Written by Dundoodle

12 Feb 2008

Part 1 - where Helen goes on a short trip, with interludes.

I watched the door close behind Helen and the four men on the large monitors, but was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate on anything other than Pam's expert sucking of my semi-rigid penis. She was on the chair next to mine, kneeling sideways, with her head in my lap and her thong-clad rear stuck in the air. She was good, very good, but despite her best efforts there was no way she was going to be able to return me to a state of complete rigidity. My sexual reserves had been totally drained of late, with numerous ejaculations over the last two days. Not bad for a man of my age of course, but although the spirit was willing the flesh was, alas, somewhat weak.

Pam, who was obviously greatly experienced, could tell that despite her expert attention she was not going to get me totally hard, and, after several minutes, stopped. Getting off her chair revealed, as she had discarded her skirt earlier, a very shapely set of legs and, telling me to stay put as she would ‘be back in a minute,' she disappeared through the door, and went downstairs to the private bar. I knew this because her image appeared on the screens in front of me. I tracked her as she went behind the bar-counter and quickly retrieved whatever it was she wanted, before moving across to the stage. She went behind the curtain that formed the backdrop, and also concealed some very nasty-looking equipment as Terry had shown me earlier, before reappearing seconds later. She disappeared from view before rematerialising in person, carrying a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses, together with a small box.

She poured a glass of wine for us both, - my penis, whilst not totally flaccid - was in no state for ‘fun,' and since Pam looked rather tasty standing there, dressed only in high-heeled sandals, a thong, wonderbra and blouse, I was quite in the mood for some.

I returned my attention to her. I expected her to resume her previous activity, but instead she unbuttoned and removed her blouse and sat back down. ‘You're anxious about Helen, aren't you?' she asked quietly.

I replied that I was a little concerned, and asked what Terry and company were up to, particularly in relation to Harry, who was quite obviously a bondage freak and had left still carrying his bag of ‘equipment.' ‘They won't harm her' Pam reassured me, adding that Terry wouldn't let anything happen to her. ‘But what are they doing with her?' I asked. Pam looked directly at me and, whilst reaching backwards to unhook her bra, answered only enigmatically; ‘you'll see' she said as she freed her large breasts from their confines.

It is now time to interrupt the story for a moment. Chronology, as someone famous once said, is the key to narrative; however in order to adhere to that maxim it is necessary for me to interpolate into the tale scenes that I didn't actually see until much later. As Pam had informed me, what occurred was recorded on digital video using the three hand-held cameras that Terry had mentioned to me earlier. I was therefore, after the event, indeed able to see the progress of Helen's journey to, and subsequent adventures in, Harry's bar.

As Pam leaned back in her chair and began to tease her nipples, Helen and her accompanying escort were making their way along the rather ill-lit street outside. The two younger men were stationed on each side of her, holding her by the hands, whilst the others were filming her rather slow progress. The reasons why she could only walk unhurriedly have already been explained, and as she processed her rather inadequate outer garment would occasionally reveal glimpses of what lurked beneath. The group stopped after having gone a little way, and Fat Terry moved in close to her and began to kiss her slowly, bending his head upward a little to reach her mouth.

He pulled back slightly, and opened her wrap to palm her right breast, taking it in his hand as if calculating its weight. The nipple, artificially maintained in its greatly elongated state, contrasted lividly against the whiteness of her flesh. Helen was obliged to stand there and allow herself to be unveiled as her hands were being held, but, in any event, seemed to make no attempt to cover her shivering body. Her face and upper body were deeply flushed, and her eyes wide as Terry, his face only an inch or so away from hers, spoke to her:

‘Are you frightened?' he asked her.

She nodded, before adding ‘a little.'

‘Don't you like being out here with us then?' he followed up.

She didn't answer this, but looked downwards.

‘I think it is giving you the biggest turn on of your life' he murmured, taking her chin in his free hand and forcing her to look at him.

‘Would you like to touch your clit?' he asked.

She gulped, before nodding silently.

‘Tell me then' he responded, ‘tell me you want to play with it.'

‘I want to play with my clit' she replied in a low voice.

Terry said something to Steve, who promptly released her right hand before reaching down and, bending it at the knee, raising her right leg and moving it sideways so as to allow unrestricted access.

Perched on one leg, but held steady by her attendants, she reached down to touch herself. The camera was shooting from below, which provided a magnificent shot of her most intimate parts. Her clamped clitoris, now purpling with the restriction, was held in a fully erect position well clear of her vulva, whilst protruding slightly from her vagina was the white plastic handle of the device embedded deeply inside. At some two inches across, the even larger head being unseen, this was obviously making itself felt, and she was visibly clenching and unclenching around it. This had the effect of both stimulating her secretions and allowing them to leak out, as was plainly evidenced by the bedewing of the attached chains and labial weights. The latter ensured her inner lips protruded and were fully exposed, whilst the external portion of the butt-plug was conspicuous further back.

As Helen's fingers touched her engorged clitoris she let out an intense moan, and was, I could tell, within nanoseconds of orgasming. Fat Terry however had other ideas and swiftly pulled her hand away, at which she emitted another moan, though of a completely different tone.

‘Oh God no' whined Helen, ‘no, don't.'

Her pleas were however ignored as Steve lowered her leg, and, taking her hand, began once again walking alongside her as they continued. Pam had warned that her husband could be ‘tough' and a ‘bit of a bastard' and this was evidenced further when he completely opened and folded her beach-wrap back, tucking the hem into the rear of her waspie. Helen was thus obliged to continue the journey in a state that was, arguably, even more erotic than had she simply been naked. There weren't, truth to tell, likely to be that many people around as the hour was late and the street not a main one. Nevertheless several cars passed, and most sounded their horns in appreciation of the spectacle - none stopped however, due, no doubt, to her retinue of able-bodied (or nearly so in Fat Terry's case) men.

