It gives you...


Erotica by Joe Tortuga

From the Archives: Whip It Out

(Fsub, exhib, oral, anal, bdsm, 9/11)

April 07, 2009

_This story started generating in my mind around 9-11, I actually went to lunch while they evacuated downtown Charlotte and started the rough draft of this story. It sat around on hard drives for several years before I resurrected it, cleaned it up a bit and posted it to USENET. _

Whip It Out

(MMMF exhib oral anal bdsm 9/11)

I gasped as the whip cracked right next to my ear. I only felt the sting slightly as the tip of the whip, moving faster than the speed of sound, sliced through my nicest silk shirt, severing the connection at the shoulder. The sleeves were already torn, and the shirt hung only by the left shoulder seam. I began to realize that Damon was going to take off all my clothes before the boys fucked me.

I wondered if he’d use the whip on the blindfold as well, or if I’d be able to see everyone who was watching. With the way I was getting wet I wanted to get fucked hard, and fucked hard in front of all my friends at the party while my husband looked on. Damon was good, I had to admit — not once had he cut me with the whip, so I was beginning to relax, and not regret the plan that I’d come up with three weeks before.

Then there was another crack of the whip; the left shoulder seam was gone, and my silk shirt folded forward and back, hanging from my breasts and my back where the side-seams held it in place. My cunt gushed as I felt the air on my skin, and I had to admit this was the best volunteer work I’d ever done.

~ o ~

My husband Tim and I were making love slowly. My passion was rising, and about to peak as we listened to the sounds of Tommy Dorsey on the radio when the announcer broke in and told us the news. “This just in — A jet airliner just crashed into the side of the World Trade Center. We don’t know much else right now, but will keep you informed. Oh, my God! Folks, someone just put this in front of me. A second aircraft has crashed into the other tower, causing a huge explosion. I don’t know what’s going on, but stay tuned, and we’ll try to figure it out…”

While the announcer spoke, my husband stopped thrusting into me; I stopped responding. We both stopped, his dick deep in me, him above me, his hands making angry fists out of our blankets. I felt him shrivel inside of me, and roll off. “Tim…” I said.

“Where’s the remote?”

I sighed, and rolled over, grabbing the remote. I pointed it at our TV cabinet, turning it on. The wooden doors slid away, and our HDTV powered up. My cunt complained about it’s need, but as soon as I saw those first pictures, I knew our session was over. Tim and I curled up together, and watched the devastation and confusion.

An hour later, when the first tower collapsed, Tim whispered in awe. “I’ll have to cancel my trip.”

I closed my eyes and held him tightly; he was going there the next day. We were both flying into New York City, but Tim was going to check on his business interests — in a building which was now just smoke and rubble.

We spent the day watching the news, cuddling and snuggling. CNN had a prominent place, always on the screen, either full size or tiny as we flipped through the other channels, to see how the others were covering the attack. We had lunch brought in, and sent the servants home.

Around six, I cut the television off, and slid down my husband’s body, taking his cock in my mouth. Over the years I’ve found that sex is one of the few things to turn back the power of death, and when we’re faced with illogical and overwhelming loss, the best thing to do is to fuck. And I don’t say that just because I’m a randy slut, either.

Tim’s cock hardened in my mouth as I licked and sucked it, pulling in. His cock hardened and lengthened, filling my mouth as I bobbed up and down on him. With one hand I gently played with his balls, and he groaned.

I lifted my mouth off of him then, and ran my tongue around the head of his cock, and into the slit, tasting his pre-cum. That’s when I moaned. I slid up his body then, rubbing snakelike against him. I caught his cock between my breasts, squeezing them together, feeling a trail of precum going down my body as I went.

When my lips reached his, I pressed my slit against his cock, and kissed him. “I love you,” I whispered.

“I love you, too,” he said.

I kissed him then, and jammed my tongue into his mouth. His hands slid up my sides, seeking my breasts. I broke the kiss, and his hands found my breasts squeezing as his thumbs ran over my nipples, teasing. I lifted my pelvis, swirling my hips, finding his cock with my cunt and sliding down onto him.

He flexed within me, and I began to ride him in earnest. He lifted his head to my breasts, suckling on one, teasingly biting my nipples and flicking them with his tongue. I rode harder, impaling myself on his cock, over and over, feeling our groins meet and his cock deep inside of my greedy cunt.

