Wife gang-bang plaything

While sex with multiple guys (and the occasional woman) is almost always a primary feature of these stories, they also contain explicit aspects of bondage, S&M, and other general kink.

Sales Lead

With a skeptical look on his face, the guy asked, “What’ll she really do?”

How did I come to be thousands of miles from home, naked and tied up in a palatial top-floor hotel suite, while a ferret-faced little guy named Garvey was being reassured that for the next hour or so I was his willing sex-toy?

Like most of my more unusual adventures, it started with my husband Eric saying, “So, here’s something interesting for you to consider.”

Damon’s company, Roped Up, had hired me a couple of times in the past, as the entertainment at parties they were throwing for their top executives and salespeople, but this time, they had a very different event in mind. The company was attending and exhibiting at what was apparently their industry’s big international trade show. It was only held every two years, and it was their chance to really elevate their business. At least, that’s what Damon had told me, with sincerity and enthusiasm that made it obvious why he’d been a killer salesman before working his way up to CEO.

They wanted me to be a part of their sales strategy. The soft, wet, warm part that would make the dicks of all their horny customers and potential customers feel so good that deals would be made and contracts would be signed.

If all they wanted was pussy and blowjobs for their customers, why not just hire some local talent? Damon had explained that as well. As Damon had put it, “Regular blowjobs are great, but how often do these guys get to pull the girl’s nipples until she screams on their dick?”

They were confident that offering their customers more than just a free fuck would give them a competitive edge. They weren’t wrong. Letting their customers indulge some of their rougher fantasies would certainly make their company stand out.

Eric and I had discussed their request at length, since not only did they want me for several days, but, unlike my Comic-Con adventure with the RPG dudes, this took place in an entirely different country. I’d agreed for three reasons. They had been good clients in the past, Eric would be there to surreptitiously keep an eye on me, and the destination island was a legitimate freaking tropical paradise. Eric and I planned to stick around afterwards and have a true vacation. And, of course, I would get what I loved — the rough treatment from a bunch of strangers that was the actual point of my being in the “business” of party-girl-for-hire.

Garvey here was apparently a major buyer, so while later on I’d be a general inducement to a broader range of Roped Up’s customers, he rated getting a special one-on-one preview.

“Hey, this bitch is here for you to use however you want. What do you want to do with her?” Damon spoke almost lazily, his tone that of a salesman who knows the sale is in the bag, even when the customer himself may not know he’s already hooked.

I knew his “however you want” was just hyperbole, and if this yahoo said he wanted to do something that was against the rules, that Damon would make that restriction clear to him. But still, hearing him offer me up like that sent a little thrill of excitement straight to my pussy.

Garvey — not clear to me if that was his first name or his last name — thought for a second. “Uhh, can I play rough with her knockers?”

“You mean like this?” said Damon, as he drew his hand back and delivered a hard slap to the side of my left boob, making it dance. And making it sting like crazy!

“Ok, I guess I can” Garvey said. He grinned in anticipation.

Good thing I enjoy, and get off on, having my boobs slapped. It seemed likely they’d be getting more of that in the near future. He thought for a few more seconds, and I could almost see the scenes from his favorite pornos flickering behind his eyes.

“Come on her face?”

Damon nodded.

“Stick my finger in her ass?”

Nod.

“Stick my dick in her ass?”

Nod.

“Come in her ass?”

Nod.

The guy apparently had thought that at least one of those wouldn’t be possible, and he seemed a little disappointed that he wasn’t dreaming big enough. He looked around the room, searching for inspiration.

“Uh, dip her tit into that ice bucket?”

“Weird. But, yeah, sure, why not,” said Damon, shrugging.

Garvey took another drink of his beer, and thought some more. He face suddenly showed that I’ve-got-an-idea look, and he said, “Shove this beer bottle up her cunt?”

Nod.

It was one of the new-fangled aluminum ones, and looked hard and probably cold. I hoped he’d at least use the one he was currently drinking, and not a cold one fresh from the fridge.

“What about one of those?” he asked, pointing at a champagne bottle on the extensive wet-bar.

Damon shrugged again, and said, “Well, I’m pretty sure it won’t fit, but hey, you’re welcome to try.”

Oh, thanks a lot Damon! It would certainly not fit, but I’d probably have to endure this guy trying before Damon called a halt to his efforts.

Garvey floated one more idea. “Can I fill her pussy with ice?”

Damon looked quite surprised by that one, and I was too.

“Garvey, you really plan to do all that stuff to her?” Damon said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Looking and sounding defensive, Garvey replied, “Yeah, maybe. So, what about the ice?”

Damon looked over at the wet-bar. “Well, we certainly have plenty of it, so sure. She’s your toy, play with her.”

Satisfied that he could do pretty much any degrading or painful thing he could think of, Garvey licked his lips, and started taking off his suit.

Not surprisingly, since it was the first thing he asked about, he started with my boobs. Damon had staged the scene for Garvey by tying me to one of the straight-backed chairs from the kitchen area of the suite. My ankles were securely roped to the front legs, and my arms were wrapped around the chair back, with my wrists tied together. Picture your classic “kidnapping victim” sort of pose, simple easy bondage you could do in a hotel room. Just add a ball-gag, and there I was.

My arms behind my back like that made my bare boobs stick out quite nicely, an irresistible feature for Garvey. He started out rubbing his hands over them, then he rolled my nipples in his fingers, pulling them gently. It felt really good. Knowing that he planned to transition from sensual fondling to rougher treatment added a thrill of anticipation for me, and probably for him as well. He played with my breasts like that until I closed my eyes and gave a soft moan as I enjoyed the sensations.

That was apparently the cue he was waiting for, as mere seconds after my eyes closed, he slapped my breast hard from the side. I gasped into the ball-gag, as he used his other hand to slap my other breast just as hard. He cupped my breasts, and rubbed his thumbs over my nipples a couple times, then resumed smacking them. He wasn’t content with a few slaps. Instead, he set up a steady rhythm, alternating between each breast, with maybe a second or two between slaps. After six or seven of them to each of my now-red breasts, I was steadily moaning into the gag.

His cock was hard by now, and he paused to stare at me, while he stroked it a few times. Then, he resumed his fun with my tits. Instead of the side-to-side slaps, he switch to bring his hands up from beneath them, slapping my under-boob. He didn’t alternate, but used both hands to slap them at the same time. He paced his slaps so that each new slap came just as my boobs were dropping back down after bouncing upwards from the previous slap.

My breasts aren’t massive, but they are what most guys would consider big, and I’m pretty proud of how firm they are. Maybe because my boobs were bouncing so dramatically, he seemed to like this even more than the side-to-side slaps, so he spent even more time smacking them this way, giving each of them ten or twelve solid slaps. I’m not complaining, having my tits treated like this is a huge turn-on for me, and my pussy was definitely wet by the time he was done.

He sounded slightly out of breath, either from exertion or excitement as he said to Damon, “Untie her arms. I want her to be able to lean forward.”

Damon silently complied while Garvey went to the bar and picked up the ice bucket. He dumped some of the ice out, and replaced it with some water from the tap. Returning with it, he told Damon to hold my arms behind my back, and to bend me forward, which he did.

He slowly raised the ice bucket up from below my downward-dangling breast, stopping just as my nipple dipped into the icy water. Reflexively, I jerked upwards against Damon’s grip, removing my nipple from the water. Holding the bucket in one hand, he wound a bunch of my long blonde hair around his other hand, and used it to pull me back down. This time, my nipple dipped into the frigid water and stayed there. I gasped as the shock of the cold ran through my breast. He gave me a moment to get used to how that felt, and then he lifted the bucket, submerging most of my tit. I tried to jerk upright again, but he used his firm grip on my hair to immediately pull me back down, keeping my tit in the cold water.

“Those tits of yours looked like I’d gotten them pretty hot. You should be thanking me for helping cool them off,” he teased. “But how careless of me, I’ve only cooled off the one.”

By this point, even though my tit was still painfully cold, I was beginning to get used to it. So of course he was going to switch to the other one. This time there was none of that business with just my nipple, as with a surprisingly quick motion, he plunged my other tit all the way into the water. Involuntarily, I gasped again, which was not easy to do with a ball-gag in my mouth. He left it in there only as long as it took for me to get over the shock. It was sort of like when you jump into a cold pool or lake. There’s the initial shock, then after a short time you get used to it. This did take a little longer with actual ice-water, and even though it never got comfortable, the initial pain did eventually subside.

Setting the bucket down on the floor, he used both hands to fondle my tits.

“Wow, those are maybe the hardest nipples I’ve even felt,” he said, sounding proud of himself.

He looked down at my pussy, and said, “Hey, Damon, help me get her out of this chair. I gotta fuck this slut.”

I thought he’d play with me more before getting to that, but I guess abusing a girl’s boobs did it for him. Once Damon had my ankles untied, I let Garvey lead me over to one of the large, overstuffed sofas. He bent me over one of the arms, which put my pussy at just about at dick-height for him.

“God, bitch, you got my dick so damn hard.”