They hadn't gone far when Terry interrupted the journey again, this time outside a shop of some description. Upon his word, Helen lifted her right leg and rested it on the low windowsill of the well-lit establishment, the light spilling onto the street providing perfect illumination. Again the camera shot was from below, but this time Steve and Brian were directed to keep hold of her hands. Terry knelt before her and his tongue flickered out, making light and extremely brief contact with her clitoris. The muscular contraction this caused was glaringly obvious from the movement of the object in her vagina; as she spasmed it was drawn up a little. This jerked the fine chains, which, in turn, tugged slightly on the clamp constraining her ultra-sensitive clitoris, and, though less noticeably, the plug inserted deep into her anus.

If the first contraction was undoubtedly involuntary, then the series that followed certainly weren't. Having divined a way to manipulate her clitoris, Helen worked her vaginal muscles frantically in an effort to bring herself to a climax. Terry watched from inches away as her efforts caused the device to move rapidly, but, alas for her, only slightly. It might have been enough, but either Harry had demonstrated a masters touch in making the chains slightly too long (or exactly the right length!), or it was just sheer luck, but in any event they just didn't pull on the clamp enough to do the trick. A shot of Helen's face revealed she was crimson with the effort, as she grimaced, gasped and grunted at the exertion of frenetically working her lower abdominal muscles. Eventually she gave up and, wheezing for breath, practically collapsed, though those on either side of her made sure she stayed upright.

Fat Terry had watched this attempt from extreme close up, and now his tongue went out to lick the wetness that had oozed out around the plastic shaft. With the skill of a surgeon, or perhaps a bomb-disposal expert, he used both hands to draw the weights clamped to her labia sideways and up, spreading wide her inner lips, before employing his tongue to delicately lap the moisture away. This attention caused Helen to begin writhing and thrusting, as she attempted to force contact. Terry however was too subtle and she could gain no relief that way, and once she had again given up he stood and they moved on, the inside of Helen's thighs now sporadically glistening as and when the light struck them at a certain angle.

After walking no more than about twenty-five yards they stopped outside a bar, and Fat Terry announced that they were going in. Helen, standing hand in hand between the two young studs, took a deep breath and a step back at this news, as well she might. The only significant garment she was wearing had been pulled open and was only visible from the front as a halter-neck that met just above her uncovered breasts. The rest was now mostly tucked away behind her, leaving her body, dressed in its stimulating lingerie and adorned, penetrated and clamped with an assortment of devices, bare to the world.

Terry grinned evilly as he beckoned her forward. She demurred, but he merely took hold of the chain connecting her nipples and clitoris and gently hauled on it. Helen was thus forced to take a step towards him, whereupon he once again stretched up slightly to kiss her. He broke off and spoke quietly to her:

‘I'll cover you up if you show me how you would suck my cock' he murmured.

‘What . . . here?' asked Helen as she glanced nervously up and down the street.

‘I don't want you to suck my cock here, I want you to show me how you would suck my cock' he answered cryptically.

Helen's face showed she hadn't got a clue what he was talking about - which is hardly surprising - until Harry handed him a fairly large, and realistically constructed, black dildo. Terry brought this up to her mouth and, putting his other hand around the back of her neck, touched her lips with it. She immediately took it in her mouth and began treating it as if it were a real male member, rolling it around her mouth and sucking it in and out.

The scene was surreal in the extreme; my darling Helen, (un)dressed and adorned as previously described, standing in the street surrounded by four men, two of whom were restraining her hands and one who was working a black plastic penis in and out of her mouth. What craziness was this?

Incredibly she seemed to be enjoying it, as Terry held it more or less still and allowed her to perform her oral repertoire. He kept talking to her as she worked, telling her to ‘suck harder' and ‘take me deeper' and so on, injunctions which she seemed to be obeying.

After a good two or three minutes of this he turned it over so that it curved in a downward direction, and enjoined Helen to ‘take me all the way in and make me cum.' Either Helen did it herself, or he made her do it, but either way she tilted her head back a little and he gently began pushing the object, which looked to be a little longer than the average male member, say about seven inches and proportionately thicker, further and further in. He withdrew it a little when she began to gag, but continued working it in his attempt to insert it deeper and deeper.

That it now curved downwards helped no doubt, and eventually the artificial scrotal sack at the base contacted her upper lip, indicating she had successfully deep-throated it. He pulled it back slightly then reinserted it, repeating the process three or four times, before withdrawing it slowly until only about two inches remained. He then squeezed the base. The phallus obviously had a reservoir of some kind, as thin whitish fluid spurted from around Helen's lips where they encompassed the shaft - she obviously hadn't taken his injunction to ‘make me cum' literally and clearly wasn't expecting to get a mouthful. ‘Swallow' he instructed, again squeezing the appliance, and her throat moved as she obeyed.

Having completed his little game he removed the toy from her mouth, before handing it back to Harry. ‘I'm impressed' he told her as he kissed her whilst his hands reached around her and freed the wrap from where it was tucked. He licked away the dribbles of liquid off her chin; ‘vanilla-yoghurt and milk' he informed her, before stepping back to survey his powerless plaything.

She was a picture of total eroticism; the white wrap now covered her from cleavage level to mid-thigh, but its translucency allowed glimpses of the glories underneath. Her nipples were shockingly obvious, and the red of her bra and waspie could also easily be discerned, though not in any great detail. The chains depending from collar to nipples were taut, holding as they were the weight of her breasts, and their function could also be distinguished as they kept the top of the garment away from her chest slightly and were visible through the thin material. That she was clad in stockings and suspenders was also evident, particularly when she moved. Her face was rosy, with, no doubt, a combination of lust, embarrassment, and fear as Terry led the way into the bar, whilst Steve and Brian holding on to her from either side, propelled her in his wake.

Long and narrow, the room was not large, about twenty five feet by twelve, with the bar taking up one of the corners furthest from the door, and, a typically Spanish arrangement, a toilet cubicle in the opposite corner. There were three or four high stools arranged in front of the bar, with a number of other chairs and tables scattered around. It was practically deserted, just one man behind the counter and two others sitting on the stools adjacent to it. Terry was obviously known to them, as he was greeted by name as he entered, but all talk ceased abruptly when they caught sight of Helen. Though the place was far from brilliantly lit, the various aspects of the vision she presented were largely evident to the watchers.

He seated himself on the stool to the right of the two drinkers and motioned Helen to stand next to him, so that she was between him and them. Steve and his friend let go of her hands, and she took up the position he had assigned to her, standing there with her head down and breathing heavily.

