I’m not begging for it yet.”

Giovanni laughed and said, “I’m not using it yet.”

He had some lotion and began by dribbling some onto my well-used asshole. “This will help ease any lingering discomfort you’re feeling here,” rubbing it in and around the starred sphincter. The sense of relief was almost immediate. Whatever pain or discomfort persisting immediately soothed by the lotion. He didn’t stop there, continuing on to rub my back, neck and legs, relaxing hell out of me.

“I don’t understand you,” I said, murmuring in my comfort.

“What don’t you understand?” He asked, soothing my neck.

“You treating me like a whore earlier, and yet a lady now.”

“I treat you like a whore because you are one,” he said. “But why shouldn’t a whore be treated well when she’s not fucking.”

“Why do you say that?” I asked. “Non solo una puttana. I’ve never been unfaithful to my husband before. I wasn’t even particularly wild when I was single. Sure, I had some affari d’amore before my marriage, but nothing too strange for a young single woman in this day and age.”

“Because you needed to be complicit for Pietro to wager you. You did not have to agree to the bet. You leave, we come to an empty house, not a naked woman waiting to serve four men.”

“I was angry because he would even presume to bet me,” I replied.

“And you can’t express your displeasure in any other way than fucking whoever we tell you to fuck? You sucked the cocks of a roomful of men without a whimper; no protest at all. You can’t go out and spend a few tens of thousand euros of Pietro’s money, or even leave him? You chose to be used; to be fucked. You agreed to a weekend of fucking, and in my estimation, this makes you a whore. You accepted everything we’ve thrown at you and more, even surrendering your ass when you said you wouldn’t. Admit it to yourself. These are the actions of a whore. Pietro might have opened the door with his wager, but you leaped headfirst through the door.”

I was silent. He wasn’t entirely wrong. My anger might have nudged me toward accepting, but I’d parted my legs for everything without the slightest thought, even after realizing there was a chance I might get pregnant. Why? Was it as Giovanni said? Was I only waiting for an excuse to cut loose?

Giovanni had worked his way down my back, relaxing me further, and his hands now stroked my buttocks, working his way towards my legs. As mad as I’d been at his treatment earlier, I was nearly ready to beg him to take my ass as he wished. 

Fuck! No. I couldn’t. I’d been seduced into this. It was my temper which got me into this, but I’d been seduced to all the rest, each of them doing their best to lower my defenses, to pleasure me beyond what I’d considered possible. From Matteo dining on my oyster to Luca’s cock, to Marco’s skillful spanking, to Giovanni teasing and playing with my bottom, easing my fears of anal sex. It was only after I’d been seduced by their pleasures, that they revealed my role today. I would never have agreed otherwise.

If they’d told me beforehand what would happen today, I never would have agreed. They waited until I’d succumbed to everything else before they told me what my role would be. Even the fact Pietro had shown them all his photos of me had contributed to my agreeing to be used by a room full of men.

But I had agreed. Sight unseen; I sucked the cocks of many men, many of the most prominent men in the city, if Giovanni was to be believed, then surrendered my virgin ass to three of them. Maybe he was right. Maybe I was a whore and all it took was the right circumstances for me to surrender all my self-respect, my morals, and my body to whoever wanted it. Giovanni had reached the soles of my feet. 

“Turn over,” he said. 

I did as he said. He started over at my neck, slowly working his way down my body, exciting me again, my nipples growing hard, flinty points, as he caressed them. My pussy becoming molten lava once more, liquifying, preparing to be fucked. He worked his way down my body; my boobs, my waist, my abdomen. 

When his hands reached my cunt, I parted my legs. I was a whore. His fingers entered me and I arched my back, moaning. Oh, God, I was a whore. His fingers played my pussy like a musical instrument, hitting every note just right, and I was singing, my voice, the panting breaths, the guttural moans; the music. I orgasmed, singing his tune. 