Even though he was a smaller guy, his dick wasn’t. It wasn’t huge or anything, but I’d seen smaller ones on six-foot-two linebackers. To be fair, the linebacker had exhibited remarkable stamina, and his raw strength was also a big turn-on for me. That had been an amazing party, and not just because of him. But, I digress.

Spreading my labia with his fingers, he poked the head of his dick at my pussy entrance, let go of my lips, and thrust himself into me. He wasn’t the only one excited by what he’d been doing to my tits, so my very wet pussy made it easy for him to slide on in. He wasn’t kidding, his dick was pretty hard, and I gave a sigh of pleasure as he filled me. He began fucking me, not forcefully, but steady, as he squeezed and kneaded my ass. Was this it? That whole list of stuff he wanted to do, skipped because he couldn’t wait to fuck me?

I should have known better. His dick had just started to take the edge off of my horniness, when he abruptly pulled out. He gave my ass a hard slap, and scolded, “Oh, damn, bitch, that was close. Your tight pussy almost got me there, but it’s too soon for our fun to be over.”

See, this is why I like gang-bangs. If there were a bunch of other guys here, I’d already have another hard, energetic dick stroking away inside me. Instead, my pussy was aching for a cock even more than when he started fucking me. I moaned in frustration at being empty so soon.

He walked around from behind me, and unbuckled my ball-gag. He stuck his index finger in my face, and said, “Lick it.”

It wasn’t like it had pussy juice on it or anything, but sure, ok. I opened my mouth, took his finger in, and licked it.

“Lick it good, bitch. You want it nice and wet, trust me.”

I knew what that meant, so I got that finger as wet as I could.

He took it out, walked back down behind me.

He gave my ass another hard slap, and said, “Spread for me, bitch.”

I wasn’t tied down, which was unusual for me at my parties, so I was able to reach back and grab an asscheek in each hand, and pull them apart.

“Nice,” he said, and I felt the damp tip of his finger press against my asshole. He wiggled it, trying to work his way in, and I let out a long breath and tried to relax back there. I knew from experience that if a guy wanted it in, he’d get it in, and the only question was, could I make it easy on both him and me by relaxing that tight little ring quickly enough.

I pulled a little harder, and a couple seconds later his fingertip slipped into my ass.

“See? Told you the wetter the better,” he said.

Now that he’d penetrated that hole, it was easy for him to keep pushing, and it wasn’t long before I felt his knuckles press against my ass, his finger all the way up my back passage. He held it there for a long second, then I felt him turn and wiggle it around, and I made little “eeeh, eeeh “noises as he pressed against the walls of my rectum.

Having a finger stuck up my ass feels, weirdly, even more intimate and more degrading than if it was a dick. I’m not sure why that is, exactly, but guys must feel it too, because they sure seem to enjoy doing it. Maybe it’s the fact that when they do it with their dick, it’s for them to feel good. That nice tight hole gives them so much sensation that often they get to their orgasm even more quickly than if they were in a pussy. But when it’s their finger, it’s almost completely about dominance and submission. More of a “hey, bitch, look what I can do to you” sort of thing.

Whatever the reason, it seemed to please him, because he kept at it for a while. Long enough, actually, for it to start to feel pretty good. He pulled his finger out, and expected him to replace it with his dick. I just hoped he planned to use some lube — being wet barely worked for a finger, it was not enough for a penis.

What I felt next, however, wasn’t his dick, it was him trying to work two fingers in. I squealed, which was apparently the reaction he wanted, as I heard him chuckle. Fortunately, his having gotten things started with one finger it was now loose enough that two wasn’t that painful, although I sure as hell felt it. One finger was a show of dominance, but two was all about making it painful.

I tried to relax as he did the same wiggling and twisting that he’d first done with just a single finger. Two fingers did have the potential to be even more pleasurable than one, but only if he carefully and gently focused on massaging the right spot, which, of course, he was not doing.

I won’t list every groan and yelp I emitted as he crooked his fingers, tried to spread his fingers, and rotated his hand to better ream me, but after a while, I guess I’d made all the noises he wanted to hear.

“Yeah, never had a bitch let me do that,” he exclaimed, as he pulled his fingers out.

If his goal had been to humiliate me, it had worked. There aren’t many things that make me feel more used than a guy just feeling around in my ass. I felt like a total slut, which was also very hot.

“Hey,” he said to Damon, “I’m going to wash my hands. I want to tie her down to the bed next.”

“Back or stomach?” asked Damon.

“On her back. I’m probably done with her ass.”

Yep, all about dominance and pain. This guy knew how to push all the right buttons for me!

I got up off the sofa, and walked into the bedroom that Damon had pointed at, while he gathered up some ropes. Most times, the guys at my parties tie me down with leather or nylon cuffs, and light chains or nylon straps. Those are way quicker and easier, especially for guys who aren’t into ropes and knots as a bondage art form. But this trip was going to be all about ropes. What else would guys who ran a rope company use?

Damon had finished tying my arms to the upper corners of the bed, and was just starting on my legs when Garvey came back. He was carrying a fresh bottle of beer, as well as the champagne bottle he’d mentioned earlier. I had really hoped he wasn’t serious about that.

As I had feared, the shiny aluminum bottle was so cold it was already showing little drops of condensation. At least the champagne hadn’t been chilled yet, and was at room temperature.

“Get those legs spread wide. I got plans for that pussy,” he said.

Damon nodded, and pulled the ropes attached to my ankles just a little bit tighter before tying them off, spreading my legs even wider than he’d been planning to.

As always, the time I spend in my yoga classes is worthwhile. I’m able to spread my legs wide enough to impress the guys tying me down, but still be quite comfortable. Most of the time, that is. Every so often I come across a guy who can actually tell that I’m just making it seem like my legs are spread as wide as they go. In those cases, I can wind up with my legs spread cheerleader wide, uncomfortable and sometimes even painful after a while. Damon either wasn’t one of those guys, or he had no personal desire to spread me like that, so comfortable is where he stopped.

I had been wondering why Damon himself was doing all this stuff for Garvey. It seemed like the sort of thing a CEO would delegate. But as he stood there staring down at my wide-open pussy, his expression told me he’d probably be fucking me himself after Garvey left. Why delegate when you can watch all the kinky stuff being done, get nice and excited, and then get to fuck me?

Garvey looked over at Damon and said, “You still got that ball-gag?”

Damon did, and very shortly I had it back in my mouth.

“You thought I was kidding about the beer bottle, didn’t you, bitch?”

I shook my head “no”, but I don’t think he really cared if I though he was kidding or not.

“Hope you’re wet.”

With his thumb and forefinger, he spread my pussy lips, and pressed the bottom of that cold bottle against my opening. I made an involuntary squeak — the bottle was painfully cold!

Holding it by the neck, he angled it to one side, so that the bottom edge could poke into me like a wedge. He rubbed it up and down between my lips a little, moving the coldness to a new spot every couple of seconds. He was steadily pushing it harder against me, and starting to focus on the entrance to my pussy. He stopped sliding it around, and increased the pressure. As I’d done earlier tonight with my ass, I was now trying to relax my pussy.

“Yeah, there you go, let it in.”

He spun it a little as he worked it into me. The bottom of the bottle wasn’t totally smooth, it had little bumps or ridges, and I could feel each one as they rubbed against the sensitive opening. I felt my pussy being stretched open, and as Garvey pushed a little harder, the entire bottom of the bottle slid into me.

“Ok, bitch, looks like your twat is wide enough. Let’s see if it’s deep enough.”

He pushed it in another inch or two, and I gasped at the chilling sensation. First my tits and now my pussy — what was it with this guy and cold? He kept pushing, and I moaned into my ball-gag as the hard, icy bottle invaded the depths of my soft opening. The metal walls of the bottle were doing a great job of conveying the cold into my wet, and previously warm, pussy.

He stopped with the wide part of the bottle about half-way in, then pulled it all the way out. I gasped at the sudden emptiness, and lack of the coldness I had just been getting used to. He wasn’t done, though, just teasing me I guess, because a few seconds later he worked it back in. It was easier this time, as I was still stretched, but the expression on his face made it clear he was enjoying inserting it into me again.

This time he didn’t stop at the half-way point. Slow and steady, he kept pushing it in until my pussy held the entire length of the wide section. I felt the cold radiating through my pelvis, stinging at first and then slowly becoming a little numb.

“I think you can take more,” he said. He was breathing fast, and his dick looked rock-hard. Once again he took the time to give it a few strokes with his other hand. He resumed pushing, and didn’t stop until I screamed into the ball-gag as the bottle encountered what had to be noticeable resistance to further progress.

“Look at that.” He motioned Damon over for a closer look. There was pride in his voice as he said, “Got it in there far enough her pussy can close around the neck of this beer.”

He looked at me, and said, “You want to see it sticking out of your slutty cunt?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, as he let go of the bottle and came around to where he could grab a handful of my hair, and use it to roughly tilt my head up off the bed. I looked down, and could just barely see the short length of the neck of the bottle that still protruded from my pussy. It did look and even feel like the entrance to my pussy had contracted down to grip the bottle’s narrow neck.

“Hey, I only had a few swigs — she’s got more beer in her than I do in me.” He laughed like he’d told the best joke ever, and Damon responded with a laugh that was clearly just out of politeness.

