No Turning Back

She doesn't want to, but she really does.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, merchandise, companies, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older.

I'm on a stage. The spotlight is on me. I'm naked and lying between the legs of a woman I don't know, except that I just finished eating her pussy. My face is covered in her cum. My best friend Ally is in the audience, as well as my friends Sally, Louise, Sarah and Hollie. I can't see them but I'm sure their mouths are agape. There must be at least twenty club members watching me in this large, private room. They're all watching, some are having sex, while they're witnessing a novice enter their world of domination and submission. I've never been more embarrassed in my life. It isn't a dream.

My pussy is drenched. I think I've already cum twice. I'm on an endorphin driven high that dwarfs the years of boring marital sex. I've finally come to realize that I shouldn't be ashamed of my inner desires.

I'm forty-two and divorced. I have four children. I'm an account manager for a greeting card company. I've never even gotten a parking ticket before. How did I get here?

* * *

I'm Karen. Ms. Barnett to the people at work. Some of my friends call me Kara. My ex-husband did. That was until I caught him fucking our nanny in our bed when I came home early from a visit with my mother after a stomach virus got the best of me. What I saw in our bedroom made me sicker than any virus. After my initial rage I asked him why. Why did he betray me? He stuttered some lame excuse about me not being there for him. That was a joke. Our twenty-one year old nanny was sitting up on my side of the bed, desperately clutching a sheet to cover her exposed breasts. I told her to get the fuck out of here and I never saw her again. I wish I could have said the same about my soon to be ex-husband.

For the last five years I've been raising our four kids by myself, and between the demands of four children in school, I barely have time for any kind of recreation, let alone sex.

I'd only been on a few dates since the divorce, and those were, predictably, a disaster. That isn't to say that I didn't have needs. I did. When I was married, my mind (and body) didn't really stray from my then husband Gary. Not really. I had the occasional fantasy about the well-muscled and tanned gardener or the handsome thirty something neighbor down the street, but it was all harmless. I never came close to acting out any of my fantasies. Instead, I resorted to erotic literature, online porn, and my vibrator.

I didn't really explore my sexuality when I was married. Gary was always horny, but it was always straight missionary sex, sometime with a blowjob thrown in. He was a meat and potatoes guy all the way. I thought it was good, and occasionally great, but I didn't really have a frame of reference since I'd only had sex with Gary (if you disregard the handful of one nighters I had in college).

So I think you get the picture. I'd spent most of my adult life raising kids and trying to keep my marriage together. I was hopefully successful in at least one of those endeavors. Since the divorce, I was on my own for the first time in as long as I could remember. Really alone. I didn't invest any of my time in making friends while the kids were at home. Yes, I had friends I made through our children, but they were just social friends. I didn't have any real friends. Friends that I could share my deepest and darkest thoughts with. Those kinds of friends.

At forty-two, it was harder to get men to notice you. There were a few more creases around my eyes, and maybe I was carrying a few more pounds on my hips, but on the plus side my breasts were bigger, much bigger, than the average woman. One advantage of my age was that I knew how to carry myself. I'd outgrown my adolescent insecurities and was generally more confident in my decision making. Some men liked that. Most didn't. I wanted to find a man who appreciated me for who I was, and not for who I might be.

I had a couple false starts through the dating app my sister talked me into trying. It was a life changing experience, and not in a good way. I couldn't take the awkwardness of meeting someone and invariably deciding that I didn't like him. The next hour or two, trying to wind down a bad date, would be true agony. I didn't know how I was going to meet anyone on my own.

So I spent a lot of weekends at home. It sucked. Plus the child support payments stopped from my deadbeat ex. I had to find a job. I spent six months looking. Before I had kids I went to college to become a teacher. Got my certificate and was ready to join my first job as an elementary school teacher when I found out (we weren't trying at that time) I was having our first child. My then husband was making enough that I could leave my position and stay home full-time. Since it was my first, I wanted to stay home for at least a year. Then I had another child, then another, and before I knew it twenty years had flown by. I had to shake off twenty years of rust and join the workforce. I wasn't looking forward to it.

Job hunting sucked worse than online dating. I started with looking for teaching positions, but there was such a surplus of younger and more qualified applicants. I didn't even get any callbacks. I was frustrated and tired. My kids were driving me nuts. By necessity, I widened my search, applying for positions that I knew little about and had little interest in. Working at an animal shelter, tending bar, and finally, working as a sales associate for a national greeting card company. Its headquarters was in my town. It was my only callback. They hired me on the spot.

My story really started with my first day at my new job. Forty-two, but feeling again like I was twenty-two, with first day jitters. It was June 15. I remember the day because it was my birthday. I was joining the sales department as an entry level employee. The oldest of the six newbies, by far. I was twelve years older than the oldest of them. I stuck out like the proverbial sore thumb.

The thirty year old was Ally.

Who didn't love Ally?

She had shiny long blonde hair, I think natural, and the deepest blue eyes. She was shorter and heavier than me, but the weight was in all the right places with a 34DD bust and a generous booty. I was taller and thinner, and always envied her perfect curves. But her best feature was her infectious personality. She was always the life of the party. I found that out when she brought coffee and doughnuts to our orientation. She said it was her goal to make every day at work a fun day as well. She was a glass is half full person, where I was pretty much a glass is half empty gal. I liked her outlook on life better.

We bonded that first day, and before long it was breakfast and lunch together in the employee cafeteria and an occasional drink together after work. She was always a bit sketchy on her personal details, but being work buddies, I thought it was her call on what she wanted to tell me and I did likewise with her, though I had little in my background I thought was scandalous.

A bonding moment came from our interactions with our supervisor, Dan Hogan. Dan was a "by the book" person. We were always making fun of him behind his back. From the pictures on his desk, I gathered he was married with an adorable wife and two cute children. He always wore a coat and tie to work, even on casual Fridays. He was probably pretty buffed when he was younger, but middle age brought with it a paunch and slightly rounded shoulders from so much time behind his desk. He was a stickler for timely sales reports, and on more than one occasion took both Ally and me "behind the woodshed" to stress the importance of strict adherence to company policy.

Ally thought he was an asshole. I thought he was just uptight.

Dan was always tasking us with extra work, and one day he asked me to summarize the group's sales reports into a power point presentation that he would be giving to upper management. I thought it was an opportunity for me to shine, so I pulled an all-nighter at the office to develop and polish it. Ally volunteered to help me, and stayed with me the entire time, pulling data and proofing the finished product. Ally proved she was a friend, working with me side by side without sleep.

Ally and I officed on the opposite end of the floor from Dan, so early the next morning when the presentation was ready we went to his office, expecting him not to be there, to drop off the printed presentation package on his desk. I opened his office door without knocking (it was 6:30 a.m.), and much to Ally and my surprise, Dan was changing from his casual clothes he commuted in to the work clothes he kept in his closet.

He was startled to see us, but not as startled as us, as we saw him quickly pull his slacks over a white adult diaper. It was a frightening sight, seeing his lily white skin and the leg hairs sticking out from under the diaper. He looked highly embarrassed (I don't there's a word for his facial expression), and I slammed the door shut, forgetting to drop off the report. Ally saw the same thing I did, and we both ran back to the break room, trying not to laugh.

"What the fuck Karen," Ally said as we arrived at the small alcove that held a coffee station and a roundtop that seated four. "What did we just see?"

"I think Dan has an incontinence problem, or maybe he's into some very kinky shit."

"I think he's only forty. Shouldn't be having those kind of problems at his age. I read about guys who like to be dressed as babies." She picked up her coffee mug and took her first sip from a new pot. "Diaper Dan," she mused. We both laughed at our boss's new nickname. I tried to picture him in his diaper over my knee, begging for a spanking. It was a bad visual.

Every time we saw Dan, one of the two of us would whisper "Diaper Dan," and the two of us would crack up. I'm sure heard us laughing at him, though he pretended not to hear it (the image of him, squatting on the floor in his diaper with his pants puddled around his ankles ... it made me shiver ever time those indelible images were stirred up in my head). After that incident, Dan kept his distance from us ... and he never again bugged about our late sales reports.

Ally changed my mindset about work, and had an even more profound impact on the way I lived. I didn't consider myself unattractive, but I paled in comparison to my stunningly gorgeous new best friend. She was a head turner. Some men loved her face or her blonde hair. Others were smitten with her curves. But all could agree it was her personality that tied her whole package together. She dressed beautifully and tastefully, often making me wonder where she got the money to afford such well-tailored (and sexy) clothes. She wasn't afraid to share her opinion of the way I dressed, which was in her words "horrible." I think she mumbled something about me being dressed like her grandmother.

When I first got to know her, she had a running criticism of what I was wearing. She said I was being dressed not to be noticed. Harsh but accurate. I dressed like I was part of the wallpaper background.

She took me on a shopping trip to a high end department store. We went into the women's department, but not the "affordable" one I might browse in, but in one that was two floors up, where serious money was paid for a skirt or a pair of shoes. When we got off the escalator Ally went to the back of the department and asked me to wait. I flipped through a rack of designer jackets. The cheapest one was over $1,000. I took pleasure in fingering rows and rows of fine cotton and soft wool. The aisle I was standing in was occupied by two smartly dressed women, both probably in their 40's, who were sporting large diamonds and even bigger fake boobs. They both looked at me as if I didn't belong ... which I didn't.

Ally rescued me before I did or said something stupid.

She took me by the hand, pulling me, stumbling behind her. I brushed against row upon row of fine women's clothes wondering where she was taking me. I saw a checkout area in front of the back wall, and behind the register was a twenty something cutie with a name badge that said "Sam."

"Sam's my roommate," Ally announced, but not surprising me. Sam was a short, perky redhead with close cropped hair and colorful tats on both of her arms. She was wearing a sleeveless dress that was flattering to her figure. She smiled and I returned it.

"Sam can get a 50% employee discount on most of this stuff. Plus she knows the stuff that's going to be put on sale so if you see something you like you can tell her and she'll grab it as soon as it's put on sale."

I wasn't surprised because meeting Sam answered the question of how Ally was able to afford the great clothes she was wearing. Sam was a perfect guide, steering me to the items on sale, where the markdown, combined with her employee discount, brought them into my price range.

