[Commission] An Interview To Long For (Patreon)

[This story was a commission requested by "Tony". It was a pleasure to work on and a unique sort of challenge. I hope you enjoy!]

An Interview To Long For

By Vivian White

Cupere (Latin) - To wish for, desire, want.

Lane Davison sat in the plush leather seat of the town car, heart pounding with nerves and excitement. For the dozenth time since they’d been picked up from their apartment downtown, she looked at her phone, reading over the letter they’d gotten just yesterday regarding their membership application to Cupere. Lane and her husband, Donovan, had been waiting for almost a year to hear back after their initial submission for membership. Finally, tonight, they would begin what would hopefully be the first step into a glitzy, glamorous, and very lucrative club. The potential for networking, deals, and opportunities that would otherwise be denied to them, even with their financial status, was too great to pass up.

Lane craved the clout it would give her and Donovan. They were already looked on favorably, but there were always new heights to reach, and she wanted to go as high as possible. She was still young and there was a great deal of climbing that could be done in a short time if they had the right connections. Connections that would be exclusively offered to them at Cupere.

Putting her phone away into her small clutch, Lane glanced over at her husband. He was dressed in a dark tailored suit that hugged his muscular frame perfectly. His dark eyes were focused on the passing skyscrapers and lights as they were driven deeper into the city. The tension in his shaved jawline was clear. She reached out and put her hand over his, resting on his thigh.

Donovan looked over at her and gave a small, controlled smile. He knew the next couple of days were going to be stressful. It would test their limits and commitment to becoming members into this club. They’d both read over the rules, the expectations, the clear razor's edge of scrutiny that they would be walking the moment they stepped out of the town car.

“Together?” He asked, turning his hand and lacing his fingers through hers.

Lane nodded. “Together.”

No matter what came their way, they could conquer it. Married only five years, they’d used their money and influence to rise up among the rich and entitled. Being one of them didn’t always guarantee a place at the table of power and prestige, but they’d made it clear that they were a powerful couple and they wouldn’t be denied anything. And if that meant having to subject themselves to what would no doubt be a very rigorous interview, then they would succeed with flying colors and accolades.

Lane held her husband’s gaze for another moment and then turned back to her window as the car pulled up to the curb outside a towering dark glass building. The doors were gilded with gold edges and designs etched into the glass depicting scenes from Greek mythology. Most of Venus and Cupid. When the car came to a stop, a man dressed in a dark suit and gold tie marched out of the building and quickly came to open Lane's door.

Smoothing her dark, silver dress, Lane slipped out as elegantly as she could, trying to keep the dress from bunching up. It was a very slim fit and thin material that clung to all of her soft curves, going to mid-thigh, just covering the tops of her black stockings. The neckline plunged down between her breasts, revealing just a bit of the inner slopes until it came to an end an inch above her belly button. Her skin was pale but healthy with a hint of gold glitter lotion, making her shine almost like those vampires in those teen novels that had been popular when she was younger.

Donovan was quick to follow Lane out of the car, coming to stand next to her and holding out his arm for her to take, as if they were walking down the carpet at some gala or awards ceremony.

The man that had come to their door quickly marched before them, with every expectation that they would follow. Hesitating for only a moment, the couple gave each other one last nervous but excited glance and followed their guide into the building.

— —

Everything about the building was opulent, gilded in gold, studded in valuable jewels, made by hand and one of a kind. From the very gilding on the walls and doors and the lighting, dangling chandeliers of crystal and diamond. They were led to the elevators that quickly and smoothly took them up to the sixth floor, where they were ushered out into a long hall that led to towering dark doors and told to wait.

Lane and Donovan were left alone to stand and wait. This was no doubt a test, like everything would be. They didn’t have the luxury of letting down their guard while they were here. While they stood in the silence, their hands touched just slightly, reassuring each other that they were in this together.

After what seemed like nearly a half hour of standing in complete silence, the doors opened as if on their own and a deep voice came from within the darkened room.

“Enter.”

With only a single second of hesitation and deep, calming breaths, they walked forward into the unknown. They didn’t know exactly what they were in store for, but were told in explicit terms that they must agree to everything. If they denied a request or a command at any point, the interview was over and they would be dismissed. This was their one and only chance. They couldn’t afford to lose it.

Lane’s heels clicked on the marble floor, echoing along with Donovan’s shoes, walking deeper into the dark meeting room to come stand in the center. What resembled a judge's high bench sat before them, with six members all dressed in dark clothing. They sat back away from the one light that was illuminating the center of the room, casting them in shadows.

“Thank you for joining us.” The man sitting at the center of the bench said almost cheerily. “From this point forward, you will be addressed as Mr. and Mrs. D. No full names will be used, even if you should happen to know any of the members you interact with. They will introduce themselves as they wish and you will address them as such.” There seemed to be no room for idle talk or pleasantries. The rules were going to be set out quickly and efficiently.

Donovan appreciated this course, liking things to be simple, like the numbers he often dealt with at his firm. Straight forward. Clean.

Lane, on the other hand, felt as if she were being treated like a child, being ordered around and told her expectations. As much as she wanted to be a part of Cupere, to advance their status beyond what she was able to do for Donovan just by being viewed as a Trophy Wife, it rubbed her the wrong way. She was a powerful and independent woman. This week might prove to be more difficult than she first imagined.

“During the interview process this week, you will be participating in various activities and what we call ‘mixers’, events that will require various things of you, whether that be answering questions or doing specific tasks. Answering and participating are non-negotiable. But I assure you this, there will be no harm and there will be no… hazardous things asked of you. Do you agree?”

Lane and Donovan glanced at each other and then turned their eyes back to the judges. “Yes.” They intoned together.

“Good. Then the process begins now. Mr. D, you will kindly leave us. There is a sitting room to your left. We are going to conduct a preliminary cross examination of each of you in private.”

Donovan nodded and turned, going to where the man gestured, walking through a dark doorway. It shut behind him with a loud and echoing click, leaving Lane alone, standing before the mysterious judges. It was hard to tell, but she thought she recognized a few despite their masks hiding most of their features.

One looked like he might be her doctor. Another, a member of the board at Donovan’s firm, George Stallins, a particularly offensive man that she hated in no uncertain terms. Another was a woman she’d seen at a few gala’s, Marianne Course, she always outbid Lane in the auctions and she was sure that it was done just as way to let Lane and Donavan know that she came from old money and they would never compare. She was a bitch. One man stuck out particularly, Lane recognized him as a prominent client at Don’s firm. She’d interacted with him several times and he seemed a decent man, though a bit flirty, which wasn’t all that strange.

The fact that she knew these people in some way, and most of them she either trusted or hated was nerve-wracking. Being subjected to an interview with those she liked was tolerable, but with these others… It was going to be a challenge. But Lane was not one to back down even when the chips were stacked against her.

“Mrs. D, you will kindly undress, please.” It was a very matter-of-fact command. Not a request.

A shiver ran through Lane. Part of her knew this might be a possibility. Though most of what went on in Cupere was a very well guarded secret, what wasn’t hidden was the fact that it was a very sexually liberal environment. Not exactly a swingers type situation, or free use either, but it was highly expected that sexuality was part of the trade and the activities that lead to many of the highest deals and biggest ventures that the club helped create.

Lane quickly slipped the shoulders of her dress off and let it pool around her feet revealing her lingerie. Tanga briefs with a large leather waist, sheer tulle along the crochet and bottom that left nothing to the imagination, as well as showing her bush of blonde hair. The under band of the bra was leather and the tulle of the bra and long sleeves were transparent, leaving her breasts visible and nipples pressing hard against the thin material. She stood as dignified as possible before the eyes of the council. 

“Going natural. How bold,” George announced in a bit of a condescending tone.

Lane didn’t respond. She knew she was being evaluated. Her job was simply to do as instructed, even if it felt utterly humiliating to be exposed like this. Letting these unknowns, or possibly people she knew, look over her so judgingly, it made her skin crawl.

“Turn, please.”

She didn’t know who gave the order, nor did it seem to matter. Lane turned to show them her backside. A nicely bouncy behind that she was possibly too proud of. When she visited Donovan at his office, she always felt eyes on her ass and loved it. The feeling that she could turn heads and possibly with the flash of a little shake of her behind, she might be able to get someone to agree to a deal that her husband was trying to seal.

“You keep yourself toned. In good shape. That’s good.” That was definitely from Dr. Myers.

“Bend and take hold of your ankles.” George’s voice was distinct in its arrogance.