When he chose to replace his fingers with his cock, I helped him. I held his cock and placed it at the entrance of my cunt, and I pulled him against me, opening up for him. Banging my heels against his ass, I encouraged him deeper, and when he finally climaxed, I screamed one last time in counterpoint to his own gruff growls as I arched against him, accepting his seed.

When his pulses ended, I swapped directions and gobbled his cock down, sucking him clean as he licked me to another orgasm. Pietro had married a whore and he was finally discovering what a whore I was. There was no doubt in my mind that he was watching me now.

 Giovanni pulled out of my mouth before I could get him hard once more. “Rest now,” he said. “I have a surprise planned for you later.”

“What surprise?” I asked, though I could definitely use the sleep.

“It’s not a surprise if I tell you now.”

No, I suppose it wasn’t. I was unsure what more could surprise me this weekend. I thought of everything I’d done, and there was nothing more to surprise me, I was sure. I was wrong, of course. Giovanni always had another surprise tucked away somewhere. I closed my eyes and slept the sleep of the dead.

******

I woke up early the next morning to a tongue invading my cleft. Moaning, I stirred. 

“What is it, Giovanni?” I whimpered, thrusting my pussy against his tongue. 

He stopped long enough to answer. “It’s time for your surprise shortly and I thought you should be prepared.”

“Prepared how?” His tongue was dancing on my clit. I had suspicions as to how I was being prepared, and his tongue was doing the preparation.

His actions were his answer. He put my legs over his shoulders and his two hands snaked up and grabbed a handful of boobs, pinching and twisting my nipples. 

“Oh, fuck!” I exclaimed, arching against his mouth, my eyes closed.

I felt him laugh against my figa, a low rumble from deep in his chest. In three minutes, I was cumming, coating his tongue with my fluids. He didn’t stop and I climaxed again shortly thereafter, my abdomen rippling from the intensity of it.

I felt another weight settle on the bed and opened my eyes, seeing Luca in the dim light of dawn, his snake hard and demanding attention. I put my hand on his cock and attempted to circle it with my fingers, failing. He was so big. 

“Climb onto Luca’s cock,” Giovanni said.

As addicted to his prick as I’d become, I didn’t hesitate, climbing over him and settling over his pole, enjoying the sensation of the spreading of my cunt to take all of him. I climaxed as soon as he entered me all the way, gasping and panting.

“My, my, my,” a voice behind me said; Marco, turning on the light. “Isn’t this a pretty picture. Since your cunt is otherwise occupied, why don’t you suck my cock, Maria?” He knelt in front of me, his cock at attention.

“I thought you boys intended not fucking me all at the same time,” I said, remembering their semi-promise to Pietro before I walked out of the room. 

“It seems that ended when you were fucked fore and aft at the party yesterday,” Giovanni said. “Broken once, broken forever.”

He was right. I’d been fucked in the mouth and pussy during the party, multiple times, by complete strangers. What difference did it make now? I dutifully opened my mouth and he pushed to the back of my throat. So there I was, speared fore and aft, two lovely pricks filling me. The only person unoccupied, Giovanni, the one who was supposed to be spending the night with me. It didn’t last for long.

Soon, a tongue was licking the crease of my ass, paying particular attention to the puckered star of my back door. I held myself motionless, enjoying his attentions. Holding still didn’t stop me from having another orgasm from the delightful actions brought on by his tongue pushing through the muscular barrier, nor did it stop Marco from thrusting back and forth in my mouth. I squealed in delight, unable to speak due to Marco’s cock. 

I pushed back against Marco with my hands, thrusting him away, trying to speak. 

“Put your cock in my ass, Giovanni,” I said. “Fuck my ass,” forgetting my promise to deny him in order to feel all of their cocks inside me.

“Are you begging me, Maria?” He asked.

I suddenly remembered what room I was in, Pietro’s study, one of the rooms in the house with hidden cameras. Still, it was early, five AM by the clock glowing beside the bed. Surely, Pietro wouldn’t be awake yet, would he?

“Yes, damn you, yes,” I panted, anxious to have him fill me, to have them all fill me.