Overwhelmed by the day, I rode him mindlessly and hard. His mouth moved from nipple to nipple, one of his hands slid between us to find my clit, and I started coming as I rode him. He flexed again, and twitched, and I slammed up and down on his cock, grabbing at him with my cunt. He howled then and his cum filled me up. His passion threw me over the edge, and triggered an even more powerful orgasm.

We stayed like that for a moment, while I straddled him. I rolled off of him, and he held me in his arms. I kissed him. “Thank you,” he said.

“Thank you,” I said back.

“Always,” he whispered dreamily. “Always.”

And we drifted off to sleep until it wasn’t September 11th any longer.

~ o ~

Hands came around me, and lifted my arms, which were then fastened to two chains hanging from the ceiling. I nodded, understanding, after all this dais, and those chains were additions Tim and I had made to the house, for just such occasions as this.

My hands were lifted up, giving Damon clear access to the seams of my silk shirt. The shoulder straps were already gone — the side seams and my breasts held the shirt barely in place.

He worked the whip quickly — three cracks from the left severed the side seams there. Three cracks on the right, and my shirt folded outward— forward and back, being held up by nothing more than the hem of my skirt.

What amazed me was his deftness with the whip. I only felt the slightest brushes of the wind as the whip tore through my garment. He’d even gotten my shirt and not the bra underneath. I never knew Damon had such skill — perhaps if I had, I would have let him do this a lot sooner.

Either way there was something about it, doing it in front of everyone at my party that made me wet, and turned me on. Fuck, it was hot. I twisted on the ropes, clenching my cunt, waiting for the next blow.

~ o ~

About a week later after 9/11, Tim and I were discussing what to do about it. “Well,” Tim said, “We’ve got some money set aside for giving already. We were going to give it to the sexual abuse hotline, but…”

“We need to give something to the September 11th fund.”

“We can give money to both — you know as well as I do that we can afford it.”

“We should hold a fundraiser,” I suggested. I admit that the kernel of the idea had been in the back of my mind ever since Tim and I made love after watching the news. Sex to hold back Death, right? And what works for us will work for others.

“And what, sell places at a dinner? Most of these people are going to give to September 11th, too.”

“Well, we could make it worth their while,” I said, smiling.

“Oh? And how is that?” “I was thinking of a charity auction. We can hold it here; it’s about time we threw another pa rty, anyway. What we can do is this —people give a donation — then they get one charity dollar for each hundred that they donate. Then we put something up for auction that they can bid on.”

“OK, so we want something people are going to donate extra money on. Something they couldn’t normally get then?”


“Like what, oh darling wife of mine?”

“I was thinking about me.”

“You?” he asked, incredulous. “Our friends? They would pay to get what you so freely give away?”

“Oh, I think any of our friends would pay to have me for three hours, completely at their beck and call, any service I can offer to them.” I brushed my hand over his trousers, feeling his erection swell, trying to burst through two layers of material. He liked the idea.

“And what ‘services’ are those?”

“The usual,” I said, stroking his cock through his pants. “Hand jobs, blow jobs.” I leaned forward, and whispered in his ear, “Good old American Fucking, and of course…anal sex. I think people would pay for just the blowjob, myself.”

“It’s that good?”

I slid down to my knees, and undid his fly. “You be the judge,” I said. I pulled his trousers and underwear down just far enough for his beautiful cock to spring out. I slid my lips around the head, licking around the shaft, as I brought him deeper and deeper into my mouth until my lips were pressed against his balls.

Tim’s hands entwined themselves in my hair, and he began moving my head up and down his shaft. I licked and sucked as he moved my head up and down his shaft, faster and faster. He began bucking into me, then, his cock going in and out of my throat as his excitement grew. I could taste the wonderful elixir of his precum, and then he was shooting into me, his seed pounding against the back of my throat.

I pulled off of him, licking him, cleaning him off. “Now, tell me what was that worth…fifty? a hundred bucks?”

“A hundred easy,” my husband said, exhausted.

“And that’s a hundred auction dollars. They’ll have to give $10,000 just to have that much.”

“A ten thousand dollar blow job?” he asked.

“Or more,” I said, smiling up at him.

“I think we might have a bidding war,” he laughed.

“They’ll do it just for the charity,” I said.

“Oh, of course,” Tim said, and we laughed together.

It only took us two weeks to pull the whole thing together.