I had a great time buying stuff that I'd never dreamed of owning. Sam was a peach, patiently shuttling clothes and shoes to me in the fitting room. Ally joined me in the oversized fitting room, helping me make my choices. I spent more than I should have, but really made over my wardrobe with better fitting (and more revealing) designer clothes.

My makeover didn't go unnoticed. I started to get asked out on dates, and had a few, though none of them went anywhere. It was good to get out again, and I had to credit Ally for making me look better and being a bit more optimistic about life in general. My life was certainly going in the right direction and that point, and that I was in charge of its trajectory. At least I felt that way.

Of course I was thoroughly unprepared for the night that changed my life.

It started innocently enough. It was a Friday, and everyone was in a decent mood with the weekend in front of us. That was until our sales meeting in the late morning. Diaper Dan really shit on us that day, telling us that we were short of our sales quota, and would be spending the rest of the day calling clients until we got to the end of his thirty page target list..

It was tough. We spent almost eight hours in that conference room, calling almost our entire client list, trying to book sales to meet our monthly quota. In the end, with fifteen minutes to spare, the six person team finished the list and booked sales that blew away our goal. I shared high fives with our team, including Ally. Even Dan got off his high horse and thanked us for our hard work and wished us a good weekend (and telling us not to come to the office). Everyone was happy.

The downside was that I was dog tired. I trudged back to my cube, thinking about nothing more than a hot bath, a trashy romance novel, and a glass of chardonnay.

Who said youth was wasted on the young? Even though we had a grueling eight hours in a dreary conference room, the rest of the sales team was deep in conversation in the bullpen area across the main walkway from me excitedly talking about their late night options. I could hear everything they were saying, but it faded to background noise as I tidied up my desk area. I packed my work shoes and was putting on my favorite dingy canvas sneakers when Ally came into my cube and plopped herself in the guest chair on the other side of my now clean desk. She kicked off her heels and put her bare feet on my desk.

"Time to get a drink," she announced, wiggling her toes so I would notice her recent pedicure. Even her feet were cute. She put her hands behind her head and tipped the dented Steelcase chair back on two legs.

"I've got to get back," I said dismissively. I was tired and wanted to go home. I had my jacket and purse on my desk. My car keys were in my hand. I was visualizing the glass of chilled white wine in my hand.

Ally wasn't going to let me beg off. "Karen, you're not going to get off that easy. The laundry can wait." She was basically accusing me of being an old lady -- which I was.

I didn't want to tell her I was going to be satisfied with a hot bath and a trashy novel. "I'm exhausted." I raised my arms up in the air and let out a big yawn, as if to emphasize my point.

"Bullshit." Ally, arms folded, wasn't buying what I was selling. "It's Friday night." Then she studied my face. "Girl ... when's the last time you got laid?"

"Excuse me?" I asked, even though it was clear I heard her. I didn't want to admit that I couldn't remember the last time I had sex.

She made a circle with her thumb and middle finger and then used the index finger on her other hand to poke through the hole. I got the message.

"None of your business," I said, trying not to laugh at her exaggerated hand gestures.

"That answers my question. Karen, you're coming with me."

She tipped her chair back on to its four legs and stood up.

"Wait," I said, causing her to temporarily freeze.

I was trying to buy time to make up my mind.

"What?" she demanded. Her hands were now on her hips. She wasn't changing her mind.

I knew I was going to cave. Eventually. In the meantime, I had a footwear issue. "Let me change my shoes." I pointed to my guest chair to ask her to sit for a minute.

Of course wearing my dirty (and probably smelly) sneakers, as comfortable as they were, was completely out of the question. I pulled my work shoes out of my carry bag. They were a bit scuffed and frankly boring. I bought them primarily for comfort since I spent a fair amount of my workday on my feet. Then I thought about the new pair of shoes that Ally's roommate Sam picked up for me. Ally had given the shoes to me that morning, and I was so busy that day I didn't have time to open the box and try them on.

I'd already bought a few pair of shoes through Sam and was comfortable enough with her taste that I told her that if a sexy pair of designer heels came on sale, she should buy them for me. She told me that a pair of Christian Louboutin's in my size were going on sale. They retailed at $700, but were going to be closed out at 50% off. With Sam's employee discount on top of that, I could have the shoes for a little more than $200. I jumped at the offer, and now the shoes were in the bag, awaiting my greedy little hands.

Ally was giving me the evil eye as I went to change into my work shoes. Her eyes said "Don't you dare put on those fucking ugly ass shoes."

"I do have the shoes you brought today," I offered, responding to her withering gaze.

"Let's see them," she demanded. She never trusted me with a fashion decision.

I rustled with the bag and pulled the box out. My heart was beating faster. I'd only seen these shoes on display. I never dared try them on. I popped the lid off and my eyes opened wide.

"Show me girl!" Ally cried, impatiently wanting to see the shoes.

I held them up. A pair of size 6 cherry red Pigalle pointed toe pumps with 4 inch heels and the sides cut low. They were very sexy, and looked impossible to wear. She grabbed them out of my hand.

"They're perfect!" she cried. "Jesus, I'd kill to have a pair like these." She sat down and tried them on, standing up, even though her dainty feet were swimming in them.

"Look at me" she said, pointing to my never before worn shoes. She was trying to strut around to my side of the desk to show me.

I looked. They were exquisite, the perfect combination of refinement and sex. Even though Ally didn't need any help, the shoes made her look more attractive than she already was. Then she gave me a sheepish smile.

"Sorry, these are yours. I just couldn't help myself." She slipped them off and handed them to me. I could see lust in her eyes -- for the shoes, not me.

Our side of the office had cleared out so I tried on the shoes and staggered out of my cube, trying to keep my balance on the short industrial carpeting. I barely got back to my office without falling and leaned against the carpeted partition. "I don't know ... I'm not sure I can wear these."

"Fuckkkk girl," drawled Ally. "You gotta wear those shoes." She made an exaggerated nod of her head to give me two thumbs up.

Then she picked up my work shoes and held them out in front of her as if she was holding a dead mouse. "These shoes suck, and the ones you're wearing make you look like you want to fuck."

"I can't wear these," I insisted, plopping myself in my chair and kicking off the shoes.

Ally was still holding the collar of my dreadful work shoes. "I wouldn't let my mother wear these," she declared, pronouncing a death sentence for them. She tossed my offending work shoes into the trash can, landing in it with a resounding thud. "Here's where they belong."

I looked down at my work shoes, now sitting on top of discarded papers and crumpled paper coffee cups. She was right. It was like comparing a beater car to a Ferrari. If I was going to go with her I had to suck it up and wear my new shoes. But I didn't want to look like a clumsy slut. At least I didn't want to look clumsy.

"Maybe I should just call it a night." I leaned over to re-wrap the Louboutin's in their tissue paper so I could return them.

"You're coming with me." There was no room for argument in her voice. She reached into the shoe box and unwrapped the shoes. She handed them to me. "Put these on. We're wasting time arguing about this."

Now I kind of wanted to go. Wearing the heels, even for a few minutes, made me feel sexy. My legs weren't bad, and with a four inch lift, they looked impossibly long. I liked that, even though they hurt like a bitch.

"OK," I said reluctantly, disguising my interest in going. I was moving too slowly for Ally's taste.

"Just put on the fucking shoes. You know you look like hot shit in them."

I knew I did. I just didn't know if I would survive them. Especially my ankles ... and my face.

"All right," I said, still verbally dragging my feet.

I slipped on the shiny new heels, making a mental note to put a couple band-aids in my purse. Of course I forgot my mental note. The shoes did look great, and with my practice run the second time went much more smoothly than the first.

Ally walked ahead of me. I wobbled only a little bit, and felt a bit more comfortable walking in them, though I had to fight the feeling that I was going to fall forward. I made it to the end of the hallway, to the exit door to the employee parking lot. Ally had already gone ahead, not patient enough to wait given my snail's pace.

I opened the door and shaded my eyes so they could adjust to the brightly lit parking lot. I could see her. She was about four cars away and unlocking the driver's side door of a red sports car. I was leaning against the door jamb to give my legs a rest as I watched her. I thought maybe she might take pity on me and pick me up where I was standing. She flapped her arms, yelling though I couldn't understand what she was saying. I stretched my neck forward and heard her say something like "Get the fuck over here."

Fine, she wasn't going to drive the car over to pick me up. I clip clopped across the old broken asphalt (cussing under my breath) to her car. It was a shiny red Mustang, about the same color as my shoes. It looked showroom fresh. I ran my finger across the trunk lid and fingered the pony emblem.

"Hey ..." she protested. I took my finger away.

I pushed the button to release the latch and pulled open the passenger door. I stuck my head in, almost falling into the bucket seat.

"Oops." It wasn't an elegant entrance. Ally laughed at me. It wasn't going to be the last time that night.

I smoothed my skirt under me. Thank God I at least wore one of my nicer outfits. It actually went with the heels. I looked around at the interior. It was immaculate.

"My brother restores cars," she said, answering the question that was forming on my lips.

"Nice." I didn't really know shit about cars, but I could tell this was a nice one. I felt like I was in a car magazine.

"Don't puke inside it," she said, admonishing me as if I was a heavy drinker ... and puker.

"Hah," I replied, looking at her and sticking a finger in my mouth and making a gagging noise.

"Fuck you," she said. I guess that was the limit of her tolerance for my humor. She turned the ignition key and fired up the engine. It roared like a beast and rumbled like a real race car. "Put on your fucking seat belt."

I reached across to buckle the belt and looked straight ahead as we backed out of the parking space. I was going to try to behave.

She started talking to me but I was too busy watching the guys in the parking lot that were in a circle talking and sharing a cigarette. Two of them leaned low to get a look at us as we passed by.

"...so that's why they used that engine block on this motor ...". She stopped talking. "Are you listening to me?" I felt like I misbehaved in class. I hadn't paid attention to a word she had said. I faked it.

"Yes ... yes ... I 've heard every word. But I don't anything about car engines." That was the truth.

