Gromet's PlazaErotic Stories

Erotic Disclosure Chapter 4: Staged Desire

by Wiccedwoman

Email Feedback | Forum Feedback

© Copyright 2007 - Wiccedwoman - Used by permission

Storycodes: M/f; F/m; MM/f; group; oral; voy; cons/reluct; X

(story continues from )

Chapter 4 – Staged Desire

Once in the safe haven of my room, I flung myself on the bed and lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling.  My pussy still ached and stung and the memory of recent events replayed in my head like a film reel.  I’d been used, abused and humiliated – yet the breath caught in my throat as I re-lived those erotic experiences.  The look of desire on the men’s faces, their urgency, the way they were both so totally turned on and hot for me – those images, those feelings still coursed through me. 

I loved the way both men completely lost it when they orgasmed inside me - when they spent themselves in an almost animal-like sexual frenzy.  My nipples stood erect when I replayed the way the deep, warm space between my thighs had been fully opened, fully filled.  They also responded when I replayed the sensation of Steve’s erection just poised to enter me; the bulging head pressed slippery and moist against my throbbing outer lips as I ached to be filled.  

I remembered the look in Steve’s eyes, just before the very first time he screwed me.  He was intense, transfixed, hypnotised.  In a way, he’d been hunting me and I was now within his sights.  He was still - at that point - holding together his veneer of respectability, while desperately wanting to fuck me.  He, quite visibly, had an overwhelming impulse to thrust himself inside the hot, enticing space between my legs.  

Paul scented his friend’s arousal and luxuriated in owning the object of desire.  He loved the manipulation; loved watching his own flesh rhythmically undulate in and out of my mouth; loved watching it when it spurted in my throat.  He was demonstrating his control of me. 

Steve was also establishing his power when he turned me on; when he aroused me, so much I sucked harder and longer on Paul’s cock. 

The pair had choreographed every nuance for their own pleasure. 

I remembered vividly how Steve had watched me fellating Paul.  The scene held dark fascination for him.

When I’d sucked well enough on Paul’s straining penis to make him shoot his load, Paul had murmured – with deep satisfaction,  “Well done mate,” in the direction of his friend.   

Steve had been deliberately arousing me to ensure Paul would be well serviced. 

I’d been their plaything – totally.  These thoughts flowed through my brain as I continued to stare at the ceiling.

I recalled, also, Paul had half jokingly called me a “bitch.” I decided to prove him right.  I’d show him just how much of a bitch I could be – show them both.  I smarted at the thought of being under their control.  My motivation trickled back.  I showered, dressed and carefully made myself up.  The car keys were on the bedside table.  I wrote a little note to place under Steve’s bedroom door, “Don’t ever touch me again, in fact, don’t even bother looking in my direction.  Also, some advice - get some lessons.  I’ve had better from my vibrator.” 

“Arrogant bastard!” I thought as I wrote it.

If Steve was under the impression he could fuck me whenever he wanted to, he’d have to think again.  Actually, the barbs about him needing lessons and the amazing skills of my vibrator were totally untrue - but what the hell.  With no-one noticing and my message in place, I slipped out of the back door and sped off in the family car.  My mobile phone was switched off.  The rebel was asserting herself again.  I drove the 100 kilometres or so to my friend’s place - Wendy. 

She welcomed me warmly. 

We spent hours talking.  I told her that, sexually, I’d never felt more alive - but the exploitation stung.  I hated their assumptions, hated the fact Paul and Steve now thought they had everything under control – had me under control.  “Fuck them!” I snapped in Wendy’s general direction.  We both giggled at the irony of my expletive. 

After some further concentrated discussion, we went to the supermarket, got some groceries and cooked ourselves supper – also demolishing a bottle of wine in the process.  “Who needs men when you’ve got girlfriends to talk to?” I mused.  I stayed the night and got up late the next morning – languorously soaking in a scented bath then waking myself up with fresh orange juice and coffee.  I decided to give Lynn a call on her mobile, to spy on the aftermath of my abrupt departure.

