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When he first pitched the idea to her, Clarissa’s first thought was that Rashad Saba was a man extraordinarily lacking in jealousy. Other men she had known would have set themselves on fire sooner than lend out their wives to other men at a party.
Her second thought was that he must be punishing her. Rashad didn’t put it in those words exactly, but she had a sense of what this must be about. He was retaliating against her for asking for sex too many times and for getting caught masturbating so often in the past month. Normally she was better at hiding it. But as Rashad’s sex drive slowed over time, hers had only grown, blossoming and expanding in their second year of marriage, and she took pains to conceal her habit, but he knew. She knew he knew. He’d walked in on her with her hand down her pants, or misusing the showerhead, or humping a pillow, too many times for him not to realize the infrequency with which he let her into his bed—the scarce slow drip of his very occasional permission to fuck—was leaving her unsatisfied.
So Clarissa knew exactly what this was about when Rashad broached the idea of lending her out as a party toy.
She was nervous, to say the least. She’d had exhibitionist sex once before, in a prior relationship, but that was with only one person watching. The prospect of being used like this was something on an entirely different level. It sounded nerve-wracking, degrading, exhausting, humiliating—and exciting.
She’d said yes, of course. It was Rashad’s idea, and after the past few months of strain on their relationship, she was eager to prove her devotion to him.
The evening of the party, she dressed as Rashad had suggested: a loose peasant blouse and a modest knee-length skirt. The only sign of something unusual afoot was the leather collar around her neck.
She was setting out snacks on the table when she heard a knock at the front door. The first arrival. Clarissa swallowed, smoothed out her clothes, and went to open the door.
“Hello! Welcome, come in,” she found herself saying, before she’d even registered who was behind the door.
Two men stood before her. The taller one was dressed in jeans and a button-down flannel shirt. The other one was wearing leather pants and a vest, his hairy chest exposed to the world. They introduced themselves, but Clarissa was so nervous that their names went in one ear and out the other.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” she asked, as she stood aside and let them in. “We have soda, water–”
“I’ll be the one serving drinks tonight,” introjected the man in leather. The taller one smirked, and it took Clarissa a few seconds to realize that must’ve been some kind of dirty joke.
“Oh,” she said. She was too caught off guard to laugh. “...Well, if you’d like to come this way—”
Just as she’d turned her back, the shorter man said, “Thanks, doll,” and pinched her ass.
Clarissa flinched and stood still for a second. Then she resumed walking.
After she led the two men into the living room, she excused herself to the kitchen, where the timer was beeping—a message that enough time had passed for the creampuffs to cool. Clarissa took her time about arranging them on a platter. She could hear the voice of her husband as he joined the men in the living room.
Clarissa felt her heart beating a little faster as she lifted the platter in her hands and began to carry it. The men all cast her a glance as she entered the living room—the two guests on the sofa, Rashad leaning sideways on the armrest of his recliner—but they kept on talking without a break in the conversation until Clarissa set the platter down on the snack table.
She’d bent over in the process, far forward, presenting herself within reach of the guests, and she knew—she knew—it would entice the men to touch. She was trying to gracefully perform the role that Rashad had set for her, to express her willingness to be used.
And still, she flinched when she felt the hand go up her skirt. The man in leather squeezed her cheek.
“Great ass she’s got,” he said of her. “You’re a lucky man.”
Clarissa straightened and looked to her husband as if for confirmation, still struggling with doubts that he could seriously be okay with this. He was watching a man touching his wife, feeling her up under her skirt, right in front of him. Didn’t that stir some kind of feeling in him? Anything?
Rashad said, “Clarissa, why don’t you bring us all some water?”
Clarissa blowed her head. She whispered a quiet “yessir,” moved out of reach of the guests, and ducked out of there. In the kitchen, she poured three glasses of water and took a moment to settle her nerves.
When she had looked into his eyes, Rashad had looked no different than always—calm and level-headed. Patient. Warm. Rashad had always a way of making her feel safe with him, in a way she had felt with no one else before, and dwelling on that feeling kindled a swell of affection. She wanted to do right by him. She wanted to make him proud. Even if the way he asked her to do that was... this.
By the time that she returned to the living room, the subject of conversation had turned raunchy, but this time, the chatter cut off when she entered. Clarissa passed out the glasses of water. Rashad thanked her quietly.
“Alright, party toy. C’mere.” The man in leather snapped his fingers and pointed at the space between his feet.