"Women ..." Ally sighed. I could tell she longed for another woman friend who could appreciate the finer points of her ride. I was just never going to be one of them.

She gunned the motor, fishtailing into the street. There was still a fair amount of traffic and my crazy kind of best friend darted through the pack of cars while I gripped my seatbelt, making sure it was fastened. I tried to keep my eyes open but failed. With eyes shut I felt the car sway as she weaved through the traffic.

I opened my eyes when we came to rest at a stoplight. We rolled up next to a police car. While the car shimmied as it idled, the black and white revved his motor. Ally revved hers. The cop car flashed his headlights and turned left while we continued straight. Maybe they knew each other. She didn't say anything, just stared ahead into traffic.

We were at cruising speed when she suddenly made a right turn into a large asphalt parking lot. The car listed slightly as she made the sharp turn, squealing the tires and kicking up some small stones. She darted for the last open parking space and rolled in gracefully, the engine now at a purring idle. She turned off the headlights and got out, expecting I would as well. She stood outside the car waiting for me to get off my ass.

We parked near the side entrance of a fast food restaurant, a local chain with a reputation for the best burgers. I'd never been to it. I could see it was packed inside. The crowd spilled out to the sidewalk and the parking lot, people eating burgers and drinking beers covered with brown paper bags. There were a couple motorcycles parked right in front of the side entrance. The burly bikers were sitting on their leather saddles, drinking cans of beer and passing a joint. I watched my feet so I wouldn't trip and tried to avoid eye contact with the bikers as we approached the side door.

As we walked by, one of the leather sheathed bikers eyed Ally hungrily and snarled "Hey babe ... wanna fuck?" He sounded like he meant it. I was invisible to him.

He was the taller of the two. He and his buddy (who was sporting a large silver hoop hanging from his right ear) stood up, cutting off our path to the entrance. They were each about a foot taller and wider than we were, the human equivalent of a two large brown bears standing on their hind legs.

I was scared shitless again when Ally stood toe to toe with the tall, bearded and heavily muscled biker.

"I wouldn't fuck you if you were the last man on Earth," she said, snarling back. You could tell she wasn't going to back down.

I was cowering at this point, hoping not to be thrashed along with my former best friend.

The hulking presence in front of us broke into a broad smile, flashing a gold tooth ... then started laughing. Ally hugged the smiling bear, arms unable to circle his considerable girth.

"Rocky ... good to see you." Her hug lingered, showing true affection. She practically disappeared into his arms.

The biker gave her one more squeeze and then held her at arm's length. "Looking good babe." He gave her a playful pat on her rump.

"Asshole," she fired back, but with a smile.

Rocky plopped down on the seat of his Hog and took a long drag off the joint. A haze of sweet smelling smoke drifted by my face.

"Ally ... you're a good one." He looked at me. "And your cute little friend too," he added. I guess he did notice me. He gave me a thumbs up. I'm sure I blushed. I managed to flash him a weak smile.

Ally scooted up to him and kissed him on the curly brown hair covering his cheek.

He gripped her shoulders with his paws. "Be good." He tossed the roach on the pavement and used the sole of his heavy boot to grind it till it went out. He threw his leg over the saddle and hunched over to twist the ignition key. The chopper roared to life.

Ally waved to him and held the door open for me. We slid into the crowd that formed a disorderly queue in front of the cash registers. The manager behind the counter, a cute redhead with lots of freckles and a long ponytail, waved to Ally. I followed Ally as she fought her way through the crowd of people to the front of the counter. She bent over it, as did the woman behind the counter, and Ally kissed her cheek. I couldn't help but notice that when the woman bent over, her blouse opened a bit more and I could see impressive cleavage on her compact frame.

"Who was that?" I asked. I watched the redhead's buns wiggle when she went back to work.

"Friend," she said, practically shouting over the din of hungry people.

"Do you fucking know everyone?" I shouted back.

"No," she said. Then she raised her voice. "But I know the right ones."

She knew this burger joint's manager well but it was obvious it was just the tip of the iceberg. There was a lot to Ally that I apparently didn't know, but was about to find out. My boring life was about to get an electric shock. I just didn't know exactly when or where.

We stood in front of a gray metal door marked "Employees Only," which led to the area behind the counter. Moments later a different girl (also cute) wearing the restaurant's uniform, couldn't have been more than eighteen, opened the door and handed Ally two cardboard trays, each holding a burger, fries and a drink. Ally cleared space at the stand up stainless steel counter bolted to the wall, and the two of us squeezed in so we could stand and eat. She picked up her burger, half encased in wax paper. It smelled of cheese and onions.

"It's a special burger that they make for me. It has chopped chilis and grilled onions on it and a piece of American cheese melted over it. Mirabelle makes it for me every time I'm here."

"So is Mirabelle that cute redhead?" I thought it was a beautiful and exotic name -- maybe French? I craned my neck to see if I could get another glimpse of her. She had disappeared from behind the counter.

"Yeah, that's her," Ally said nonchalantly.

"How do you know her?"

"I was introduced to her at this club we're going to. I met her there along with her husband Carlo. They own the franchise for this restaurant."

"Really? So Mirabelle also works behind the counter even though she owns it?" I was impressed. She looked so young to be an owner of such a successful restaurant.

"Yep. She's hands on. That why I think this place is packed all the time. She's finishing up so we might see her later." Ally took a big bite out of her burger. Some ketchup dripped onto her hand. She looked at me as she licked her outstretched palm, almost inviting me to help her. I was getting a distinctly sexual vibe.

"So her husband Carlo ... we might be seeing him later," she said, wiping a dollop of ketchup off her chin.

"Later?"

"At the club."

"What kind of club is this?"

"A social one." She went back to eating a handful of fries and washing it down with her drink. I think that's about as much as she wanted to say on the topic. The smell of the burger and fries was intoxicating to my empty stomach. I took my first bite of the burger. She was right ... it was delicious.

My feet were already starting to kill me.

* * *

The burger hit the spot. I slurped down the rest of my drink and followed Ally out the building. There were still people milling around in the parking lot, and a number of heads turned when Ally fired up her pony car.

I buckled my seat belt, feeling as if I was on a roller coaster and we were just about to go over the apex after a long climb. I kicked off my heels and started rubbing my feet.

Ally signaled for a right turn and eased into the near lane. It was a wide street with a concrete boulevard dividing the east and west traffic. She downshifted, floored the accelerator, and crossed two lanes to the fast lane. My head was pinned against the headrest as my ears were assaulted by the scream of the engine.

"Holy fuck!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. I watched us whiz by the cars in the next lane.

My crazy friend let out a primal scream. I looked over and could see the speedometer was already reading eighty.

Then she took her foot off the gas and slowed to the speed of traffic. My heart was still thumping in my chest.

"Like that?" she asked. She clearly enjoyed the sensation of speed.

"Uhh ... I guess?" I was more scared than excited.

"I guess?" she fired back. "There's no guessing here."

My blood pressure was returning to normal. "I had to get over the feeling that I was going to die. After I did, I thought it was fun."

She laughed. "OK ... OK ... I get it. Sometimes I can be a bit impulsive ... but that's what you like about me, isn't it?"

I had to concede that it was. "You're right. You bring the color to my black and white life. I just can't see how you can do this all the time."

"I don't," she said, as she changed lanes to the right and started slowing down more. "Most of the time I watch TV or read a book. But when I go out, I want to have fun." She made sure she lingered on that last word. She looked at me for a moment, taking her eyes off the road. "Say it for me."

"Say what?" I answered quickly. Her eyes went ahead again and I breathed a small sigh of relief.

"Fun," she said firmly.

"Fun," I said weakly.

"No, FUN!," she practically shouted.

"FUN!!" I repeated back at a higher volume.

"That's better. I didn't know if you knew the word."

"Ha ha ..." I answered sarcastically. "I know I'm not the most adventurous person. Not like you."

"Not anything like me," she corrected me. "I'm going to fix that."

"What do you mean?" Now she got my interest.

She ignored my question, pretending to concentrate on her driving. She slowed to a crawl and turned right to park on the side of a cinderblock building painted a glossy white. The lot was almost full, and she cursed when she had to jockey her car into a tight space. Ally usually didn't swear, but she said a few choice words that surprised me. Seemed like everything I was learning about Ally's life was a surprise to me.

She slammed the gear shifter into park and looked at me. She didn't say anything.

"Well?" I asked. I obviously didn't know where we were and she was being unusually tight lipped. My eyes scanned the parking lot. It looked like the same assortment of vehicles you'd see at a 7-11. There were no identifying signs on the building.

"We're here," she finally said. She said it as if that meant something to me.

"Ally. I feel like I'm with a different person. I don't know what 'here' means." I held up my hands in exasperation.

"No need to get wound up darling. I told you that I was going to fix your problem."

"Look, I'm not getting out of the car unless you tell me why we're here. And I don't think I have a problem." I broke off eye contact and stared straight ahead to make my point.

"You know what your problem is. Any recent visitors down there?" She pointed to my crotch. I looked down there as well. She had a point. No sex for as long as I could remember. I had no comeback.

"C'mon Karen, it'll be fun. C'mon," she implored, trying to tease me.

I sat there silent and unmoving. She hadn't said anything that convinced me to get out of the car.

"C'mon Karen, do it for me. I know you'll love it." She looked at me, trying to convey her sincerity. I gave her a blank stare back. There was no fucking way I was getting out of the car until I knew where I was going.

"OK, OK," she said, conceding to my stubbornness, "it's ... it's kind of a sex club." She said the word "sex" softly. Maybe she was hoping I wouldn't hear it.

"What?" I asked. I tried to look astonished but I could feel my pussy clench when she said it. Did she say "sex club?"

"You know ... people have sex in there." She paused and I continued to give her a blank stare. "But you don't have to do anything." She said it as if that was going to make it better.

"What goes on in there?"

"I told you ... sex."

"Now you c'mon. Just tell me."

Ally's shoulders slumped. "OK. It's a BDSM club. Bondage and discipline. I'm sure you're thinking whips and chains but it's way more than that. It's all consenting adults. There's all kinds of ways to play. Maybe it's not for you but it changed my life. Really." I could tell that she was leveling with me. It sounded kinky and fun. I tried to remain stoic, but my mind was racing, trying to find a reason to say "no."