He let go of my hair, and I lay my head back down on the bed. Garvey grabbed the neck of the bottle, and moved it around in circles, churning the body of the bottle around in my pussy. It was an interesting sensation, and maybe it was just because I was feeling pretty damned slutty, but the little bit of pain and discomfort just made me even more excited. I wondered if he was going to at least fuck me with it a little bit, or was just going to wiggle it around in me.

Apparently just stuffing it up me was enough for him, because after a few more slow circles with the top of the bottle, he pulled it out. At least he did it slowly.

The beer bottle was just the warmup — although it had been far from warm — and as I’d feared, he was anxious to move on to the champagne bottle.

The beer bottle had actually gotten me excited enough, and loosened me up enough that I was kind of curious to see how far my wet pussy would let him get, even though I knew it wasn’t going to fit. Yes, I’m aware that when sexy pain get’s me into “slut mode”, it just makes me want more sexy pain. That’s one of the reasons Eric was concerned that I have some good pre-defined rules that applied to my parties.

At least it’s not cold, I thought, as he pressed the wide bottom edge of the bottle between my pussy lips, just the way he had started with the beer bottle. He rubbed it up and down before centering it on the opening between my lips.

Damon said, “Here, at least add some lube.” He handed a bottle of lube to Garvey, as he rolled his eyes, which I saw but Garvey didn’t. I couldn’t decide if I appreciated him making sure things were plenty slippery, or if I was annoyed that he was prolonging things by humoring the guy.

Garvey squirted lube on my pussy, and on the bottom of the bottle, then replaced the bottle between my legs and got back to trying to work it into me. He wasn’t a complete idiot, so he realized that if it had any chance of working, he needed to give my pussy time to relax and stretch. He maintained a constant pressure, not hard enough to actually hurt, but firm enough to let my hoo ha know that something was trying to fit inside, and it should do its expanding thing.

After a minute or two, he actually had what felt like almost half of the circumference of the bottle’s bottom wedged inside me. Getting impatient, he started pulling on the opposite pussy lip, and pressing a little harder. I yelled into the ball-gag, which startled him, and he let up for second, but quickly resumed with possibly even more effort.

This sequence repeated a few more times over the next couple of minutes, with him pulling and prying, me yelling when he pulled or pushed too hard, and a disappointing amount of progress being made, judging by the expression on his face.

Damon said, “Uh, Garvey, that’s just not going to fit.”

Garvey set his jaw, and maintained, “I’ve seen pictures.”

“Ok, yeah, I’m sure you have. But Tawny here has a nice tight little pussy. I’m surprised you were able fit that beer bottle up her. I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure that the girl who can take a champagne bottle in her snatch, and the girl who can squeeze your dick with it are two different girls.”

Yeah, and I’m the second kind, asshole! I’m freaking religious in my devotion to doing my Kegels, and it’s paid off. Even guys with smaller than average cocks find me plenty tight. Sure, even a well-toned vagina can expand, but not this much. At least mine doesn’t.

Garvey frowned, shook his head in resignation, and set down the bottle of champagne. He glanced over at the wine bottles on bar, which, while smaller than the champagne bottle, were still noticeable bigger than that beer bottle. For a minute, I thought he’d set his sights on that lesser goal, but then he looked away and admitted defeat.

“Well,” he said, “I wanted to fuck her anyway.”

Now that made sense. His dick had been hard the entire time he’d been sticking, and trying to stick, bottles in me. Let’s use my pussy for what it’s good at.

He climbed on top of me, and said, “Always wanted to fuck a tied-up girl.”

He thrust into my well-lubricated pussy in one easy thrust.

“Damn, feels like warm velvet.”

His cock was nice and hard, and I loved having something soft — at least relative to a beer bottle — and warm in me, and I closed my eyes and relished the feeling of him sliding his cock in and out, fast and hard. As excited as he clearly was, I didn’t expect him to last long enough to get me to my orgasm, and sadly I was correct. I’d barely started down that road when he groaned, pressed hard into me, and I felt his cock pulsing as he came in me. He collapsed on top of me, and lay there letting his cock get soft, before he pulled out and got off the bed. He seemed like the type of guy who lost all interest in sex moments after they come, not even sparing a glance at the hot, naked, tied down, and just-fucked girl as he quickly got dressed.

Damon at least waited until the guy had his pants zipped up before he said, “So, can we count on you using Roped Up as your sole supplier?”

“Oh, yes,” said Garvey enthusiastically. “I really had fun, she’s an amazing little slut.”

“That’s great,” said Damon. “I’m very glad our little bonus here helped you make your decision.”

“Yeah. But still a lot of things I didn’t have a chance to do with her,” he said, a note of disappointment in his voice.

Garvey continued, “I’d like to talk to you about that.” His eyes quickly darted to me, back to Damon, and then he nodded towards the suite’s living room. Damon nodded in understanding, and together they walked out of the bedroom. I could hear them talking quietly, but only caught a few words here and there, like “clamps”, “senior staff”, and “this wide”.

❖ ❖ ❖

I heard the door close, and Damon strode back in to the bedroom. I looked at him quizzically.

“That was nothing you need to worry about,” Damon said, replying to my unspoken question. “Suffice it to say that he told me he wanted to do a lot more with you than he got to do tonight, and have some of his even more-imaginative cohorts join in. He also seemed to feel limited by not having any, quote, ‘proper toys’ available this time.”

I squinted at him, trying to look as skeptical as a girl can look with a ball-gag in her mouth.

“Oh, I told him I’d think about it,” he said with a wry grin. “Never tell the customer ‘no’.”

“But,” he assured me, “he is not getting his wish. Even just a few of the things he mentioned wanting to do would make tonight’s little stunts seem like nothing more than practice.”

He frowned, and added, “I know your rules, and we’ve had too much fun with you at our parties, and are going to get too much new business due to your talents, to jeopardize our relationship.”

I would have liked it if his refusal to let Garvey have a second go at me was based on, you know, caring about me as an actual person, rather than a financial calculation. But hey, he was a CEO, and the correlation between CEOs and sociopaths is rather high.

But either way, I was glad he was respecting my rules. Although, as always, there was a part of me that was curious about just what kinky stuff ole Garvey had in mind. And, a part that was a little excited. I was confident that Eric would shake his head and look at me sideways when I told him about Garvey, and my fascinated speculation about what Damon didn’t even want to tell me he wanted to do. Eric thinks I get too carried away sometimes with my fantasies, that I’m maybe just a little too willing to explore my limits. I have to admit, sometimes he’s not wrong, and I probably count on him more than I should to rein me in.

Damon began unbuttoning his dress shirt, and said,”Speaking of fun with you…”

He took his time undressing. I lay there, still tied down with Garvey’s cum pooled under my ass, waiting to be fucked again. Sort of anxiously waiting. While Garvey had gotten me warmed up, I was far from satisfied.

The Roped Up CEO was tall, six-foot-five at least. I vaguely recalled hearing that he’d played basketball in college, at a good school, and seeing him naked I could believe it. The years as a prosperous businessman had added a few pounds, but he was in surprisingly good shape. And, in addition to a higher percentage of sociopaths for CEOs versus the general population, they also tend to be taller than average.

He didn’t untie me, but he did take the time to remove my ball-gag before climbing on top of me and plunging his cock into my waiting pussy. Once in, he began fucking me hard and fast. His cock was bigger than Garvey’s, and he truly knew how to use it on a girl. He was fucking me like he couldn’t wait to get to the finish line, and I was making loud “uhhh, uhhh” noises of pleasure each time he’d drive into me.

The seeming urgency of his fucking turned out, happily, to be an illusion. After a few minutes of the energetic fucking he was giving me, he was breathing hard, but hadn’t slowed down one iota. While Garvey had barely gotten me off the starting line by the time he came, Damon had managed to get me from zero to sixty in a couple of minutes. I felt the tingling warmth of a building orgasm, and was confident I’d get there this time.

Damon was working up toward his orgasm as well. He’d been holding himself above me, in a push-up pose the whole time, but now he shifted to hold himself up with just one arm. This left his other hand free to play with my tits. He started by just pulling on my nipples, and rolling them between his finger tips. It felt good, but he knew he was just teasing me.

“Pull those nipples,” I moaned. I truly love having my tits pulled when I’m being fucked. He gave them a few decent tugs, but for a guy who was very happy to see me used and abused for his business purposes, he seemed pretty content with just a straight fuck.

He gave them a few good squeezes though, and that was all it took for me. I squealed and made other orgasm-ey sounds as I came, my legs and arms pulling against the ropes. I expected my spasming pussy to push him over the edge, but he just kept thrusting away. He did return to his push-up position, and sped up a little, but it was at least another minute before he quietly growled, and his thrusts got slow and deliberate, each one pumping another jet of cum into my pussy. He let himself collapse onto me and we lay there, each of us coming down from our orgasms.

“Can’t believe how tight your pussy is even after all that stuff Garvey did with those bottles,” he mumbled. His breathing slowed, and for a second I though he was going to fall asleep on top of me, but he only lay there a little longer before suddenly climbing off of me, and out of the bed.