He told Helen to place her hands on the bar, which she did, and informed the barman that drinks for everyone were on him.

‘Are you celebrating something?' asked one of the men to the left of Helen.

‘Not really' he replied, ‘but Helen here' - he nodded towards her - ‘has come on holiday for some . . . adventure, and we are doing our best to . . . satisfy her.'

Though neither of the drinkers could tear their eyes away from Helen's heaving breasts, with their bullet nipples poking through the slight material of her wrap, one of them, in a knowing voice suggestive that he was somewhat familiar with Terry and his pastimes, asked ‘can we help?' Helen visibly shivered as he said this; they looked like pensioners and both were very overweight - a bit like Terry really.

‘I think we need to take care of these two young studs first' was Terry's reply, as he glanced towards Steve and Brian, ‘or otherwise they look as if they will suffer a mischief.' Indeed, the sights the two had witnessed as they escorted Helen had left them with erections that were unmistakeably apparent, even through their clothing. Their eyes lit up at Terry's words, who, saying something to Harry, had got up and walked to the toilet cubicle. He opened the door and motioned to Helen to come to him.

She, very hesitatingly, left the bar and began moving towards him only to be stopped by Harry, who grasped her wrists and, before she could protest, fastened on a set of handcuffs. He attached a fairly short length of chain to these, affixing the other end to her collar; this arrangement prevented her from lowering her hands below chest level, leaving her looking as if she were about to start praying (which she might well have done, though for what was less certain).

Terry moved away from the cubicle and turned her to face the bar. He released a fastening on her halter neck, and, with one swift movement, removed the wrap. Helen was left standing there in front of the three strangers, completely unable to even attempt to cover herself. He reached around her from behind and, taking the weight of her breasts in his hands, tweaked her distended nipples, causing her to audibly gasp; the effect on the three new spectators was similar.

‘The handcuffs and chain are to stop you playing with your cunt' she was told as he guided her backwards into the cubicle and sat her down on the seat - she could not of course, with all the paraphernalia attached to her nether regions, have used any conventional seat. He motioned Steve and Brian forward and, without any further instruction from him, they freed their straining erections and attempted to enter the cubicle at the same time. Steve was marginally ahead and so, after a brief tussle, it was his penis that was the first to nudge against Helen's lips.

Her technique soon proved effective, and it was a matter of minutes before he was groaning mightily whilst she swallowed. He was immediately replaced by Brian, who was almost as rapidly despatched in the same manner, before being substituted by one of the fat pensioners who stood before her with his trousers around his ankles. He was wearing a condom dispensed by Terry and at his insistence; ‘you don't know where she's been' was his ungallant reply on being queried. Helen didn't even take him into her mouth, but nevertheless had him spurting within about thirty seconds simply using her cuffed hands. His colleague, who merely opened his trouser fly but otherwise kept himself clothed, she did suck, and he lasted a little longer before, with a mighty shout, sending his ejaculate flying into the end of the sheath.

The barman, who was a younger man of about thirty or thirty-five had queued patiently for his turn, and, after he had dropped his trousers, she unhesitatingly drew him into her mouth whilst massaging his sheathed length with her manacled hands. Rather than brace himself against the walls of the cubicle as most of the others had done, he rather gently took hold of Helen's head with both hands and watched enraptured as she slid her lips the full length of him. Perhaps she had got into the mood for teasing, or maybe he had iron self-control, but, whatever the reason, she worked on him for several minutes whilst he kept up a succession of appreciative sounds. No doubt feeling that he was about to erupt, she at one point removed him from her mouth whilst continuing to work with her hands. He didn't ejaculate however, and so, with a sinful smile and looking him straight in the eye, she peeled off the condom and summarily took him deep into her throat in an emulation of the earlier demonstration outside. That set him off, and as he began to cum she removed him from her mouth, and directed the jets of fluid, delivered with a great deal of force, onto the cubicle wall as he shook and shuddered.

Neither Terry nor Harry had taken a place in the line, but Steve was ready for more, and, to ribald comments from the others, once again entered the cubicle. Helen's jaw must have been aching by the time she finally got him to deliver up his second load of that particular session, which she again swallowed. That would probably have been that had not two more men appeared from somewhere, and, after observing the proceedings for a while, joined in with Terry's approval. Middle-aged and balding, Helen swiftly despatched them both into their condoms, and was then able to stand up and leave the stall to a round of applause.

Though smiling at the general acclamation, she was quite obviously in a state of some agitation, moving her body as if she badly needed to empty her bladder. She quickly moved to Terry and began to attempt to rub her pelvis against his side. He prevented her from so doing and, holding her away, smilingly, asked what she wanted?

‘You know what I want' she hissed at him.

‘Soon' answered Terry, ‘but first we have to go a little further along the street.'

‘Oh God' she sobbed, ‘can't we just do it here?'

‘Patience, have patience' was his only response, eliciting a groan from my wife.

She had clearly been over-stimulated to the point of near mania, and would probably have ground herself against any available object, whether animate or inanimate, in an attempt at relief had he not kept a grip of her.

‘I think we'd better leave the cuffs on' he said to Harry, who had come forward to re-dress her with the wrap. Terry however motioned him to stop, and with a licentious grin, asked Helen if she wanted to be covered up.

Her already intensely coloured complexion darkened, as she imperceptibly shook her head.

He leaned forward to run his tongue over one of her inflated nipples, at which she practically staggered, before taking her by the chin and forcing her to look him in the face.

‘Do you want to stay stripped?' he asked softly, the emphasis on the ‘want.'

Helen was breathless and appeared to be close to the female equivalent of spontaneous ejaculation, as she momentarily nodded.

‘Do you want the whole world to see your bald cunt?' he added in low voice.

She made no answer to this, merely writhed.

He made her drink from the glass of beer he was holding before bending his head up, and, putting his mouth close to hers, extending his tongue between her parted lips. She immediately began sucking forcefully on it whilst whimpering and attempting to make bodily contact. Whilst being very careful to prevent the latter he allowed her to continue with this variation on the oral sex theme, the only form she was permitted, for several seconds. He then broke away from her and, with his hand in the small of her back, guided her towards the door.

