We missed Michelle. We discussed a replacement. Male of female? Hubby was still keen to watch me being skewered. Male then. I started dating again with much the same result as previously. We visited a dogging site. Really? Thanks but no thanks. Eventually we decided on a swinger's club. The place we chose was miles away in another town. The town had several lodge type hotels. We booked one. Saturday's were straight couples days. We turned up on a Saturday, early as requested, having previously telephoned. The place was a converted Victorian warehouse, built to serve a railway sidings, long gone and being developed as 'executive apartments'. Separating that from the warehousing area, was a newly built 'expressway', Isolating it. It had been neglected for years until it's historic importance had been acknowledged, now what was saveable was being saved. The warehouse was quite superb. We were led into an office, where a tall, elegant late-forties woman explained the rules and showed a video of the place empty. It was strictly members only, otherwise no entry. If after one visit, we changed our minds we would get a 50% refund. It was not cheap. The idea of course being to exclude the just curious, you had to be committed. Dress code was smart, suits for men, cocktail dresses or similar for women. Meeting place was the ground floor. This had a bar with high stools, a lounge area and a small dance floor. At ten p.m., an anouncement indicated playtime and that the other floors were accessible. The first floor had a locker room where we could leave clothes and valuables. Naked was fine, as was 'naked with garnish'. Also on this floor were several rooms with beds, one just had one bed, another, two beds and a third, three. Side by side like in a dormitory. The top floor was just one big room, open to the rafters. If you have ever been to a cattle auction, it would be familiar. Except that in the centre was a huge circular bed, piled with pillows. Around the sides were bench seats, separated from the arena by a rail which went right round the room except for several gaps, gateways to the action. The basement was the dungeon. There were more lockers, a large area for communal fun and several smaller 'special chambers'. After we had visited another floor, we could return to the ground floor dressed or undressed, but 'for reasons of hygene', knickers or pants must be worn. We paid up. Members arrived, first in a trickle, then as playtime approached, a flood. There was music. Loud music. And not my kind of music. We sat at the bar, several people introduced themselves. It was relaxed and friendly. One or two couples danced. Just before ten, a couple that we had just met asked if they could be our guides. We were grateful. There was not exactly a rush when the annoucement came, but the bar soon emptied. Nessa, (Vanessa) was my guide. Tony my husband's. Nessa led me to the locker room, much like in a gym. She stripped to just suspenders , stockings and heels. She had a full figure, lovely tits. She was a few years my senior. I need have gone no further. I wanted her. I matched her undress and followed her out. In the rooms there was already action, in the one-bed room, a fiftyish woman was being vigorously spitroasted, her cries muffled by the thick cock in her mouth. The one in her cunt was condomed, another rule. There were condom dispensers everywhere, alongside paper towel dispensers, wet-wipes, lubricant, hand sanitisers. And of course, waste bins. In another room, with the two beds, were two couples, man on top banging away. One of the women smiled and waved. One of the men said something to the other. They changed mounts. We found Hubby on the top floor. He was leaning on the rail watching a foursome on the big round bed. A woman was being triple penetrated, one in her mouth, one in her cunt and a third, Tony, slamming his cock into her arse. They had a big audience. As we watched, Mouthcock grunted, took a handfull of her hair and pulled out. Aiming his cock with his free hand, he covered her upturned face with spunk. "No condom for that then?" Hubby commented. Nessa gave him a withering look and said; "That's the best part, imagine a porn film without moneyshots?" The depleted cock withdrew and was immediately replaced by a full one. The duo at the other end, who had stopped to watch the show, resumed their double-piston pumping. "Would you like to see the dungeon?" Asked Nessa. We followed her downstairs, diverting to finish our drinks. Drinks were not permitted in the playrooms. The dungeon was empty. Nessa expained the working of some of the more obscure appliances, she seemed energised. There were two pairs of stocks, one for sitting restraint and one for standing. Hubby raised the hinge of the standing one, indicated it and said to me; "Bend over wench and I'll have you by the cunt." I obliged. Hubby removed his shorts and stepped up to the mark. Nessa's eyes checked out his equipment. "Condom!" She said sharply." "We're married!" Retorted Hubby. Nessa shrugged and said; "That's the rule." She handed him one. Out of my sight, he grudgingly rolled it over his straining cock. He did not need the lubricant. No matter how often a cock is pushed into you, it's always magical. I savoured it. Before he could begin his strokes, another man strode into view. Straight from the set of Spartacus. Sandals, a black leather loin cloth and with what looked like a medieval executioners hood. He carried a short leather crop. "Nessie!" He said. "My