\As this story begins, I am on a wrestling mat, dressed in a short rainbow sundress, fighting to keep two guys from taming me. The King awaits at the side of the room, watching with high interest as I struggle. If the two men tame me, they will carry me into the King's private bedroom where they will bind me to the four corners of a 4-poster bed. The two men will be dismissed, and the King will amuse himself by taking shameless advantage of my helplessness.
It sounds like a fantasy, and in a way it is, but The King is a super-wealthy young entrepreneur. One of the two men taming me is Tony, the property manager at the oceanfront estate where The King likes to play. The other man is my husband, Ken, and I'm Allie, in serious danger of being royally fucked within the next half hour.
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In a way, the fantasy sounds worse than it is. It sounds as though my husband is a passive cuck preparing his wife for another man's pleasure, but that conclusion would badly underestimate the King's imagination. In today's fantasy it's true that Ken is not alpha wolf. But the King enjoys fantasies in which my husband does play Alpha. Sometimes Tony plays Alpha. And in some fantasies, I rule. (Tony is a former Atlanta Falcon linebacker. I think of him as a charming, intelligent hunk. Like us, he was carefully selected by the King.)
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We flew into Boston this morning on the King's private jet, traveling from our small-town apartment, 40 miles from Chicago. Tony picked us up in the midnight-blue limo, and we headed for the Maine coast. For as long as the King remains amused with us, we will receive $2,000 per day for the days spent in his castle, usually three-day weekends. We are also receiving a direct-deposit stipend of $10,000 per month for each month that includes at least two castle trips. My husband Ken is 28, I'm 27; we're waiting to start a family until we can afford our goal house. You can see why this sounded like an interesting gig when it was presented to us. But, now let's spend a moment on the darker side:
We are not proud of the fact that you can reasonably call us private porn stars in one man's ongoing pursuit of sexual pleasure. And we do not claim that we have been evilly corrupted by that man. The King has vast resources. We had been carefully researched. The King knew that we had dabbled in the swinger lifestyle. He knew enough about our personal sexual preferences to know that we would be open to his fantasy interests. He had analyzed our personality and temperament traits and correctly concluded that we would like him personally. The King is one-of- a-kind -- incredibly bright and well-read, an averagely handsome guy, but he exudes strength somehow. He's clean-cut, a little nerdy-looking when he wears his glasses but he usually doesn't. He is 6'1", lean and toned because of a rigidly followed exercise regimen. Ironically, he is painfully shy around women, the reason for the elaborate plan that we are part of. And, quite literally, the King speaks softly but carries a big stick.
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The wrestling mat is part of a huge room on the lower level of the estate's main house (aka 'the castle'). The adjoining King's Bedroom is one of several lower-level rooms. Of course, my chances of avoiding being tamed on that mat were zero, and as you probably guessed, 'tamed' meant being so thoroughly turned on that when the King was ready to have his way with me, he would be welcomed with open arms -- or in today's case, with open legs. I was barefoot, braless, and wearing tiny light blue string-bikini panties that are the King's preference when I'm wearing panties at all. The two guys had wrestled me to the mat, on my back. Ken was holding my arms over my head while Tony yanked my dress up to my waist, then he began caressing and massaging my feet, then my ankles and calves, and then my upper and inner thighs.
"Spread your legs, now," rumbled Tony, a big guy with a deep voice.
I squirmed and twisted, trying to loosen Ken's hold on my wrists. "No, I won't...."
"Then I'll spread 'em for you," Tony growled. And I felt huge hands covering my inner thighs, pushing my legs apart. When I was spread, practically spread-eagled, he said, "Here's a little something for being a pain in the ass." I felt fingers push the crotch of my panties aside then plunge into me. He give me several deep strokes while I twisted and turned, but my protests were turning into moans. I could actually hear that I was soaking wet as he deep fingered me.
"Time for the dress to be gone?" asked Ken.
"It's time. She won't be needing it."
I struggled as hard as I could, but could do nothing about my sundress sliding up, over my breasts, my head and my arms. My own husband said, "Hey, great boobs," as he cupped my breasts and finger-teased my nipples. He had released my wrists, but I left my arms above my head while twisting forlornly to avoid his hands. Ken said, "Take her panties," while he continued to tease nipples that were rock hard and radiating.
I felt Tony's hands on my panties. I twisted and turned my hips as if somehow I could prevent being stripped to totally naked, but he easily pulled my panties over my hips and down my legs. I watched Tony, apprehensively, as he spread me again and took up his position on his knees, between my legs.
I knew what was coming next because I knew the way Ken and Tony worked as a team. Ken can do absolute magic with breast touching, a blend of hands, fingers, mouth and tongue that can make me cum without him touching anything below my waist. And Tony had apparently been issued a roadmap to every part of me that 'makes me moist' as the old line goes. We're taking clit teasing and ass teasing and spots on both inner thighs that no one had discovered before him. His hands are magic. His mouth and tongue are magic. And when he gets to my g-spot, it's over. No one had ever touched me like Tony touches me.
So they went to work on my breasts and between my legs, a two-man army determined to defeat me completely. I tried to keep my body from reacting, but it was hopeless. I begged them for mercy, "Please stop, please don't do this to me..." But they gave me no mercy. Then, as if by signal, Ken's mouth went to my breasts with new intensity, mouth sucking, tongue swirling on my nipples. Tony's tongue was flicking my clit, then it was in me, as if fucking me, deeper than seemed possible. My back arched as I whispered, "Oh no, no, I can't stop it... I can't stop you..." I strained upward to push my breasts deeper into Ken's hands, and I raised my hips to meet Tony's invading tongue. My first orgasm ripped through my whole body while I screamed from deep in my throat. As the waves subsided, I slumped backward onto the mat, breathing in short gasps. But they gave me no chance to recover, Ken's hands again owned my breasts, Tony lifted my hips over his knees, onto his thighs, deep-fingering me then zeroing in on my g-spot. I lost it again, moaning and screaming through waves of an orgasm that seemed to go on forever. I struggled to close my legs and push Tony's hand away, "Please stop for a minute, please let me rest." He smiled, "Sorry babe, no rest for the wicked." And he spread me wider and tortured me deeper, then he made and held gentle contact with my G. I was totally gone, screaming while my hips bucked and I continued to strain toward their touch. As the orgasms rippled through me, I heard myself begging, "More, please, more. Oh, God, I love this." And finally, I was allowed to fall back on the mat where I gasped and moaned, thighs quivering, still lost in waves of raw pleasure.
The King stood and walked toward us. Ken and Tony had arrayed me for his review -- arms above my head, breasts glistening with sweat, legs spread wide, pussy juice glistening in the light. The King said, "Bring her to me."
They picked me up and carried me to the bedroom. The ties were ready. They put me on my back in the middle of the bed. Ken secured the wrist straps. Tony secured my ankles. While they stood at the foot of the bed to admire their work. I was still struggling to get myself back together physically and emotionally, eyes closed, breathing still ragged.