He took the time to untie me before he himself went to wash up. I’d have taken that for a kind gesture from most guys, but for Damon I suspected it was more akin to taking proper care of a valuable horse when returning it to the stables after a good hard ride.

We both got cleaned up and dressed, and he bid me a good night, reminding me to be at the Roped Up booth well before the show floor opened tomorrow morning.

Booth Babe

The trade-show’s exhibition floor didn’t open for another half-hour, but the “Exhibitor”pass that Damon had given me allowed me to get through the door. I walked through the empty aisles, amazed by just how many companies there apparently were that sold rope, and thinking about how quiet it was now, and how bustling it would shortly become. At least, it would if it was anything like the trade shows I’d attended as part of my “day job” at the newspaper.

I made my way over to the surprisingly large Roped Up booth, where I was greeted by Damon and two of his employees. They were setting up things, putting out literature, samples, and various show schwag. I pulled up a chair and watched as they finished their preparations. It was about five minutes before the doors would open and let the attendees pour in when Damon finally turned his attention towards me.

“Alright Tawny, please take off your clothes.”

I’d worn some cute pink shorts, and a sheer tank-top that was easy to get out of, so within seconds I was standing there wearing just my lacy bra, panties, and fuck-me pumps.

Damon looked me up and down, and said, “Very nice. But keep going, please.”

I had assumed I’d be standing around the booth in a bikini, or at a minimum, some revealing lingerie. Heck, maybe even a rope-bra or something. And by “standing around” I meant tied up. But naked?

“Uh, Damon, you can’t have a naked girl in your booth,” I pointed out.

“Au contraire, my dear. Not only can, but will. Since this trade-show is by paid-admittance only, the laws on this island do not consider you to be ‘in public’, so full nudity is perfectly fine. They only draw the line at actual sexual acts. So no blowjobs, penetration, or even touching.” He made a show of shaking his head sadly, then grinned and added, “At least on the show floor, that is.”

Well, this was going to make my time as a booth-babe more interesting! I felt myself flush. Not out of embarrassment, but with excitement. Getting to indulge my strong streak of exhibitionism by being naked at an event like this was the kind of thing I fantasized about. Eric had told me there would be more than one surprise that I’d enjoy on this trip. This was definitely one of them.

I had just stripped out of my underwear and shoes, when a few more booth personnel arrived. They included an actual fully dressed woman, and fairly large individual called, I kid you not, “Knuckles”, and whose job it was to make sure that the no-touching rule was respected. And more importantly, that no photos were taken of me. I was very glad that Damon was taking that last one so seriously. Being so far from home satisfied my concerns about being recognized by any of the attendees, but photos… well, photos were another story in today’s global social-media world.

❖ ❖ ❖

Damon led me over the the big wooden frame that was obviously meant for me. It stood in the front of the booth, right on the aisle. Big and square, about seven feet on each side, it was painted a bright red, and was deep enough to be stable and not be at risk of tipping forwards or backwards. It had to have been made here, I thought. Shipping something like that, even broken down, would have been crazy expensive.

Near each of the inside corners was a big, sturdy looking metal eye-bolt. Attached to each of these eye-bolts were lengths of bright blue, slick-looking rope with wide nylon cuffs at their ends.

I stepped into it, and Damon and the other guys wasted no time in securing the cuffs around my wrists and ankles. They drew the ankle ropes tight, not stopping until my legs were spread wide. Not uncomfortable, but just barely. Then they pulled the ropes attached to my wrists taut, then pulled a little more and actually took some of my weight off my feet. I wasn’t suspended by my arms, by any means, but I was certainly pulled up a little. The wide cuffs were comfortable, and ensured that there was no undue pressure on any nerves in my wrist — always something to be aware of with bondage, especially any that supports some of your weight.

I saw some of the exhibit hall staff making their way towards the doors, preparing to let in the waiting throngs, and I thought it was nice that Damon had waited until the last minute to tie me up.

Damon took a little “No Touching” sign, set it on the frame between my legs, and then he picked up the ball gag from the table next to me. I opened my mouth obligingly to let him insert it. He buckled it loosely, since it was basically just for show — I didn’t expect to be moaning and yelling into it here on the show floor.

Just as he finished securing my ball-gag, they opened the doors, and I saw that my estimate of “throngs” might have been a bit optimistic for the Biennial Rope & Cable Manufacturer’s Trade Show. Still, there was a reasonably steady flow of people coming in, so maybe my expectations had been warped by Comic-Con, and this was what a normal conference exhibit hall looked like when the doors opened.

❖ ❖ ❖

It wasn’t long at all until I had my first admirers. It was really strange at first, being naked in what was, despite the legal classification, public. The exhibitionist in me was loving it. I’d been naked in front of a lot of strangers at a lot of my parties, but this was new. For one, a lot of people were seeing me naked. In the first fifteen minutes there were more guys looking at me than had been at any single party before. It was also weird just basically being a passive decorative add-on to the Roped Up booth, versus the focus of a party.

I guess the word spread that the Roped Up booth had a naked girl in it, because we always had more people at our booth than any of the surrounding ones, at least that I could see.

I’d had guys stare at me and examine me at my parties, but nothing like this. You’d think these dudes had never seen a naked girl before. To be fair, even at strip clubs they probably didn’t have the opportunity to just look at a girl who was not just naked and there to be stared at, but who was utterly immobile as well.

Some of the guys had no problem with telling me what was on their minds.

“I bet you love sucking dick with that pretty little mouth,” a guy with an “Ask me About My Rope” ball-cap told me.

There were two guys who spent a lot of time staring at me from across the aisle, and having some sort of debate. Finally, one of them came over and stood right in front of me, then bent down. He bent over so far that I half-expected him to fall over. Twisting his head, he stared at the underside of my boobs. He was so close that I could feel his warm breath on them, and if I hadn’t been ball-gagged at that point, I probably would have tried to convince him to lick and suck my nipples.

Straightening up, he nudged his buddy, who had joined him, and said, “Huh, ok, they look real to me.”

He took a twenty-dollar bill out of his wallet and gave it to his friend. They walked off, the toupee guy seeming happy despite being twenty dollars poorer.

❖ ❖ ❖

After the first hour, Damon and the only other girl at our booth, she of the fully-covered body, walked over to me.

Damon said to her, “I want to show off more of our rope. Let’s tie up her boobs.”

The girl was a tall, thin brunette, dressed just like the guys all were, in Roped Up polo’s and slacks. According to her badge, her name was Shari, and she looked to be just fine with this new task from Damon.

Trying not to sound excited, she said, “Ok, cool. I think the 550 paracord is perfect for that application. How tight do you want…”

Damon, looking somewhat distracted, waved off her question before it even finished. Before she could try and ask him again, he headed off to deal with some other booth situation.

“Ok, I guess I’ll figure that out on my own,” she said to his retreating back.

She looked at my boobs with a critical eye.

“Wow, you are a titsy bitch, aren’t you?” she muttered. “These will tie up nice.”

She selected a length of bright green paracord from the table. Holding one end against the side of my boob, she made an initial tight wrap around the base. The paracord, being much smaller in diameter than the ropes I was used to being tied up with, dug into my boob, and I made a little “ummm” noise into the ball gag.

“Oh, come on,” she said, “that’s not even tight yet.”

She made two more turns around my boob. She drew each one a little tighter than the one before, the paracord having enough friction against itself that each wrap stayed as tight as she was pulling them. Once the first boob had a few wraps around it, she drew the rope across to my other boob and gave it the same treatment. With a sharp pair of shears, she cut the extra rope off, leaving herself just enough to do a couple of twists around the taut piece of rope that ran between my boobs, making the rope tidy and securely fastened.

My breasts now formed tight globes, protruding quite dramatically due to my pulled-back arms, which had thrust my chest out a fair amount to begin with. Shari gave each one a squeeze, testing how firm the ropes had made them, and gave a little “hmmm” noise with each painful squeeze.

“Hope that’s how tight Damon wanted them,” she said, giving me a bright smile. She gave my left boob one more squeeze, then went back to handing out Roped Up pens to the masses gathering up booth freebies.

The people that came by the booth now seemed to spend a little more time staring at me than they did before, and more of it was spent staring at my boobs, versus my exposed pussy. I guess most of them had seen a girl’s pussy before, but few of them had seen a girl’s boobs tied up. Tied up in-person, that is. And even if they had, they probably weren’t tied up quite as tightly as Shari had tied mine. I loved it when I could do something slutty and turn them on.

They had just started to go from red to the slightest hint of purple when Damon came by to see how things were going. He knew about the “no purple boobs” rule that we had added due to previous clients getting a little carried away, and he told one of the booth guys to untie them.

The attendees that were watching as my tightly-bound boobies were set free got to hear me moaning loudly into the ball-gag as the blood rushed back into them, something else I bet they’d never seen in person.

❖ ❖ ❖

The color of my boobs had long since returned to normal when Damon came by again.

He said pensively, “I’ve been watching how people look at you. I know you aren’t, like, glaring at them or anything, but I think some of them feel a little awkward that you can look back at them while they look at you. Let’s add a blindfold.”