Lane clenched her jaw but slowly bent down and grabbed her ankles. The lingerie clung tighter to her ass and pussy, framing it nicely in the sheer material. She could feel the council’s eyes on her and the feeling of arousal at being so vulnerable was impossible to ignore.

She heard footsteps and chairs shifting. Judges came down from their bench. She wasn’t sure how many. They came close to her. With her face upside down, blood rushing to her head, combined with the shadows of the room, it was hard to tell who was coming towards her.

The feeling of a hand on her ass made her stiffen.

“Firm.” George said with a white-toothed smile.

Of course the jackass would want to feel her up. She’d seen him eye fucking her plenty over the years. Now he was getting his chance at more, without consequence. It made Lane furious to know she was at this man’s disposal. That he was on the council to interview her and ‘inspect’ her. He may have been from a legacy of wealth, but she knew without a doubt that she was better than he would ever be. He’d learn that soon enough. Lane just had to wait for the right moment to strike. And the interview was not it.

“Her holes look tight. No children Mrs. D?” Dr. Myers knew full well her situation and it was ridiculous that she had to answer him.

“No.” she said it firmly and without further explanation.

Suddenly she felt breath on her. One of the judges was leaning in close to her ass. “Lovely underwear. Very expensive if I’m not mistaken.” It was a woman’s voice. Oh for heaven’s sake, it was Marianne. She was pressing her thumb against the sheer material stretching across her cheeks and making it sink it and rub against her asshole. “Tight ass. I always knew you were.” The woman said it with a sneer, and Lane couldn’t bite back with a vicious retort. She had to stay still and take it.

“Now Ms. Course, are you talking about the lady's asshole or personality?” George chuckled. “Stand back up Mrs. D.” He ordered.

Lane did as ordered and stood back up, coming face to face with the man and his shit-eating grin. Before she could register the man’s close proximity, his hand went between her legs and began rubbing over her pussy in her panties. “Soft hair. Good. This will feel much better against my tongue.” The look on his face was devilish. If he meant that during this process he was going to get to eat her, she wasn’t sure. He might have been alluding to the idea that after this… would he try to assert more authority and dominance over her when she came to visit her husband?

The man was a degenerate as far as she was concerned… but his fingers felt good.

George pushed against her, making her lips part under the material, pressing against her pink and feeling her moisture from the arousal she was trying to keep in control. 

“Pink. Healthy.” Dr. Myers chuckled. “Believe me. I know. I’ve seen it plenty.”

“Mrs. D, are you able to take two penises inside you? Vaginally, or one in your ass and one in your pussy?” This question came from someone still sitting on the bench.

Lane shivered and cringed at the question. But she had to answer. “Yes.”

“With a dildo or a vibrator?” The questions kept coming from different judges. She couldn’t keep track of who was asking what.

“Yes.”

There was a soft muttering between the judges, even a chuckle or two.

“That bodes well for you.”

“Put a finger inside your vagina, pull it out so we may see how wet you are.”

Fuck. They knew she was aroused. Obviously, they could see her glistening juices. It was beyond embarrassing. But she reached into her panties and slid a single finger inside herself, softly, breathing in deep at the feeling and sliding it down completely to the last knuckle. This garnered her some mutterings of admiration. Then she pulled out her finger and held it up to show it dripping with slick, sticky arousal.

The sounds of approval made Lane’s skin crawl.

“Do a little turn for us. Bounce your assets a bit.” Again, the instruction came from everywhere and nowhere. She couldn’t tell who was telling her to do what or why, and it was completely against her better nature. She’d always gotten ahead in the world by knowing why she was doing something, what she would gain from it.

Facing three members standing before her, she wanted to sneer at them, maybe even spit, but she made her face a relaxed mask of calm and began to turn in an elegant pirouette. She let her breasts and ass jiggle instead of firming herself up and being more sleek in her movements.

“You have lovely breasts.” George said. “34 C if I’m not mistaken.”

A part of Lane couldn’t help but be impressed by that quick assessment. But she also knew it came from the man’s constant leering, and that made her hate herself that she was impressed by anything this man could do or say.

“And your areolas are sublime.” Her doctor spoke. “Just the right size for a mouth.” Without any warning, he stepped forward and carefully took her left nipple into his warm lips over the material of her bra. His tongue slid around it as his lips moved and encircled the whole of her areola, making her stiffen and shiver. Getting warmer between her legs.

Was she supposed to respond? Tell him to stop? Encourage him? Lane was at a loss for how to react and so ended up doing nothing but standing like a mannequin and letting her doctor, of all people, suckle on her tit. The man did it for a full minute, Lane counted the seconds in her head, before pulling off with a wet sloppy squelch and let his spit drip along her breast as he stepped back, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

“It tastes as good as it looks.” He gave a chuckle. “Been dying to try your tits too. Every inch of you.”

“Mrs. D, you have been deemed acceptable.” The voice came from one of the judges sitting on the bench. “You may now go to your assigned room. Go through the door on your left, down the hall, and you will enter room twenty-six. There, you will find all the necessities you’ll require. You’ll find make up and toiletries as well. If a member comes to your room, you must do whatever they ask. Tomorrow there will be instructions given to you for the day and you will follow them to the letter. Understood?”

Lane wanted to hesitate. Everything was happening so fast. There was so much to take in, and all the possibilities were troubling. But she didn’t wait, she simply nodded. “Understood.”

“You may go.”

Being dismissed so flippantly was maybe the worst part of that entire experience, but Lane kept her head held high and turned, marching confidently out of the room through the door indicated, her ass shaking and tits bouncing freely as all the members watched her go. The eyes of those she knew and those she didn’t itched at her. If this interview process didn’t go well… how would she face these people again. And worse, if she didn’t, then they’d have won. They’d have demeaned her and made her run away. There was no way that was going to happen. Even in the face of this degradation, Lane held firm to her pride and continued down the hall to her room.

— —

The room Lane found herself in was about the size of a cabin on a cruise ship. Spacious enough for her to move around freely, but with no wasted space. She had a small washroom with a shower and toilet. A vanity and sink that had various makeup products, toothbrush and toothpaste (all high end and needlessly expensive), as well as all other manner of items that she’d need to make herself presentable for whatever tasks they gave her.

The closet was filled with a few outfits and on the lower shelves were several sets of lingerie that had even Lane blushing at how expensive they must have been. Never mind how revealing they were, she was positive that she saw real gold, diamonds, and jewels on more than one set. There was a fortune casually hanging and folded in the small confines of that closet and it thrilled Lane almost as much as being exposed had.

To her amazement, there was actually a television, though somewhat small, mounted to the wall across from the full sized bed with dark purple silk sheets. Even though the room was small, it was decked out with everything high end. Brands that those not fortunate enough to have ever stayed at a ten thousand a night hotel room would have never heard of. There was a small fridge located next to the built-in desk that supplied several drinks; water, beer, champagne, juices, as well as a selection of small snacks and delicacies, should she get hungry while she stayed in the room.

After going over every inch of the room, Lane sat herself down on the soft, cool sheets of the bed. The slick caress of silk moved over her bottom and thighs, further pushing her arousal to new heights.

The whole first interview had been… simple, but demeaning. It had been meant to put her on edge and to see how well she could follow directions. Exposing herself so thoroughly to strangers, and possibly people she knew, was a whole new level of humiliation she’d thought she’d been prepared for… but now, having gone through it, she felt the war of emotions within her raging.

It was difficult to admit… but as detestable as it had felt being bent over and touching herself and letting herself be touched had been… it was also thrilling.

Lane let her hand move across her inner thigh and between her legs, touching her sex. The downy softness of her hair tangled with her fingers as they dipped gently between her folds, feeling the slickness she’d acquired from standing before the judges. She remembered the heat of their proximity. The weight of their judging eyes. The pressure of a finger against her anus.

Sitting straight, legs only slightly apart, Lane let two fingers slide inside her vagina, a soft gasp eliciting from her full red lips. Eyes shut, she pictured herself back in the room with all the surrounding judges, gazing upon her voluptuous body. She knew Don loved her, but he also kept her as a trophy wife, eye candy for clients and coworkers alike. And she loved it. Being in charge of her sexuality. Knowing the effect she had on others just by being present and flashing a bit of thigh. A bit of cleavage. It was intoxicating.

Tonight she’d felt both in charge and completely at the mercy of the judges. They wanted to see her body, all of it. To judge her and weigh her and see if she was worthy. She’d never had any doubt that she would be found exquisite. Though the word ‘acceptable’ had definitely made her want to sneer at how pathetic that word was in comparison to how she truly looked. But she supposed the judges had to try to humble her. So be it.