beautiful slave. Are you ready for your discipline?" I felt Hubby slip out of me. I looked up at 'Nessie'. Her nipples had spiked "Yes Master." She said. But in a high-pitched, girly voice. The Master slapped his thigh with the crop, she scurried over to him. She pulled the suspender belt down over her hips, taking the stockings with it. She raised each leg, peeled the stockings off her feet and put the black stillettos back on. She held out both wrists. The Master held the crop in his teeth and velcroed a black leather cuff to each wrist. Then he knelt at her feet, placed a kiss on her hairless mound and attached a cuff to each ankle. The anklets had short chains attached. He led her, anklets clinking, to a clear space in the middle of the floor, knelt again and clipped each chain to a D-ring hidden in the floor. Her legs were now held wide apart. He stood again, supporting her and called out; "Marcus!" There was a mechanical hum, and two fine chains descended, about three feet apart, from somewhere in the roof. The master clipped one to each wrist-cuff and the chains slowly rose, stretching Nessa out into a naked X. My husband released me from the stocks and I stood upright. A small audience had gathered. Hubby and I were very close, with a side view of the action. The Master walked behind Nessa, reached round and squeezed each ripe tit, quite hard. He then produced a leather skullcap, like Catwoman but without eye holes and pulled it down, blindfolding her. Finally he fitted a ball gag to her mouth. He stood back to admire his work, then slashed the crop across her bare arse. Nessa sreamed against the gag and sqirmed againt her restraints. I also screamed and there was a gasp from the watchers. He whipped her again, this time from the other side, forming a cross. Hubby said softly; "How does she no if she's gagged?" A man standing on the other side of me, erect cock in his hand, said; "She wouldn't if she could, she likes it. It's her thing. And it doesnt really hurt, the crop itself makes the cracking noise." The Master continued whipping, from her shoulders to her thighs. She reacted, but she did not seem distressed. Perhaps it didn't hurt. The man who had explained was not the only proud possessor of an erection, all of the cocks on show were hard and those hidden by shorts were tenting. I am ashamed to say that I was also lubricating freely. Like theatre then? It WAS theatre. A man pushed through the crowd, naked but for sandals and a skullcap similar to The Master's. Marcus, he was tall and thin, as was his erect cock, stood behind Nessa, took a bum-cheek in each hand, bent his knees and fed his cock into her. He straightened his legs, lifting her feet off the floor, then lowered her and began his fuck. The Master turned his attention to Nessa's front, whipping her belly, tits an thighs. Some of the strokes hit Marcus's hands, he didn't break stroke. The Masters loin cloth was being lifted from inside. His cock was hidden, but there was little doubt about the nature of the tent-pole. Marcus stopped his thrusting. He was coming. He withdrew, the filled condom drooping from his wilted cock. The Master picked two more men from the watchers and spoke softly to them. They nodded. Nessa was slumped in her restraints, head down. The Master knelt and released her ankles. Nessa stood up straight, but not for long. One of the men bent forward and pushed both arms between her legs, hooked them behind her knees and lifted her so that her legs were bent double. Most of her weight was carried on her arms. The other man moved behind fumbled for the first man's cock and engaged it with Nessa's cunt. It pushed inside. The second man lubricated his cock, pressed it against the tight pucker of Nessa's arse and slipped easily in. They fucked her like this, one in, one out until they both had come. The chains slackened, allowing Nessa to crumple. I started to go to her but Hubby stopped me. The Master removed his hood, then Nessa's and the gag, finally he removed the wrist cuffs and helped her to her feet. He offered her his arm and they left. Show over, the crowd dispersed, some heading for the other delights on offer in the dungeon. Hubby kissed me and said; "Would you like to finish what we started? The stocks. Why not? I had never seen the appeal of bondage etc. Until now. I was desperate to feel a cock inside me. I nodded. He fastened me in, moved behind and slipped his lovely cock into my hungry slot. We soon had our own audience. Without breaking rhythm, Hubby said from behind me; "Somebody fuck her mouth." Didn't I get a say in this? Of course not, I was the wench in disgrace, but nobody was going to throw rotten tomatoes. A thick, circumcised cock was pressed against my lips. I took it in. I couldn't help, nor could I control anything he chose to do. And I was loving it. He fucked my face as Hubby fucked my cunt. Suddenly he erupted a fountain of thick spunk into my mouth. He pushed in to deliver it. I collected most of it, but as he pulled away, I could feel it dripping from my chin. There was a small puddle on the floor. He produced a paper towel and cleaned it up thanked me and walked off. Hubby had paused his strokes to watch. He pulled out. I was certain that he had not ejaculated, I know the signs well enough. "Who's next?" He said. "Don't rush, form a queue. Her cunt is like oiled silk and I've primed her for you." What? Now who was he? My pimp? But I wanted it. Unseen hands felt for my cunt, then a cock slipped easily