Ibis, Leviathan Laroche [top android ebook reader TXT] 📗

audience member to pick up a card beneath their seat. The person obliged and raised it in the air for everyone to see. The crowd clapped at the #3 displayed.

It had some cryptic meaning known to everyone but us it seemed.

"Are you a good wife?" asked Cat.

Cyan nodded right away. "Yes!"

"Yes, ma'am." corrected Cat.

Cyan gave her a brief but incredulous look.

"When your husband walks through the door at night and it appears he's had a lousy day, what do you say?"

Cyan threw up her hands and said, "How was your day?"

"Then what?" asked Cat.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Cyan quickly replied.

"You say, 'I'm sorry to hear that, honey. How can I make it better?'"

Cyan smiled and looked my direction.

"I'm sorry to hear that, honey. How can I make it better?"

The audience chuckled in anticipation.

"Well," said Cat. "You can start by getting on your knees."

Cyan let out a laugh and covered her mouth.

"Get on your knees!" Cat said impatiently.

Cyan turned to speak and received a full -on slap across her left cheek.

The audience was stunned.

My wife had just been slapped hard across the face by a woman she did not know.

Instinctively she lowered herself to her knees and stared straight ahead. The audience warmed up to her response with a small applause.

Cat stepped in front of her and ordered her to look up and make eye contact. Cyan continued to stare at the woman's naval ring before slowly lifting her head.

There was a burning sense of eroticism in the air and I had no idea what was going to happen next.

Quietly, a burly-looking man appeared from the wings and handed Cat a collar and leash.

My heart was pounding as Cyan remained motionless and the collar was fastened around her neck.

Cat slowly walked behind as Cyan's head began to turn.

"Eyes forward, bitch!"

Once again, Cyan obeyed.

The leash was clipped.

"I bet you like being called 'bitch', don't you?" Cat remarked.

Cyan remained silent but looked to the ground.

"Huh? You whore. Slut. Stupid Cunt."

The last word caused Cyan's eyes to widen and quickly dart. Her face was beet red and this did not go unnoticed as Cat came around to face her.

"You like this, don't you, slut?"

Cyan continued to look at the floor with her arms crossed in front of her.

"Otherwise you wouldn't be in this place. You could've left the moment I slapped you!"

Cyan turned to look my direction but was reprimanded.

"Don't look at him, bitch! He would've rescued you by now if you didn't belong here!"

I almost felt badly for her but the woman was right. Cyan was an assertive enough person to leave if she didn't feel right. And as seemingly awkward as this situation became, I was completely aroused.

"I bet those nipples are rock-hard beneath that padded bra of yours."

Cyan's jaw dropped in disbelief but she said nothing.

Something told me the audience would find out soon as Cat's assistant reappeared and held the leash for her.

Her careful fingers began to unbutton Cyan's cashmere sweater. Cat forced her arms to her side and removed every last button until her bra was visible. Cyan turned her head to the ceiling with closed eyes and held her breath as the sweater was pulled and folded back. Her breasts weren't very large but her nipples were almost always erect. She's wanted bigger breasts but her great thighs and big butt were well worth the price.

Cat tossed the sweater aside and swiftly released the clasp in front.

That night would be no exception as her great nipples heaved upwards. I could read her lips as the words 'Oh, god' were drowned out by the unruly audience.

The woman couldn't resist a few pinches as Cyan surged forward. The assistant held the leash tightly and kept her from falling to the floor.

Now Cyan was on all fours and I wondered if I should've intervened. A hard smack on her buttocks by Cat's playful hand let me know the line had not yet been crossed. Cyan knew it was her call as she continued to let herself be handled and humiliated. I had not pictured her being onstage and topless twenty minutes earlier but it looked like a dream come true. Men and women in the audience were getting off on my wife's treatment and I was somehow okay with it all - even as more than one digital camera flashed on occasion.

It was becoming apparent there weren't any holds barred in this spectacle. Cat grasped the hem of Cyan's skirt and pulled it over her waist. She wasn't wearing the rubber thong unfortunately, but her satin boy-shorts were just as crowd pleasing. I couldn't take any longer. I reached to my right and felt through her purse to find a travel size bottle of hand cream. I could not help it at that point in time but to remove my cock from my trousers and slather it heavily. I felt absolutely sinful beating off in public but no one seemed to notice except those nearby who wondered how I was taking this ordeal. Could they blame me?