Her fingers glided in and out in a slow rhythm, the tips grazing her g-spot inside as she let herself imagine being admired again. Of the men and women on that council looking at her luscious pussy and tight little asshole. They’d want it. Maybe during this process, some of them would even experience her. She wasn’t naïve. She knew that sex was a very big possibility during this interview. All manner of things would be asked of her, and she would meet every challenge. And when she was accepted… then she would be able to make those that demeaned her feel her power and influence. Let them have their fun for now. She would have her’s soon enough.

Lane gasped, her orgasm rushing over her at the thought not just of being watched and touched, but of using it as a powerful tool. Her body was an asset. This club would be just another notch in her and Donovan’s belt. Another step towards the top. She shook, her pussy clamping down tightly around her fingers and wetness flowing out, staining the silk sheets dark with her arousal and cum. The orgasm ran through her, making her tremble and softly moan for a full minute before she slid her fingers from her hole and let herself lay back on the feather light bed.

Tomorrow the real tests would begin. For now, she would let herself relax. Before she drifted off to sleep, she opened one eye just enough to glance over at the mirror that hung over the desk. There was no doubt a camera was behind it, as well as others placed around the room. It was why she’d sat herself directly in front of it. Let those watching her enjoy the show. It would only give her more influence and power when all was said and done.

— —

Lane woke up to a soft, but insistent alarm. The television mounted on the wall had turned on and was flashing the time, 6 AM, in a warm light. Sitting up, having at some point curled up under the silk sheets last night, Lane stared at the television. Under the time was a small announcement.

“Instructions coming in ten minutes”

For a moment, her mind was fuzzy and a jumble, but her thoughts quickly cleared as she realized today was a big day. She’d be going through a very rigorous interview to become a member, and this was going to be her first task. They were giving her a little time to wake up and use the bathroom, or so she believed. Were there cameras in the bathroom? She suspected there were, but the time for privacy had long passed.

Quickly slipping from the bed and using the facilities, she came back to the bed quickly and sat down before the TV, ready for the instructions.

The time ticked down to 0 and after a second, a set of instructions appeared, detailing exactly what she was going to be required to do that morning. She’d been trying to prepare herself for what they would require of her. Of the humiliating or difficult tasks they might put on her. But this was both unexpected and made her jaw clench at how… how… low it would make her feel. But if she was going to succeed, and there was no doubt she would, then she had to swallow her pride. At least for a little while. Once this was all done, she’d find a way to reclaim her dignity and put down those that had made her feel less. For now… she would just have to be willing to degrade herself for the betterment of her status.

Memorizing the instructions quickly, Lane got up and went to the closet.

— —

Don was still on edge from last night’s questions and inspection. Having to undress in front of those judging eyes. His balls were fondled by some strange woman’s hand. She’d even flopped his cock around, as if weighing it and measuring it by pure intuition. It had rocked him and shaken him and humiliated him in some micro ways. And then retreating to his room, alone, he’d been left to wonder what was happening with Lane. Where was she? Had she come down the same hall? Was she in one of the neighboring rooms? What had they done to her?

It was driving him almost insane. And then, when he’d been woken up by the alarm on the television and the following instructions, he’d felt a new twisting of nerves in his stomach. Nothing seemed too out of the ordinary, they simply wanted him to put on the white polo, khaki shorts and tennis shoes. All plain and simple, but clearly expensive. They probably cost as much as his Rolex. He was to go to the rooftop club where they would be laying out a breakfast spread and he was going to sit with members and talk. Just talk.

That put Don on edge. He knew that this wasn’t going to be some casual business meeting. Making deals over fancy omelets, mimosas, beer, and sunshine. The questions would be… personal. Probably even embarrassingly personal. Humiliation, on some level, seemed to be the name of the game during this process and he’d only experienced the tip of the iceberg. This whole day was going to test him. Test Lane. Their marriage. He wasn’t used to not being fully prepared, and that was probably the worst part.

Taking the elevator at the end of the hall, Don found himself on the rooftop and it was probably one of the most beautiful settings he’d ever been to. Trees lined the entire perimeter. On the far side of the building was a large Olympic size pool surrounded by lounges, umbrellas, and life guards at each corner dressed in mat black swim suits that were easily a size too small for the women. One piece’s for the two women. Speedo’s for the two men. Opposite the pool were several tables, private tents, chairs, a bar, a stage that was currently empty, and a large square dance floor. Several members were already milling about, all dressed exactly like Don. The women wore skirts instead of shorts, but otherwise they were almost cult-like in their appearance.

“Sleep well?” Don stiffened when he heard the voice and turned to meet Andrew Webber. He was a tall man, with slightly premature graying hair considering he was only in his early 30’s. His cheeks were peppered with a stylish amount of stubble, and his eyes were a clear green, sharp and shrewd.

“Um… yes.” Don quickly regained his wits. He hadn’t expected to find Andrew here. A member of Don’s firm, higher up in senior management, he’d also gone to Harvard with Don, two grades ahead, but they’d been in several classes together and gotten along well enough that when Don and Lane got married, he was one of the groomsmen.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise. Most likely all, if not most, members of upper management were probably members of Cupere. Don needed to be more on guard for meeting people that he knew.

“Those rooms may be a bit cramped, but they are comfortable.” Andrew gave Don a wink and held out a frosted bottle of beer with a name etched into the glass that Don didn’t recognize. It must have been a very fancy, very rare brew. Andrew was holding another that he took a quick drink from as Don took the other. For a moment they drank amicably and quietly, looking out over the rooftop and the milling members and prospective members, though Don couldn’t tell the difference between them. Was that intentional? Maybe another test? Weeding out who was who?

“Haven’t slept in a room that small since college, and that was when I stumbled into my closet because I was drunk.” Don gave Andrew a charming smile, the man laughing jovially as he drank.

“I hear that.” Andrew patted Don on the back. “So… how’s the process for you so far? Get the full strip search last night?”

Don suppressed a shiver, remembering the inspection. Not just having his cock inspected but having to open up his cheeks as if he were being treated like a suspected terrorist at airport security.

“Yeah, that’s probably the most uncomfortable you’ll be in this whole thing. But it sticks with you.” Andrew had a hand around Don’s shoulders, guiding him towards the stage where there were little tables set in front. He motioned to a chair and sat opposite Don, putting down his beer and leaning back casually and relaxed. “Coffee? Something to eat?” Even as he offered, a waitress came forward, a woman in skintight black pants and a white blouse that was straining against her ample chest, the material thin enough to see that she wasn’t wearing a bra and her nipples were large and pierced.

“Sure.” Don said, trying not to let his eyes linger on the woman.

Andrew nodded to the woman, and that seemed to be all that was needed. She turned quickly and her hips swayed seductively as she went to fetch breakfast.

“Think you’re prepared for today? It’ll be long, but I promise it’ll be worth it.” Andrew smiled.

“I’m ready.” Don replied simply. He wasn’t really one for small talk unless he was trying to sell something, and though today was about selling himself and Lane, he wanted to keep his mouth shut. Better to be silent and thought a fool than to open his mouth and remove all doubt.

Andrew tapped at his beer bottle and continued to grin. It was clear he knew something… what was coming, and maybe he thought it would shake Don, but he wasn’t going to let it get to him.

A clear bell began to ring, Ding, Ding, Ding.

“Ahh. There it is. Time for the morning exercise show.” Andrew put his hands behind his head, turning towards the stage. “You’ll want to pay close attention. Never know when there might be a quiz later.” He chuckled.

Don raised an eyebrow suspiciously, but stayed quiet. Then… the women came marching onto the stage. There were half a dozen women marching in a single file line dressed in fine lace catsuits of varying colors and patterns. Some were flowery lace. Other’s more intricate designs of lines and shapes. All of them were skin tight and completely see through. They were clearly expensive, not some cheap bodysuit you’d find at a Condoms-To-Go store all the work-a-day people go to. Don couldn’t name the brand off hand but it was definitely in the top tier. They had plunging necklines between their breasts and were backless almost to their asses. All of them were clinging so tightly that some of the outfits were threatening to rip at the seams. The woman moved across the stage and then turned to face the tables and people who were watching them.