By the time the date of the party rolled around, the whole thing had grown, just a bit. Tim thought that it would be “unfair” to some of our less fortunate folks — or those who’d already given to the September 11th fund — to force them into an auction with just their own money. That, and I came to realize that if we were only going to auction off one item — namely me — I’d also be the only entertainment. I may be a fairly good-looking woman, but I’m not an evening’s entertainment all by myself.

Tim disagreed with that point, but it was my reason for accepting his alterations. About a year ago, some friends of ours, the Kinstons, threw a “gambling party”. We’d provided some of the tables, and they had slot machines, that sort of thing. While that party became a sex party — only perhaps by accident — it meant that the Kinstons had some equipment we could use to “redistribute wealth” amongst our friends in time for the actual auction.

One of our security people used to work in Vegas, so he taught three of our other people to run the various tables: craps, and a couple blackjack tables. We also set up a couple poker tables for those who would prefer that. We knew from experience that our friends were adepts already.

As we were setting them up, I noticed that one of our poker tables had a stain on it. Remembering the cause, I turned to my husband and said, “I am not gambling this year, it just gets me into trouble.”

He laughed. “Well I might, I’m keeping a few of the auction dollars for myself tonight.”

“Why bid on what you can have anytime?”

“Oh, I thought I’d use them as leverage, or to boost the price. Who knows what might strike my fancy tonight?”

“I’m sure you could find someone to stroke your fancy tonight, hon,” I said, moving closer to him.

“Yes,” he replied, “but it’s more interesting this way.”

“Patricia!” a voice called out from behind me.

I turned, “Damon!” I shouted. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

Damon Kinston and his wife, Janet, stood in the doorway to our ballroom. “He wouldn’t stay away once he knew what the prize was,” Janet said smiling. I grinned at Damon, and he patted his hip, where I noticed he had a single tail whip coiled at his waist.

“Oh, no,” I said. “You aren’t using that thing on me.”

“The flyer says we get three hours of your time, and you will do whatever we want. Sounds like you already agreed to it to me,” Damon replied.

“It also says no permanent marks, scars, or cutting of the skin,” I said.

“Oh, now, hon,” my not-so-helpful husband butted in. “You know Damon is an expert with the whip.”

“I’d never cut you, my dear. Trust me on that.” He leaned forward, and took my hand, brushing it with his lips. “There are other uses for the whip. And anyway, I’d have to win the auction, wouldn’t I?”

I eyed him warily. “Damon, you’ll be the first if anyone ever uses a single-tail whip like that on me. I’ve seen you use it, and I know you’re a master. Plus, I’m certain you are an excellent lay.”

“Speaking of which,” Damon replied, “did you ever get that stain out of the table?”

I blushed at that, and my husband came to my rescue. “Damon, did you and Janet bring the things I asked for?”

“We certainly did, Tim,” Janet said. “I’ve got the case full of fake money we used last year, and the slot machines are being unloaded now. There’s also a case of tokens for the machines. How are you going to work this?”

“Well, I think we’re going to let the money go at a one-hundred dollar donation per dollar of funny money. We’ll probably trade the coins in at four-to-one rate. That way we can cover the tokens already in the machine with part of our donation, and all the auction money will go to charity.”

“Sounds excellent,” Janet said. I smiled as she took my husband by the arm, and ushered him off. I knew she was attracted to him and it seemed the feeling was mutual.

“If you were smart,” I told Damon, “You’d get Tim’s share of the money for your wife so you can benefit at the auction.”

“Oh, I could never sell her off — she’s way to willful, and I’d never hear the end of it.”

“So you aren’t going to get Tim’s money?”

“Oh, no, she’s going to try to get it on her own.” He laughed at that for a moment. “By the way, here’s our check for ten thousand dollars made payable to the fund. That’s one hundred auction dollars, right?”

“You got it.” I snapped open the case, and gave him the money, and recorded the donation. We flirted and made small talk while Tim and Janet disappeared. It was still an hour or so before the party would get under way.

~ o ~

The ballroom was our play room — designed by my husband and I for a party. Of course, I never anticipated having my best and most expensive outfit being whipped off of me and destroyed when I designed the room that way. I had taken my jacket off earlier — to show off my cleavage, of course — and I hoped they left the skirt intact, at least, since they matched. It was a wonderful skirt — long, almost floor-length, with a long slit up the side. Three inches more slit, and it wouldn’t be a skirt, but just an expensive rectangle of fabric.