“Hi Lynn,” I said, “It’s me, Kristin – don’t say anything.  How are things there?  Are you alone?” 

“Well no honey,” came the warm response, “I don’t think daddy is very pleased.  Give mum your number and I’ll call you back later.” 

Grinning, I did so.  I also noticed my mobile phone was stacked up with messages.  They were from Paul.  They went from threatening to pleading, music to my ears. 

About an hour or so later, Wendy’s phone rang.  It was Lynn, for me. 

“It’s OK, I can talk now,” she said and continued, “The boys are totally pissed.  Your name is mud – Steve is particularly irritable for some reason.”

More music to my ears. 

Lynn was very supportive and we laughed  - sharing the pleasure. 

“You know honey,” Lynn continued, “Men don’t appreciate easy prey.  You need to keep them on their toes – keep them wondering.” 

I planned to do that  - and more.  I stayed another night at Wendy’s place. 

Paul rang.

“No, she’s not here,” said my friend sweetly, “Haven’t seen her.” 

On the second morning, I stayed until lunchtime, then went home.  The kids were still with their grandparents for another few days.  I thought I’d have the house to myself.  I was wrong.  I put my key in the door, put down my gear, made myself a cup of coffee and walked out to the patio – to be confronted by Paul and Steve.  A very pissed off Paul and Steve.  As usual, Paul did the talking. 

“Where in hell have you been?” He stormed,  “You took the car.  Steve had to drive me back!” 

I just looked at him sweetly and blew a kiss, “Perhaps I went looking for a decent fuck,” I purred, also looking in Steve’s direction. 

He looked away abruptly. 

“Oh – and did you find it?” Paul shot back with malevolence. 

“Maybe – that’s my business!” I spat in return.  

He just tensed more – and then turned Steve’s way, “Come on mate,” he snapped, “Let’s go out for a drink – leave the bitch here” – and with that they were gone. 

I spent the rest of the day in blissful isolation, just pottering and reading some books.  It was almost midnight before I collapsed into bed. 

Paul was still not back. 

Sleep came quickly.  I was in a dream.  An octopus was dragging me down into the depths. I was struggling to break free.  When I woke up, I was still struggling to escape. 

Paul’s mouth was on mine, he smelled of alcohol. 

One hand was over my pussy, his fingers eagerly exploring my slit, while his other arm was holding me down in a vice-like grip.  At the same time, he was forcing my thighs open with his powerful legs. 

I felt his rock hard penis press into my soft flesh.  With a free arm I beat wildly on his back – he was oblivious to it. 

He moved his mouth down to my breasts and suckled passionately, while one hand almost painfully squeezed them.  He finally managed to splay my legs completely and guide the head of his cock to my pink and vulnerable opening.  With one sharp lunge, he sunk his entire length inside me. 

He groaned.  He was there – his penis enveloped in my warm, moist pussy.  I’m sure there was no thought in his head, other than the sensations emanating from his throbbing flesh.  He started pumping in an unrelenting, heavy rhythm. He slid in and out of my still tender, swollen crevice easily, smoothly. 

It crossed my mind he’d taken the trouble to lubricate himself before getting into bed, “Scheming bastard!” I thought. 

He was obviously very, very turned on.  There was something about his arousal that reached out and grabbed me – pulling me down into his personal erotic beat.

My vagina – against my will - began to swell in sluttish abandon.  My bud grew to welcome him. 

Paul’s hands found my ass and he dug his fingers deeply into my softness, drawing the object of his lust even closer. 

I started to return his passion, viciously digging my own fingers into his rocking butt. 

His grunting continued – interspersed with arduous, laboured breathing.  Rivers of sweat formed between us.  Suddenly, his groin stiffened and pulling me even closer into him – as his penis engorged and got even bigger – he humped me brutally hard and fast, before ecstatically relieving himself inside me. 

He laid on top of me for a few seconds, then wordlessly rolling off and went straight to sleep. 

“Bastard!” I thought again, my body still tingling.  I looked at the clock - 3am!  Not only had he come home in the early hours of the morning and arrogantly fucked me without a word - he’d left me frustrated, still horny.  My finger strayed down to my swollen pink bud and slowly - rhythmically - I began to massage it in a gentle, circular motion. 