The women ran the range of tall and short, large chested and almost flat. Lane was the only woman with golden waves of hair pulled back in a ponytail, the other women were varying shades of brunette. All of them were fairly fit, with a plethora of curves, both plump and sensual. The material of their outfits strained against them, clearly fitted to each woman individually so that it would strain and stretch in all the right places. Nipples stood out. Stomach both firmly toned and slightly fluffy pressed against the material. And lower still, every single woman’s vagina could clearly be seen, defined by the stretching threads and sheer cloth giving them camel toes. Lane’s gold trimmed bush was pressing, making the tights puff up before they dipped into her sex. Others were smooth or slightly trimmed into little landing strips or triangles.

These women were on full display, just standing on stage a good six feet above everyone else, backs straight and waiting.

Donavan stared at Lane, aghast. His wife would never in a million years wear something so revealing. Not in public and most likely not in the bedroom, either. It may have been the right sort of brand and material, Don knew she had plenty of outfits that were similar, but she was far more into the intricate types of lingerie. Though these outfits were erotic, they were simple. Lane was anything but simple.

Breath catching in his throat, Don stared at each woman in turn, wondering what was going to happen, and then the music began.

It was old eighties workout music. The rhythm pumped through hidden speakers and after just a second, the women began to move. Don quickly recognized the music and the voice coming through with instructions on which positions and motions to make. It was Richard Simmons. Don almost laughed. In fact, some people did laugh. Andrew was chuckling as his eyes slid over the women and drank his beer.

The ladies began to squat and thrust, and shimmy and shake, and roll their hips and bounce up and down, breasts jiggling in the tight lace, camel toes becoming more pronounced. It was a warm morning and the woman very quickly began to sweat, which just made the already transparent suits basically invisible, clinging even tighter. The women kept straight faces as they did the exercise routine, turning and wiggling their behinds, some more plump and bouncing than others, and then twirling around again.

“Man, your wife is a treat.” Andrew said, leaning closer. “Tell me, is that pussy as tight as it looks?” He cast his gaze to Don and there was a twinkle there.

Don hesitated. Was this a test? To see if he would answer? He’d been told that during this process he would be asked questions and he had to answer them truthfully. He couldn’t ignore anything. No matter the topic. Licking his lips, trying not to grind his teeth, he kept his face a mask of calm. “She’s very tight. Does her kegel exercises regularly.”

Andrew nodded. “I can tell from here. And a lovely bush. Most women keep it pretty clean these days. I like the sort of classic look on a woman. It definitely has its place.” He tapped a finger on his bottle. “Not sure how good it would look on my cock, though. How’s it look when you’re pushing your cock in? Does that hair obscure the view?”

Something in Don’s stomach twisted. His jaw clenched. “It’s a pleasant view. The hair is blonde, so…”

“Ahh good. So not too much of an impairment. Good. Then we won’t have to ask her to shave. Though some people really enjoy watching that sort of thing. Never was my idea of fun, but to each their own.”

The waitress finally came back with a tray of coffee that smelled rich and Devine, and plates with omelets and caviar and cherry tomatoes. She set everything down in front of them and promptly retreated. Andrew took a slow sip of his coffee and sighed in delight. “I gotta say, Lane is very fit… honestly, I’d have expected a bit more fat on her considering how much she eats. But I suppose she exercises well. But that ass… my goodness, it’s gonna look good bouncing on a cock. Have you watched it riding? Ya know, reverse cowgirl? And I don’t just mean on you. Have you had the pleasure of watching her bounce that thing on something more meaty than your own little cock?”

It was clear now, Andrew was trying to get a rise out of Donovan. To see if he could remain calm and collected in the face of merciless mocking and humiliation. He’d faced some of this before when making negotiations with particularly unsavory clients. Clients that had so much money they felt untouchable, therefore any little thought, no matter how disgusting or vile, would become words. This was a bit more… difficult. Usually it would be comments about the secretary. Or in the case of his lovely wife, she’d be at a ball or a gala or function and she’d be dressed as elegant as a goddess. Now she was dressed for entertainment. For the teasing and delight of the people watching.

“I… have had the pleasure of,” He cleared his throat, taking a smooth drink of the dark coffee, “of watching her ass ride me. But we’ve never shared.”

“Ah, I see. Well, that will change. An ass like hers, and clearly that pussy is a vice. Maybe if we give her a cowboy hat, she can give a good ride like an honest to god cowgirl. She can definitely put on a good show. I mean, look at that!” He was clapping now, cheering the women on.

Lane had her ass facing the audience, squatting down over and over as her hands were on the stage in front of her. It was very lewd, like she was trying to squat fuck the air. The lace was wedging itself deep into her pussy and ass, stained with sweat and becoming like wet tissue paper clinging to her. Lane’s ass was firm, but still had some bounce and as she moved, her cheeks clapped just enough to give a glimpse of her asshole.

“Hey…” Andrew leaned closed, nudging Don. “She like it up the ass? That hole looks way too fucking tight. You can’t tell me you haven’t fucked that.”

Don’s stomach was full of acid and the coffee, no matter how good, wasn’t helping. “I…ahem… we’ve enjoyed it from time to time..”

Andrew made a soft tsk tsk and clicked his tongue against his teeth thoughtfully. “I’ll bet she’d look good air tight. Women like that, toned and tight, yeah she’s definitely got the stamina for it.” Leaning back on the table, he began to eat his omelet. “So, you think you could handle seeing her do it?”

Don pulled his eyes from his wife as she shook her hips, more like twerking than some sort of exercise. “I…what?”

“Seeing her airtight. Think you can handle seeing it? And raw, of course. We don’t do condoms around here. So she’s gonna get filled with cum. Lots of it.” He was being so casual as he stabbed his fork into the eggs.

“I… um, to be honest, I hadn’t thought about it. But… I suppose I could handle it.” Don wasn’t sure if that was an honest answer or not. But it was clear this process was going to push him into realms that maybe he didn’t expect. He’d been totally prepared to most likely see his wife do some sexual favors during the interview, but… to see her ganged? Air tight? Creampied? They were all lowly terms, words for the poor populous. He and Lane were supposed to be more sophisticated. However… Don supposed that there weren’t really more flowery terms for these things. It made everyone equal in a way.

The women were running in place now, every single one of them drenched in sweat and their catsuits having basically vanished. Their breasts bounced lewdly and carefree, up and down and all around as they moved, nipples poking through and rubbing. Don was afraid that Lane might get a rash.

Andrew took another sip of his coffee. “So Don, have you and Lane considered children?”

“We’ve discussed it. Once we are fully established, we’d like to have two at least.”

“Hmmmm.” Andrew held his mug before him thoughtfully. “Think she will pork out when she gets pregnant? Or will she be the sexy sort of pregnant?”

Don was grinding his teeth. The language Andrew was using was demeaning. Crude. It was for the lower tiers of society. Not his high echelon. It was vile to hear him say it. And even worse to hear it said regarding his wife.

“I imagine she’ll be beautiful.”

Andrew grinned. “I agree. A true beauty. And seeing a pregnant belly bounce while it’s riding your cock...” He did a little exaggerated chef’s kiss. “I can’t wait. Pencil me in once she’s around six months. I’m gonna wanna see it all bouncing beautifully and that pussy really does look amazing. It’s gonna feel great squeezing my dick.” With that, Andrew stood, his plate clean of the meal and mug empty. “Well, breakfast is almost over. Enjoy the food. We will see you later for lunch.”

Don watched him questioningly and then turned his attention back to the stage, only to discover that the music had ended and the women were filing off stage just as they had walked on. Lane turned her head subtly as she descended the stairs and caught her husband’s eye.

“Together.” He mouthed, his jaw still painfully clenched and burning determination in his gaze.

She nodded almost imperceptibly, “Together.” her lips moved just enough for Don to read them. And then she was gone as suddenly as she’d arrived and he was left to sit, drinking his coffee and trying to stomach his omelet, knowing he would need the fuel for the rest of the day.

— —

Lane was practically ripping the catsuit off the second she got back to her room. It was sticky, drenched in sweat, peeling off her skin like when you have had a bad sunburn and your skin begins to flake. She pulled it off, tossing it into a corner, and then looked at herself in the mirror over the desk.

Her hair was matted and body glistening with sweat, slick and sleek and yet somehow dirty. Her nipples were standing out, erect and hard. And to her humiliation, she was dripping wet between her legs, hair glistening with beads of dew, and lips swollen with arousal. The entire routine had been embarrassing. It made her feel low. Pathetic. And seeing all those people's eyes on her as they enjoyed fancy meals and coffee and alcohol, seeing her breasts and ass and her pussy on full display shaking and jiggling… She felt like some common stripper.