I’d worn a thong panty set — and a matching bra — knowing that they’d be seen tonight. I just thought it would be slightly less high-profile. Not that I mind getting fucked in front of a lot of people, or even undressed, really.

I listened, trying to hear what was going on next, waiting, as I shifted my weight, and pulled on the chains. Then I heard the whip, and felt i t at my hip. Crack! I felt the touch against the skirt, and then I felt it falling down, taking with it my silken shirt — now in two pieces — brushing my legs as they floated down.

So much for keeping the suit intact.

~ o ~

I was still working the door when Janet reappeared about an hour later, with a silly grin on her face. I knew that grin — I’d seen it in the mirror often enough. She caught up with Damon and carried him off to see to the disposition of the slot machines. Tim followed her down about a half an hour later, after the guests were arriving.

“So you finally came to your own party,” I chided him.

“Fashionably late, of course,” he said. “After that, I needed a shower.” He rubbed his face a bit and waggled his eyes at me.

“And Janet didn’t? Were you doing it wrong?”

“No,” he whispered in my ear. “She swallows.”

I grinned then. Of course she did, this was Damon’s wife, after all. “So are you going to give me your donation?” I asked my husband.

“Later, hon,” he said, smiling.

“For the fund.”

“Oh, yes.” He gave me the check, and I counted out two hundred dollars. Just then a man I didn’t recognize walked up to the table.

“Evening, Tim,” he said.

Tim turned. “Nick!” he exclaimed. “Patricia, this is my old and good friend Nick Webber. Nick, this is my wife and the prize for this evening.”

“And what a prize she is,” Nick said, taking my hand in his. He was a gorgeous man, fit, tall, blond-haired and blue-eyed. He even smelled nice.

I turned to Tim and asked, “So this is the infamous Nick?”

“Heard of me, have you?”

“I’ve told her all — well, most — of our exploits.” They laughed together like old friends.

A woman, a statuesque blonde, perfectly matched to Nick, came in and stood beside him. She wore a beautiful low-cut gown with an elegant black choker locked around her neck. “Master,” she said to him, “The car is parked and locked.” He didn’t have a driver?

“Very good, Tasha.” I looked at Tim and his eyes quickly flicked from Tim to Tasha’s décolletage, which, I had to admit, was an impressive display. “Tim, Patricia, this is my slave, Tasha.” Tasha curtseyed and bowed her head, but otherwise didn’t speak.

“You always did have good taste, Nick,” Tim said, still eyeing the woman.

“So, Nick,” I said to change the subject, “what sort of donation would you like to give?”

Instantly focused on me, he responded “What is the largest donation so far, Patricia?”

“Thirty-thousand,” I said, showing him the register I was keeping.

“Angelina Bower?” he asked.

I nodded in her direction, and he turned to look. “Exquisite,” he whispered.

“Lesbian,” I said, smiling.

“That doesn’t bother you — a woman in the bidding?” He looked at me, with his piercing blue gaze.

“Oh, no,” I said, matching his gaze. “Should it?”

His eyebrow arched. “I’ll match her donation.” He held out his hand, and Tasha filled it with a checkbook. I wasn’t sure where it came from, although Tim probably noticed. Handing me the check, he asked, “So, can I give more later if I want?”

I nodded. “So long as it is before the auction,” I counted out three hundred fake-dollars and handed them to him.

~ o ~

I could sense Damon moving around me, admiring my body. All I had left on was my bra and panty set — neither of which were designed to hide anything. Well, if I’d really wanted to hide anything I wouldn’t have come up with this plan in the first place. Most of the people in the room had seen me naked; in fact, I’d had sex with many of them. Few had seen me quite this helpless — and none of them had seen a single tail used on me before.

Finally the movement around me stopped. CAA-RACK! went the whip, again next to my ear. Then another snap on my hip, followed quickly by two more: first my left hip, the second and last at my other shoulder. A foot wormed its way between my legs, and I widened my stance. The thong, now held up by nothing fell to the floor.

I also felt my bra straps fall down my back, and onto my cleavage in front. One more snap of the whip, and I’d be naked — save for the blindfold. My cunt twinged, and my scent, freed from the panties, reached my nose.

Damon was skillful with the whip, but, God I hoped they fucked me soon.