She looked at me for a reaction. My eyes softened. Just a little bit.

"I think you'll like it." Ally's eyes sparkled. God she was cute. "Really ... I think it will be a good experience for you."

"I don't know," I said, resigned to knowing that I would eventually give in ... once again. My curiosity was going to get the better of me, despite my instincts telling me it was a bad idea. Thank God my mother wasn't privy to this conversation.

"I know you," she said.

"What do you mean?"

"We haven't known each other long but we've gotten to be good friends ... no, very good friends. We've talked a lot. I think I know you. I think I know what you'll like. I was right about the clothes, wasn't I?"

"Wow," I said, rolling my eyeballs. "You know what I'll like? God Ally, I don't think I even know what I like ... especially when it comes to sex."

She put her hands on my shoulders.

"I do." She said it emphatically. Her eyes said the same thing.

I sat back in my seat. I was forty-two years old. I was by myself. My kids were pretty self-sufficient by now. I'd been divorced for ten years and I couldn't remember that last time I had a good time like this one. Why the fuck couldn't I just get out of the car? Because I never took risks. And look where it got me.

"OK, I said. "OK," I repeated to tell myself that I was really going to do this. Ally perked up.

"But I'm not going to do anything," I added, as much to assure myself to behave.

"No ... no ... really, you don't. Promise." Her eyes remained true. I pulled on the handle and opened the door. I stuck out my new high heel and hit the hard asphalt with the tip. I almost tripped getting out. I looked around to make sure no one saw my ignominious exit.

Ally locked her door and pointed to me to lock mine as well. The doors slammed shut almost at the same time and I wobbled over to her in my new shoes, scuffing the new leather on the soles. She pulled on my hand.

"Jesus. Have you ever worn heels before?" She was wearing the same kind of shoes, but she wore them all the time and could stand up for hours without any visible effort.

I followed her around the corner to the front door of the club.

The club didn't look like anything special. Cinder block walls painted a shiny white. Nondescript exterior. And nothing to tell me to run the other direction. There was a big, heavyset bare chested man sitting on a folding chair, who appeared completely disinterested when he saw me. His sparse chest hair ended at a completely unattractive gut.

The man straightened up and broke out into a smile when he spotted Ally. It confirmed my suspicion that everyone knew Ally.

"Ally," he said with a heavy lisp. "I thought you usually come on Tuesdays." He leaned over and kissed the cheek she presented to him.

His welcome put me more at ease.

Ally turned to me. "This is my best friend, Karen." She put her arm around me to make her point. I almost lost my balance when her arm hit mine.

The hulking man gave me the once over. "Ahh ... she's lovely. So is she here to play?" I'm pretty sure he was staring at my breasts.

"Maybe ... who knows ... but just count her as one of my guests."

"You got it," he mumbled. He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out his phone. He tapped a few keys and nodded at the screen.

"Good to go."

He lifted his heavyset body up off the folding chair and opened the black metal door he was guarding. I felt like I was going into a dungeon. The door was heavy, and shut behind me with a resounding thud. It was dark inside, much darker than it was outside.

My eyes were fighting to adjust to the dim lighting when I felt a tug on my sleeve. I jumped, literally, and lost my balance. I fell into a rail thin woman wearing a black leather vest with nothing on underneath and a skimpy leather thong. Her upper body, including her breasts, bore a colorful series of tattoos which depicted various acts of lesbian sex. I was clutching her bare arm when I grabbed her to catch my balance.

I cursed to myself. I knew I shouldn't have worn those shoes. Trying to look cool in a very intimidating place, I lost my balance and fell into a strange woman's arms. My heart was hammering in my chest. I was about to scream. Then I felt a hand cover my mouth. It was gentle, but it effectively stopped me from screaming.

"First time?" the woman asked, I think in a heavy Brooklyn accent.

I righted myself on my God forsaken high heels and smoothed my short skirt. I looked at her, trying to get my bearings, but the best I could manage was "huh?"

She smiled and looked up and down me. Then she looked at Ally.

"Jesus Christ Ally. Looks like you've brought a J Crew model here. What the fuck is she doing here?"

I must have still had the stupid look on my face. I was staring at this woman, her sagging breasts exposed by the open vest. Her tattoos were mesmerizing, and curiously erotic. Suddenly I felt flush.

Ally put her arm around me. Just like at the front door. "Fuck you Doris. She's my best friend." She pulled me tight and gave me a kiss on the lips. It was more of a peck, and was given with love. I'd never been kissed by a woman before, at least not in a sexual way, and it felt good. I closed my eyes and instinctively parted my lips.

"Gross," spat out Doris. "If you guys want to make out, go back in the Turner Room."

I just stood there.

"Go on," she barked. I could hear her mutter, "fucking newbie," under her breath as she turned away from me. I stared at her ass. Her leather thong framed her saggy ass cheeks perfectly. I couldn't unsee that.

I walked double time to catch up with Ally, who was already forging ahead into the bowels of a very dark room. I could make out the shape of writhing bodies and the unmistakable smell of sex permeating every pore of my body. Holy shit. I was in a real sex club. It was happening all around me. I felt like the electricity in the air was buzzing through my body.

I finally caught up to her and tugged the strap of her purse to get her attention.

"What?"

"Doesn't look like you and Doris get along." I guess I was trying to be helpful. Or maybe I said it because I was nervous and had to say something.

"Doris? No ... we get along. I see her all the time."

"Really?" This was me being a master inquisitor.

"She owns the place."

"Oh," I said, feeling stupid again.

"C'mon."

"Where are we going?" I whispered, trying discreetly to look to the side to make out the image of a big breasted woman giving a man with a chest covered with curly white hair a sloppy blowjob. His hands were on the back of her head, pushing it down so she could swallow more. Drool was dripping off her chin. My pussy was doing flips.

I looked up. There was a small brass plaque on the door that said "Turner Room."

Oh, I thought to myself. That's where Doris told us to go. I couldn't imagine what I was going to see there.

We entered the room. There were about six rows of bench seats and a stage on the far side of the room. There was one wooden chair with straight back sitting in the middle of the stage. There were spotlights from the rear of the room, illuminating the stage but leaving the rest of the room in shadow. There were already a number of couples sitting on the benches. Even though the area for the audience was dark, I could now make out most of the people. Many were wearing clothes like us but some were naked, and some were wearing leather. The couple sitting on the bench next to us was wearing matching leather harnesses with chrome plated "O" rings connecting the leather straps. Both the man and woman were attractive and it was clear that they were wholly at ease appearing before other people dressed as they were. The man was playfully toying with one of the woman's nipples as they were having an intimate conversation in whispers.

Ally staked out two seats in the front row. We were only a few feet from the stage, which was about a foot off the ground. The stage was painted black and there was ruffled black bunting skirting the perimeter.

"Good, it hasn't started." Ally looked pleased. "I really hope they'll show up."

'What do you mean?" I asked, trying to whisper back.

She must have thought better of it. "Nothing," she replied.

The stage lights started to dim. She put her finger to her lips. "Ssshhh, it's about to start." Her eyes were already trained straight ahead, ignoring me. The entire room faded to black. It was spooky. I could hear the other people breathing and could feel my heart beating. I heard a rustling on the stage and silhouettes moving.

My heart was now thumping in my chest. The smell of sex was everywhere. I said to myself that I couldn't believe I was there for about the millionth time.

The spotlights were turned up and there were two people on the stage, a man wearing a black mask, his body harnessed with black leather and silver hardware, and a woman, similarly harnessed, hooded, on her hands and knees. Even though he was essentially naked, he wore riding boots, the kind that real horse people would wear. They showed heavy scuffing, as if they'd actually seen the floor of a stable. He was magnificent, a well sculpted body with dark curly hair on his chest and surrounding his horse cock, not that long, but thick as my wrist. It was hanging limply, framed by his wrinkled ball sac. He took a standing posture that made it clear that he was in control of the situation.

He stood about six feet from the kneeling woman, her head covered in a red leather hood, the holes in front revealing emerald green eyes. She was a petite woman with large snow white breasts, the swollen nipples almost touching the floor, and flaming red hair to match her fiery eyes. There was a long braided ponytail that came out from behind the back of her mask, the braid crossing her right shoulder blade and hanging down near her right hand. Even in a submissive posture, her stance was confident.

I couldn't stand it any longer, my need overcoming my shyness. My fingers found that special place. The place where my fingers go to when I want to get off as quickly as possible. When you're home a lot on the weekends by yourself, masturbation becomes more of an art. That special place was awash in pussy juice. I was positively drenched and so were my panties. I didn't care at that point. I touched myself and watched as he bent over and touched the woman's ass, moving his hand across it and assessing the contours as the hand reached under for a teasing touch.

My eyes quickly traveled to the woman's head. It was almost in the same position, but she flinched slightly when he found that place that gave her the most pleasure. He leaned over to whisper something in her ear. She listened impassively, staring straight ahead, trying to channel away the intimate massage as she remained in her stoic pose.

I could see her legs involuntarily twitching. She couldn't control the movement of her hips when he pushed two of his meaty fingers inside her, twisting them back and forth and making her body do likewise. Her face became pained as it became clear to me that she was forestalling an orgasm. I realized that part of the act of domination and submission was to give unbearable pleasure and watch the ultimate sacrifice of the submissive -- to resist giving in to her body, but instead saving that blissful release until she heard the sweet sound of permission.

I looked at her mask and saw a wild look in her eyes. She was battling and wouldn't give in. But the man sensed something and stopped.

"Not yet. You know it's too early." It's clear these two have been together for quite a while, possibly as man and wife. There was a comforting familiarity in the way he said those words, more soothing rather than as an admonition.

She made a slight movement of her head that said yes. She understood.

He got up and sat in the chair, in an upright position to accommodate the woman. That was clear when he said, "Across my lap." He bent over and picked up a paddle that was under his chair. It looked like an elongated wooden paddle made of some exotic hardwood. It had a gloss to it that reflected the stage light into my eyes. I shaded my eyes, and when I moved my hand away his paddle was already in motion.