She clenched her fists tight, digging in her manicured nails into her palms enough to make imprints. Worst of all, it was thrilling. Arousing. She had barely been able to shake off the feeling of erotic desire. Eyes on her. Admiring her. Wanting to see her. To see more, no doubt. And she’d caught a few comments drifting up from the various people watching. Lewd. Crude. Perverted and misogynistic and… and… They were comments about all the women on stage, and she’d been completely objectified. She should have been furious. And she was. But a pit in her stomach was on fire. Her pussy was throbbing, and she wanted to touch herself, like last night.

But if she did, that would be acknowledging that what had happened was more than just demeaning. It would mean that she’d liked it!

She shivered and grit her teeth. How could she have liked being put on display like that? Like meat. She was not part of the lower class. Not this base. Not this shallow. She was supposed to be of higher ideals and higher expectations. What she’d just done was low and dirty. And the more she thought about it, the wetter she became.

Turning away from the mirror, Lane started towards the bathroom, determined to take a shower and scrub herself raw. But the television dinged with a notification and she stopped mid stride, turning slowly to look at what message had been sent.

“Do whatever is asked of you.”

It was simple. Direct. Confusing. And then the door to her room opened and a tall and somewhat rotund individual in an expensive mauve sweat suit walked in. His clothes were high end, tailored and hand sewn from the look of it. He wasn’t fat, but he had a belly that was protruding, the sweat suit jacket just barely covering it as it extended over his waistband. He had a shock of white hair, sagging cheeks and a black leather eye mask on helping to obscure his identity. But Lane knew him. He was the CEO of one of the top brokerages in the city. Three times as rich as her whole family combined and holder of several of her husband’s accounts.

She knew that showing any recognition or even speaking about it was probably against the rules. At least the unspoken rules. This was mostly supposed to be anonymous, at least at parts, unless they deliberately wanted to reveal their identities. If Harold Jordan was wearing a mask, it meant that this part was supposed to be deemed a secret.

Lane was acutely aware she was standing just a few feet from the man, stark naked and still slick and dripping with sweat. The message on the television had told her to do whatever was asked… Lane started to sweat more… barely keeping herself from shaking. It wasn’t a secret that many of the higher ups in most companies and organizations often had twisted tastes. Some vile. Some… just strange. And since they had money and power, they got to indulge. She wasn’t sure what Harold Jordan’s interests were, but she honestly didn’t want to find out…

“On the bed. On your back,” Harold grunted, his voice gravelly.

Lane took a deep breath. Hesitated for only a second. Then stepped back, sat on the bed, and lay back, feet dangling over the edge.

“Legs up. Feet on the bed. Open those pretty legs.”

She was panting heavily now, not just from the exercise she’d just endured, but genuinely worried about what might happen to her.

“That… is a lovely, sweaty pussy.” Harold chuckled and stepped closer, stomach bobbing. With a bit of effort, he knelt down in front of her and leaned in, nose only an inch away from her hairy slit, and started breathing in deep. Smelling her musk, her sweat. “Delicious.” He grumbled.

Lane tried not to cringe. The feeling of the man's heavy breath on her already sweaty privates made her shiver in utter disgust and humiliation.

“Pull up a bit more. Let’s see that lovely pink asshole.”

She wanted to scream. And yet her belly was on fire and she pulled her legs further, opening her ass cheeks wider to display herself completely.

“Lovely. Always knew you had some lovely holes.” Lane heard the man’s sweat suit shuffling and when she looked down between her legs, saw the man pulling them down around his waist, his fat little cock jumping out.

Harold wasted no time, starting to jerk his cock, stepping closer to her. She resisted the urge to scold the man. To tell him to get his pathetic little dick away from her. It was covered in kinky graying pubic hair, a little chubby handful. The very idea that she’d have to subject herself to sex with this man was too much, too far…

Thankfully, he didn’t put it inside. He stopped just bare inches away from her pussy and continued to jerk his cock, groaning softly as he stared down at her upturned exposed holes. “So nice. So pretty. I love painting pretty pussy's like yours. You know, there was a betting war to get to come here. You cost me a pretty penny.”

He thrust his hips forward and flapped his erect cock against her sweat stained slit and made Lane jump, gasping, but she held her position firm.

“Love that sound. A good snap.” He did it again, her pussy dampening the sound only a little due to her pubic bush.

“Might want to shave…” He chuckled, then shook his head. “But there’s several here that like the old school look.” Harold rubbed the chubby tip of his cock along your lips and then smacked it again, continuing to stroke. “Your husband’s a lucky man. Truly is. Part of this process is looks. Can’t tell you how many we’ve rejected on pussy performance alone.”

Lane wanted to ask what that meant. But was nervous. So far, he hadn’t entered her, but there was still the possibility. He’d said he wanted to ‘paint’ her pussy. Hopefully that meant…

Harold started to grunt and his hips thrust forward, his belly bouncing in his shirt. A sudden spurt of spunk shot out of his cock and splattered against Lane’s pussy. It soaked into her hair, dripped down the center of her lips, down along her upturned ass and over her anus. She shivered at the warm, sticky feeling. It was slimy. Slick. She could smell it! His cum was musky. Two more thick spurts shot out, further coating her pussy, making it glaze and drip down.

The old CEO let out a deep satisfied pant. “Beautiful. Beautiful.” He stroked his cock a few more times, making sure to squeeze out any last dribbles of cum, smearing it along Lane’s thigh, and then pulled his sweats back up, and patted her leg. “Good girl. Can’t wait to see you at dinner tonight.”

Without another word, he turned and waddled out of the room, door shutting with a loud kurchunk, leaving Lane in silence. She released her legs, letting them fall, and lay on the bed trying to calm her stomach. It was roiling. Twisting. She felt like she wanted to vomit… but she could feel the spunk on her… dripping, rubbing between her lips. 

With a frustrated grunt, she pushed herself up and stomped to the bathroom, quickly turning the shower on to scalding hot and jumped in, ignoring how the water burned her skin. She grabbed the hundred dollar loofah and quickly shoved it between her legs, scrubbing furiously. Pulling down the shower head, she noticed it had several settings and quickly set it to pulsing rather than a steady stream and pointed it to her pussy as she continued rubbing the rough loofah over her sex.

She desperately wanted to be clean. But she also was painfully aroused. Not by Harold, that man was disgusting through and through, but the situation had been so taboo. So erotic. Beneath her. And somehow that sort of thing was triggering some deep primal feeling. The idea of lowering herself. Debasing herself. Letting that lard of a man shoot his cum all over her and taking it without a single word of protest.

The pulsing spray pounded against her, hot and relentless. The loofah scrubbed against her skin and hair and stimulated her even more. Her orgasm came quickly, making her press herself against the shower wall and moan loud as her legs shook.

An image of Don flashed through her mind. Remembering him sitting there in the audience watching her and talking with another man… what was his name… ah yes, Andrew. She recalled him. What had he been saying? It had clearly been unsettling. She’d seen the set of her husband’s jaw and the slight narrowing of his eyes that she recognized as frustration and displeasure.

But they’d mouthed their commitment to each other. Together. They were still in this. It may have been humiliating. But they were one step closer. And considering how pleased Harold Jordan was when he left, she was hopeful that she and Don were in the front running. They just had to stay firm and steady. They’d get their day to repay this humiliation. It just required patience.

Coming down from her orgasm, Lane quickly washed the rest of herself, scrubbing all the sweat and grime off of her before stepping out and back into the room. The television was displaying a new set of instructions that she read quickly as she sat down on the bed. Her cheeks flamed and eyes narrowed, but she kept her calm.

Patience, Lane. Patience. 

— —

Don stood in the private elevator waiting in a neon green speedo that was tight enough to show everything he had to offer and painfully digging in between his ass cheeks. Any other day, he might have actually been cocky. He had a decent sized cock, thick, and the speedo was showing off his bulge in an exaggerated manner. He was in good shape, a light six pack, smooth, flawless skin, firm thighs. There was no question he would turn heads.

If that was all he was going to do, then he might not have been as nervous. But the instructions, beyond the outfit, had been brutally clear. “No Secrets.” What that meant was debatable, but Don was clever enough to figure it out quickly. Whatever was going to happen on the roof at the pool, it was going to expose secrets. Or at the very least, require the truth. Those weren’t always the same thing, and he wasn’t sure which was worse.

Seconds ticked by with the doors staying open as he stood straight-backed, feeling the stretchy nylon digging into his skin. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be getting it wet. If so, then it would get even tighter and give him a worse wedgie. Not the sexual fun kind, but the painful kind like kids got in school. Finally, a door down the hall, across from his room, opened, and he saw his wife step out.