“It doesn’t sound like begging to me,” Giovanni said. “Does it sound like begging to you, Luca?”

“No, it sounded more like an order to me,” Luca said.

“Marco, was she begging?” Giovanni asked. 

“I’m with Luca,” Marco replied. “Sounded more like an order.”

“Beg, Maria.”

I lost all sense of propriety, honor and self-respect. 

“Please, Giovanni. I’m begging you. Please fuck my ass.”

“Sir. Please fuck my ass, sir,” he said.

I completely surrendered. “Please, sir, please stick your cock in my ass and fuck me, sir.”

“Much better,” Giovanni said. “I like my whores properly subservient.” 

I felt him spread lubricant around my sphincter. With Luca in my cunt, it was necessary. I would be the most full I’d ever been in my life, more than with Luca and the first butt plug. My mouth no longer required to speak, Marco split my lips pushing his cock back in. I felt Giovanni’s cock against my dark passage, and moaned throatily around Marco’s prick when he pushed through. Fuck! I’d never been so full. I climaxed again. And again. And yet again. 

Marco was the first of the men to cum, spraying my mouth full of his salty seed. When he was done, he pulled out and Matteo put his cock in my mouth. I hadn’t even noticed him come in, so mesmerized by the fucking I was receiving. He seemed early. My eyes glanced at the clock. He was early, by an hour. Giovanni was the next to cum, his hot offering spraying up my culo. I climaxed with him. I didn’t even have time to notice he was gone before Marco was up my ass, filling me again. 

I was in ecstasy, completely filled, cumming buckets, fucked by once cock after the other. Luca the next one to cum, filling my cunt with his seed to overflowing. His cock shrinking after his release, Marco rolled me off Luca’s cock and Matteo and Luca switched places, Matteo plunging into my vacant pussy and Luca feeding me his prick to clean off. 

We proceeded to fuck in every possible way four men and a woman could. No hole was left vacant for long, as if we hadn’t been fucking all weekend long. They used me. Cum was everywhere, leaking from every hole. A little after seven, Giovanni halted the festivities. 

“Pietro should be back shortly,” he said. “It’s time for us to leave.”

The men reluctantly left my body, spattered with sperm. I thought of getting up and taking a shower to clean myself off. Giovanni had other ideas. He pulled out the plastic wrap, left here when my anal virginity was first taken.

“Give me your hands,” he ordered.

“I should clean up, before Pietro sees me.”

“Pietro has already seen you. I texted him to watch before we began this morning. He responded to me, so I know he saw the message. Give me your hands.”

Pietro seen me fucked to exhaustion by four men, one after the other, using every hole on my body, begging Giovanni to fuck my ass and make me airtight. I surrendered my hands. What difference did it make? Giovanni fastened my hands together then fastened them to the headboard. He wrapped each of my feet and tied them to the sides of the bed, spreading me out.

I was conscious of the copious amounts of cum dripping from my cunt and ass. So this is how Pietro would find me, spread-eagled on the bed, covered in cum, the thick goo flowing from every orifice, his whore of a wife. The last thing he did was cover my mouth in duct tape. 

“No explanation required, don’t you think?” He said.

I shook my head no. No explanations required. He left the room. Matteo came by and shot some more photos with his phone camera. 

“These are for me,” he said. “I don’t care if Lucia does see them. I had to have them.”

He shot a half dozen, then left. Marco and Luca stopped by before they left. Marco kissing my neck, Luca shoving his fingers into my cunt and sending me off with another orgasm. Unable to feed me his fingers after, he licked them himself. He squeezed a breast before he left. I glanced at the clock, 7:42. If Pietro did what I told him to do or I’d spend the next four weekends fucking hell out of his friends, he wouldn’t be here for eighteen minutes, though I didn’t expect him to wait a minute longer.