There was of course now no need for Steve and Brian to restrain her hands, but, when outside, they took an elbow apiece and once again the male quartet escorted the striking figure that was my Helen along whatever Spain's equivalent of the public highway is called. Terry called no halts in order to inflict further torment upon his willing, though helpless, captive and so despite the limitations on mobility imposed by her somewhat arduous circumstances, they shortly arrived outside another bar.

Directing the others to wait, the two older men entered Harry's bar, for that is indeed where, unbeknown to Helen, they had arrived. After presumably checking there were no minors or others likely to be corrupted, traumatised or otherwise shocked on the premises, Terry quickly reappeared on the street. He detached Helen from between her young attendants, bade them go in first, and positioned her before the doorway.

The sounds emanating from within indicated that it was substantially busier then the previous stopping point, which, no doubt, accounted for her attempting to move backwards. He barred this retreat by stepping to her side and taking hold of the chain that vertically bisected her abdomen. He gave a tug, causing her to wince, and with an exaggerated bow enjoined her to cross the threshold: ‘your audience awaits' he announced.

Helen only had one bodily orifice unplugged, as was evidenced by the brief spurt of liquid that splattered onto the pavement as she grasped the implications of her situation.

She swiftly regained control however and glared at him.

‘Bastard' she spat, which only caused his grin to widen.

‘We both know I'm a bastard' he retorted, ‘but what you don't yet know is how much of a bastard.'

‘But there are lots of people inside' she pleaded.

‘Oh yes' said Terry, tugging lightly on the chain, ‘and you're going to show them all your wet cunt.'

Another, smaller, spurt escaped her, but instead of responding further to him she merely tossed her head dismissively, causing her breasts to jiggle delightfully. Then, without further ado, she pushed past him and with as much dignity as could be mustered by one in her situation, and head held high, she stepped into the building.

Part 2 - in which my dear wife finally gets the attention she so badly needs.

Her entrance was almost a recreation of one of those scenes in the old cowboy films; where the stranger enters the saloon and the music stops, all heads swivel in his direction and time apparently stands still. Almost, but not quite, for the music was on tape and continued. Otherwise the effect was similar, even though no film cowboy ever made an entrance quite like Helen did.

Harry, Steve and Brian knew what to expect. The other clients and members of staff didn't, and if dropping chins had been a noisy business the racket would have been deafening.

‘Fucking hell' someone barked, as she stepped into the light.

Helen was indeed an astonishing figure, and as she stood some six feet tall in her stilettos the stunned patrons might have been forgiven for imagining that an Amazon was visiting them. A second look however would have revealed several interesting features pertaining to this Amazon.

The wide eyed viewers most likely first took in the long stocking clad legs, the suspenders framing the depilated pubic area, the red waspie, and the quarter cup bra thrusting the full breasts upwards and out. They would have been most unlikely to miss the manacled wrists shackled to the collar, compelling the hands to remain at upper chest level.

Cursory additional study, even when conducted by persons in an apparent state of shock, could hardly have failed to reveal that the breasts were being at least partly supported by thin chains attached to elongated nipples, and that normally unseen portions of the female anatomy were being stretched into plain view by dangling weights. The droplets that had collected on these, which slowly accumulated to the extent that their increased mass caused them to detach and silently drop to the floor, were also unlikely to escape their attention.

Given the relative distance between viewed and viewers, the latter would probably have initially missed the artificially maintained tumescence of her clitoris, as they would the thick plastic object protruding slightly from between her puffy labia, whilst much closer scrutiny, or at least a twirl by the figure under review, would have been required to discern the base of the substantial plug poking out between her buttocks.

It would take a rather detailed examination, combined with some manipulation of the lower limbs, before proper knowledge relating to the intricacies of the various chains that seemed to be clustered between her legs would have been obtainable.

They could not have known that all these particulars, and more, would be revealed to them in the fullness of time, but there was, perhaps, an indication of future delights when Terry stepped in behind her and, after fastening the door, grasped her elbows and began moving her further into the room.

Harry's bar was not dissimilar in size and shape from that which Helen had performed in earlier, though was rather better appointed. The counter, with attendant velour-upholstered high stools, was situated in the centre of one of the long walls, and there were the usual tables spotted around. The moustachioed barman was, again, quite young and well built, and Helen's eyes, as they nervously darted around the establishment, would have rapidly told her that the customers were, whether by accident or design, exclusively male, ranged widely in age, and numbered no more than eight.

Terry walked her to the bar and turned her about so that she faced the goggling clientele. He put an arm around her bare shoulders and pulled her to him, announcing to the assembled company that this vision before them was named Helen, and that she was ‘badly in need of some attention.'

The muscles in Helen's lower abdomen could be seen working, which indicated, or at least to those in the know, that she was tightening and relaxing herself around the deeply inserted objects. Though she had kept her head erect during her entrance and short hike to the bar, she had now lowered this and was again breathing heavily, as was evidenced by the heaving of her adorned breasts.

Terry's treatment of her, it had to be admitted, had been masterful. He had, utilising methods both physical and psychological, put her through a process whereby, as he had earlier told her, she was experiencing the biggest turn on of her life. Indeed, the reason why occasional droplets continued to descend between her parted thighs was, in all likelihood, completely unrelated to the brief fright-induced ‘accidents' she had experienced outside. He had, if the use of cliché may be forgiven, played her like a violin.

An earlier scene, which had taken place at Terry's, was now reprised; Helen was directed to place her bottom on the edge of one of the barstools, whilst Harry stood behind it and pulled her back onto his chest. As previously, Terry motioned to Steve and Brian and they each took hold of a leg at the knee and pulled up and back, totally exposing, for the delectation of the assembled audience, the details of the various plugs and clamps that had been attached to, or inserted in, Helen's lower body. Helen had on the previous occasion attempted, albeit ineffectually, to shield her most secret places from view, occasioning the need for the two young men to take hold of her hands. Even this halfhearted effort was denied to her now, and she could only flap her shackled hands ineffectually as Terry ran his hands up and down the back of her stocking clad thighs.