I opened my legs to a fantasy lover and closed my eyes.  Actually, it was more than a fantasy lover.  There were three unknown men, eagerly queuing up to fuck me and telling me – no – warning me, they intended to screw me all night, one after the other.  I could hear them. I could feel them – one on each side very firmly gripping my arms – while the third entered me.  I was riding on wave after wave of pleasure – receiving their fat cocks with the abandon of an experienced whore.  I came violently, suddenly.  My body shuddered and my vagina convulsed in ecstasy. 

Paul still slept.

I got up before my husband.  His sticky seed trickled down my inner thigh as I rose.  I looked at him lying on the bed  - oblivious, serene – his muscular, male torso gently moving in time with his breathing.  I loved him.  I hated him. 

I threw myself in the shower then quickly dried myself.   I tied my favourite sarong around my waist and put on a clinging black vest top with a low neck.  I added some dangling obsidian stone earrings, the colour of night.  “Appropriate” I thought.  I’d learnt obsidian is associated with the base chakra – with sexuality in other words. The secret serpent that guards those inner desires, the one curled peacefully around the very bottom end of my spine, had been well and truly awakened.  It had infused its energy through everything in my life over the last few days. 

Paul and his friend had awakened that dark power. 

I wondered if my husband could cope with it.  I set a pot of coffee going.  On my third cup, I heard Paul stirring. 

He joined me with a brew of his own on the veranda. “Hi babe” he said gently. 

“Hi,” I said in return, raising my eyebrows in a questioning look. 

“Look Kristin, I understand why you went.  I’m sorry if you’ve been upset – I love you babe, you’re beautiful.” His words were soft, pleading – a stark contrast to his mood of the previous day. 

My eyes narrowed, “You love me – is that why you raped me last night? Is that why you let, no encouraged, your friend to screw me? Is that why you screwed another woman?”  My response was calm, measured – but hard edged with new steeliness. 

Paul looked at me intently for a moment and with a degree of satisfaction continued to speak, “Cut the crap Kristin.  You enjoyed it – you enjoyed it all.  I saw you come, I felt you come – and it wasn’t me that forced you to screw Steve in his bedroom when we arrived.  As for me raping you – your pussy seemed very wet and I think I’ve still got a few scratch marks on my ass.” 

What could I say?  My neck and cheeks burnt. 

“OK Paul,” I retorted, my voice getting lower, darker, “Perhaps you’re right, perhaps you’ve hit on something - but perhaps you’ve also opened Pandora’s Box.  Don’t blame me if some things don’t turn out to your liking.  I’ve always played by the rules, but you’ve crossed those boundaries.  You can’t compel me play a new game by your laws – in fact, I’m more than capable of making up a few games of my own.” 

Paul looked at me a bit shaken; obviously those ramifications hadn’t occurred to him.  “What kind of games are you talking about Kristin?” he asked, perturbed.

“Don’t worry about it Paul – you’ll find out soon enough” I responded, still measured, still calm.  Thoughts of the cute guy I’d met in the wine bar ran through my head, but I said nothing. 

“You’re a bitch Kristin – you know that don’t you, a bitch!”  Paul exclaimed the words angrily. 

I looked at him coolly, “Almost spot on Paul – except the word bitch doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel or the possibilities ahead.” 

“A beautiful, curvy witch,” I recalled again Paul was sometimes in the habit of describing me that way. 

“I’ll show you just how accurate you are,” I thought forebodingly. 

It was an hour or so before Paul started speaking to me after that conversation – he just buried himself in the newspaper.  His normal manipulations hadn’t worked and I think he found it a bit de-stabilising.  Eventually, he brought me another cup of coffee and gently started rubbing my shoulders. 

It felt good.  My body relaxed.

 “Forgive me sweetheart,” he whispered – then continued, “You’re such a turn on and seeing Steve get so hot over you almost makes me come on the spot.  In fact, I could fuck you again right now if you’d let me. You’re so sexy – so sexy.” Paul emphasised the last comment as his hand slipped down to my breast and began to play with my softness. 