A moment later Shari came over and handed him a very nice looking, bright red blindfold. He placed it over my eyes, with the elastic band securing it firmly to my head. I could see little slivers of light at the bottom, but that was it.

“Going to have Shari make you shinier, too,” he said quietly.

I had no idea what that meant, but a minute later I jumped as hands touched the tips of my breasts.

“Sorry if this is cold,” Shari said.

Her hands were slick with some sort of light oil, and she spent more time applying it to my nipples than was strictly necessary, before she moved on to cover the rest of my boobs. Then she worked her way up each arm, gently rubbing and caressing me in a way that was more sensual than sexual. She even did my back, despite only my front really being visible. I’m not sure if that was for her, or for me, but I certainly enjoyed it.

My upper body covered, she moved to my legs, working her way up from my ankles, then my butt. She trailed a finger teasingly between my ass cheeks, and I expected her to slip her well-lubricated finger into my asshole, but she just teased around it. I was quietly moaning by the time her fingers traced along my hips, and around to my pubic mound. She took her time applying oil to my pussy lips, and I was sure that we had drawn a pretty good audience, but the blindfold kept me from seeing if that was true or not.

My quiet moans became loader as she slid a couple of her slender fingers into me, and worked them around for a few seconds before withdrawing.

“Sorry, I just couldn’t resist,” she whispered in my ear, “you have such a cute little pussy.”

I moaned again — out of frustration this time — at the sudden loss of her sensual touching and rubbing.

Shari said, “There you go, all shiny.”

My level of excitement faded after a few minutes, but my frustration never did go away completely. Travel always made me extra horny, but after today, I was positively going to pounce on Eric when I got back to our hotel room!

❖ ❖ ❖

Even though I have always liked watching people’s reactions to my body, being blindfolded appealed to my exhibitionistic streak in a different way. Not knowing who was looking at me was hot. I was imagining guys getting so excited that they started wanking their cocks right there in the aisle. Then, they’d overpower Knuckles, and have their way with my bound and helpless body right here on the show floor.

Ok, yeah, I knew that wasn’t going to happen, but it was a fun little fantasy to occupy myself with as I hung there on display. It’s not like I could read a book. Hmm, for tomorrow, I should see if Damon would be ok with me listening to an audiobook on my wireless earbuds…

Some of the guys were less inhibited since I couldn’t see them, and I got some even more explicit remarks, some of which sent shivers of excitement straight to my pussy.

“Bitch, just bought a lot of rope to get to fuck you, so you better be worth it.”

“Coming to your party, and can’t wait to get my hands on those titties.”

“You noisy when you’re getting fucked? Going to make you squeal, bitch.”

❖ ❖ ❖

“Time to take your blindfold off.”

I recognized the voice, it was one of the booth dudes, and I blinked at the sudden light as my blindfold was removed.

He shrugged, and added, “Damon decided that too many people are getting a ‘kidnapped girl’ vibe and are a little put-off. He figures it’s better to just live with some of them being embarrassed because you can see them staring at your cooch.”

I felt a little disappointed at having it off, it had been tantalizing now know who was looking at me, and half-expecting to feel a sudden touch from a guy heedless of Knuckle’s wrath. Or maybe some more soft touches from Shari…

Oh well, at least I could resume my people-watching.

I did try to do more than watch and be watched. When a guy managed to actually bring his gaze all the way up to my face, I’d give him a seductive smile. Damon had me here to entice Damon’s potential customers, so I was trying to do just that. My ball-gag was out at intervals, to give my jaw some relief. When it seemed right, I’d make teasing comments, like “Oh, I wish you could play with my tits,” or, “I hope you come to the party so you can fuck me.”

❖ ❖ ❖

A guy wearing a sport-coat and a tie, which were both so bright you could probably see them from outer-space, was making his way down the aisle, looking at the booths. He got to mine, and — not surprisingly — stopped. I watched him read the sign that stood prominently between my wide-spread legs, and down by my feet. He made a small, disappointed-looking frown, then spent some time looking at me, with extra time spent staring at my bare woo-woo, and my equally-bare boobs.

“Damn, those are some bouncy looking hooters.” He looked over at Damon, and said, “You serious about that ‘no touching’ thing?” He pointed at the sign.

Damon said,”Yeah, sorry. Not here, anyway.” He gave the guy a conspiratorial smile. “It will be a different story at our end-of-the-show party, though.”

With a sudden look of both interest and skepticism, the guy said, “End of the show party? Ok, how does a guy got about getting himself an invite to this party?” He’d been looking at Damon when he started his sentence, but by the end of it he was back to staring at my boobs.

Damon smiled the satisfied smile that fishermen get when the fish is good and hooked. “All of our customers are invited.” He put noticeable emphasis on the word “customers”.

The guy nodded, absorbing this information, and then asked Damon if they made some type of rope whose name sounded more like a super-hero than something you’d tie your boat up with. Damon said they did, and ushered the guy over to the little table-and-chairs that was set up towards the back of the booth, so they could begin their deal-making in earnest. They were far enough away that I couldn’t hear them, which was fine, since I’d already heard more about what separates good polypropylene from bad polypropylene, and how they ensure that rope colors don’t vary from batch to batch than I cared to. Ok, that last one had actually been sort of interesting. Or maybe that was just due to there not being much intellectual stimulation when you are tied up spread-eagle at a trade show.

Once or twice I really did wish I could hear the various conversations, like when the guy would look over at me, or point at me, and say something. Damon would respond with a chuckle and/or grin, and give a response that usually resulted in in the guy nodding happily. Hearing the crude way guys sometimes talk about me is one of my turn-ons. Well, at least it is when I’m in “slut mode” at one of my parties. Or tied up naked in an exhibition-hall. Otherwise it’s just downright creepy.

But in this case, I was tied up naked, and obviously here to tantalize the attendees, so I was sure that he wasn’t asking Damon what my favorite book was, and that was just fine. The only part that wasn’t fine was that damned no-touching rule! Being on display, tied up and naked, made me really horny, and not getting any physical stimulation to go along with it was incredibly frustrating. I guess it’s good I was gagged at this point, because I was past ready to start begging guys to touch me, and I’m not sure what would happen to Damon if he allowed the no-touching rule to be broken.

❖ ❖ ❖

Damon thanked me for a great morning at his booth as he and Shari untied me. He said that booth traffic was several times what it had been in the past. They had also closed more deals just this morning than they had done the entire day during the previous show, something he attributed to guys wanting an invitation to the Roped Up end-of-show party.

I wasted no time in getting dressed and heading out of the exhibit hall. I was anxious for lunch, and for sex, so I texted Eric, “Hey babe, done for the day, and headed to the room. Your wife is horny!”

His reply was an immediate, “What’s new,” with a big, grinning, and somehow lecherous, emoji.

As exciting and as frustrating as my time on display had been, lunch was just going to have to wait…

❖ ❖ ❖

The second day of my time as a booth-babe went a little differently. For starters, instead of being on display in the morning, today would be in the afternoon, for a few hours at the end of the show.

I arrived at the booth, expecting to be tied up back in the frame when Damon told me he had something else for me to do first.

“We’re going to try and drum up even more interest,” he said.

He gave me a skimpy red bikini to put on, and I stripped out of my street clothes and into it in full view of the people walking by the booth.

“Now, your leash,” he said.

He produced a red leather collar, and a long leather leash that matched the bikini, and clasped the collar around my throat.

Shari had a couple of cloth signs that she tied to the bikini top, and just below my boobs, with one hanging over my stomach, and one over my lower back. They both said “See me naked from 4:00 – 6:00 at the Roped Up booth C57.”

Damon, my leash held tightly in his hand, started walking. He didn’t even look back, he just assumed I’d follow subserviently, which I did. We walked through the aisle, me getting all of the attention you’d expect, and then he headed for the exit doors.

“Damon, where are we going?” I asked him, a note of urgency in my voice. I had not expected to be displayed anywhere but the show floor.

“Not everyone finds time to visit the show floor,” he said. “And even the ones that do might not make it by our booth. So I’m casting a wider net.”

He led me up to the floors where the various seminars and talks were being held. There were a surprising number of rooms set up for presentations. How much can you talk about rope? Apparently quite a bit. Damon led me past each room, making sure that the guys leaving and entering got a good look at me and my signs. He was also handing out Roped Up flyers to anybody that would take one.

We didn’t just stick to the halls outside the rooms. If a room had a crowd in it, but the presentation hadn’t started yet, he was shameless about parading me into the room, up the aisles and across the front. With each new group of guys that stared at me and made crude comments, my excitement grew. The bikini bottom was super-shear, and I could see it becoming more see-through as my juices made it damp.

Being led around on a leash was bad enough, but being used to advertise a chance to see me naked made it even more humiliating. This was another new experience for me, and I found myself very turned on by it. Damon thought of it as getting every bit of business advantage he could from my body, but little did he know he was giving me new adventures in exhibitionism, and I was loving every minute of it!

He made sure to have me back, and tied into the frame, well before the promised 4:00 start time.

❖ ❖ ❖

Another difference from the first day was that they didn’t tie my boobs up. I asked Damon about this, and his reply was that they wanted to take it a little easy on me since tonight was going to be the big end-of-show party.