inside. He fucked steadily. Hubby's voice provided commentary; "Look how her tits swing as he fucks her. And watch her cunt grip his cock as he pulls out, it doesn't want to let go." The man grunted and stopped, then quickly withdrew. Had he come? There was no real way of telling, no feeling of wetness. But the condom would have contained his spunk even if he had. I felt cheated. Another cock slipped in. "Anybody want to fuck her mouth? She's good. Or feel her tits as they swing." I was fondled by my tormentors. A cock appeared in front of me and I gratefully sucked it in. A female voice behind me said; "Is she yours? "Yes," replied Hubby. "She is." "She's lovely, in different circumstances I would have her." "Have her now, anyway you want." "Strict rules. You should have been told. Tonight is straight, there are other nights for girl on girl or man on man." "Alright to feel her tits though?" "Strict rules," she echoed. "I'd like to suck you off though." They appeared in front. My face fucker had moved on and not been replaced. The woman angled Hubby so that I had a clear view, squatted in front of him and sucked him in noisily. This was torture alright, but the pain was in my head. I was helpless. Is this how stocks were used in medieval times? Rotten vegetables for the men, any passing cock for the women? She swallowed his offering and they left arm in arm. I called out not to leave me here. He turned, looked at the queue and said; "You're in good hands." I really don't know how many times I was used when I was in the stocks, nor do I know how many, if any, had come into their condom. Understandable really, men have a limited amount of charge, to use an electric vehicle analogy, without needing a long session of recharging. But that doesn't mean they can't plug in. To as many cunts were available. I had just been fucked many times without a come, these men had learned the technique. I went of to find my husband. Not for any kind of revenge, but curious to know how, if at all, he had emptied his battery. As I left the dungeon, a sign reminded me that pants were obligatory for the ground floor. Mine were in my locker. But there was a dispenser, two in fact, one for women and one for men. I pulled the drawer open. What I found surprised me. The knickers were little more than two paper triangles, connected by elastic. Designed to catch drips but hide very little. I went into the bar. No sign of Hubby, but Nessa was sat on a high stool, naked but for a pair of the drip-catchers. With her were the man who had fucked her first and the man I knew only as The Master. She introduced them. Marcus and Harry, aka The Master. He was joint owner of the place with Rebecca, who had enrolled us. They bought me a drink, served by a young topless waitress. I asked Nessa if she was alright. She said; "Yes of course. It's role play. It's my thing." I finished my drink and continued my Hubby hunt. The party was in full swing, there wasn't an empty cunt in the house other than mine. Many of the women were accomodating two or three men at once, sometimes holding another cock waiting for attention. This meant that most of the spectators were female, masturbating females. I was much ogled, but nobody solicited me. Rules were being very closely observed, participation was by invitation only. I had seen all I wanted to see, except my husband. I went back and sat in the bar until he turned up, then told him that I had had enough for one day. We talked about it through the week. We would certainly return. We were not sure what we wanted. Extra-marital sex certainly. The club certainly offed that, but the one-ness that we had experienced with Michelle, was missing. And my husband had still not seen me being fucked bareback. The club satisfied our needs, except for my taste fo cunt. I had offers at the club, but it would have meant travelling and although partners were welcome as spectators, nobody would go as far as a full on, bareback foursome. We talked about it. I asked hubby if he had ever done it with a man. A firm no. Was he curious? There was a long silence. Eventually he said; I'd like to know how it feels to have a cock in my mouth. Well, it was a start. I latched onto it, stoking his passion in bed with scenarios that involved me being fucked bareback, then licking the spunk from my cunt, just as he liked to lick his own. Then he would suck the cock clean as well. He never said anything, but it usually ended in a frantic fuck. He was interested. My machinations were put on a back burner by talk of holidays. It was our habit to arrive at the club long before playtime, to chill out and talk to friends before it got noisy. We were talking to another couple, Liz and Steve. Liz casually asked where we went for holidays. The short answer was, we never had. Not together anyway. This year we wanted to, but where? All we wanted was sun, sea, sand and sex. But so does everybody else, we wanted quiet as well. We had discussed swinger's resorts, looked at the websites. All we had to do was choose one. The bar was getting busier and noisier. Playtime was announced. Our friends stood to go, but Steve leaned over and wrote a web address on a knapkin. "Try this,"he said. "It's just pictures, but in one of the pictures you'll find this." He drew a symbol on the knapkin. "Click on it and it takes you to the next level." Then he was gone. We spent an interesting couple of hours at the club, but distracted by what was behing the symbol. We felt compelled to find out.