His eyes widened. The outfit this morning had been surprising, and he’d suspected that this afternoon, if he was in this speedo, then the women would probably be wearing something similar. The sight walking before him made him erect in almost an instant. Don had done some research into fashion a few years back for a client and so he was familiar with terms and names of various clothes, some more common than others, but this client had specialized in the more scandalous clothing, having noticed that sales for it were lucrative, discrete, had a much lower return rate, and also cost less to make since more often than not, people were paying more money for less material.

Lane was wearing an extreme micro slingshot g-string thong monokini one-piece swimsuit that was a brilliant metallic neon green similar to Don’s speedo. It was a lot of words to essentially describe three small one inch wide, four inch long strips of material all held in place and together by thin little stings and all tied neatly behind Lane’s neck. Her hair was up in a ponytail and her skin was shining with suntan oil. She was more on display in this outfit than she had been this morning. The spandex may have been see-through, but they covered things completely. Lane was showing so much skin, shining and shimmering, her breasts bouncing with only her nipples covered and her pussy hair peeking and poking out around the thin little strip along her crotch.

Don’s wife was walking confidently, as if she were wearing an expensive business suit instead of nearly nothing. Stepping into the elevator, she turned and stood next to Don quietly, wordlessly, staring back down the hall. Don’s eyes glanced at Lane, seeing that her entire back was exposed, glistening with oil, and her ass split by the strings that held her bottoms in place.

“Eyes up here.” She whispered.

His eyes shot back up and met his wife’s and they both broke out in a grin.

“You okay?” He asked back in a low voice. It wasn’t that talking wasn’t allowed, but they were reasonably sure they were being watched, recorded possibly. They didn’t want anything they said somehow used against them.

Her nod was almost imperceptible. Don’s nod was equally so.

The doors to the elevator closed and began to ascend to the roof.

“Together?” Don whispered.

There was still an opportunity to quit. To stop. After that morning and the humiliation he’d experienced in his room, an older woman had come into his room when he’d returned and instructed him to masturbate and shoot his cum into her palms. She was easily in her seventies, possibly the wife of some older CEO that he couldn’t place. Usually those old men, high up and rich beyond rich, had young trophy wives, or at least mistresses. If they did have a wife that was older or comparable in age, then it was usually a marriage of strategy for wealth and power. Whatever her position or relation, it didn’t matter. She stood in front of Dan, both palms held out, and waited patiently, watching as he jerked off and finally came into her palms, a thick milky pool of sticky seed, which the woman promptly brought to her mouth and licked up.

When it was over, she’d simply left with a satisfied smile on her face. Don, on the other hand, had to swallow back bile and took a long slow shower with lots and lots of soap.

Had something similar happened to Lane? Something worse? They’d have to wait until all of this was over to compare notes.

Lane took in a slow breath through her nose and let it out softly between barely parted lips. “Together.” She whispered and her hand moved, taking hold of Don’s and they squeezed gently just before the elevator came to a stop and the doors opened onto the roof.

Compared to this morning, the roof was much more active. During the afternoon, or at least during this process, all tenets of the building were permitted to use the roof pool and bar. The place was teaming with men and women of many ages and looks, but it was clear they were all of the same sort of wealth. It wasn’t cheap (in rich terms) to have a place in this building. Even so, it still looked like a typical view you’d see at any other adult only pool, except when you looked closer you’d see the expensive earrings, necklaces, watches, sunglasses, shoes, all so high end and showy it was clear these people had money they could have literally burned and not missed it.

Don and Lane stepped out of the elevator, letting their hands drop. The instructions on their screens had been to stay together at all times during lunch, to take up trays of drinks and snacks and serve them to the pool attendees. And that there would be absolutely no secrets.

A woman dressed in a white miniskirt and polo walked up to them, not looking in the least surprised at their attire, holding a tablet. “Mr and Mrs D?” she asked curtly.

Lane’s eyes narrowed a little at the dismissive way she said their names. Don felt the same sort of itch. Their names, even abbreviated as they were, should have been spoken with respect and admiration… perhaps a little fear.

“Yes.” Don replied just as curtly.

Nodding, the woman tapped at the screen. “Mrs. D, you will be serving champagne.” She pointed to a tray that was sitting on a tall table. It was full of glasses of bubbling amber liquid. “Mr. D, you will be serving wine.” Quickly motioning to the bar where there were several bottles of wine read to be served.

A few more taps on her tablet and then looked back up at the couple. “Don’t spill.” With that, she marched off.

Lane grit her teeth and sneered, but quickly settled her face into an impassive mask. A quick glance back at Don and they both went to get their items and then began marching towards the pool.

They made their way around the pool, very aware of the eyes on them. A quick glance around told them that there were five other couples dressed similarly, neon speedos and metallic shiny monokinis, all straining and tight and revealing. Don didn’t have time to take stock of the other interviewees, a middle-aged man in dark swim trunks and a bare hairy chest was laying back in his lounge chair waving them over.

Walking towards the man, Lane made sure to walk with elegance and grace even as the suit made her tits jiggle and ass bounce lewdly and blatantly. Coming up next to the man, her crotch at eye level, she ignored his perverted grin. Surprisingly, his eyes didn’t linger on Lane, they also darted over to Don’s bulge and he gave Don an approving wink. He reached up to take one of the proffered flutes of Champagne.

“New meat. Lovely. Tell me, dear, has that pussy ever had two cocks in it at the same time? Double vaginal?” He lay back, one arm behind his head and the other holding his drink, sipping it and looking up at Lane curiously.

Her cheeks instantly went crimson, and she darted her gaze to Don. They knew about each other’s sexual pasts and many of the adventures they’d had in school. If high schoolers were promiscuous in the regular populace, for the higher ups and rich, the sexual degeneracy was far more scandalous. Don was sure he hadn’t heard everything, just like Lane hadn’t heard about everything he’d done. Now it seemed some of those secrets, simply unspoken, were now going to come to light.

Lane swallowed and took a quick, calming breath. “Yes.” She said simply.

This answer made Don’s cock leap, straining against his speedo painfully. It also made his chest tighten with jealousy and curiosity. Who and when did that happen?

The man let out a pleased groan. “Lovely. I’m sure that was a tight fit. Who was it with?”

Lane stiffened. It was noticeable that her nipples hardened in the thin bikini top. “My World History Professor and his Husband.” She answered.

Don bit the inside of his cheek. He’d met Lane the same year she’d been taking World History. They’d started dating at the tail end of that year. Had this happened while they were dating?

“Wow. So they were bi then. Interesting.” The man tapped his glass with his nail. “Cum inside you?” His eyes were roving over her exposed, glistening skin.

“Yes. Both of them.” She answered, keeping her words simple and her eyes directed away from her husband. 

“Lovely.” He chuckled and sipped at his drink. “You can go.” He shooed them away as if they were typical lowly servants.

It made both of them clench their fists as they moved on to another individual waving them over. The woman was young, draped in jewelry and a very expensive looking black bikini with a white sheer cover up and large-brimmed hat to keep the sun off. She held out her wineglass to Don casually as she looked back to her tablet that was sitting on the table she was lounging by.

“Tell me darling…” she said with what Don quickly clocked as a fake accent, “Have you ever watched a girl get fucked in front of you?” She eyed Don over her large, dark sunglasses.

“Yes.” Don answered. He felt his wife’s eyes on him.

“Was she your partner? This one or otherwise?” She motioned to Lane with her wineglass.

“A girlfriend in my freshman year of college.”

“Oh my, how delicious.” She grinned, sipping at her glass. “Did he cuck you?”

“No. I shared her with him after a frat party.”

The women gave a high end chuckle. “Lovely. Did you like watching more than participating?”

“I enjoyed it, but liked being with her more than just standing by.”

She chuckled. “Good boy. Can’t have men around here being weak, now can we? And by the looks of that fine package, you have a lot to offer. Off with you now.” She waved a heavily ringed hand to dismiss them towards another patron.

This one was a younger man who looked far too stereotypically like a Jersey Beach Bum. “‘well look at yous.” He said pulling himself out of the pool dripping wet as well as adorned in gaudy gold chains all over his hairy chest.

Don tried not to grimace at the accent and grammar that this man was clearly faking, much like the woman and her attempt at an aristocratic accent.

“Fine tits you got.” He snatched a glass from Lane’s tray. “Tell me something, doll. You ever take it up that ass?”

Don saw Lane grit her teeth, almost baring them like a predator, but her voice was calm. “Yes.”