~ o ~

About an hour after Nick arrived, most of our guests had arrived, and started gambling, or milling about and talking. I turned the desk over to one of our servants and began working the crowd. I could have had her work the whole night, but working the door allowed me to see who was giving how much. Now I was interested in how that “wealth” was being redistributed.

Bill and Edward Robbins were busy working on the slots. They were brothers who had each been given part of their father’s estate to run, and as such only had a little disposable income. Yet, they were handsome, smart, and good company, so I invited them to my party. Not everyone could win, and with their collective one hundred funny-dollars, I didn’t even think they would be finalists.

“How’s it going, guys?” I asked as I watched them pump tokens into the slots.

“Not bad, overall,” Bill said. He was the older brother, he was dressed in a tan jacket and slacks, his brown hair neatly trimmed and combed. “I think we’ve about tripled our money.”

“Impressive,” I said.

“Good luck,” Edward replied, “That’s all it is to slots.” The younger brother was dressed similarly to Bill, only he was wearing a loud Hawaiian shirt, and he had been running his hands through his long hair, leaving it a fluttering mess.

“We’re trying to build up enough to start with the high rollers back there.” Bill jerked his head in the direction of the poker table.

“Well, good luck guys, there’s only about 500 funny-dollars worth in the slots, and Damon and Angelina are playing poker. You’ll be lucky to hang on to what you’ve got.”

They laughed at that. “By the way,” Bill asked, “Since we donated together, can we bid together, or as a group, and still win the ‘prize’?”

Since I was the prize, and I knew I’d do anyone who was there that night, I just nodded. “The more the merrier,” I joked.

Edward groaned. “Bill, we’ve got to get to the poker table, so we can lay this sexy goddess.”

“I agree, Edward, I agree.”

While they cashed out their tokens, turning them into the paper script we were using, I wandered over to the poker table. “Crap, piss and vinegar,” Angelina said, tossing down her cards. “Patricia, these two men are taking all my money. I’ll be lucky to put a bid in on your ass, much less getting any action from your tongue.”

Nick raked in the money. “Don’t listen to her, dear; this is only the second hand I’ve won tonight, and only because Damon here folded early. I’m afraid I’ve only won back what I lost playing blackjack.”

“Damon, are you beating people at poker again tonight?”

“You know how that goes, don’t you dear?” Damon said, his finger rubbing over the stain from our last encounter playing poker. “I’ve just got my lucky seat that’s all. Are you going to join us?”

“Not tonight and maybe never again against you, dear Damon. Personally folks, I think he cheats.”

“You know better than that,” Damon said. “You folded on that last hand — I still want to know what cards you were holding. I think she folded on purpose.”

“Well, you’ll never know, Damon.”

“I think I might just win tonight to make you tell me. Not to mention I want to whip your clothing off your body.”

“I think I want to hear this story,” Nick said.

“Well it’ll cost you a hundred to hear it,” Damon said.

“Oh, Damon, don’t cheat the boy — I’ll tell it to you for fifty,” Angelina said.

“Oh, I can spare it I think,” Nick said, and slid a hundred dol lars over to Damon. “I can win it back from him later.”

“Well, I’ve heard the story,” I said, “and may tell it some other time, but for now, I must be off.”

I found my husband winning at blackjack. “How’s it going, hon?”

“Pretty good,” he said. “Winning most of our own money back. Got a bit out of Nick, too. He’s better at reading people than playing a chance game like blackjack.”

“And what are you going to do with all your ill-gotten gains?”

“I don’t know. I’m the only man in the room who won’t be in on the auction.”

“Angelina probably could use your help.”

“I don’t think she’d give me what I want,” he said laughing.

I laughed along with him. “Who do you think is doing the best?” I asked.

“Damon, of course, but don’t discount Nick or Angelina.”

“What about the boys?” I asked as we watched Bill and Edward move over to the poker table.

“Only if they get lucky,” my husband said. “But it could happen.”

“It’s been a couple of years since I’ve had them — and then it wasn’t together.”

“You’re interested?”

“I’m horny. All these people bantering and gambling, and all to get into my pants.”

Bill and Edward were talking privately to Nick, who got up, and gave them his place at the poker table. Nick stood, and Tasha rose from next to him — I hadn’t noticed her kneeling there before — had she been under the table, maybe? The two of them walked over to where Tim and I were talking.