Clarissa fell still, for just a second. Then she moved to approach him and, slowly, kneel at his feet. Very surruptitiously she cast a glance at Rashad out of the corner of her eye, but he didn’t react.
The guest before her unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock. His instructions were simple: “Suck it.”
She opened her mouth. She leaned forward, and she closed her lips around the head of the man’s cock as her husband looked on.
Then another knock sounded at the door, and Rashad got up to answer it, leaving Clarissa and the guests alone.
More than anything she wished it were him she was sucking right now. But Rashad was very strict and reserved about allowing her to touch him, and one of the conditions of their relationship was that she had to respect that. In the meantime, she would have to accept substitutes.
Clarissa continued sucking cock as her husband brought the latest guests into the room, with more of them arriving by the minute. Out of the corner of her eye, and in the ensuing chatter, she was able to tell that some of the men had exposed themselves to start masturbating. Others simply fell into casual conversation and enjoyed the snacks. Without being able to turn her head, Clarissa lost track of where her husband was in the room.
“Harder,” said the man whose dick was in her mouth, so she redoubled her efforts and sucked harder. This was her role now, and she didn’t want to be a disappointment. She used her skills to dutifully bring him to the point of climax and was rewarded with an explosion of semen down her throat. It went down the wrong pipe; she jerked back and started coughing.
Some of the men laughed. One of them made a joke about the creampuffs.
She noticed, then, that one of the snack trays was empty. Turning away from the man she’d just performed oral sex on, she stood up and picked the tray up off the table, then started maneuvering her way through the guests.
“And just where do you think you’re going?” someone asked.
“I’m going to–”
Another guest stepped into her path and cut her off. Someone grabbed her from behind and she found herself forced against the wall, throwing out her hands to catch herself. The tray clattered on the floor.
The man behind her lifted her skirt and yanked down her panties. Clarissa steeled herself and widened her stance, spreading her legs. Someone beside her reached around and started petting her lips for a second, only to withdraw his hand so the man behind her could make his move.
The firm pressure of a cock began to fill her, and she hissed through her teeth. As the man sank himself inside her cunt, the other men surrounding them clapped and cheered. Once good and lodged inside, he pressed close at her back, and he began to hump.
This was what Rashad had said he wanted, so Clarissa submitted to it. She let the man fuck her against the wall. The sex was hard and rough and fast and being watched by a whole group of people, more than she’d ever been watched by before, and Clarissa hoped privately that Rashad was paying attention. She would have turned her head to look for him, but the man at her back had her pressed too tightly against the wall. His thrusting creshendoed, and he finished inside her.
Once it was over, once the man pulled out, Clarissa clung to the wall a little longer and tried to catch her breath. Then she pressed away and started to pull up her panties.
Someone stopped her hand, saying, “No, gimme that—”
“Bring her here!”
“Get this off—”
She couldn’t keep track of who was who anymore. Someone pulled her shirt off over her head. Someone else was making her lift her feet to get her panties off her ankles. Her bra came loose as someone unclipped it and quickly the men stripped her naked, down to nothing but the collar. Hands covered her, every inch of flesh being grabbed, groped, fondled, all at once. More than one person was pulling on her hair. Suddenly she was being lifted off the floor, and the men were carrying her to the table. They set her there on her back and opened her legs.
As a cock pushed into her, she tipped her head back and moaned. By that point, she was learning to relish being the center of attention—a stranger was fucking her and others were groping at her breasts and she loved it. She loved it. Sprinkles of ejaculation landed intermittently over her body from those masturbating around her. Her own pleasure was building, her moans growing in depth and volume, until something terrible happened.
In the midst of all those witnesses, she came.
Without permission.
Her outcry and the trembling of her feet in the air prompted gasps, laughter, and overlapping murmurs of Do you think that was— and I think she just— and Somebody tell him.
Her orgasm had been witnessed. There was no denying it, and Clarissa hoped that Rashad would come and clear away the guests and carry out her punishment himself. She was about to be disappointed.
“Clarissa,” came the sound of his voice. Laughter rippled around him.
She opened her eyes and looked for him. Rashad came into view, upside-down.
He took her come-splattered face gently between his warm, strong hands. “I’m going to have to pick someone to spank you now, you understand.”
Her heart sank. She didn’t want someone else. She wanted him.
“...Clarissa?”
She licked her lips and whispered, “Yes sir.”
“Turn over.”
Gradually, while panting for breath, Clarissa turned herself over so that she was kneeling on the floor and propped up by her forearms on the table.
A friendly argument ensued about who should get to spank her. Clarissa didn’t pay attention to it. She was busy struggling to breathe.