After the first morning, I’d had frenzied, passionate sex with Eric, then been able to sprawl on the bed in our hotel room, reading and watching TV. Tonight would be a very different evening. After a quick break for dinner, I’d be off to the party, and a night of nothing but sex.

And wow, was I looking forward to the party. After two days of being naked and on display, I was beyond excited. I was really counting on all these horny businessmen to provide plenty of nice hard dicks to satisfy what had become almost an ache between my legs as the evening approached. Finally, the show ended, giving me just enough time to change and get myself ready for the party before needing to meet Damon at his room.

Mass Nailing

Me being tied up and naked in the Roped Up booth on the show floor was just the “teasing” part. Tonight was where I got to live up to the promises that Damon and his crew had been making to all their old and new customers about getting to have fun with the booth babe.

The suite was full of horny guys when Damon ushered me in. There must have been a dozen guys, most of them wearing suits that had not been that impressive even before having been stuffed in a suitcase. I recognized a lot of the faces as ones that had stared at me lustfully during my time in the booth. They all looked anxious to get what Damon had promised them, which was the chance to actually have their way with the naked girl they’d been drooling over.

The suite was a large one, with a wet-bar that looked well-stocked with various types of beer, and enough liquor for every guy here to have his own bottle. Shiny pink and gold streamers hung from the ceiling, someone’s idea of gang-bang decor.

I felt a bit underdressed in that crowd. The second I’d stepped across the threshold, Damon had pulled off the voluminous rain-coat he’d had me wearing as we walked through the hotel’s hallways. Underneath I was wearing a lacy, see-through purple bra, and matching panties. Transparent five-inch heels were the only things I had on other than those two skimpy bits of lingerie.

A guy rocking a comb-over exclaimed, “Ho-leee shit. And we really get to fuck her?”

Based on their hungry expressions, he’d asked the question that was on the mind of every guy there.

Damon gave a laugh and made an expansive gesture, throwing his arms wide.

“Of course. Just our little way of saying thanks for giving Roped Up your business,” he said jovially.

“Fuck yeah,” said one of the younger guys there. “Going to give her my business too.” He grabbed his crotch lewdly, in an unnecessary clarification of just what he meant by “business”.

Some of the other guys chimed in.

“I wanna fuck her pretty little mouth.”

“Not me, I’m going for that whore’s pussy.”

“God, look at that rack.”

“Damn, you know what a hooker that looks like her would cost?”

“And we can play rough with those tits?”

Damon looked at the guy who asked that last question, and nodded rapidly, as if to say not just “yes”, but “hell yes”.

“That is some prime snatch.” The guy who said that was, I kid you not, actually starting to sweat a little bit.

As you might expect, the rope industry didn’t exactly attract the young hot-shot business types looking for fast-paced stellar career opportunities. These guys were even more excited than most of my customers to have a shot at a younger, fit, pretty, blonde with great tits and a tight pussy.

So, of course, they started off by ignoring my pussy.

“Kneel down, bitch.”

The guy giving me that order wasn’t one of the Roped Up staff, but he looked like the type who was used to telling people what to do, probably from the behind an excessively-large desk.

I knelt, and he confirmed the stereotype of the middle-manager who spent more time at his desk than at the gym by dropping his pants and exposing an impressive beer-belly. That was somewhat compensated for by the cock below it, which was equally impressive. It was semi-hard as he stuck it in my face, and said, “Get that mouth to work, sweet-cheeks.”

I guided it in and began gently licking and sucking, working the shaft a little with my right hand while my left stroked his balls. It didn’t take much before he was fully hard, and I went from working his shaft to using that hand to give him plenty of sensation without him needing to go too deep. I was sure I’d have dicks poking at the back of my throat soon enough. But with the number of guys that were here, I was at least trying to start a little easy. My goal was to be in control and give them good blowjobs, rather than just have my face fucked, since I could use my hands to control things a bit. At least, so far I could anyway.

I’d been sucking him for a minute or two when a younger guy stepped up next to me, his own hard cock pointed at my face, and said, “Hey, let the rest of us get some of that too.”

Beer-belly said, “I’m not done with her.” He sounded a little surprised and a little offended that this guy was questioning him using me like I was his personal slut.

“Yeah George, our dicks need some attention too.” This guy sounded like he was a friend of the guy I was currently sucking, so he wasn’t actually mad or anything.

Damon said, “Now boys, share your toy,” in a humorously-chiding tone.

George made an exasperated noise of agreement, and I turned my attentions to the new cock. This guy was already nice and hard, and he seemed happy enough to let me decide how fast and how deep to take his cock in my mouth. I gave the head a lot of attention with my tongue, and got some very satisfying groans of pleasure for my efforts.

I felt a hand on my back, and fingers fumbled at my bra-strap. The guy finally got the hooks undone, and as the bra fell away from my breasts, he pulled it around and it vanished into the crowd, now someone’s souvenir no doubt. Sigh, I liked this lingerie set, but it was far from the first one I’d lost this way. Oh well, one of the costs of my little hobby.

Since his cock was being neglected, George was free to reach down and fondle one of my now-bare boobs. “God, check out these tits,” he said, squeezing it. Another hand, probably belonging to the guy who’d removed my bra, reached from behind and cupped the other one, then started playing with the nipple. Tits being played with, and a hard cock in my mouth, combine to make Tawny a very happy girl.

A third guy had edged his way between George and the second guy, and so now I was rotating between three hard cocks. I tried to spend enough time on each of them to make sure they stayed hard, and that all of them got more than a couple licks before I had to move on. The two whose cocks were momentarily not getting any attention could and did stroke themselves to stay hard, and they also were able to lean down and play with my tits. Since most guys seem to be able to get hard just by having some nice firm boobs to rub and pull on, I wasn’t too concerned about them failing to stay hard until it was their turn again.

Even though George had started earliest, it was the second guy who came first. I was playing with his balls, and felt them tighten. Moments later he erupted in my mouth, the warm fluid filling it. I quickly swallowed so I could keep licking him as he finished up. He pulled out and walked off, looking for his pants as some of the other guys who were “in line” asked him how I was. I couldn’t hear his mumbled answer, but from the grins that broke out on the other guy’s faces, I guess I got five stars.

Now that I was temporarily down to just two guys, I stayed on George’s cock a little longer than I had been able to before, making sure to give him enough attention for him to finish. Not that he was old, but he was at that age where it takes some guys longer to get where they are going, if you know what I mean, and I pride myself on being a really good slut.

A minute or two of — if I do say so myself — expert ministrations from my mouth and tongue, did the trick as I’d thought it would. George gave out a long, low, moan, and came, pulling out and spraying cum on my tits. The other guy, who had been patiently waiting while I focused on George had been amusing himself with one of my nipples. He pulled his hand back fast when he saw George abruptly pull out of my mouth, exclaiming, “Dude.”

George didn’t seem to notice, as he concentrated on trying to make sure that both of my tits got equal coverage, aiming his cock and stroking it at the same time, then using the head to smear the sticky juice around each nipple once his final spurts were all done.

“Well, I guess I’m done playing with her tits,” the other guy mumbled as George turned away, happy with how he’d decorated my boobs.

I said, “Why don’t you pull my hair if you need to keep your hands busy,” and I drew his cock back into my mouth, running my tongue around and around its head. He took the suggestion, and gathered up a handful of my long blonde hair and used it to pull me down onto his cock. He fucked my mouth with long, deep strokes, controlling the speed and depth by the grip he had on my hair. I love having my hair pulled while I’m sucking cock, the pain and control making me feel like such a slut.

A couple more guys joined us, he let go of my hair, and let me resume my active servicing of several cocks. Do I enjoy being tied down and just… used? Obviously I do. But I also enjoy it when I get to play a more active role in my gang bangs. I love having an array of hard cocks waiting for me to lick and suck them. Being in control of a guy’s pleasure, knowing that it’s my skill with hands, lips, and tongue that is driving them crazy is a huge turn-on for me.

I brought another couple of guys to orgasm, and they were replaced by fresh, hard cocks, as the guys got into the flow of our little oral gang bang. George had been the outlier, as most of them preferred coming in me, not on me.

The routine became me opening my mouth wide, tongue protruding. The next guy would wank his cock as he came, aiming his jets, trickles, or dribbles of cum onto my tongue and into my mouth — if he had a good aim. A fair amount still wound up on my face and tits though. Once his balls were drained, I’d close my mouth, swallow, and then open my mouth and stick my tongue out again, showing him that his deposit had indeed joined the growing amount of jizz in my stomach.

I lost track of how many guys I’d sucked off, and I’ll admit my knees were starting to get a little sore. The carpet was thick, but still. Damon had been paying attention, and while he didn’t know — or probably care — how my knees felt, I think he could tell that my blowjobs were becoming a little less enthusiastic as my jaw got tired also. Damon did care about his customers having the best experience possible.

He said, “Gentlemen, I think we should give her talented lips a rest, eh? Let’s set something else up while Tawny here takes a brief break.”