“Damn, I’d love to see that thing bounce on a dick. Bet it looks fine. Ever been airtight?”

Again Lane’s voice was calm. “Once.” She answered.

That wasn’t news to Don. She’d told him about a party she’d gone to once, right before college, that had essentially been an orgy. Not surprising. He’d been to one too.

The man grinned, downing the champagne in one gulp. “Bet you squealed like a pig.”

Lane’s muscles tensed and Don thought for just a second that she was going to smash the tray into the man’s face. But she kept her cool. Her composure. And they quickly moved on to the next patron. 

They approached a man that Dan thought looked familiar. By the way Lane grimaced, it was clear it was someone she knew. Maybe from work? He leaned closed to her as they got closer. “Who is he?”

“HR Rep at the firm. A real sexist pig.” Lane mutteredback, then put on a nice smile when they came within earshot of the man. He was in white swim trunks, his graying hair slicked back and chest bare with lots of curly graying hair.

“Ahh… Mrs D. So lovely to see you here.” He snatched a glass of champagne from the tray. “Tell me something…” He paused for effect. “Have you ever cheated on your husband?”

Lane’s cheeks flared and eyes narrowed slightly but she remained calm. “Once. Two days before our wedding.”

Don did his best to remain calm. This was part of the test. To see how he would react. Could he keep calm? Remain collected? The truth was, he’d suspected she’d cheated before their wedding, but had never been able to confirm it. All he had was circumstantial evidence. Two nights before the wedding he’d wanted to have sex, but Lane had insisted they wait until the honeymoon. It seemed reasonable enough. But when I went to the bathroom later that night, I spied a pair of her panties in the hamper. A silk pink thong that had thick white stains down the middle. It looked exactly like dried cum.

He hadn’t asked her about it. Hadn’t pushed. But had always wondered. And now he had the confirmation.

“Who was it?” The man asked, swallowing his champagne in a quick gulp.

“Derrick Holland.” Lane hesitated and then continued. “My husband’s roommate in college. He was a jackass, but he had a way of charming women. I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about before I committed myself.” Her eyes darted over to her husband, a quick look of reassurance and maybe some guilt. She’d cheated, but it hadn’t been because of cold feet or attraction. It was pure curiosity. The fear of missing something.

Don wasn’t sure that made it better.

The very idea of Derrick having his hands on Lane… doing who knows what to her. He’d walked in on his old roommate a few times when he was in the middle of some sexual conquests. Girls would have words written all over them with lipstick. Things like ‘whore’, ‘slut’, ‘cumdump’. He was never gentle. Once Don had seen a girl getting dressed after and her ass was so red he was sure she wouldn’t be able to sit comfortably for a few days.

It just further confirmed why Lane was resistant to have sex with him before the wedding those couple of days. Derrick had used her.

Don’s stomach clenched and he had to suppress and growl and a sneer.

The gentleman simply smirked, put the empty glass back on the tray, and motioned with his head for them to leave.

As they continued their rounds, they continued answering questions. Many of the secrets, most actually, were sexual in nature. Revealing positions they’d most enjoyed, kinks they preferred, wild things they’d tried and done. Some were simple, like had they ever lied to a client. Lied to their managers or a boss to get ahead or to hide something. Did they cheat on their taxes? Things that could definitely get them in trouble if revealed to the right people. In fact, some of those people might even be members of Cupere and would hear about the things they’d lied about. It was clear some of this, which was no doubt being recorded, could be used as blackmail in the future if needed. It was a devilish and clever move by the members to make sure everyone had something to lose.

When lunch was finally starting to wind down, they walked to their last patrons, who sat at the swim-up bar, an older couple who had graying hair but were still in good shape and looked healthy and vital. The man took the last glass of champagne from Lane’s tray. “Lovely, thank you,” He said with a grin. “Now tell me, do you enjoy sex with your husband?” 

Lane answered quickly. “I do.” It was true.

“But is it the best sex you’ve ever had? Or would you want something, someone, else?” He arched a graying eyebrow.

Lane let out a soft sigh. “It’s not the best. I’d enjoy others if it were an option.”

The truth stung a little, but Don wasn’t so arrogant that he’d thought he was a paragon of sexual prowess.

“Scale of one to ten, how is your dear man in bed?”

Lane had to think for just a moment, her eyes darting to Don and then back to the man. “A six.”

Fury raged in Don’s belly. A six? He’d have thought an 8 if he was being modest. But that felt low considering how Lane acted in the bedroom.

The man nodded and then motioned to the woman at his side. She looked at Don. “What’s the one thing you don’t like about your wife’s body sexually?” 

Don didn’t bother to glance at Lane, his frustration still warm in his veins. “She’s somewhat… lackluster in bed. Prefers missionary and doesn’t do much besides laying there.”

The woman’s eyebrows shot up in curiosity and shock. Lane stiffened but otherwise remained impassive.

“Oh? So a cold fish then?” The man asked with a playful smirk.

His wife elbowed him. “Don’t judge. Some women just aren’t that expressive. Routines can be nice.”

“Oh sure. But that just means the guy has to do all the work. And who get’s blamed if things aren’t so good? The guy. Hardly seems fair.” The man turned to Don. “You should get your wife to loosen up. Marriage is a partnership. You’ve got to split the efforts.”

Don just nodded.

Lane’s cheeks were red, and the look in her eyes was hard to decipher.

The woman rolled her eyes and turned back to the couple. “That will be all dears. You may return to your room and freshen up for tonight's dinner. Order some room service for yourselves.” With that, Don and Lane were dismissed.

They returned the empty wine bottle and tray to the bar and stepped back into the elevator. Once enclosed in the elevator, they both gave soft sighs of relief, but neither of them looked at each other. Maybe it was embarrassment at everything they’d admitted, some known and others not. Maybe it was humiliation. Anger?All the above, most likely. This was going to test their marriage… When all was said and done once they left, they’d have to discuss the things they’d admitted and revealed.

The doors opened onto their hall and they walked shoulder to shoulder to their rooms. Turning towards each other, Lane looked Don in the eye fiercely. “I suppose we will deal with these things later.”

Don nodded, still thinking about the number six.

“Together?” She asked, suddenly a look of nervous anxiety reflected in her gaze.

For a moment, Don hesitated. Who knew what was next? But with all the sexual tension going around, questions and actions, he knew that quite possibly he would be seeing his wife have sex by the end of the night. He might have to participate in some sort of sexual activity as well. Sharing wasn’t a problem. But knowing now that she regarded his prowess so low was… irksome.

“Together.” He finally muttered and leaned in, kissed his wife’s cheek and turned, stepping back into his room to clean up and get ready for the last event of the day.

— —

The dining hall is immaculate. Towering dark marble pillars on either side of the large expanse. Floors polished white marble with a shine so clear you could see your reflection. Overhead, the ceiling is painted with frescos that could have rivaled the Sistine Chapel. Tables dotted the landscape, draped in snow white and gold trimmed tablecloths. Silverware and plates, center pieces of beautiful and rare flowers. It was an opulent dinner setting that most would expect to cost upwards of twenty thousand a person to attend. 

Members were already milling about, a soft rumbling of hushed discussions, muted laughter, and a thick smell of alcohol, cigar smoke, mixed with the smell of the food being served. Dishes of lamb and steak and chicken, prepared by some of the finest chefs in the city.

Lane had been to several dinners like these. But this was different in one very clear way. All the women wore lingerie. The men were dressed in distinguished, well-tailored suits, but every woman, no matter her station or membership status, was adorned in lace, silk, latex, cotton, chains, pearls, spandex, lycra, and all other manner of materials. Some women’s tits were completely exposed, the cup less corsets or bras pushing them up. A few women she spied had nipple tape, or even diamonds glued to their nipples, making them shine and glitter in the lights coming from the many chandeliers.

Asses were on full display. Labia puffed out between tight thongs or around flawless pearls. Hair was done up beautifully. Skin was glowing from recent spa treatments. Skin flashed. Tantalized. Enticed. Some of the women held themselves slightly higher than others, and though they walked around on heels that looked precariously high, with tits and asses bouncing and jiggling, they seemed untouchable. The opulent dinner was more than just an interview, it was a chance to show off the various trophy wives the men of the club were in possession of. And yes, it was possession. They were being paraded. Put on display. The lingerie was so elegant but revealing and erotic it was all meant to make each and every other person in the room jealous. Perhaps even to entice them into discussions about business deals and how those women might be a part of it, even if they were just the eye candy while the details were arranged.