He stood to one side, allowing the knot that had now gathered close to the bar an uninterrupted view as he played with the various devices now in sight. The anal plug was withdrawn slightly, the bulbous part inside Helen causing the tender flesh around her anus to bulge outwards and the actual orifice to begin to expand in order to accommodate the significant girth, before he allowed it to slide back into place. With his fingertips he grasped the short portion of the vaginal penetrator visible outside her body and moved it in a circular motion, causing her foamy discharge to flow down over her fourchette onto the base of the plug. He used the weights attached to her inner labia to spread the latter wide open; indeed there was not one portion of her feminine parts that was not flagrantly displayed to the attentive observers.

Throughout this display Helen, who had bent her head forward to watch as much as she could, had whined and moaned. She had also squirmed and toiled whilst she made the effort once again to manipulate her clitoris via the chained clamp, but again to no avail. Indeed, Terry was careful not to touch or otherwise stimulate that bloated organ, which had now assumed a bright purple colour.

It was now time.

He said a word or two to Harry who, in turn, twisted his head and spoke to the barman. This particular character had not moved from behind the bar, and was the only person in the room who had not watched intently as Helen was inspected and displayed. He passed something to Harry, who then nodded to Terry.

He looked Helen in the face, staring into her anxious eyes for several seconds, then reached across and grabbed her nose, pinching the nostrils shut.

This unexpected move caused her to open her mouth wide, allowing Harry the opportunity to push the object the barman had given him between her lips. He stretched elasticised bands attached to it around her head, securing them at the back.

It was of course a ball-gag, and Helen appeared mystified and infuriated to be wearing it, though of course she couldn't say so. In any event, her attention was soon directed elsewhere as Harry began massaging her breasts and nipples, whilst Terry knelt down and brought his mouth close to her crotch. He removed the weighted clamps from her inner lips, and then, after taking the clitoris clamp between his fingers, brought his mouth down on that abused appendage. He sucked her into his mouth and was undoubtedly working with his tongue. The effect on Helen was extraordinary; she distinctly convulsed three or four times, and then, in the throes of a gigantic paroxysm, nearly tore herself free from the grip of the three men holding her. Her pelvis left the seat of the stool and jerked up and down furiously whilst her legs kicked and twisted. Simultaneously, and at the very start of this final spasm, Terry and Harry removed the clamps. The combined effects of the vastly delayed orgasm and the reintroduction of unobstructed blood flow to her most sensitive parts must have been almost unbearable, and the rationale behind the gag became clear. Even with it she made a huge amount of noise, but without it she would probably have had the police at the door within minutes.

Terry had stood clear as her climax began, whilst the other three could only hold on to her as she thrashed and flailed. The appreciative octet, some of whom were rubbing obvious erections through their clothing, merely looked on. She was drenched in perspiration by the time she came back to Planet Earth and slumped exhaustedly against Harry's chest.

Terry had not finished playing however.

He directed Steve and Brian to release her and then pulled her into a standing position. Harry climbed onto the stool and held her in place, whilst Terry moved a chair next to her and, bending her leg, placed her right foot on it. Reaching under her with his left hand he touched the object in her vagina, and then, with his free hand, unclipped the box that he had earlier attached to her suspender, and touched a switch.

There was a powerful vibrator in the large head of the device - there must have been as the sound was clearly audible in the barroom - and the activation of this caused Helen to go weak at the knees. Harry held her upright, and, as it buzzed inside her, Terry used his hand to move it up and down a few times. The spherical head was contacting her most sensitive internal spot; direct evidence of this appearing within about thirty seconds when she began shuddering, and her eyes rolled up in their sockets.

The results of this intense massage had another most impressive physical manifestation; she squirted, literally gushed, intense spurts of semi-viscous fluid onto Terry's arm as he manipulated the vibrator. Again, had the gag not been in place she would have screamed the place down, but was confined to making intense gurgling and moaning noises around the rubber ball.

This time she literally collapsed with the intensity of the orgasm, and was in a dead faint when Terry switched the vibrator off. Harry kept her upright, otherwise she would have fallen to the floor, and whilst she hung limply in his grasp Terry slowly withdrew the machine that had put her in that state, leaving fine, viscous, strands depending from her gaping orifice. He also removed the anal plug, with similar sound effects but no other obvious result, whilst the audience followed every move.

Having been divested of the various intrusive objects and clamps, it became possible for Helen to use a conventional chair, and, after Harry had removed the gag, she was set down to recover. She soon stirred, and Terry, his bare forearm dripping with gluey fluid, brought her a glass of water, which she grasped in her still shackled hands and drank thirstily. He crouched in front of her and removed the rest of the various chains, leaving only the collar and wrist restraints. Helen, somewhat dishevelled and gleaming with perspiration, looked exhausted, but nevertheless smiled at him as he raised her chin and took the empty glass from her.

Terry though had still not finished, and so, of course, neither had Helen.

He pulled her to her feet and guided her to an adjacent table, where he told her to lay down. Her bottom was at the very edge at one end, and he moved there and raised her legs high and wide. To whoops of encouragement from the others, the first of the small crowd was motioned to move forward. He took Terry's place and, pushing her raised legs backwards, unceremoniously penetrated her. However, no doubt over-stimulated by the proceedings he had closely observed, he thrust frantically and was spurting into his condom within thirty seconds. Helen, her hands still restrained, could only moan gently as he withdrew. His place was taken by the next in line, but any pleasure she might have gained was soon mitigated, when he too quickly ejaculated. Indeed, of the eight men who queued to take advantage of the offer, only one lasted more than a token period, and they had all finished within less than ten minutes. Even Steve and Brian, who waited until last and were the only ones Terry allowed to indulge in unprotected sex, spent themselves rapidly in turn. My dearest one, who was of course quite unable to pleasure herself, was thus left frustrated and fidgeting as she lay splayed out on the table-top, with the two young men's emissions oozing from her.

Terry came to the rescue, and pulled her into a sitting position before seating himself on a chair placed between her parted thighs. He inserted four fingers into her, before turning on and applying the spherical head of the recently retrieved large vibrator to her exposed clitoris. The whole room, excepting the barman, watched absorbedly as he slid his fingers in and out whilst rocking the vibrator back and forward across her still distended bud. This initially included Helen, who bent over to gaze at herself being expertly masturbated, but she soon threw her head back to sob and moan through a climax. When she had quietened down, Terry withdrew his glistening fingers and helped her to her feet. He offered, as he had done once before that evening, his gleaming digits to her mouth, and this time she unhesitatingly licked and sucked the heady mixture as he desired.