Cat ran her hand up the backside of my wife's panties and let out a yell when she felt how wet Cyan had become. Cyan's head dropped in frustration as Cat continued to massage and probe her slave's panties. I could see her fingertips glisten in the spotlight as she began parading her find to the audience. Cat whispered something into her assistance ear and he responded by unzipping his leather pants. Cyan had looked up long enough to see what was happening but looked down in concern. A quick tug on the leash had her head and hand at the ready as he reeled her closer. My wife's hand disappeared momentarily and grappled beneath his pants. Soon, a semi-erect cock emerged within her grasp only to be shoved toward her open lips. He entered but held still a moment before pulling out and letting her perfect her grip.

I felt some initial anger toward the assistant. What gave him the right to violate my wife? He was well aware I was seated right there in the audience. He wasn't so big and ordinarily I could probably take him in a fight. But this didn't bother me for long since a hidden curiosity took over my better senses. I silently hoped to witness him climax in my wife's mouth or on her face.

Cat took the leash as the man held Cyan's head in place and began fucking her throat violently. Cat stepped over her subject and pretended to be in a rodeo intermittently slapping Cyan's butt and pulling on her reigns.

And there I was: watching my wife, the mother of our child, undressed and on stage, orally performing for some well-hung stranger - not to mention being ridden by a dominatrix before an unruly crowd.

The audience began to stand up as the guy was getting closer to climax. He let out a yell and pulled her head up tightly by the ears. Her veins bulged and she had taken his entire length while his load shot down her throat. I heard her gasp for air as he pulled out and semen dripped from her lips to the floor.

This was very surreal.

I had not noticed an audience member quickly take to the stage with cock in hand and replace the spent assistant. I fully expected him to be ejected from the stage but I realized there were no rules. I could only hurry to get onstage and take my wife's waiting backside before someone else did. She was certainly not going to stop them, the whore ~ Ha,ha!

Cat stepped aside with a smile as I pulled Cyan's panties to her knees. She hardly seemed to notice as she serviced the young man in front of her. My cock was not going to take much more before I drove it into her slippery hole. I pumped furiously as a line began to form in front and behind us. Cyan's body went tight in convulsions as she climaxed on my cock. I, too, came quickly as both of us were more than ready.

As I slowed to a stop, it occurred to me these ten or more men (and a woman) were anxious to fuck my wife. I slowly pumped while working on an exit strategy. I pointed at my watch toward Cat and she knowingly started to calm the people.

The crowd booed and made sour faces at Cat but complied reluctantly.

The man finished himself off in Cyan's mouth before joining the crowd back to their seats. Cyan swallowed the semen without considering her option to spit it onto the floor. I was just a little ambivalent about this but it reinforced my wife's willingness to walk on the wild side, so to speak.

Cat led us behind the curtain and toward an exit.

"Thank you for being great sports. I hope to see you both again. Really." she said in earnest.

Cat turned and hugged Cyan and gave her a small kiss on the lips. Both their arms reluctantly let go and I could see the gratefulness in my wife's eyes.

We grabbed her clothes and purse and safely made it outside.

"You've got something on your chin," I said to her as a reached to brush it away.

My hand stopped just short as I identified it as leftover semen.

"Oh god!" I shouted.

Cyan laughed like she had not in a long time as she chased me with a threatening kiss. But something in me relented as I let her pull me close and kiss me with her sullied lips. The ice had broken and we both knew we would tread in the same waters again soon – and with some shame but fewer inhibitions.

Later in the week she admitted no intention of stopping the group that night.

Perhaps next time we will let the audience decide when the show's over. Bull Chpt.1

 My name is Jay and I work in radio. That sounds like the introduction at an AA meeting, and many people who work in radio will tell you that it’s an addiction also. I work at a small station in California’s Central Valley. That rich agricultural area that stretches for hundreds of miles down the center of California, and is dotted with little farming communities.

I’m 35, my wife Jane is 25, we’ve been married for 5 years and in that time I’ve worked at 5 different radio stations in 5 different states. Most people in the industry will tell you that’s not unusual. Jane will tell you that I’m a loser.

The station I work at is small and plays country music. There used to be a saying in radio that “if in doubt, play country.” In California’s Central Valley the saying is: “if in doubt, go Spanish.” Since I don’t speak Spanish, I’m glad we haven’t. I work the 11 p.m. to 5 a.m. shift. There’s really not much to do. Put on a CD, play commercials (the station still uses cassettes), run the tape of the news, weather, and sports, and read an occasional PSA (public service announcement). Our paying advertisers usually aren’t happy to learn that their spot ran at 3:00 in the morning, so mostly we just run PSAs.

If you’ve ever heard that radio pays well let me put that notation to rest. Oh sure, it