I waited, the minutes slowly ticking by, the house quiet, only the ceiling fan blowing over my head, the hum of its motor. I was conscious of the slow trickle of cum dripping from my cunt and down to my ass, to join the other rivulet flowing from it. At eight exactly, I heard the front door, the tread of steps coming down the hall.

I looked at the door and the door opened, Pietro standing in the doorway looking at me, a mixture of pain and desire on his face. He didn’t speak a word and I couldn’t. I might have tried closing my legs, but it was impossible, so we looked at each other over my ravaged, well used, body. 

He didn’t say a word. What could he say? What could I say, even if I could speak? Everything was self-evident. No explanations could be offered. If Giovanni was right, he’d seen everything. He’d seen everything all weekend long. My naked service to his friends, the erotic dice, satisfying Matteo’s oyster fantasy, my use as furniture, Marco’s spanking, the sex bell.

He’d seen me take all of Luca’s cock down my throat, Giovanni’s chair asana, the party as his whore wife serviced all of his friends and acquaintances. The loss of my anal virginity to three people I didn’t even know, though he may have. The last bit, fucked nearly to unconsciousness by four of his friends, every hole used, my body spattered in cum. It was all there for him to absorb. 

I suspected my marriage was over. How could it survive this weekend? Who wants a whore for a wife? He wasn’t moving, just staring at me. Would he leave me tied to the bed to starve to death, or kick me out of the house? I had no expectations, one way or the other. Finally, he moved, not toward the bed, nor away from the door. He still stood there, but started removing his shirt, then his pants, finally his shoes. The last thing he removed was his underwear, and his cock was erect beneath them. 

Naked and hard, Pietro approached the bed and climbed between my legs. Without a word, he speared into my cum laden cunt, thrusting forcefully into my pussy, slamming against my mound. I grunted, unable to do more. Over and over, he pounded me. Was he trying to claim me again, make me forget Luca’s cock? He succeeded in giving me an orgasm.

My body was finely tuned to pleasure after the weekend. My breath panting through my nose, my hips arching against him, though barely, my bonds holding me captive for him. I had another before he emptied himself, grunting, the only sounds he’d made so far except the sounds of his cock sluicing through my cunt and the slap of his flesh against mine. 

I expected it to be over then, for Pietro to pull out and leave me. He did pull out, but only long enough to adjust his aim downward, sliding up into my slick rectum, coated more than a few times in his friends' cum, not losing his erection after his orgasm. The first time I could remember it happening since we’d been married. Pietro managed to fuck my ass another fifteen or twenty minutes, eventually sending his seed to join the rest of it. Like the whore I was, I climaxed several more times during his ass fucking, weakly bucking against him.

Then he got up and left the room. I lay there, fresh cum dripping from me, my husband’s the freshest. I didn’t know if I’d see him again. Perhaps the security company would eventually start monitoring again and my body would be seen tied to the bed. The need to pee beginning to grow and I wondered if I should just release it and lie in it. I could wait longer, but not much.

After five minutes he returned, staring at me again, holding a glass of wine, drinking from it. He shook his head and walked back to the bed. Pulling the tape from my mouth with a quick yank, he gave me a pill, then held my head up to take a sip of his wine.

I swallowed dutifully. “Is it poison?” I asked.

“A morning-after pill. I don’t know if it’s too late or not, but I thought it prudent to try.”

“The doctor said it may be a few months after I came off birth control before I was fertile again.”

He nodded, silent, not moving, not speaking, just sitting there. I was still confined and couldn’t leave the bed. I didn’t know what he wanted. 

“I have to pee,” I said. “I don’t know if you want me to go in the bed.”

“How do I get this plastic wrap off you?” Pietro asked, looking for an edge.

“They usually cut it off,” I replied, wondering if he would find a different use for a knife. 

He nodded again and left, heading towards the kitchen and the knives. He came back with a big butcher knife, the sharpest knife in the knife rack. I watched him approach the bed. Starting with my feet, he sliced off the plastic wrap. I closed my legs when I could, far too late in my estimation. Then he cut my hands free.