Terry, it seemed, had finished (at least for the moment), and he announced that it was time for them to leave. Harry had packed most of the various impedimenta away, and he handed the wrap to Terry, who turned to place it on Helen. He hesitated however, perhaps catching a look in her eye, and merely raised one eyebrow. Her complexion, having returned to a more normal shade, now reddened again as she shook her head slightly and looked away from him.

He grinned widely, and pulled her to him; ‘I may as well leave these on as well' he commented, touching the handcuff, collar and chain combination, ‘since you seem to like them so much.' Deepening in colour, Helen said nothing, but drew her breath in sharply as he put his hand down between her legs, his fingers massaging her slick flesh. She groaned softly at his touch, and, putting her mouth close to his ear, moved her lips. His grin reached grand proportions as he asked her, loudly enough for everyone to hear, if there was anything else in Harry's bag that she would like before it was closed.

She was mortified, and buried her face in his shoulder. He continued playing with her as he pulled her head back; ‘tell everyone what you want' he instructed. She muttered something before tempting to hide her face, and again he pulled her head back and told her to tell everyone what she was after.

‘Fuck you, you bastard' she hurled at him, which only caused him to laugh out loud.

‘You are beginning to find out just how big a bastard' he told her, his fingers still working away.

Crimson faced, and squirming slightly at his probing digits, she drew in a deep breath; ‘I want,' she said in a clear though tremulous voice ‘the vibrator.'

Terry was obviously seeing how far he could push her, and, taking his hand from her crotch, moved to whisper something in her ear. From the venomous look she directed at him it was evident he was perilously close to overdoing it.

He got away with it however, for, staring fixedly at the floor, she announced softly but clearly; ‘I want the vibrator in my cunt.'

Her wish was granted, and the room was treated to a reprise of Helen's vulva being widely parted as she lay back on the table, whilst Harry worked the head of the device back into her and attached the control box to her suspender.

The walk back would have only taken a few minutes; Terry though was in no hurry. The group, with Steve and Brian once again each side of Helen, quickly reached the bar where they had broken their earlier journey, and once outside he called a halt. Pressing her back against the wall, he reached down to the control box and activated the machine embedded deeply inside her before stepping back to watch. The two young men ran their hands over her body, kneading and mauling her breasts, as she parted her legs and thrust her hips forward. She reached her peak speedily, and, as the four men watched, shuddered and shook with the force of it, though this time only a few droplets escaped her and fell to the street.

Whether by coincidence, or because he had heard something, the barman came outside just as she finished, and joined the group standing around Helen. As she was returning to normal he spoke to Terry, who nodded his head. They entered the small room, taking the post-orgasmic Helen, who made no protest. The same two fat pensioners were still at the bar, and their eyes widened as they saw her, dressed substantially as before, walk in.

Terry sat in the same seat as previously, manoeuvring Helen once again so that she was between him and the patrons. Though they had most certainly seen her earlier they gawped openly at her nakedness, and the one closest to her even reached across to stroke her swollen nipple. She flinched at this, but Terry turned her to allow him easier access, stroking her naked buttocks as he watched her being caressed.

The man's hand stroked down her body and delved between her legs, which she had parted slightly, but withdrew sharply when his fingers came into contact with the hard plastic. Terry leered at this, and asked the surprised figure if, because ‘her cunt is full' he wanted to, ‘fuck her arse.'

This occasioned no response from Helen beyond a slight movement of the head, but both pensioners looked astonished. Terry stood up and turned Helen around before bending her forward over his recently vacated stool. She made no protest as he used his foot to tap her ankles, indicating she was to spread her legs. Obligingly she did so, allowing her buttocks to be parted and her puckered entrance revealed to the two surprised men, whilst, only slightly below, the end of the vibrator protruded from between her heavy lips. Harry, unbidden, passed over a tube of jelly and Terry squirted a quantity onto her anus, which twitched at the cold touch. He fingered her for a few moments, ensuring she was well lubricated, and then stood back.

Whilst the pensioner pondered the barman acted; he unzipped, snatched the proffered condom, and quickly rolled it over his erection. Positioning himself behind her he introduced the head of his penis to her entrance. Encountered little resistance as he pushed, he buried himself to the hilt in one swift thrust, occasioning a moan of pleasure from Helen. He began driving slowly and rhythmically, whilst she emitted little sounds of delight in time with his movements.

Taking out an only semi-hard member, one of the pensioner walked around the stool with the analy-impaled woman slung over it. Rolling on a condom as best he could, he raised Helen's head and fed himself into her mouth. She reached up to assist with her shackled hands, and manipulated him to hardness. His second orgasm of the evening was not long in arriving, and as he staggered back Brian took his place; two men who would not be hurried were now servicing her.

They would have worked their erections in and out of her for a considerable period no doubt, for both were clearly relishing the occasion, as was Helen who was meeting the barman's thrusts as best she could whilst working expertly on Brian. This changed dramatically when a hand reached under her and triggered the control box clipped to her lingerie. Her whole body tensed as the buzzing noise filled the air, and her rear end began bucking as, in her face down position, the device directly stimulated her favourite spot. The vibrations would undoubtedly have transmitted through her thin membranes to the organ penetrating her anus; the barman caught his breath as he felt them and, as they rapidly brought him to the brink, he sped up drastically.

If sexual compatibility can be gauged by the phenomenon of simultaneous orgasms, then the three figures in question must have represented the ultimate expression. Brian put his head back and shouted as he emptied himself, his semen escaping from the sides of Helens mouth, whilst the barman tensed and gasped as he pumped his discharge into her. Helen could only make strangled noises at one end, whilst at the other she squirted onto the legs of her anal assailant.