“Patricia,” Nick said. “I hope you don’t mind, but I want to steal your husband away for a while. For old time’s sake.”

“Go ahead,” I said. “I’m thinking of taking a break myself.”

A hostess shouldn’t leave her party, but I was getting damned horny. All these people were attractive. Most were previous sexual partners. I retreated to a private bathroom, and rolled my pantyhose off. I don’t even know why I wore it tonight instead of garters. Now, it was just getting in the way.

I sat on the toilet, and slid my panties down my legs. Then I slid my hand between my slit, and began massaging my clit. Back and forth, faster and faster. I remembered the time Damon fucked me on the poker table. The time Angelina buried her face in my cunt, and I in hers. I imagined going down on Edward while Bill fucked me from behind. I wondered what it would feel like to ride on top of Nick. Was he big, was he good? Would he ride me hard?

My finger moved faster and faster. I grabbed a towel, and bit into it as I came shuddering, moaning into the towel. I wiped myself off with the towel, and checked my watch. It was time for the auction.

~ o ~

I grasped the chains above me, to steady me for the next crack of the whip. I knew where it was coming, square in the middle of my back, where my bra snaps closed. The strike would come there, and slash through the material, removing my last piece of clothing.

Do you understand how precise you would have to be to do that? To have the whip crack — moving faster than the speed of sound — enough to cut sturdy cloth and to not cut the person wearing the cloth? Well, I knew Damon was an expert with the whip before tonight, but now, standing there unclothed by his skill, I had new respect for his ability.

Two whip cracks, one on either side of me, as Damon showed off his whip work — that wasn’t like him, but far be it for me to say anything. Then the third crack, right behind me, and the bra came undone. I felt the loosening in my breasts, no longer supported. The bra, however, did not fall — it was being held in place by my breasts — what irony that!

I smiled to myself glad that I’d — however inadvertently — pulled one over on Damon. At least now that he was done the boys — the ones who’d actually won the auction would have their way with me.

I felt two fingers touch my sternum, and I knew. Even though he could have brushed the bra off with his fingers, he did not. He was going to whip it off. I felt him lean closer, and whisper in my ear, “Be ready.” I shuddered in excitement and fear, waiting for the blow.

The voice I’d heard didn’t belong to Damon.

~ o ~

When I got back to the main hall — after straightening myself up a bit more, the auction was already in full swing. Edward and Bill were bidding together, and had gotten the bid up to 250 dollars. They must not have lost too much at the poker table, which was only a little less than they had from the slots. Angelina was counting her money and shouted out, “Two-seventy-five! It’s all I’ve got. Top it if you can!”

“Three hundred for me,” Damon responded coolly. He caught my eye, and gave me a predatory smile. He patted his whip, and grinned.

Nick was being quiet. Tasha was again on her knees in front of him. My husband, who was running the show, said, “Do I hear 325? Come on folks, I saw more money than this out there tonight! Patricia, come on up, help me out.”

I walked up to the round stage he’d had brought out — it was in the center of the large ballroom. I stepped up on it. “Show them what they are bidding on hon,” my husband urged me on.

I took off my jacket, and pulled the neckline on my shirt down and thrust my breasts out. My skirt was slit almost to the hip, so I showed my newly-uncovered legs. I was met with hoots, hollers, and a call of “Three-twenty-five” from Bill

Damon smiled “Three-fifty!”

Edward and Bill looked at each other, then up at my husband. They took a deep breath, “Four hundred!”

“Do you even have that much?” Damon challenged.

“That and more,” Edward called back.

I looked at Nick he made a gesture at my husband, who nodded. Damon replied, “Well then boys, it’s just you two and me, I’ll just put it on the table. I’ve got 575 dollars. Top it if you can.”

The boys looked at each other, and I smiled. I was looking forward to Damon topping and fucking me. He’d made a lot of money tonight. I wondered if some of it didn’t come from Tim, despite what my husband said.

Edward and Bill talked to each other, and looked furtively around. I wondered what was going on. “Ok, since you put it that way,” Edward said. “We’ll blow our whole wad, too.”

“That is the plan!” someone who wasn’t bidding shouted out.

“We’ve got one-thousand one-hundred fourteen dollars and twenty-five cents. From the slots.”

“I don’t believe it!” Damon roared.