After a quick visit to the bathroom to tidy up a bit — the cum on my breasts was going to make most of the guys reluctant to play with them, and I wanted them played with. Fresh and clean, I drank some water and returned to the waiting crowd.

❖ ❖ ❖

The next plan was to put me up on a barstool. It was the style that had a small back, and a padded leather seat. I looked a little more closely. Probably vinyl. They draped my arms over the back, and then they tied my wrists together. Damon ran another rope down to one of the stool’s cross-braces, and pulled it taut before tying it there. They scooted my ass forward enough to have my pussy just over the edge of the stool, and stuffed a pillow behind me to make sure I didn’t scoot backwards on the seat.

A guy sat down in each of the adjacent barstools, which I thought was odd. They wanted a good view of me being fucked? Another two guys bent down, grabbed my legs by the ankles, and lifted them up straight in front of me.

One of them looked at the other, and with a laugh, said, “Let’s spread this bitch.”

They moved away from each other, opening my legs and slowly walking them towards the two guys sitting next to me, whose purpose was now obvious. Their barstools were even with mine, but they looked ready to scoot them forward when my legs hit their limits.

As they spread my legs further and further, the guy holding my left leg looked surprised, and said, “Shit, how flexible is she?”

I’ve seen girls who can do complete one-hundred and eighty degree splits. I do a ton of yoga, but I’m no Olympic gymnast. Still, the guys got my legs pretty close before the resistance they felt, and me squealing into the ball-gag, told them it was as far as they could go. One-hundred and sixty degrees maybe? I was proud I could go that far, and the guys seemed plenty impressed.

“Damn,” exclaimed the guy who had looked surprised earlier. “Look at her pussy spread out like that.”

The guys sitting next to me took each leg from the guys who had lifted and spread them. They held my feet in their laps, keeping me pulled wide apart in that cheerleader-split. They hadn’t even needed to move the stools, just slide themselves forward a bit. One of the guys unzipped his pants, letting his hard cock spring free.

He began rubbing it against my bare foot, the expression on his face one of pure pleasure. I’d never had a guy come on my feet before, but I had a feeling that might change tonight. But hey, who am I to judge? Feet didn’t do much for me personally, but plenty of people found them sexy. As kinks go, compared to some of the stuff I’ve done, and had done to me, it seemed sort of wholesome.

Having painful stuff done to my feet, like the caning, zapping, or even poking with semi-pointy sticks that I’ve seen in some porn is a hard no from me. But being rubbed with a cock was fine. I was glad I’d just had them manicured, with perfectly applied, shiny candy-apple-red nail-polish.

A short guy with a very nice-looking and very hard cock stepped between my wide-spread legs. He rubbed the head of his cock up and down my slit.

“You ready for some dick, bitch?”

I nodded, and in a low, sexy voice said, “Stick it in and find out.”

He smiled and looked at the guys holding my legs open as he said, “God, I love it when they know what their pussy is for.”

I didn’t see their response, because with one smooth thrust, he buried the length of his cock in me, causing me to gasp in pleasure and throw my head back. Being spread like this had made me wet and ready. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the feeling of him stroking away in my pussy. The guy rubbing his dick against my foot sped up a little.

You don’t need to be six-foot and built like a wrestler to give a girl a great fuck, and this guy was sure proving that fact. He wasn’t huge in any sense, but a guy with an “average” cock can get me going if he knows what he’s doing, and this guy did. If the rest of these dudes could fuck half as well as him, I was in for a great night.

Sooner than I would have liked, he growled, “Take it, bitch”.

He slammed against me with a few final strokes as he came. I moaned as he pulled out, giving me a smile that said, “Yeah, I did just screw you good.”

As he turned away, the guy rubbing his dick on my foot mumbled, “Oh, fuck,” and covered the top of my left foot with warm sticky cum. He wiped what was still trickling out of his cock onto the bottom of my toes, apparently trying to get as much as he could between them. Well, I thought, this was new. Guys have made themselves happy by coming on my face, my boobs, in my hair, and on my ass, so why not my feet? It felt weird, but I have to admit, it turned me on a little as well. I was used to guys getting excited by my boobs, or my ass, but it was kind of sexy to have another part of my body appreciated in that way.

“Dude, you should have waited for her beaver,” said the next guy who was planning to fuck me, as he took careful aim at my soft, wet hole.

The foot-aficionado shrugged, and said, “Pussy is easy to come by, but look at these beautiful feet.” He ran his hand up and down my taught calf, a contented smile on his face as his now-satisfied cock grew soft.

“To each his own, man,” the guy in front of me replied. He slid his cock in easily, and started to slowly fuck me. “She does have great legs, but her pussy feels like silk.”

I moaned as his slow, steady strokes just served to tease me, getting me excited and making me crave some hard, fast thrusts. He was in no hurry though, and kept up the slow almost sensual rhythm he’d stared out with.

He kept this up for what felt like a long time, long enough that it was all I could do to keep myself from begging him to cut loose and fuck me. If my arms hadn’t been tied behind my back, I wouldn’t have been able to resist grabbing his ass and pulling him into me hard. I started quietly whining. I thought it was low enough that he couldn’t hear it, but I was wrong.

“Yeah, you want it hard, don’t you, slut?” He said, with a small self-satisfied grin. “But I like it soft and slow. I like taking my time.”

The guy who was next in line heard him, and said exasperatedly, “Damn it, just plow the bitch, ok? My dick’s about to burst.”

“Yeah,” said one of the other guys waiting for his turn with me. “C’mon man, there’s a lot of us want a turn at her honeypot.”

Slow-fucker just flipped them off, although I thought maybe he sped up just a little. He wasn’t much affected by peer-pressure, or my frustrated whining, because it was a couple more minutes of him sliding in and out of my pussy at that same slow pace before he finally gave a quiet groan, and pressed into me as he came.

“Finally, dude,” exclaimed the guy who was next in line.

I don’t know if he was just enjoying the feeling, or being a jerk, but he stayed pressed into me long enough that the guy actually grabbed his shoulder, saying “What the fuck are you waiting for? Pull your dick out of her, you’re done.”

For a second, I thought things might get physical, and I was glad that Damon and another of his employees looked ready to step in and calm things down. But between one guy being in post-orgasm relaxed mode, and one guy being horny and anxious to stick his dick in me, things didn’t escalate. The first guy just pulled out and shuffled away, and the second guy wasted no time in slamming his cock into my wide-spread pussy.

To my great satisfaction, this guy was ready to get to it, and he did. Taking a firm grip on my narrow waist, he began slamming into me with fast, hard strokes. I’m no size-queen, and I know I said that a large penis isn’t necessary, but when a girl is already excited, wet, and has been teased, being stretched even a little bit more is nice. The new guy’s cock wasn’t huge, but it had more girth than its predecessor, and that combined with how he was forcefully plunging into me felt really good.

After all that slow teasing, I was primed and ready, and in a surprisingly short time, I felt an orgasm approaching. It was only a couple strokes from the point I knew it was on its way until it arrived. And arrive it did.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” I yelled. The guys holding my legs tightened their grips as my legs tensed up and tried to come together. My upper body — the only part I could really move — twisted back and forth as my head thrashed around. “Fuuucckkkkk. Fuuuckkk. Fuucck. Fuck.”

The guy fucking me had been going fast and hard enough that I knew he was close, and I think my spasming pussy pushed him over the edge. He joined me with his own chant of “Fuck, fuck, fuck” as his thrusts took on the jerky rhythm of a prick emptying its load of cum into a soft, warm pussy.

After he stopped moving, he stayed in me. Not nearly as long as the earlier guy had, but long enough for us both to come back from our respective orgasmic journeys before he slowly slid out.

“Damn, that was good,” he said to me. “Makes me sad you aren’t local talent from back home…” he was shaking his head regretfully as he walked away.

I noticed more Roped Up customers and potential customers were arriving, most of them obviously coming from one of the area’s numerous bars. They seemed like they were trying very hard to live up to the stereotypes about businessmen attending an out-of-town convention. That is, putting as much alcohol on their expense accounts as humanly possible, and taking full advantage of their wives being far, far away by getting some strange pussy.

So far at least, none of them were too drunk to perform. The line waiting to fuck me always consisted of at least several guys, stroking their cocks to keep them hard and ready.

A few more guys fucked me, my exposed pussy being filled time and again by jets of cum, although maybe half of them pulled out before they finished — no doubt wanting to prolong their fun. The guys holding my legs up and spread rotated, with me getting a welcome reduction in how far they were spread as the new guard took their places on the bar stools that flanked me.

It probably goes without saying, since I obviously do all this because I enjoy it, but being fucked by a seemingly endless line of hard cocks like this was pure bliss.

❖ ❖ ❖

The guy who’d asked about playing rough with my tits was next in line. Instead of just getting right to screwing me, he turned to the guys who were behind him in line and made an announcement.

“Hey, what do you say we tie up her knockers?”

The response was, not surprisingly, positive. A few guys said “yeah”, a couple said “do it”, and one excited “whoo whoo whoo”.

I can’t count the number of times I’ve had guys tie my boobs up with rope, wire, and even those nylon wire-tie things. Those have usually been tied with a single loop right at the base of my breast, making my tits taut and round, and the nipples even more sensitive than usual.