I loved it – “Crawl!”  I thought as I returned his gentle but passionate kisses.  I felt my pussy get moist as Paul’s ardour increased.  Hell, I still loved the guy, he still made me horny; however, I interrupted our lovemaking.  “Not yet Paul – later?”  I said the words with emphasis, catching his lingering gaze as I did so. 

“OK babe,” he replied softly, “Later.” 

The rift between us was healed for the time being. 

The phone rang.  I picked it up. 

“Is Paul there?” Enquired a rich, chocolaty brown male voice.  It was Steve. 

To my annoyance, the sound of it seemed to echo inside me, stirring that secret, sexual serpent again. 

Almost matter of factly; shortly after speaking to his friend, Paul mentioned Steve was having a few colleagues around that evening for a special event he’d planned. 

I was intrigued – I was also intrigued about the possibility of seeing Steve again.  “OK Paul,” I said, “I’ll go.” 

“Get ready then,” my husband said eagerly, “Wear something sexy.” 

I did – a cleavage exposing, backless black velvet evening dress that clung to my curves.  I paired the outfit with black seamed stockings and elegant healed shoes. 

Paul whistled appreciatively when I appeared. 

The drive to Steve’s place took around an hour.   Most of the time, Paul’s hand rested on my inner thigh, gently stroking.  My favourite music played on the car stereo.  I lost myself in thought – images of Steve’s expression just before he fucked me ran through my head – as well as the intensely erotic sensation of his mouth on my breast.  We arrived – my exquisite reverie interrupted. 

Paul rang the doorbell.

Lynn appeared.  Her face lit up when she saw me, ignoring Paul, “Hi honey,” she said with pleasure, “Come on in and meet some people.  What’ll you have to drink?” 

There were several individuals standing around, chatting and nursing drinks – probably twenty characters, perhaps a few more.  I knew none of them.  Most were male, though there were some women.  All the ladies were attractive and sexily dressed. They had the rapt attention of small clusters of men. 

Lynn introduced Paul and me to a group of people that included Steve.  His eyes met mine for a brief second.  I looked away.  I quickly drank two shots of spirit, then slowly sipped a third. I needed to quell the butterflies in my tummy. 

The small talk continued for a while – belying the snaking, liquid undercurrents of sexuality.  Every time I looked in Steve’s direction, his gaze met mine.  I wouldn’t hold it, wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. 

Paul’s hand rested lightly on my butt. 

Eventually, Steve genially called the gathering to attention, “As you all know, we’re putting on a little show tonight – a very explicit show.  You’re all welcome to enjoy yourselves as much as possible – both during the performance and afterwards.  Be my guests.”

My curiosity rose even higher and my belly squirmed. 

Steve guided his visitors towards the playroom.  As he did so, he took an opportunity to very briefly and very lightly run his fingers down my bare back.  That feathery movement immediately shot sparks through my entire body; however, maintaining an icy composure, I ignored both him and his gesture. 

I noticed shoes were being neatly lined up outside the playroom door as people trickled in. 

Almost everything was the same – even the wafting, spicy incense that met you as you entered.  The subdued red lights still glowed, gently illuminating the gloom.  However, two things were different.  A melodious, sexy beat played in the background and the large central spa had been completely hidden by a kind of stage. It appeared to be covered in padded black vinyl. 

Steve’s guests made themselves comfortable on the voluminously padded cushions that littered the room. 

He then made a brief announcement,  “There are two acts.  The second one is the main course, so to speak.  Enjoy.”  His short speech complete, he retreated to a cushion of his own. 

The beat got a decibel louder.  The red lighting glowed even dimmer, but brilliant illumination directly lit the central stage, casting the rest of the room into almost unrelieved shadow.

From the darkness, a sinuously moving female form appeared, lush with curves and large breasts.  It was Lynn.  She slowly and teasingly removed her clothes - piece by piece - in rhythm to the hauntingly erotic music.  Her golden tanned skin glistened, emphasising the enticing roundness of her body.  Finally, she stood there naked and placed the forefinger of her right hand pensively between her lips.   The other hand gently stroked her pussy, as she stood with her legs slightly open. 