“Come with me gentlemen,” Tim said. “We’ll settle this at the cashier’s table.” The four men walked away, leaving me to wonder what was going on. That was a lot of money, over a hundred thousand real dollars — all going to the September 11th fund, sure — but paid to have sex with me. I felt myself gush a bit at the thought.

Tim walked back, carrying a blindfold. “I think we settled it,” he said. “But you have to put this on.” He stepped behind me, and tied the blindfold on.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“You are going to be shared,” he said, a smile in his voice. “Take off your shoes and stand here.”

He walked away, and I stood there, wondering.

~ o ~

I was worried. The voice that had whispered to me, warning me of the final blow, was not one I recognized. It was possible that I was already too far gone in lust and excitement to notice. It was possible that it was someone besides Damon. It was even possible that Damon was changing his voice to mindfuck me, just a bit.

In fact, I thought it was entirely possible. He and the Robbins boys disappeared with my husband, and just agreed to share me — because there was no way, no way in Hell that those two boys had over a thousand dollars to bid with.

Hands positioned me, straightening me up, spreading my legs. The changes in my posture forced my breasts out, and forward. I understood the reason behind it then. The man — whoever it was — was going to use the whip to pull my b ra off, and wanted to have the best target. That and it wouldn’t be hard to force the bra off now. A simple brush of someone’s hand would have had it floating to the earth.

My nipples hardened, as I thought about anonymous hands running over them. I could feel my own juices running down my legs now. I was glad I’d removed my hose before the action started. I could sense someone in front of me, and two others behind me. It must have been the three of them, the boys and Damon—or whoever. It made sense.

I wondered what they’d done for Damon to get him to let them join. Maybe they’d had the exact same amount of money, maybe? That line of thought was cut off, as the two behind me began to run their hands down my back, and over my ass. I arched my back, and the one in front — the one with the mysterious voice — said, “Good. Stay like that, Patricia, and you’ll be fine.”

I heard him walk away, and then he snapped the whip to the left and right of me again. Then it snapped at my chest, and I gasped. The bra, split into two pieces fluttered down to the floor. Applause erupted from the crowd, and the mystery whip artist — for artist he was — came up to me, and ran the handle of the whip over my nipples.

I moaned at the roughness, and he stepped closer to me, pressing against me. His hands reached around me, and I felt him working on the blindfold behind my head. “It’s time, Patricia. Time for you to see everything.”

The blindfold came off, and I blinked a few times, as the whip artist stepped back. My eyes grew wide — it wasn’t Damon after all, but Nick! “Nick!” I said.

“I thought you realized,” he said, and turned around me, carefully caressing my body.

I looked at the audience, and right in front of me was my husband. Tasha, her dress bunched around her waist, was facing me as well, as she slid up and down my husbands cock. Tim smiled at me, and cupped Tasha’s breasts, pulling her back to him. “So you traded Tasha…”

“For Tim’s money, yes. And I did rather well at poker. The rest I gave to Edward and Bill.”

“How did you get Damon to loan you his whip?”

“Ahh, well, that’s a tale for another time,” Nick said. “For now, we want to fuck you.”

“Oh, God, yes!” I said.



“Don’t move too much while we fuck you, dear. I don’t want to miss.”

“Don’t hit me with that thing!”

“I won’t cut you, or leave a lasting mark. Those were the rules, right?”


“Trust me, Patricia. If you don’t know it by now, I know what I’m doing.”

I nodded, and he made a motion. The chains lowered, and they brought out a bench. Nick positioned my hands on the bench, which meant I was leaning over. “Edward, you’re first. Like we discussed.”

Nick walked away, and Edward climbed onto the bench. He undid his belt buckle, and unzipped his pants, dropping pants and boxers to the ground. His cock popped free. “Suck me,” he said.

I had already started. I leaned forward and took his member in my mouth. He reached out to me, and took handfuls of my hair in his hands, holding my head in place, while his cock slid in and out of my mouth, and down my throat.

A whip crack sounded underneath me, I felt the brush of air against my nipple. I was startled out of what I was doing. “Let me move,” Edward said. I relaxed, and let him fuck my mouth, his cock filling me, over and over.

Nick’s whip work continued, snapping near my breasts over and over. Two or three times he snapped it near my ass, then he started whipping my ass, forcing me forward, towards Edward, his cock going deeper and deeper down my throat. He never cracked it when it hit me, and I relaxed, letting Nick run the scene, and letting him control it.