Both men withdrew and Terry, for it was he that was responsible, reached down to cut the power. Steve almost collided with him as he rushed to take the barman's place, burying himself without preliminaries deep in her twitching orifice. In contrast to the man whose place he had taken, he was in a hurry and he pounded her hard as he rushed to cum, the stool rocking on its legs at the force of his assault. She was leaking onto the floor from both ends as he rammed into her with great force, before, very quickly, filling her rear entrance.

As he withdrew Terry glanced at the remaining figure seated nearby, but he shook his head and looked away, either having spontaneously ejaculated or, for whatever reason, being unable or unwilling to take his turn.

Helen was helped upright and stood, open mouthed and panting, with droplets oozing down the inside of her thighs and onto her stocking tops. She raised her hands to her chin and wiped away what she could of the seepage there.

‘Time to go' announced Terry, and the little coterie, with Helen, naked, shackled and leaking, in their midst, began the short stroll back to his bar. As they approached he ordered a stop just short of the entrance, and asked Harry for her wrap.

He saw her puzzled expression. ‘I run a respectable place' he explained, ‘and I can't have you going in like that.'

Helen threw back her head and laughed out loud, before bending towards him and staring him in the face.

‘Fuck you' she spat, then, with some nimbleness considering her footwear, coolly walked into the main bar.

Part 3 - meanwhile, back at the ranch.

Pam and I caught her entrance on the monitors, and both of us gaped in astonishment. The place was quieter than earlier, but there were still probably about a score of punters about. Without a sideways glance at them she marched straight up to the bar, stepped between a couple of gobsmacked drinkers, and called to the barman.

His eyes nearly left his head at the sight of this new customer, but he quickly responded as she addressed him: ‘una jarra de cerveza' she ordered, and as a flustered looking Terry with the other three in tow appeared she inclined her head in their direction, adding ‘el jefe pagará' (Loosely; ‘give me a large beer' and ‘the boss is paying').

They hung back, with Terry, in particular, obviously unsure of what to do, as Helen bent forwards, picked up the beer in her cuffed hands, and drank deeply. Still clutching the glass she stepped back from the bar, performed a coquettish twirl for the staring audience, the male members of which responded with applause, whistles, and catcalls, and went to the door that led through to the private room. Unable to operate the handle she shouted to an astonished drinker sitting nearby, who promptly sprang to his feet and opened it for her. With a gracious nod of her head she stepped through and sashayed over to the deserted bar.

We had last seen her disappearing in the other direction some two hours previously, dressed more or less as she was now. There were few visible signs of what had occurred in the intervening period, though her stockings were laddered and torn and her hair was somewhat wild, but her manner had changed completely. She had left the room trembling and in a state of trepidation, but had almost swaggered back in. I, without knowing what had occurred in the meantime, was extremely relieved to see that she had suffered no harm and was obviously fully in command of herself, though the restrained hands did cause me to look twice.

Pam had been straddling me, in a reverse cowgirl position as I reclined in the large office chair, when Helen had made her reappearance. We were both facing the right-hand monitor watching some of the pornography that had been produced in the room below, but her entrance into the main bar, appearing on the other monitor, had instantly caught my eye. I had been keeping a look out for her for a while, despite Pam, for reasons that will be explained, wanting to bounce on my bones, or at least my boner, almost none stop.

After Helen and company had left, Pam had continued tweaking her nipples as I watched and then, after teasing me for a long time, slid a hand down into her thong and begun fingering herself. As I stroked myself at this delightful sight I had attained a stonking hard-on, though, as I was to discover, no matter what I, or Pam, did with it I wasn't going to orgasm. Seeing that I was erect, Pam had stopped playing with herself and, moving back to take me in her mouth, had given me her full attention for a considerable time.

Despite her best efforts, which were considerable, she could not bring me to orgasm, though her endeavours nearly made me pass out with the sensation. Obviously unused to her techniques proving ineffective, she resorted to masturbating with a vibrator taken from the box that she had fetched earlier. Pulling her underwear to one side, she had gone to town with this and given me a wonderful show, which culminated in her applying the buzzing tip to her clitoris and orgasming mightily.

I had stroked myself vigorously during this performance, and, convinced that I was now at a high peak and could last no longer, she straddled me and attempted to expertly ride me to a climax. Instead it was her that had the orgasm, though again the sensations were mind-blowing.

I explained to her that, as far as I was able to determine, I had been completely drained over the last couple of days and so was unable to ejaculate, but had an incredible erection, and I had no way of getting rid of it. We were, from my perspective, in a potentially most excellent position; I could indulge in almost endless sexual activity until exhaustion, or pain, put a halt to it. Fortunately she seemed to be of similar mind, and we fucked and sucked around the room for the best part of an hour before we needed a break.

I reclined in the chair as she lay, cooling down from one of her several climaxes, curled up on my lap with her head on my heaving chest. We stayed this way for a while and talked a little. I learned several things; Terry used his position as a bar owner to identify women that were likely to respond to offers of some sexual adventure whilst on holiday, and there were rather a lot of them. Many husbands and boyfriends were only too willing to accede to this, whilst some had to be kept out of the picture. He put on shows, mainly using local working girls, in the private bar, but occasionally managed to persuade an ‘ordinary' wife or girlfriend to provide the entertainment (he had explained this to me previously of course).

I told Pam that he had showed me some shots of her as the main attraction, and she admitted, in her own words, that she was ‘a total slut.' ‘I always have been' she added, and explained that was why she and Terry stayed together; he was only interested in slutty women and she was allowed more or less free rein.

I felt a little pained at the thought that my Helen might be considered as being in that category, and once again asked what might be happening to her.

‘I don't know' came the reply, ‘but he will push her as far as he thinks he can, and probably get her to do things she didn't think she was capable of.'

Sensing my concern, she quickly added that ‘he wasn't a brute' and that he wouldn't let any harm come to her, but reiterated that he could be ‘tough' and that he liked to see his ‘victims' (her word) pushed to the limit. He was however an accomplished amateur psychologist, and could usually sense exactly what it was that they really wanted.

I dwelt on this for a little, then asked about Harry, who had worried me from the start. In the past Helen had shown she was not averse to a little light bondage, but I couldn't see her enjoying anything too onerous.

She laughed at this, and turning her face to mine asked; ‘who does Harry remind you of?'