Suddenly, her eyes alighted on a male victim from the crowd.  She mockingly dragged him on to the stage by his tie.  She started to undress him, until he had nothing on at all.  He was passive, unresisting - his face registering pleasure and fascination.  His penis was quivering slightly – half erect.  She ordered him to lie on his stomach, then gradually covered every inch of his willing flesh with oil – stroking, kneading rubbing.

From time to time he groaned. 

Lynn was intent on her task, while her breasts bounced in time with her movements. Her curved butt swayed temptingly in the direction of the audience. 

By the time her victim rolled on to his back, his cock was standing rigidly to attention. 

Still, she ignored it – continuing to massage every crevice, every centimetre of skin.  The quivering that possessed her victims upright flesh became much more obvious; it swayed in response as Lynn gratified other body parts.

At that point he groaned even louder  - although his cries turned into a deep, echoing moan when she finally grasped the, by now, almost begging erection. 

She started to masturbate him in a steady, hard and determined rhythm. 

His groin squirmed and he strained towards her.  The deep moans continued.  His jaw hung open slightly and beads of sweat formed on his forehead. 

Lynn watched her victims face, absorbed by his changing expression as it reflected the excitement building within his loins.  Finally, in sudden dramatic spurts, a creamy liquid escaped from the bulging head of his penis.  His hips lifted two or three inches from the black vinyl and his fingers dug deeply into the padding beneath as he came.  That final deep moan echoed for some time. 

Deftly, Lynn grabbed a small soft towel that had been placed there for the purpose and mopped up the sticky mess.  She planted a very brief, butterfly kiss on his lips before disappearing into the darkness.

The victim lay there for a few seconds, gathering himself, before collecting up his crumpled clothes.  Someone passed him a robe and he, like Lynn, disappeared into the darkness. 

I’d been electrified by the performance - totally transfixed.  I wasn’t the only one.  I glanced at a guy who was lounging a few feet from me – I could just make out his form.  Despite the shadows, I discerned he was slowly and deliberately rubbing his cock in erotic appreciation of the show he’d just witnessed.  

The beat of the music continued and the now empty stage stood bare for a full minute – then another woman gracefully entered the limelight.  She was also full-bodied and deliciously curvy – but unlike Lynn, dark haired and exotic.  Myriad gold chains adorned her belly, neck, wrists and ankles – shimmering against her olive skin.  A deep scarlet lipstick defined her lips and her eyes were emphasised by soft kohl.  She was beautiful.  She too stripped in rhythm to the drumming tempo – again teasing, again with practised eroticism.  At the completion of her act, she lay naked and spreadeagled on the stage – however, as it soon became apparent, that wasn’t the end. 

Two tall, well-built men, dressed in some kind of military uniform, entered the arena.  Both were around thirty, confident and handsome. One immediately held the dancer down, knees either side of her hips. He gripped her arms. 

The other languorously undressed himself.  His eyes were fixed on the dancer’s naked body all the while.  This now nude man knelt to grip her wrists from behind - bending his head to kiss her lips in the process. 

The other stud now took his turn at undressing.  His body, like his partner’s, was very, very attractive. 

Both men had tight, sexy butts. 

The dancer pretended to struggle. 

This male pair was extremely aroused, their long, fat cocks standing swollen and hard. 

My belly tightened.  It didn’t take a great leap of imagination to enjoy the sensation of those hard erections searching out my own depths.  “Bad girl” I thought. 

One Adonis then handed the other a bottle of lubricant from the side of the stage.  Both took time spreading the slippery substance along the length of their stiffly exposed flesh.   Each proud phallus glistened under the stage lighting.  This task completed, one man gently and teasingly rubbed a handful of the same lubricant between the dancer’s thighs.  

She continued in her mock struggle.

Suddenly, one of male predators took up his intended position – sitting on the padded vinyl, legs wide open and outstretched before him.  He leant backwards slightly, supporting his weight on his arms.  His erect cock bobbed and swayed.  His snakelike gaze rested on the naked form of the helpless dancer. 