I heard a thunderclap as his paddle smacked her bottom. As she staunched a gasp, I jumped a bit at the sound of wood hitting tender flesh. I could feel it as well. The sharp burning sensation. But what was she feeling next? Was it pleasure? I couldn't tell from her expression.

He hit her with another. Now a sound eluded her lips. It was a gasp at the intense heat of his stroke. I was an absolute mess between my legs. My hand was wet. I could cum anytime I wanted to. But I felt for and with the woman. I slowed my touch so I wouldn't cross that point of no return. I'd never indulged in that practice -- orgasm denial -- and the sweet pain of it was something new to me. I thought that Ally was in the same place as I was, keeping herself to a slow simmer as the heat built up in the scene in front of us.

The paddling continued. There were cries of pain and anguish but never did she move. Her bottom was a bright red and I could hear his hand penetrate the wet lips of her pussy. His hand was between her legs, where I couldn't see it, but I could hear the fingers and the sucking noise as he pulled them out, then to push them in again. She started squirming on his lap, her face contorted by an orgasm she was desperately trying to suppress.

The man lifted up her head with his open hand. "Not yet ... you know that." He spoke it as words of comfort as if he'd said it a hundred times before. The woman nodded, though even that simple act was tinged with desperation.

He continued to spank her and the whining morphed into a low moan. It was then that I realized that she was enjoying this. They weren't doing this for us, they were doing this for themselves. We were just lucky enough to be there to witness it.

His hand reached between her legs. I heard her muffle a scream. My fingers mimicked his, sliding between my slick channel, now exposed by my raised skirt and discarded panties, plunging into a murky pool of wetness.

He made her stand up so they were facing each other, close enough that her naked toes butted against his leather boots. Her legs were wobbly, like those of a newborn foal. His arm was behind her waist, holding her close, while the other hand was rubbing hard against her sex. She's shaking her head wildly, her hair flying in all directions. You can hear her short gasps of breath and the sloshing noise caused by his fingers churning inside her leaking pussy. I was still too shy to take off my clothes. Ally had pulled one of the cups of her bra down and was pulling on her nipple as she watched. She didn't notice that I was looking at her.

He said "Yes" and her body began to shake. He kept pumping his fingers in her, his steely blue eyes determined to take her higher. She managed to whisper a "thank you" between her gulps for air as her Dom took her to her version of nirvana. I've never seen another woman cum before, and this orgasm put mine to shame. I was watching her try to catch her breath, as an occasional aftershock would cause her body to tremble. I felt inadequate and jealous. I'd never felt the depth of emotion that she just experienced. I wanted to feel like that. I just wanted to feel again.

He signaled he was done and she assumed the same submissive position that she was in at the start of the show. There was a polite round of applause. I took a moment to scan the darkened room, with my eyes adjusted to the low light. Some of the couples were having sex. One man had his leg up on the bench as his lover was on his knees, sucking him as he watched. A naked woman was on a man's lap, his cock buried deep inside her. I felt a sense of exhilaration. This was so unbelievably hot. All of my nerve endings were raw and prickling with the energy of a live wire.

The man started to move. My eyes became steady and focused on the stage, watching the man pull down his pants to his ankles and sit back down in the chair. I was fixated on his cock, mesmerized by its girth and length. Even flaccid, it was the biggest cock I'd ever seen. I wondering how this woman was going to fit it into her mouth. She edged forward, with her hands clasped behind her back, and used her lips to push the head of his cock high enough so she can take it into her mouth.

Her cheeks hollowed as she opened her mouth, her lips forming a perfect "O," the shaft sliding effortlessly into her mouth, the tangle of his public hair obscuring her hooded face. She stayed doggedly down on his cock, fighting her gag reflex. Ropes of spittle hung from her chin. He laced his fingers around the back of her head and her head remained motionless as he fucked her, ramming his stiff meat down her compliant throat.

I could feel the force of his thrusts as a fine froth of bubbles formed around her lips. I could again see her eyes look at him -- that forlorn look asking for permission. I saw his eyes blink. Her right hand moved from her back to the juice coated lips of her pussy. She started playing with herself as her Master was grunting as he thrust repeatedly into her. I wanted to be her.

There was a wet spot forming underneath me, where my carnal desire leaked onto the polished wood of our bench. I had never felt this horny. Her cheeks swelled as the man thrust into her and held his position, his head thrown back, as he pumped his cum down her throat.

She coughed once, then opened her mouth to show her Master that she had swallowed all of his cum. I didn't realize my hand was between my legs, and as I felt a larger flow of liquid, I couldn't hold back my own orgasm.

"Ohhhh," I gasped before biting my lip. I'd touched that special place with just enough pressure to bring about stars inside my eyelids, and the intensity of that first wave of bliss literally took my breath away, so I was forced to gasp for air as each wave became more intense than the last. I lost sight of the stage and of where I was as I ignited a flame I couldn't put out. As the waves of pleasure lost their intensity my eyes fluttered open.

The man was standing on the stage. His cock, which now hung flaccid in front of him, glistened with a combination of his cum and her spit. My loud and unexpected orgasm was noticed by him. He turned his head and looked at me, sparkling eyes behind an expressionless mask. A shiver went up my spine.

Ally and the people around me were looking at me. This wasn't the position I wanted to be in. I came to watch, not be the person to be watched. The puddle underneath me got larger, it being obvious with the embarrassing stain on my skirt. I wanted to crawl into a hole, but the combination of the sex show and the best orgasm of my life made it clear my body craved something that I couldn't wrap my mind around.

I started to pant. I felt like I was going to cum again without touching myself.

"You OK?" Ally asked, concerned.

"I ... I ...". I was unable to form a coherent sentence. All I could think of was my personal humiliation and my overwhelming need. That's all that mattered. Even with a roomful of people. My breathing quickened and I couldn't take being perched on the precipice so I touched myself under my skirt, with many watching, bringing myself to a more tumultuous orgasm than the first one.

I started sliding on the bench and Ally stopped me by holding onto the waist of my skirt so I didn't slip off. I didn't know who this person was that was in my body.

The man on the stage directed his woman to remain in her submissive position. He bent down at the edge of the stage and looked directly at me. I wanted to run, but my feet didn't respond.

"I'd like you to join us," he said, extending his hand toward me. I stared at his eyes, almost glowing behind his shiny black form fitting hood.

He must have sensed that the hood covering his face intimidated me. He peeled the mask off his face, allowing his sweat soaked black curls to fall across his forehead. Even in his disheveled state, he was stunningly handsome. He brushed a curly lock of his hair to the side and repeated his question.

"I'm sorry ... I asked you to join us."

I understood the man was talking to me, but I was still a bit out of it after letting myself go in a roomful of people. I looked around and some were still busy with each other and oblivious to my dilemma but most of those in the room, including Ally, were looking at me and waiting for an answer.

It was a deer in the headlights moment. Like a dumbass, I said, "Me?"

"Yes you," he said in a voice that was in no way condescending to me. He leaned a bit closer to make a more intimate comment.

"I love your shoes. I think my little slut wants to show you how much."

My shoes? Those shoes had already gotten me into more trouble than I've had for the past year. Now this man wanted me to join him in his carefully orchestrated carnal dance in my slutty new heels? I didn't know the steps, and I was truly in fear (or maybe in awe) of his aura of authority. Was I was going to have sex with him and his partner in front of a group of strangers? Every synapse in my brain relayed an unqualified "no" to his pending question.

In normal circumstances, I would have said no and walked away. But this situation was anything but normal. I had just witnessed the more erotic act of my life, and my hand wouldn't stay away from my pussy, damn the embarrassment of doing it in front of others. Of course it didn't hurt that many in the room were preoccupied with satisfying their own needs, and that I was in a sex club. His question was asked with such sincerity it caught me off guard while I was still in a state of post-orgasmic bliss.

I instinctively looked at Ally for help. She mouthed the words "go" and then gestured with her hands towards the stage. I looked back at him, waiting patiently for my answer. "I don't know, I'm ..." I started to tell him, sharing with everyone my indecisiveness.

"Nonsense, of course you know," he interrupted. He stopped me before I made a bigger fool of myself. "I see that you're excited. Your pupils are dilated. Your breathing's quickened. Your face is flush." All of that was true. Then he added for good measure, adding to my public humiliation, "your pussy is wet ... very wet." With his accent, those words triggered another stream of honey down the inside of my thigh.

How had things spun out of control? In a matter of a minute he had basically called me a horny slut in front of a roomful of people. And the truth of the matter is that I was.

"So just admit it. You want to be here ... with me."

The room was silent. I could hear the faint hum of the ventilation fan. It didn't make sense to resist any more.

"Yes," I said reluctantly.

"And your pussy is wet."

"Yes," I said more quickly. I was overcoming my shame.

He reached to me again to help me up on the stage, and this time I accepted his offer and clasped his broad, muscular hand. I climbed up, still unsteady on my slutty new shoes, and when I looked back at Ally, everything off the stage, including her, had faded to black. As far as I could see, it was just me, the man, and his submissive. As I studied the woman, kneeling no more than a few feet from me, she seemed oddly familiar. The man spoke, distracting my thoughts.

"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Carlo."

I placed him with an Italian accent, but very light, as if he came over to the States when he was a small child. Ally had mentioned a Carlo. That wasn't a common name. Then I remembered the burger place. Her name was Mirabelle. Long red hair. She was the submissive! Of course, that's why Ally wanted to be here.

Then on cue, as the tumblers clicked into place in my addled mind, he added, pointing to the kneeling woman, "And allow me to introduce you to my wife Mirabelle."

It was a bit awkward with her kneeling and still masked. I gave her a wave even though she wasn't looking at me.

He pulled up the chair and pointed to the seat. "Please, sit."

I did, maybe a bit warily, wondering what he had in mind. It felt good to get off my feet. They were still killing me, and there was a blister in the area of the Achilles on my right foot.

He spoke in the direction of his wife. "My pet, show our friend ...". He paused to let me fill in my name.

"Karen."

" ... Karen ... how much you love her shoes."