Eventually someone was chosen, and the blows against her ass began. Clarissa winced at the first, and then the next, and the next. Each one stung more than the last.
Her skin felt like it must’ve been glowing bright red before Rashad interceded, declaring that one more blow would suffice. Clarissa braced herself and inhaled sharply at one more hard impact against her flesh, and then it was done. The punishment was over.
Now the fucking could resume.
Another cock pushed into her depths while her ass was still stinging from the spanking, and her back arched as she accepted it. Rashad was there to look out for her, bringing her water and enforcing the rule about condom use, but eventually the guests were using her past the point of exahustion.
At one point, while bent over the armrest of the couch and being spitroasted, she felt her body’s excitement and arousal coming back into focus. It felt good, freely so, until she realized with a sour pang of ambivalence that she was on the path to another orgasm. The combined sensations of one man fucking her from behind while she was sucking on another one’s cock was starting to make her toes curl, the thrill of it all threatening to overwhelm her defenses. She shouldn’t let it— Not without asking— But— She didn’t want to stop sucking, couldn’t bear to stop, desperate to hold onto this feeling and take it just a little further, just a little further, just a little further, until, clenching her eyes shut, she braced herself as her pleasure crested into another blazing pinnacle of sweet release.
She stole an orgasm, right under everyone’s nose—and nobody noticed.
The relief of it almost kept out the prickling sense of guilt that followed, but gradually, and then all at once, she began to feel unspeakably filthy. She felt suddenly aware of all the sweat on her skin and the traces of where other men had jizzed on her. Rashad ought to have been ashamed to have her as a wife. The man that was hunched over her ass finished inside her, then pulled out and stepped aside. Another man stepped up to take his place, and Clarissa felt so intently embarassed of her secret orgasm that when she felt the intrusion of an even bigger, harder cock, her blended pleasure and shame immediately triggered another forbidden climax, right on the heels of the one before it.
Nobody could read her expression, though, on account of her face being pressed flush to a stranger’s abdomen—his pubic hair in her nose, his cock down her throat. His spray of come made her choke, and he released her to let her breathe, her tears re-wetting the lines of black mascara already running down her face. She was still collecting herself as another splatter of come hit the side of her face. Then the next man got into position to use her mouth.
The guests enjoyed her long into the night.
As the party wound down, Clarissa ended up lying limp on the couch cushions, eyelids heavy, as a guest held her thighs to his chest and had his way with her. Before the last guest departed, she found herself drifting off to sleep.
The sunlight filtering through the windows was what woke her in the morning. That, and the sensation of something touching her face. Something warm.
Clarissa opened her bleary eyes and realized that the thing prodding her lips was the head of her husband’s cock.
She smiled at the sight of it, and her face warmed, despite the morning air chilling her bare skin. She stretched her arms a little and whispered, “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” Rashad whispered back. He was stroking his dick over her face as he spoke. “I’m proud of you, dear. You did very well last night.”
“May I suck you, sir?”
“No. But you can touch yourself.”
Her eyes widened, and she quickly set her hand between her thighs. After everything she’d been through last night, she should have been fully spent—but as she softly began to rub herself right then, the sight of her beloved husband masturbating made her grow warm.
And then she heard him whisper, “Good girl.”
She could have melted. Her mouth opened in a moan, and her face and tongue caught the sudden spurt of his come. She dipped a finger inside herself.
“Good girl… Good girl… Good girl… Good girl…”
The heat of her excitement spread through her quickly. She pushed into herself as fast as her growing wetness would allow, until she was pumping like she was in a race against time, eager and frantic, hips lifting up off the couch. “Can I—?” She winced and whimpered. It was hard to get the words out. She had to rush them all out in one breath. “CanIcomesir?”
“Yes.”
The word took her breath away. With his permission, with his blessing, with his approval, she brought herself to the brink and looked directly up into his face as her orgasm struck, making her turn rigid and tremble with the sweet shock of release. They made eye contact the entire time as it happened.
“Good girl,” he whispered. “Good girl. That was beautiful.”
Clarissa went limp again, suffused with a heavy, radiant pleasure. Getting off was one thing, but what really made her feel transcendently at peace right then was the purse affection in Rashad’s voice and the conviction that, despite all his peculiarities, he loved her. More deeply and more completely than she’d ever been loved before. The event last night hadn’t been a punishment at all; she understood that now.
Half an hour later, as she and her husband were sharing a cup of coffee together, she shyly asked how soon they could arrange another party.