Without another word, I got up and went to the bathroom, relieving myself. Unable to bear the thought of facing him again nude, I got a robe and wrapped it around me when I was done. I went back to his office where he was now dressed, though still sitting on the bed, deep in his own thoughts. I cleared my throat and he looked up.

“What are we going to do?” I asked.

“What do you want to do?” Pietro asked back.

“I don’t know,” I replied. “What do you want to do?”

“I’m not sure either,” he replied honestly. “Will you fuck them again?”

“I don’t know,” I replied, as frankly as he’d done. “This weekend changed me. I can’t honestly say to what extent. It’s entirely possible.”

“Do you want a divorce? They’re legal in Italy now.”

“I don’t believe so. I still love you, though not as deeply as before you wagered me with your friends.”

“That’s fair and deserved. You were right of course.”

“About what?”

“That you would have ended up fucking them this weekend no matter what you said. I thought about it the past couple of days and there was no way it wouldn’t happen, though maybe not to this extent. I apologize for betting you.”

I nodded. Not to the extent of a whore, but it would have happened. Though I suspect Giovanni would have pushed for this regardless, taking advantage. Pietro sounded more humble than he’d been before. Having your wife fuck many of your friends would tend to do it, I think; introduce some humbleness to your life. 

“Will you be able to face your friends again,” I asked, “if you keep me as your wife?”

“It will be hard,” he admitted, “knowing they’ve seen you, had you. It will always be in the back of my mind, seeing you on your hands and knees, a man in your cunt and another in your mouth, lined up to use you.”

Completely understandable. “I’ll not fight a divorce if it’s what you want.” I could give up being a wife, a mother, return to whoring around, taking every prick I could, lost in the sensations of fucking, turning my weekend into a lifetime of promiscuity, of raunchy, degenerate, depraved sex. It would be relatively easy now.

“I’m not sure if I want a divorce,” Pietro said. “I still love you, despite what happened.”

It shocked me; his declaration. Not what I expected at all this morning in the aftermath of my wild weekend.

“Not even if I can’t promise to remain faithful anymore?” I asked, knowing I might not be able to.

“It does make it harder to contemplate,” he said. “I don’t want you to, of course; fuck other people. Perhaps it would be easier to live with if it happened more discreetly. I don’t know.” 

That was an amazing admission. I didn’t know what to make of it. That it would be okay to fuck other people if I were discrete about it? Did it mean he loved me too much to let me go despite what a whore I’d proven to be? What did it mean? 

“I will promise to try not fucking them anymore, even if I can’t promise I won’t,” I said, “and to be more discreet if I do.” It was all I could promise. Anything else would be a lie.

He nodded. It was up to Pietro. 

“Perhaps we should abandon the idea of having children until we see how it goes,” he said.

“I think it would be wise,” I replied, if I weren’t pregnant already. God knows I’d had enough cum in me to impregnate an army of fertile women. The only question being how fertile I was.

He said nothing. He still wore the look of sadness I’d seen when I first saw him, though the desire had dissipated with his fucking me. Only the pain remained. 

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I think I should clean up now.”

He nodded. “I’ll start the espresso.” He got up and left for the kitchen, his feet padding down the hall. 

I stripped everything off the bed, too cum stained to leave it as a reminder of what happened here in Pietro’s office. I threw the plaid blanket away, knowing every time Pietro saw it, he would remember the pictures of me on it. The rest went into the washer and fresh everything else went on the bed. Would he be able to sleep on it again, knowing what happened here?

I showered, scouring myself, nearly rubbing myself raw in the process, trying to reduce the stench of unbridled sex on me. Maybe I succeeded. I was used to the smell of sex now; it was hard to tell. I dressed, covering myself, long sleeve blouse, slacks, shoes. I joined Pietro in the kitchen.

A cup of hot espresso waiting for me at my usual chair. I sat down and looked at Pietro. Some of the pain had dissipated from his face. I raised my cup in a mock toast.

“Cin, cin,” I said. Cheers. We drank.

******