She stayed on her hands and knees and moved as a feline, slinking over, exaggerating the movement of her hips, her hanging breasts, dotted with small freckles, swaying beneath her. She sat on her haunches when she was in front of me and lifted up my right foot, cradling it in the palm of her hand, my heel pointing directly at her. My leg was quivering.

"It's OK. I'm not going to hurt you," she said, sotto voce.

She lifted my foot to the level of her mouth. Her eyes met mine, hers radiating animal lust, and without breaking eye contact she slid the heel in her mouth as if it was a penis, then when it was fully inside her mouth, she pursed her lips around it and drew it out, now slick with her spittle.

She licked the sole, then the upper, catching my bare skin as well as the shoe. It tickled but it also gave me goosebumps watching her make love to my new shoes.

When she finished with my right foot, she went to the left, repeating her movements with equal vigor, the smell of fresh leather and act of submission served as a powerful aphrodisiac for me.

"Now the feet," I heard his disembodied voice say. My feeling of need was off the charts.

She slipped off my right shoe, reverently placing it on the floor, then addressed each toe, sucking and licking, separately and together, making sure to pay attention to the webbing of skin between them. I could feel her fingers dancing on the inside of my thighs, and at that point I would have let her do whatever she wanted. I just didn't want her to stop the worshipping of my feet.

Her fingers reached the crease where my leg and pelvis join, and she pressed lightly, making me want to open my legs a bit more, exposing my sex to her curious fingers.

She carefully avoided my clit, but started sliding her finger across my wet pussy lips. My eyes opened, and I suddenly became aware that others were watching. But the jolt of pleasure dissolved that concern into a stream of sighs and moans as her tongue laved the arch of my foot and her fingers pushed inside my flooded channel. This was so new, the sensations so raw, that something primal rose up inside me and was freed by her fingers and her tongue.

I reached for her hooded head, pushing it between my legs. There was nothing else that would have satisfied my need. She gave no resistance. And she knew exactly what I needed, even if I didn't. She needed little coaxing to let her tongue leave a trail of kisses on my inner thighs, making them shake with anticipation. I pushed my hips forward and she caught my ripe plump lips with hers. My hand was clasping the back of her slick leather mask, finding her flaming red braided pony tail and holding onto it like a rope. Her mouth found my hot center and went to work, lips and tongue kissing, sucking and lashing me until I cried out to the heavens to acknowledge her handiwork. I thrashed on the chair, losing control as if I was cast into a stormy sea of passion and lust. Finally, exhausted and thoroughly satiated, I let go of her ponytail and slumped in the chair.

Apparently Carlo knew my mental state better than I did. He had sensed my submissive tendencies, even as an audience member, and confirmed them on the stage. It was his turn to assert his authority, and will, over me.

In a slow and steady voice, he said, "I want you to get on your knees and lick my cock clean." His voice was clear and confident, melting away any remaining reservations I may have had.

I wanted to lick his cock ... even worship it. But it was so depraved. I had never had an affair, let alone public sex with a complete stranger. Would I give in to my carnal desires? I shouldn't have. I was never a risk taker and complying with his command would take me down a dark path to unlock desires that disgusted and excited me.

But he read me correctly and said it with conviction. He knew what I wanted.

I was in the company of strangers, but they didn't come to this room to sit in judgment of my morality. They were there for more carnal purposes, and what was better than to see a naïve woman under the boot of an experienced Dom? I could now hear rustling, the grinding of bodies, and sighs of contentment. Why couldn't I be myself here?

I answered by falling to my knees in front of him and looking up with pleading eyes.

"I can see it clearly in your eyes ... Karen. You are a submissive." His hand brushed across the top of my head, his fingertips skimming through my hair.

"You may lick my cock ... ".

I started to move my head forward. I was wondering if this was really me doing this. I was.

"Wait ...".

I stopped.

"I didn't finish. After you ask me nicely."

I felt so self-conscious. Did I need to say it?

I summoned the courage. In for a penny, in for a pound. "Please, may I lick your cock."

It felt so dirty ... so nasty ... so wonderful, to say it out loud.

"Please ... Sir," he corrected me.

"Please Sir, may I lick your cock?" I was playing submissive. I was hooked.

"You may."

Somehow I felt I had won a small victory. Maybe I did. For myself. I admitted out loud my innermost thoughts and desires. A part of my sexual being was being explored for the first time ... on stage.

I stuck my tongue out and licked the top of his cock. It was sticky sweet. The skin of his cock was so soft. His cock twitched when my tongue touched it. I didn't care that people were watching. I didn't care that Ally was in the room. I only cared about his approval of what I was doing.

I opened my lips and gathered the head of his flaccid cock in my mouth, bringing my head upward to take in as much of his length as I could. I coughed when the head hit the back of my throat. Undeterred by his size, I pushed my head forward, letting the head pass into my throat and fighting my reaction to gag.

I could taste him. The bitter tinge to his cum. And I could taste her. A musky sweetness. His cock started to swell. I pulled off before I gagged. I coughed, and then a long thread of saliva breached my lower lip and ran down my chin.

He ran both his hands through my hair, his eyes cast down to meet mine. "Good girl."

It was a glorious feeling, amplified by his praise.

His praise was sincere. "But don't try too hard this first time. Do what you feel is comfortable. I won't enjoy this if you don't."

I shifted the weight on my knees. The surface of the stage was wood, and my knees were getting sore.

"But you want to suck my cock. You want to make it hard. You want to please me, don't you?"

At this point, I had no defenses ... only the truth. "Yes Sir," I answered.

"Continue."

I worked at it, getting his stiffening cock down my throat, gagging and drooling, but getting almost all it down my throat. I didn't stop until he made me. The veins in his hard cock were throbbing, and so were the muscles in my neck. He gently pushed me back until we were apart. My throat was burning.

"You haven't earned the right to have my cum." I couldn't believe it, but I l must have looked disappointed. I wanted his cum. I'd earned it, the same as his wife.

"You're a beautiful woman ... Karen. Did you want to show yourself to me?"

At this point, having already sucked his cock, with spittle still dripping off my chin, and having been ravished by his wife, I really didn't have any sense of modesty left. I don't remember taking off my clothes but I did. His hands ran over my body, appraising me, cupping my breasts, tracing the curve of my ass, and even squeezing the little extra padding on my tummy (that I'd tried unsuccessfully to get rid of for the past year). He looked at me and smiled.

"You're lovely, Karen."

"Thank you Sir."

"You did well. I must say ... Karen ... you seem to be a natural at this." His voice inflection changed. Gone was the authority in it. He was speaking to me as if we were talking at a cocktail party.

His wife rose up off the floor and padded over on bare feet to her husband, kissing him on the cheek. There was light applause. The crowd started filing out and the room lights were raised and the stage light extinguished.

I walked to the edge of the stage, wiping my face off with the towel that Doris handed me. So she was watching as well. I was so amped up that even Doris's saggy tits looked good to me.

Ally put both of her hands on the stage, looking up at me, and gushed, "Holy shit Karen. I've been doing this club scene for three years and that's the hottest thing I've ever seen. I thought you were going to watch." Her blouse was still unbuttoned and one of her breasts was hanging over the cup. God she was beautiful. Why did I want to have sex with her too?

I took a deep breath and stilled my emotions. "I know," I admitted, "But it seems like my inner demons got the best of me."

"I'll say. I told you that I knew you. Wasn't I right?" She was smiling the "I knew I was right" look.

"You were. Apparently you knew me better than I knew myself." Credit given when credit earned. I would always remember Ally as the one who knew me best.

I suddenly felt remiss, having left Carlo and Mirabelle before we finished our conversation. I was crouching to talk to Ally and stood up. "Just a sec, Ally, I have to finish talking to them." I pointed to Carlo and Mirabelle, who were now talking to Doris on the other end of the stage. Ally nodded.

I tried to smooth my hair down as I walked over to them. I must have looked like a garbage truck drove over me. Mirabelle had taken off her hood. The top of her hair was damp. She was all soft skin with pleasing rounded contours. She was glowing. It was a good night for her.

I took Mirabelle's petite hand in mine. "Thank you. I'm speechless." I really was at a loss for words. The slight nod of her head and the glint in her eye told me that she understood how I felt.

"I know you're feeling a bit overwhelmed, but are you still feeling euphoria?"

I was. I was euphoric. There was a background buzz going on and my legs were tingling. I wanted to make love with her again.

She knew the look. Without waiting for my answer, she said, "Yes, I know. I had that feeling as well. You want me, don't you?"

It was clear she was in my (expensive) shoes at one time. Probably the first time her husband dominated her.

"Yes," I said, unashamed. I did want her. Even more than Ally.

"You've found a new gear ... a faster gear ... and you want to see how fast you can go. I've been there. To feel something that's genuine, and not that dull unsatisfying ache from vanilla sex. It was good, wasn't it?"

"It was the best," I admitted, wanting to be truthful. "I didn't know I could feel like this."

Her husband inserted himself into the conversation, putting his arm around his wife as he spoke.

"We'd like to get together with you again." I was staring into his deep blue eyes when he said it.

"I've never made love with a woman ... until now." Then I put my hand on Mirabelle's shoulder, as if to claim her as mine. "And I may never want anyone else."

Carlo chuckled, revealing a cute dimple on his chin. "I take it that's a yes?"

I couldn't believe I was saying it, but I wanted to. "It's a yes," I confirmed.

"We'll see you later at the bar. We can exchange numbers."

"OK."

The moment they stepped away Ally jumped on the stage and pulled my arm. "What were you talking about?"

"They were asking me if I wanted to get together with them again."

"Noooo," Ally said reflexively.

"Yes," I said. "I told them yes."

"No fucking way."

"Way," I said. Then I wiggled the tip of my tongue between the junction of my index and middle fingers.

Ally screwed up her face. "What the fuck has gotten into you?"

"I don't know," I said in a merry cadence. "But I like it."