I pondered this a moment, before replying that he perhaps looked a little like an older version of Freddie Mercury.

‘Exactly' she replied.

It took a while for the penny to drop; ‘you mean he's gay?' I eventually said.

‘Totally' came the answer, ‘he isn't interested in women at all, but because he looks the part Terry gets him to do that sort of stuff. He has his own bar, which he runs with his partner, but he works here a few nights a week if his place isn't busy, and if that is the case, and Terry has a victim in the frame, then he takes them there.'

‘Oh' was all I could answer to that, though my mind eased considerably.

‘How did he come to pick Helen?' I asked casually, suddenly keen to find out what it was that had made her seem amenable to his treatment.

She answered; ‘he knew she was up for at least a threesome, because he caught her getting seen to by the two young lads.'

This I knew to be true.

She went on; ‘and he already knew that you had voyeuristic tendencies, and that she was a bit of an exhibitionist.'

He must have got that from our behaviour at the bar where we were staying, was my thought on that one.

‘God almighty' I said, ‘did we really give that much away in so short a time?'

She looked at me quizzically; ‘short time? You kept her virtually stripped off nearly all night, and she was flashing her tits and stockings as well as fingering herself.'

I couldn't remember this, and told her so; ‘I took her knickers off, but she was covered up, or at least until you lot arrived, and she certainly didn't finger herself.'

‘You had her walking up the road bare-arsed'.

We were obviously talking at cross-purposes; ‘do you mean at the bar last night?'

‘No' she laughed, ‘you don't remember do you?'

I could only shake my head.

‘A Winnie-the-Pooh shirt?'

It came back to me in a flash. I was astonished; ‘that was years ago, and how the fuck do you know about it anyway?'

‘I've seen the video, you should be careful what you do in bars with security systems' she laughed back at me.

I was truly dumbfounded, but my contemplations of the mysteries of the universe and the enigmas of coincidence were rudely interrupted when she began stroking my still straining penis, and announced she was going to fuck me again.

Apart from a brief break, taken to allow her to start a DVD starring herself, we were still at it when Helen reappeared.

We watched as she leaned herself against the counter in the bar below and, using both hands, swigged back some more of the beer. Terry, looking none too happy, and company, who looked highly amused, followed shortly, but Helen ignored them until she had drained the glass. She then turned around to face the group.

‘I can't reach the switch' she directed at them, ‘so would one of you like to turn this thing on,' her head nodding towards her lower body, ‘or, have you got something else planned for me?'

‘Very funny' retorted Terry, who was obviously unused to, and distinctly un-amused at, not being in control.

‘Oh no' mocked Helen, ‘have I been naughty? Am I going to be spanked and gang-banged?'

‘That sounds like a very good idea' came the reply.

‘Oh dear' she cried sarcastically ‘Whatever you do, don't throw me into the briar patch.'

I though that her literary allusion would have passed over his head. I was apparently mistaken, for he retorted that he was referring to the spanking only, which caused her smile to slip somewhat.

With a gesture to the other three, he strode to the stage, sat on the padded bench, and lowered his trousers, whilst Harry took Helen by the arm and walked her in his wake.

Sporting an impressive erection he lay back and told Helen to climb on top of him, straddling his chest but facing away. With the assistance of Harry she was placed in position, and, whilst Harry bent her forwards, Terry told her to ‘suck my cock.'

Taking him in her mouth, and using her shackled hands, she sucked and played with him for several minutes, causing him to groan loudly. He did not remain passive though, and began moving the visible portion of the deeply embedded vibrator around with his hand.

Pam, who had climbed off me when the group had entered the private bar, manipulated the cameras so that we had a magnificent view. Helen's clitoris, though it had now returned to a more normal colour, was still greatly swollen and was clearly protruding from her hood, whilst her whole vulva appeared to be engorged. Her frothy secretions were escaping from around the vibrator and dripping onto Terry's chest as he played, whilst the contractions of her pelvic muscles around the device were plainly visible.

Despite my drained state this vista came perilously close to setting me off, and I grabbed hold of Pam and pushed her forward over the console in an attempt to mount her. She didn't resist, and I was soon thrusting into her from behind whilst attempting to simultaneously observe the scenes playing out before our eyes.

Helen's muscular contractions increased considerably when Terry, granting her wish as earlier expressed, switched on the vibrating function, and as we stared we were treated to a close up of her experiencing yet another ejaculation. In glorious full colour live action, Pam and I watched her previously unobserved urethra expand slightly and discharge a spray of liquid to splatter onto his upper chest and face. He gasped as this wondrous picture, occurring mere inches from his staring eyes, tipped him over the edge, and as the camera panned back we could see the semen escaping from her parted lips as she shuddered and shook. It had a similar effect on me, and as he ejaculated into my wife I unexpectedly returned the compliment in the room above.


I ‘returned from the airport' a short while later, apologising profusely for my lateness. Helen and company had composed themselves, and I found her calmly having a beer at the private bar (Terry wouldn't let her back into the public area for obvious reasons). She looked much the same as when I had left apart from having discarded her ruined stockings, which of course I ‘failed' to notice or comment upon.

We were due to return home the next afternoon, and we both, unsurprisingly, slept late that morning. We thus didn't get to see any of the protagonists of the previous day or so before leaving, and we haven't seen them since. I did however acquire a few souvenirs; the memory cards from the hand-held cameras, which Pam surreptitiously filched and handed to me, and a DVD onto which I had downloaded the video footage from the laptop before deleting the recording.

Helen also brought back a souvenir; a heavy-duty titanium anklet complete with a dangling Venus symbol flanked on each side by a pair representing Mars. It wasn't until later that some research revealed to me the meaning of the MMFMM symbols, and I also established that the jewellery was designed so that it could not be removed, or at least without deploying bolt-croppers. She wears it still, though (I think!) without being aware of its significance. She claims Pam gave it to her, but I know Terry locked it around her left ankle; I saw him do it as she lay in a post-orgasmic daze.

I casually mentioned, whilst discussing further holidays, that we could consider returning to Tenerife. Helen however pooh-poohed the notion, and suggested a visit to the Caribbean instead. ‘The land of the Big Bamboo' thought I, ‘now that could turn out to be interesting.'