The other predator then deftly and expertly flipped the woman on to her tummy, placing her between the sitting man’s legs – her mouth just above the expectant phallus.  He gathered her up into a kneeling position, so her ass was pointing towards him in a deliciously inviting pose.  He knelt behind her. 

The man in front of the dancer grabbed the back of her head and continuing to hold it, guided her mouth over his erection. 

She started to suck with a passion. 

He threw his neck back in pleasure, letting out a low moan.  The scene was graphic, explicit. 

My belly continued to squirm. 

The man kneeling behind the dancer began concentrating deeply on the woman’s now swaying buttocks.  Holding on to her softness with both hands, he thrust himself into her.  Again, like his friend, he threw his head back in pleasure and groaned in delight.  It was a totally lewd – and totally electrifying – tableau. 

She continued to suck vigorously on the straining penis before her, whilst being screwed in a slow but increasing momentum from behind. 

I could clearly see the entire length of her lover’s fat cock as it moved in and out of her pussy. 

The beat of the music continued; the breath caught in my throat.  My own slit was very swollen and moist by then. Vividly erotic sensations coursed through me.  The air was pulsing with sex.

The excitement of the men on stage was very real.  Both were gazing in complete enthralment at their own cocks as those organs received pleasure. 

The rhythm of the man fucking the dancer from behind got heavier and harder. 

Meanwhile, she continued to suckle forcefully on the now agitated, craving penis in front of her. 

It was obvious the fellated man came first.  He held the dancer’s head down tightly and jerked his groin in a succession of rapid, greedy movements.  He let out a low “Oooooh” sound, before his body relaxed in a display of satisfaction. 

She remained in position – after all, the second stud still had to be satisfied. 

At that point, the second man seemed to lose all self-control.  His fingers dug even deeper into the dancer’s alluringly proffered hips as he forcefully yanked her backwards and forwards.  His tight ass vibrated with lust.  In the final moments, he no longer pulled his erection in and out of her; rather he frantically attempted to push himself further inside that inviting passage. 

Her round bottom was tightly locked in position by his strong hands when he finally shot his load.  The sound he made echoed up and down my spine. 

The stage lights went down completely and stayed off as the performers exited their exposed positions.  Then, after a couple of minutes, the low red illumination around the sides of the room gradually came back into play.  

I picked out a few bodies and saw some men were now totally naked.  Nude women were fellating two of them and a third man was screwing another completely unclothed woman from behind. 

Paul, still next to me, was beginning to stir.  He undid my zip and my bra, fondling my released breasts as he sat behind me.  He gently kissed and bit the back of my neck. 

I could feel his hot, moist breath. 

He was getting very, very horny – especially after he slipped off my dress completely. 

All I had on was a very brief black G-string. 

We began to kiss passionately and he slid his fingers inside my very wet cleft. 

I was more than ready for him. Then, from the corner of my eye I saw Steve approach. 

He was still dressed, but was slowly unbuttoning his shirt. 

In a flash, I stood up, picked up my clothes and retreated to the door.  I left the room, as well as a very startled Paul, heart pounding.  I fancied Steve like crazy, but no way in hell was I going to let him screw me again like that.  I put my dress back on. 

I wanted to be alone, though my pussy still throbbed with desire and every pore of my body seemed to buzz with electricity.  I needed darkness and cool night air.  I wandered out to the pool and inspired by its invitingly serene depths, undressed again.  In only a G-string, I dived in.  The cold water was a shock to my skin, but it was also blissfully refreshing.  For a while I played by myself in that liquid heaven, before sliding my body out of the chilling wetness.
Droplets trickled off me and splashed on to the concrete, still warm from the hot daytime sun.   I wandered over to a very small summerhouse a little way from the main residence then collapsed into a hammock, strung across its narrow deck.  I relaxed, gazing at the hauntingly beautiful display of stars.  I had no idea of the events that were about to unfold.



story continues in


If you've enjoyed this story, please write to the author and let them know - they may write more!
back to
erotic stories