* * *

Mirabelle handled the arrangements for my visit. She was quite engaging on the phone. We ended up talking for an hour, and none of it was about sex. She told me that they have two kids who were still living at home (eight and ten). I was doing the rough math in my head and I figured Mirabelle and Carlo were in their 30's. She invited me over for the weekend, telling me that her kids were going to be away for the weekend at her mother's house. These were the weekends that Carlo and Mirabelle reserved for their unusual kink. Carlo would bring in his equipment from an off-site storage locker and they'd reconfigure the basement for their playtime. Sometimes others would be invited. I was one of the lucky ones. She told me that it was unusual for them to invite someone over that they'd just met. That made me feel good, even though I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

"So tell me about yourself," Mirabelle offered up, after inviting me over on Friday night.

"Not much to tell. Four kids. Divorced. Husband turned out to be a douche bag."

"No. That's not what I was asking. Tell me about you. We're having you over to our home. I wanted to know more about you."

"I like chocolate." I started with an easy one.

She must have been smiling. "That's a good one. That's what I want to hear."

"I found out I like to be told what to do."

"You're aroused by that?" She knew the answer but wanted to hear me say it.

"Very. You saw that for yourself."

"What else made an impression on you at the club?"

"Your husband. I've never heard anyone use that tone of voice before. He's so ... assertive ... so certain."

"You're right. That's what drew me to him."

Right. And his ripped body and big, thick cock.

"I know what you're thinking," she said, interrupting my daydream about her husband's physical attributes.

"Huh?" I sounded like a goofus.

"You're thinking about Carlo, about his cock."

"You already know me too well," I accused her.

"I only know you because I've been there. Carlo is an exciting man."

"So are you ... I mean exciting," I replied, realizing I almost called her a man.

"That's nice of you to say, but he's the one that commands the stage."

"That's true."

"What else? What else is in store?" My curiosity was killing me ever since they asked me to get together with them.

There was a meaningful pause. "It's better when you don't know."

* * *

I was expecting their home to be some sort of medieval castle, maybe with a moat, and a dungeon underneath. Of course all my preconceived notions so far about their world were completely off the mark. Instead Carlo and Mirabelle lived in a suburban ranch, complete with a minivan in the driveway. The yard was well kept, with a bicycle leaning against the garage door and assorted toys scattered on the lawn. It was a standard issue brick faced 1960's vintage house, and in no way intimidating. I pushed the doorbell and heard an electronic chime. Moments later there were footsteps.

Mirabelle answered the door. I was wearing what she asked me to wear. A short, pleated plaid skirt, white cotton panties, white anklets with chunky heeled black Mary Janes and topped off with a tight white cotton blouse (but braless) with my tits almost hanging out of it. I felt silly, being a forty-two year old woman dressed like a Catholic school girl.

Mirabelle wasn't embarrassed at all. She was dressed like me. She clapped her hands.

"Ohhh. You look even better than I would have pictured. Come in. Carlo can't wait to see you."

So far nothing had gone like I expected. Their house was a modest ranch. Both Mirabelle and I weren't dressed like wanton sluts ... we were dressed like we were naughty school girls.

I followed her into the living room. Mid-century modern furniture. There were books and toys still scattered about. Carlo entered, and used his work boot to push some of the toys out of the way.

"Sorry about the mess," he said, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. "The kids didn't leave until about an hour ago and I still have a bit more work to do downstairs. Why don't you and Mirabelle have a glass of wine while I finish?"

I had that glass of wine. Then a second, unusual for me, but hearing the banging in the basement put me on edge. I was a bit fuzzy when Carlo returned, wiping sweat from his brow.

"Sorry to be running late. I've got a few more things to finish up downstairs."

He turned away to go away, his curly hair bouncing as well as his ass. He was so sexy, and he wasn't even trying. The alcohol induced buzz and the sight of him gave me an immediate clench of my privates that made me hunch over.

Nothing got past Mirabelle. "Yeah, I saw it too," she reassured me. "He has that effect on everyone."

My nerves were on high alert. "What do we do now?"

"Wait. He'll let us know when he wants us. So let's drink."

She poured me my third glass of chardonnay. A full pour. There were only a handful of situations where I made it through this much wine without anything to eat. I guess Mirabelle was reading my mind.

"I need some food with this wine. Let's go in the kitchen." She got up from her chair and smoothed her skirt with her hand. My eyes followed her hand and the curve it followed. She went straight for the refrigerator and picked out some soft cheese, and a jar of olives. She rustled through a cabinet and found an unopened box of crackers. Triumphant, she made a small chees platter and put it in the middle of the kitchen table.

"Please." She pointed to the food to have me start.

"I'm sure you're wondering ... ".

"Yes," I answered before she could finish.

"It was in a chat room. I always had these strong feelings that I couldn't describe. I started conversing with Carlo and he instantly knew what I was going through. We met, and then as they say, the rest is history. Two kids later, here we are, trying to play the role of a happy suburban couple, but having this serious kink we have to exercise every once in a while."

I was really beginning to like them as friends, and not just playmates, as she bared her soul. They were so honest and direct and unashamed of their sexual practices. It allowed me to act out my fantasies in the company of a non-judgmental couple. I was also a bit fuzzy from the wine.

I was staring at Mirabelle as she talked. The super short plaid skirt left little to the imagination. I could see the tops of her thighs. Even though she was short, her legs were well proportioned. I could see a demi-bra pushing up her already full rounded breasts, which made them ready to burst out of her tight fitting blouse. She was chatting with me while holding a glass of wine. She was finishing her third glass and it didn't appear to have an effect on her at all. She was babbling on and I couldn't help staring at her breasts.

Now mind you I'm not really into women, but in the heat of the moment at the club it felt right to me. Having her eat my pussy was the highlight of the evening. She looked sexy, and those feelings I had at the club were resurfacing. The wine didn't hurt.

She stopped mid-sentence, noticing that my mind appeared to be elsewhere. "You want me now," she observed correctly.

I gave her a sheepish smile.

"You horny little slut." She waved her index finger at me as if I was a bad girl. I didn't know what overcame me to feel as I did and to admit to her that I wanted to have sex with her.

"They'll be time for playtime. Carlo has it almost set up. I can hear him coming up the stairs."

Sure enough, moments later he came into the room in a full sweat. His shirt was soaked and I so wanted to lick the sweat off his body. He looked that good.

"Thanks for waiting ladies. I'm going to take a shower and get dressed. Meet you down there in fifteen?"

He left before he heard an answer.

"He's gorgeous," I admitted when he was gone. I wouldn't normally talk to another woman about her husband like that but this was no ordinary woman I was talking to.

"I know," she said. "Look, I almost fainted when I saw him the first time. I was expecting a man that had a very severe disposition and appearance. I didn't expect him to look like a Roman god. And I didn't expect that when he was 'off the clock' (she used her hands to gesture) that he was an absolutely charming individual. You're not the first person to tell me that."

I still couldn't believe that I would be having sex with these two people in a very short period of time. Mirabelle cut short my concentration on what was to come.

"We'll be going downstairs in a few minutes. I wanted to tell you a bit about what's going to happen -- not everything -- but enough to get you into your role. Carlo and I like to take turns with what kind of scene we're going to be in. It was Carlo's turn this time, and he decided to do the 'naughty schoolgirl' scene. He thinks it could be a lot of fun."

"So I'm a naughty schoolgirl?" This did sound like fun.

"Uh huh. Just go with it."

We waited the requisite fifteen minutes. She got up and walked to the stairway leading to the basement. I followed, getting to watch her cute bottom sway as she negotiated the stairs in her heels. I was careful as well, still being a bit buzzed, though the chunky heels on my Mary Janes made it a lot easier. At the bottom of the stairs was a closed door. My heart started racing. I'd heard about homemade dungeons, and wondered what kind of devices of pain might be waiting for me.

Mirabelle opened the door and flicked on the lights. I was staring at a classroom, complete with student desks, a much larger desk for the teacher, and a blackboard. Carlo even added a few touches to complete the illusion that we were back in high school. I was surprised and frankly relieved to see that it wasn't some sort of torture chamber.

Mirabelle was as excited as me. She seemed like she was slipping into the scene already.

"Let's check out the girl's bathroom," she said.

There was a separate bathroom in the back of the large, windowless room. She opened the door for me, and I entered the oversized restroom, seeing only a toilet and sink and a lot of empty space that was probably used for storage. As soon as Mirabelle was in the room she pushed me so my back was against the wall and pressed her lips against mine. I heard the door close as she kicked it shut.

I was surprised at the unexpected kiss and at first kept my lips pursed shut, but her hand easily slipped under my short skirt and found my dampened panties. She rubbed her hand against my mound and the wonderful feeling caused me to close my eyes and part my lips.

It was my first real kiss with a woman, and it was infinitely better than any kiss I'd had with my ex, or any other man for that matter. Her tongue darted in to find mine, and soon I was dizzy with lust. Her hand went under the elastic band of my panties and found the source of the wetness, her fingers dancing on my clit.

"Oh ... God ... Mirabelle," I was able to moan as she penetrated me with two fingers. The alcohol and the sensuality of the moment made me forget where I was. I could only think about her, having her way with me.

The magic of the moment was broken when the door was flung open by an angry man.

"What the fuck are you girls doing?" Carlo was dressed like a high school teacher, completing his look with a well-worn plaid sport coat. There was rage in his eyes, and I immediately shrunk against the wall. Mirabelle was now next to me, looking as scared as I was.

"Well?" he demanded.

I was speechless. His sudden appearance caught me off guard, but I suppose this was the beginning of the scene.

"I'm sorry," Mirabelle squeaked, in a slightly higher pitch than her normal voice.

"You're damned right you're going to be sorry." Carlo was convincingly mad. I was still cowering.

"I have you girls here for detention for talking in class, and this is what you're doing when you go to the bathroom together?"

Carlo directed his piercing eyes towards me and put his hand under my chin.

"Well Karen? What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I ... I don't know," I stammered. He was good. The nice Carlo was left upstairs.

"Both of you girls are going to be punished. Get back to your desks." As we left the restroom he gave us each a swat on our bottoms.

I had no idea where my assigned seat was and sat in the front row of the four student desks that were set up. Mirabelle sat next to me.

Carlo stood next to the teacher's desk, tapping his palm with a wooden ruler.

"Mirabelle?"

"Yes Sir?" she said innocently.

"Come up here."

She slunk up there, her head down.

"Put your hands on my desk and accept your punishment."