This guy had something different in mind. He started by taking a long length of fairly narrow rope — paracord, again — and making a few medium-tight turns around my boob, right at the base. In the booth, Shari had stopped there, although she had tied those wraps of rope much tighter. This guy didn’t stop. He continued to wrap turn after turn of rope around my breast, working his way outwards towards the nipple. The pressure in the part of my boob that wasn’t yet wrapped in rope increased with each new turn. When he finally stopped, maybe a third of my breast was left visible, and the pressure I felt had increased by a huge amount compared to how it had felt with just that first loop or two.

He finished up with both breasts narrowed and sticking straight out from my chest, with the last portion very tightly mushroomed at the point where the cylinder of rope he’d made ended. My nipples were as hard as they’d ever been, pointing out from the taut aureoles that surrounded them.

He tested his handiwork by grabbing the swollen ends of each one and squeezing them. I did my best to hold in a scream at the sudden rise in pressure as the flesh he was squeezing barely indented under his fingers, so compressed was it by all that rope. He flicked one of the nipples, and I did scream then, the spike of pain surprising me.

I guess that tying up my boobs — and playing with them a little once he had — was a lot of the fun for him, because only he fucked me for a minute or so, then pulled out and let the next guy in line have a turn.

Now, not only were my legs held wide open and my arms tied behind me, but my boobs were bound as well. This really added to the feeling of being a helpless sex toy for this group of strangers, which was a feeling I loved.

The very taut, very swollen ends of my breasts were incredibly sensitive, and the guys fucking me knew it. Even light touches of their fingers on my nipples made me moan into the ball-gag. I was getting lost in the sensations, and wasn’t even trying to keep track of how many guys were fucking me.

Most of the guys were content to just enjoy how it felt to touch and rub such taut, mushroomed globes, and the hard nipples that protruded from them, and used just their fingertips. But the guy who’d tied them up must have been through the line two or three more times. Each time, he’d fuck me for a just a minute or so while he played quite roughly with my obscenely bulging tits and their tender nipples, then he’d pull out before he got to the point of no return.

I had just had my second orgasm since my breasts had been tied up like that. The line of guys was actually giving me a minute to recover, when I saw Damon in a somewhat animated conversation with the guy who’d tied up my boobs. Like at the booth, apparently Damon was being scrupulous about not letting my boobs turn colors when tied up. I came in at the point where Damon was saying “If you don’t I will”.

With a resigned look on his face, the guy came over and started unwrapping them. He was none too gentle about it though, and I squealed a few times during the process. I was sort of disappointed, because even though they had been starting to look a little purple, both I and the guys were enjoying the way they’d been tied up.

Of course, the guy who’d tied them up wasn’t the only one at the party who was a fan of abusing my boobs. Several other guys pulled, squeezed, or even slapped my tits as they fucked me, their comments making it clear this was something they did not get to do back home with wifey.

I was so turned on by this treatment, I began to encourage them like the horny slut I was.

“Oh, god, yes. Fuck me! Fuck me harder!”

That pushed the guy who was currently fucking me over the edge, and I felt him begin to come.

“Yes, pump that cum into me. Ohh, that’s it — fill up my pussy,” I yelled.

He did, giving a little groan with each slow thrust as he emptied his balls in me. He pulled out, and was quickly replaced by the next guy in line.

“You like these titties? You like being mean to them? I love it when you’re mean to them,” I moaned.

By this point, it was almost an out-of-body experience, endless cocks pounding me, so turned on that I was in that place where anything they did to my tits translated directly into streaks of painful pleasure.

I couldn’t actually feel their cum as it jetted deep into me, despite that being a common assumption, and one that a lot of porn promotes. But once it ran back out I could certainly feel it as it trickled over that little stretch of skin between my pussy and asshole, and then down the crack of my butt cheeks. Every time I moved at all on that vinyl seat, I was reminded how much of it was pooling under me. If their goal was to see a girl glued to a barstool by their dried semen, they were well on their way.

Not that it was getting much chance to dry, since at regular intervals it was supplemented by a fresh load. Now that it was getting to be the end of the night, the guys who had fucked me earlier without coming, were all lined up to finish in me now.

If that sounds like a complaint, it definitely is not. When most guys are getting close to their orgasms, their thrusts become really serious. Don’t get me wrong, the fucking that leads up to that point is great, but that last flurry of excited thrusts just before they come is one of my absolute favorite feelings.

So having most of the guys who were fucking me at this point just going at it hard, focused on their goal of coming was amazing. And, of course, so was the overwhelming pain and pleasure from their casual abuse of my tits, which were still sensitive from being tied up.

I leaned back on the stool as far as I could — head thrown back and eyes closed, surfing the waves of sensation that emanated from my pussy and tits. I had yet another orgasm, and had to ride out the intense sensitivity it caused, as the cock pounding away in me didn’t even change pace as I writhed on it, moaning. The guy came, and I waited to feel the next cock slide into me, but my pussy remained empty. I opened my eyes, and saw that, finally, everyone at the party who wanted to fuck me had apparently done so.

Breakfast

“…and oh my god, when the last guy was fucking me and I had my orgasm, I almost couldn’t stand it. He just kept going.”

I believed that. When Tawny has an orgasm, as soon as it’s over, she becomes super-sensitive. If I’m doing her with fingers or orally, that’s the point where I stop all together. If I’m fucking her, I try to stop moving to give her a little time to come down. She’ll still be sensitive when I start up again, but once it has had the chance to fade a little, she tells me she loves the intense sensations, even though they verge on being painful.

The trade-show was over, and Tawny and I were alone, sitting at a table on the water’s edge, and waiting for brunch to arrive. Happily, the Mimosas had already shown up. We were still at the hotel that had hosted the convention. It was one of the top hotels on the island, it was right on the beach, and all of the convention attendees had left, so we had no need to change hotels.

She had been so wiped out last night that I’d gotten just the barest outline of what had gone on at the party, so this morning I was getting all the details.

I said, “So, sounds like you outlasted the room.”

She smiled demurely, looked me in the eye and said, “It’s just possible that your wife is an incredible slut.”

She held my eye for a few moments, then turned to look out at the white sand beach that led into the impossibly-blue ocean. “Wow, it’s beautiful here. I wish we could stay longer like we’d planned.”

“Yeah, me too, dear, me too.” An all-hands-on-deck situation at work had come up, and it was serious enough that we had to scuttle our vacation plans. Instead of another week here, we were flying out tomorrow morning at o-dark-thirty. “I know we are overdue for a real vacation. I promise, as soon as things slow down at work, it’s just you, me, a beach, and a lot of day-drinking.”

She nodded, still staring out at the ocean, and said, “I know.” She sighed. “Let’s come back here, shall we? This island is truly beautiful, and I’d love to see more of it. All I’ve really seen is hotel suites, the exhibit hall, and lots of guys making their O faces. Not,” she added with a grin, “that I don’t enjoy being the cause of them.”

“So Damon was pretty pleased then?” Even though he enjoyed getting to fuck her himself, I knew that what really mattered to him was his business.

“Oh, yeah,” she said. “He was thrilled with how it all went.”

“Did he fuck you again last night?” I knew he’d availed himself of her charms on that first night at least.

“No, although at the end there he did take a turn at holding my legs spread open. I didn’t even notice until I looked over and saw that he was one of the guys gently lowering my legs to the floor. And believe me, I was glad they were being so careful, because at that point I didn’t have an ounce of energy left to hold them up. After they untied my arms, they almost had to carry me over to one of the sofas. They even helped me get dressed. Or at least dressed enough to make it through the halls and back to our room.”

Indeed, Tawny had been moving pretty slowly when she got back to our suite. As you can imagine, last night was one of the rare occasions that we didn’t have sex after one of her parties. She’d showered, slid into bed, and was sound asleep seconds after kissing me goodnight.

I was happy to hear that he’d taken good care of her after the party. That made two things I appreciated him doing. The other was him sending her off without her boobs still tied.

Now, him leaving her boobs tied like that wasn’t intended for me, of course. Damon didn’t know that her husband was with her here on the island. For that matter, he didn’t even know she had a husband. He’d just told her he enjoyed the thought of her making her way through the corridors and up the elevator tied like that. Ok, so maybe he wasn’t all business.

Regardless of his motives, the end result was that I got to see just how they’d tied her boobs up. Usually I only got to hear about things like that, and not see them. Occasions like our Customer Appreciation party that I attended incognito were the rare exception. So getting to see and touch her bound boobs, and knowing that some other guy had tied them like that, was a rare treat for me.

I realized I was staring at her boobs under the thin blouse she was wearing as I daydreamed.

“Are you staring at my boobs, sir?” she asked teasingly.

I grinned, and said, “Busted. No pun intended.”

“You didn’t get any last night, and you’re hoping tonight will be a different story, aren’t you?”

I nodded, and said, “Indeed I am. But only if you aren’t too sore – I know how busy you were last night, babe.”

Her face brightened, and in a voice full of promise, she said, “Well, I don’t think I can wait that long. Don’t eat too much brunch.”

She licked her lips and added, “I’ve got plans for you once we get back to our room.”

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