The snaps over my breasts began to send electric shocks to my cunt, turning me on more and more. Edward was getting turned on, too, and he grabbed my ears, and thrust his cock faster and faster into my mouth fucking it with abandon. Finally he cried out, and his come spewed down my throat sending small quakes through my body as he came.

“Bill,” Nick said. “You’re next.”

Bill walked around me. He was already completely naked, his lovely, long cock bobbed as he walked. I felt him walk behind me; his hands caressed my abused ass, sending tingles through my body. He pressed himself against me, I felt his cock searching for my sopping cunt. Then he found it, and we sighed in unison, as he pushed himself home.

Again Nick started with the whip, cracking it over my nipples, hitting me a few times in the breasts like he had on my ass, driving me wild. He cracked the whip in front of my face, two, three, times, pushing me back on Bill’s cock, forcing me to impale myself on his cock.

He didn’t have to force me though, by now I was insane with passion. I had been in need of a fuck since I stood on the stage, before I was auctioned; all that Nick had done with his whip was to enflame it, to increase my heat.

Bill clutched at my hips, pounding his cock deep inside me. I felt his balls slapping against my clit as he ground home, our crotches meeting as he filled me. In front of me, Tasha was bouncing again on my husband’s dick, and Nick was cracking his whip in my face.

I pushed back, grinding my hips against Bill’s cock, trying to get more and more of him in me, even though I knew it wasn’t possible. Nick cracked the whip underneath my body, sending erotic puffs of air against nipples and sending electric shocks directly to my cunt. He didn’t even have to be close now, all he had to do was crack the whip, and my body shivered.

I pushed against the floor and the bench, as Bill pounded in and out. Nick cracked the whip over my breasts again and I started coming. Bill cried out, and shot his seed deep into me, pulsing in time with my own orgasm. I wailed, and melted.

Bill, sated, pulled out and I was empty again.

Nick walked up to me, and ran his hands over me, his fingernails digging into my ass, and breasts where he’d struck me with the whip, I moaned and panted as he touched me. “You are one hot slut, aren’t you?”

“Yesss,” I cried.

“The whip excites you!”


“Kiss it,” he said holding it out. I did. “Take it in your mouth.” I opened my mouth and he put it in. He walked around behind me. I heard fabric rustling as he undressed.

He stood behind me, and took the ends of the whip in his hands, and pulled back, pulling my head back. I groaned around the whip. His cock slid into me quickly, and he thrusted once, twice, three times. “That’s good enough,” he said, and pulled out.

I groaned, again, “Uuuuuck eeee” I begged around the whip. Fuck me, fuck me.

He moved a bit more, and I felt his cock at my asshole. I groaned and pushed against him. His cock, coated in my juices, and Bill’s cum, slid into my asshole. He pulled on the whip, and I slid back onto him. He tried to force me, but I went willingly, letting him fill me up with his cock.

Then he bottomed out, all the way in. He grabbed my hips — still pulling on the whip — and slid back out. Then in, and out, and in and out and in and out, he began to rock in and out of my ass.

Finally free to move, I rocked with him, pushing back and forth as he took me on the stage.

Tasha cried out as she came, and my husband too, not long after. I could feel another orgasm building as Nick continued to fuck my asshole. He pulled the whip out of my mouth then, and started cracking it over my back, and the shocks started up again.

“Harder! Harder!” I cried out as he pistoned in and out of my ass.

Crack! Crack! Crack! went the whip and my orgasm started again; a long rolling one. I shook as I came, my arms unable to hold me up any longer, just being held by his hands, and his cock as he went in and out of me.

I felt his seed in my bowels as he shouted out, and cracked the whip one more time. Then we collapsed on the stage, and the audience applauded.

It turned out that there was a lot more to Nick than I ever knew. Wh ile independently wealthy, he did travel most of the year doing tricks with his own whip. It was just luck that Damon showed up with one — for all of us, really. Damon confided that Nick was much better whip artist than he was — an admission I rarely heard from Damon.

When I realized that Nick’s off-season home was in upstate New York, I turned to my husband. “We still have to go to New York, right? and soon?”

He nodded, and I smiled.

We did go, but that’s another story.

Joe Tortuga

Written by Joe Tortuga a bisexual dominant erotica writer and programmer (he/him). Follow me on Twitter