"No Sir," she said, practically shivering.

"Do you want me to fail you in Physics? Do you want to explain to your parents why you won't be graduating on time?"

He let his threat sink in. Mirabelle reluctantly placed her palms of her hands flat on the desk. Her shapely bottom was sticking out.

Carlo flipped up the short skirt so it was resting on her back. Her panties were fully exposed. He snapped them down to her ankles in a single motion. He bent over to take them off over her high heels and then flung them over to me. I caught them, but not knowing what to do with them.

"Are they wet?" he asked. I'm sure he knew they were, but wanted me to say it. I touched the gusset. It had soaked through.

"Yes, they're wet," I confirmed.

"Your friend here is a little slut. She's going to receive her punishment now. You're next."

It was a threat that made me shiver. He drew back the wooden ruler and took aim at his wife's delectable bottom.

"Thwack!" The snap of the ruler made me wince, watching Mirabelle bite her lip. A bright red mark appeared on her backside.

"That's for dressing like a slut to my classroom."

Another slap of wood against flesh. A faint moan escaped from her lips.

"That's for kissing your friend during detention."

Her legs are now quivering. I can see her standing unsteady on her heels and a tear trickling down her cheek.

His mouth was inches from her ear. He was an imposing presence, hovering over his whimpering wife. "You like this don't you? You're a little slut and you like to be punished."

She protested. "No Sir. I'm not a slut ... and I don't like being punished," she choked out between tears.

He stood behind her, roughly grinding the palm of his hand against her sex.

"Ohhh!" Mirabelle gasped, her knees giving way.

Carlo smeared the moisture on his hand against her nose and mouth. "Then tell me why you're so wet. You want me to fuck you with my fingers, don't you?"

"No ... no," she protested weakly.

He took his index and middle fingers, long and thick, and rammed them inside her, lifting her back to a standing position while he churned them inside her.

"No ... oh ... God ... what ... I ... ," she babbled incoherently as her voice became more high pitched and her breathing was reduced to gasps.

"Take it ... slut ... you know you like this." His fingers became a blur, and there was a frothy white foam between her legs.

"Huh ... huh ... huh ..." she uttered as her eyes closed. My hand had wandered inside the waistband of my panties, stroking myself as I watched their erotic dance.

Her body went limp on top of the desk. He suddenly turned to me.

"What are you doing?" He clearly saw me playing with myself while I was watching them. His eyes glowed. My knees turned to jelly.

"Nothing."

"Don't lie to me. It will just make things worse."

"I was ... I was touching myself."

"You're a little slut, just like your friend here. Isn't that right?"

"No ... no ... I'm not a slut ... I'm a good girl." My protestations weren't any better than Mirabelle's.

"Really?" He took a step towards me. I took a step back.

"Yes ... yes ... my mother raised a good girl."

"Does your mother know that you like to kiss girls in the bathroom?"

"No."

"Does your mother know that you were playing with yourself in the classroom?"

"No."

"Well clearly your mother doesn't know who you really are. I do. You're a slut."

"No ...".

"And I'll prove it."

He held the hand that was moments ago in his wife's snatch in front of my nose. The foamy remnants of her orgasm were still clinging to his fingers. The heady aroma made me feel as if I was going to swoon.

"Lick it."

"No ...".

He used his fingers to smear the pungent discharge against my lips. I instinctively parted my lips, allowing him to put both fingers inside my mouth. I closed my lips around them and sucked off the creamy treat.

"See? That's wasn't so hard. Only a slut would lick Mirabelle's pussy juice off my fingers."

He looked at me and I responded by lowering my eyes to the ground. My action said volumes about my silent assent.

"Mirabelle!" he barked.

His wife stirred from the desk and got to her feet, still unsteady. "Yes Sir?"

"Get me ready."

Obediently, she got on her knees and lowered his pants and shorts to the ground. His cock sprung free. He was aroused as well. The head of his cock was already an angry purple and the veins pulsed in the shaft. Her petite hand gripped the base of his cock, the fingers not able to fully encircle it. She pumped it a few times, and then opened her mouth as wide as she could, sliding it in until it hit the back of her throat.

His fingers intertwined with her silky reddish hair, his hands moving in time with the motion of her head. When he was satisfied, he pushed her away, standing in front of me with his prodigious tool bobbing and oozing precum.

"Which will it be Karen? The ruler? Or do you want to take my cock?"

I wasn't into pain, but I also didn't think I could accommodate his cock. He was much better endowed than my ex, and I was afraid he'd split me wide open. But would he? Or would it be the best sex of my life?

"I'm waiting Karen, and I don't like to wait."

I had to make a snap decision. "Your cock, Sir."

A smile curled up on his lips. "Put your hands on the desk."

I turned away from him and put my hand on the desk. My body was buzzing with excitement. The alcohol haze hadn't quite burned off. I felt more tender hands pull apart the cheeks of my ass and then a tongue, no doubt Mirabelle's, tasting me.

Her tongue was velvety soft wetness, exploring the folds of my pussy and ass. I closed my eyes and let it just happen -- to let her, and then him, have their way with me. My surrender was more than a passive act, it was a conscious choice to become a submissive, like Mirabelle. To surrender control to Carlo.

It was so liberating. To not have to think, or to worry, or to obsess. Just to feel. And in that moment my feelings were only joy and pleasure. Mirabelle had undoubtedly pleasured many women before me, and her skillful loving brought me to the brink of orgasm over and over. Her pleasurable torture made me start begging her, but I knew no release would be granted until Carlo gave me permission, and during my coupling with his wife he was a silent spectator.

Then suddenly she stopped, and there was a profound sense of emptiness as she withdrew her lips and tongue. Bent over the teacher's desk, my legs had little strength in them, but the wetness between them was a prelude to the next act.

Carlo allowed me to languish there, alone with my thoughts of the girth of his cock and the feeling of fullness and satisfaction it would bring to me. I could sense his presence behind me ... waiting ... but for what?

Then it occurred to me. He wanted me to ask him ... to beg him ... that this was part of their perverse seduction. I was more than ready.

"Please?" I asked, tentatively at first, and then more forcefully.

I was answered with silence. My need was ever growing.

"Please Sir," I asked again.

"Please what?" he finally asked me.

These were words not easily said. But they were the only ones he wanted to hear.

"Please fuck me, Sir."

"Are you sure?" he asked, clearly teasing me.

"Yes, Sir. Very sure."

"Very well," he said. "But don't cum until ..."

And mid-sentence the head of his cock penetrated me, stretching my pussy to the point all of the air escaped my lungs in a prolonged gasp.

"You're ... so ... big ... Sir," I managed to say, the pain promising pleasure.

I heard him chuckle softly, then slip more of himself inside me.

Even though I was wet, the tight fit stopped his progress.

I braced myself for a renewed assault. Instead, he withdrew.

"Clean me slut," he said, speaking to his wife. I heard slurping and licking noises as his wife tasted me again and added her spittle as lubrication. She gave me a playful lick before positioning the head of her husband's cock to enter me once again.

This time, the passage more open to him, he thrust hard, impaling himself into me, his curly black pubic hair crushed against me. I tried to reposition my feet to get more comfortable, but by wriggling my hips I succeeded in only allowing him to push harder against my cervix. I was panting heavily, wondering if I would be rewarded for this discomfort.

He bent over, so while he was inside me his chest was pressed against my back. His hot breath tickled my ear as he whispered, "Now, my pet ...".

Then, like a runaway freight train, an orgasm bubbled up inside me and exploded. I squeezed my eyes shut as he, with each thrust, pushed me higher and higher into rarified air, the sensations turning to swirls of color as well as crackling electricity inside me. I was delirious with pleasure.

"Sir ... more ... more ..." I begged, not wanting to retreat from this plateau.

"Patience my pet," he said in a reassuring tone. He slowed, and allowed me to drift to the surface, before starting once again, lifting me higher until the explosion happened once again, but this time joined by him, as he stilled while my hips were still gyrating. He grunted once, before withdrawing, and I felt a trickle of him cum meander down the inside of my thigh.

Moments later, Mirabelle's tongue reappeared, this time to claim her Master's cum. The loving caresses with her tongue explored every crevice inside me, seeking her sticky reward. I had no energy to resist, nor did I want to. It was an act that to you might seem wickedly depraved, but to me it was yet another way that this couple demonstrated their way of showing affection for one another, and for me.

I couldn't believe I was capable of doing, or being a part of such acts that I might have regarded as lewd or lascivious. Being with Carlo and Mirabelle allowed a reclusive, conservative female, to be drawn into a world, that for her, had always been hiding in the shadows. I no longer had any interest in my old lifestyle, finding mindless entertainment to fill up my free time. There was too much here to ever turn back.

Mirabelle was sitting next to me, having finished her wicked "chore," and was using her finger to draw lazy circles around one of my nipples. Carlo was on the other side of me, running his finger between the lips of my pussy and around the brown, crinkled skin of my anus.

"We're obviously smitten with you Karen," Carlo said, with Mirabelle nodding. "We'd like to see more of you. Would you be interested?"

There wasn't anything I wanted more at that time. I said yes, and kissed each of them on the cheek.

Carlo continued, "You can see we have an open marriage and no jealousy between us. We want to see how this relationship evolves. Maybe there's something here. There certainly was today."

I used my hand and gave his cock a few pumps, rubbing the cum seeping out of the head onto my lips.

"Today isn't over," I told them, and then ran my lips down the underside of his pulsing cock, relishing my role as a submissive whore.

* * *

My relationship with Carlo and Mirabelle taught me something important about myself. My sexuality was nonnegotiable. I was entitled to my feelings and to express them as I saw fit.

I also learned that sex is much more than the physical act. Most of it occurs between the ears -- the mental interplay between partners. That's what I was missing. Gary wasn't able to give that aspect to me. He was only interested in getting himself off. He never realized that I needed more than his cock. I needed to experience the power of domination and the surrender of control. Those were the missing pieces of the puzzle, at least for me.

And to answer the question I posed at the beginning of the story -- that's why I found myself time and again, on the stage at Ally's club, sharing with others what brought me true sexual fulfillment. There was no turning back.