Lane quickly spotted the other five women she’d been with on stage and at the pool with earlier in the day. Their outfits varied in style, but all were as equally exposing as her own. She’d been given a choice of lingerie to wear in the closet, the one choice she’d gotten to make today. It had been difficult, because she wasn’t sure what might be expected of her. In the end she’d chosen the lace bodysuit top with Swarovski crystals that dangled and looped around her breasts, her nipples dark and pink just barely hidden behind them. The bottoms were a sheer thong of black lace and mesh clinging tightly to her mons and up between her cheeks. The garter belt around her waist was solid black and shimmered like oil, connecting to dark black stockings and three inch black heels.

As she walked next to Don, the crystals clicked along with her heels. He had his arm out and she was holding it gracefully. Men eyed her. Women observed her. This was something she was used to as well, others watching and weighing and measuring her by the brands she wore, but this was clearly a different level of inspection. They were looking at things they’d most likely glimpsed during breakfast and lunch. But now it was more fancy, more clear, and much closer.

They made their way towards a table that they’d been instructed to report to. Don was supposed to sit and converse with anyone that came by. Much like lunch, he had to answer any questions asked and be honest. Lane, on the other hand, was to make rounds through the dining hall and allow members to pull her aside for any activity they wanted. Squeezing her husband's hand for a moment, she leaned down and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “We can do this.” She whispered.

He nodded and kissed her cheek in return.

Lane walked away, leaving Don alone.

— —

The first person to stop Lane was a man she recognized as a fairly prominent lawyer for one of the more profitable design companies. He was sipping scotch, leaning back in his chair, motioning her over with a finger like she was some floozy waitress in a dive bar. Lane was growing tired of this treatment. Once she was a member… the wheels in her head were turning with all the wicked ideas of how she’d get back at these men and women who had so thoroughly demeaned her. Even though she was sure they’d been treated the same in order to gain admittance, it didn’t matter. That was them. This was her.

But that would have to wait.

She sauntered over to the man and stopped in front of him, but before she could even utter a word, he had fished a piece of ice out of his scotch on the rocks, reached over to pull her panties open and slipped the slick ice cube down into them, letting them snap back and hold the ice against her labia making her gasp.

It pressed against her pubic hair, making it slick, the cool drops as it melted, slipping between her lips and down the slopes of her pussy towards her ass.

The man grinned up at her, tipped his glass in salute, and then waved her off.

Fists clenched, she turned and walked away, feeling the cube rubbing against her, melting slowly but steadily and giving her chills, goosebumps, and yet it was thrilling and almost arousing in a torturous kind of way.

Lane witnessed another woman bend over a table, she wore a brilliant blue set of panties and bra that were intricate silk lace, delicate… The man was ripping the bottoms and exposing her asshole. Then he took a butter knife, cut a slice of thick, rich butter, and smeared it between her cheeks. “Gotta butter these buns.” The man was laughing. The woman was cringing and trying not to shake.

The next person that got Lane’s attention was an elegant older woman who reminded Lane of those old fifties movie stars. She wore a silver bodysuit with a modest neckline but a plunging back that exposed just the tiniest bit of her ass crack. It was sparkling, refined, and clearly made of real spun silver. She motioned Lane to come over.

“My dear, that is a lovely outfit. In my younger days I could definitely have pulled that off but I’m afraid I sag far too much up top these days.” She chuckled warmly. “I see our dear Toby has already greeted you.” She motioned with a silver manicured fingernail at Lane’s panties with the now swiftly melting ice.

“I supposed I have ma’am.” She replied stiffly.

“Don’t be too offended. Be glad he didn’t put it in your asshole like he did with one of the girls last year.” She rolled her eyes and brushed back her graying hair. “Man’s a strange one. Though you’ll be finding a lot of strange ones here. Money and lack of consequences will do that to people.”

The woman turned more fully to face Lane, reaching out a delicate finger tracing her nail along the crystals of Lane’s top and just barely grazing her nipple. “You really are lovely. Should you be accepted, I’d love to invite you to the spa sometime. I believe we’d have a good time.” She tapped her nail against Lane’s erect nipple and smiled. “Now, go and mingle, my dear. Be on your best behavior.”

Lane gave the woman a nod, the first somewhat pleasant person she’d met this entire process, and continued her circuit around the room.

She watched as other women were subjected to acts that were degrading, erotic, and dirty. A shorter brunette had a man pluck a flower from one of the centerpieces, pulled her panties aside and put the lily between her pussy lips. Another was made to stand on a chair and rub herself in her panties, fingering roughly and moving at the man’s orders until she came. One woman was bent over a man’s lap and he spanked her every few seconds before taking the cork from one of the wine bottles the waiters were holding and stuck it right up her ass. Every woman was displayed, played and humiliated. Lane saw a couple with tears in their eyes. There was no way they would make it through this process.

But she would. She’d make it through. Nothing was going to stop her.

Waiters eyed the women. Those of lesser stations getting eyefuls that Lane didn’t think they deserved. Some got waved over and were made to stand in a line while a tall mousy brown haired white jerked them off into her panties. She went through five waiters before the member told her to stop, scoop up the cum from the gusset of her panties and eat it. She did it calmly but with hell fire in her eyes.

She noticed another wife was kneeling between two other waiters, jerking them off with her face turned up, aiming their cocks at her chest. It didn’t take long for them to burst and cover her ample cleavage.

Lane watched it all with calculated fascination. It was humiliating, but also so erotic she couldn’t help but feel wetness between her lips, and not from the ice cube. She grit her teeth and turned her attention back to her own task. Let the others deal with their situation. She was going to get through this with her head held high and her pride intact.

— —

Don wasn’t sitting alone long before someone pulled up a chair beside him and sat down with an exaggerated sigh. Jerome Whitmore leaned forward, elbows on the table like a barbarian, a whisky in his hand smiling at Don. “Nice to see you here Mr. D. Was wondering when you’d get the invite.”

Jerome was a colleague at work, though not directly involved in the same projects, they often crossed paths with various issues as well as just when getting coffee from the cafe or dining hall. He was a decent sort, though a bit young and arrogant. His money was old. Older than old. And the silver spoon in his mouth and up his butt was very apparent. He had dark brown hair that was slicked back, dark brown eyes and a perpetual shit-eating grin that somehow managed to charm and to repulse all at the same time.

“Of course we got the invite.” Don replied, though in his mind he felt that they should have gotten in much sooner. But sometimes even the rich and the powerful were at the whims of others, whether they liked it or not.

Sipping his whisky, Jerome bobbed his head in agreement. “Of course. So, how ya feeling? I know most of the rough treatments on the wife with these things, but that can take a toll on the fella as well. Seeing his prize on display and getting flashed about.”

Their eyes went to where Lane had come to stand on the other side of the dining hall. She was sitting on the table in front of a younger man, most likely some trust fund brat by the look of him. Her legs were spread wide as she leaned back on the table and pulling her panties open to allow them man to pour his glass of champagne down her stomach, letting it trickle down over her belly button and down to her pussy, dripping and then soaking into the panties and finally beginning to drip into the man’s lingering upturned mouth. It was a messy affair. Champagne dripped everywhere, most of it not even making it into the man’s mouth, instead splashing to the marble floor.

Nearby, a waiter was standing by with a towel, observing calmly, waiting for things to finish so he could clean.

To her credit, Lane’s face was impassive, eyes closed, breathing calmly as the cool champagne splashed through her panties and over her vagina. When the glass was empty, the gentleman put it down on the table and grabbed a silk napkin, whipping his face clean and tossing it at Lane, across her stomach. Don was too far away from them to hear what he said, but Don gathered he was telling his wife to clean up and then walking away as if she were some common whore.

Don memorized the man’s looks, planning to find out just who he was and make him pay for the disgrace he’d just given to his wife. Though Lane was probably planning the same thing. Perhaps they could partner on this and make the man suffer even more for the indignation.

Lane slipped off the table, adjusted her panties with a small grimace and walked away towards another table. The waiter appeared in a flash, quickly wiping the floor clean so no one would slip.

Jerome whistled and gave a chuckle. “Bet that tasted good. Though I’d have done it a bit differently. He was way too messy.”

Don didn’t reply.

“So, have you figured out who you’re going to offer her panties to?”

Don licked at his lips thoughtfully. Part of the instructions for the night had been that towards the middle of the evening, the couples had to determine whom they would give the wife’s panties to. She would hand them off and the member could do as they pleased with them for the next couple of hours. At the end of the night, the wife had to put the panties back on no matter what had been done to them. Any hesitation or show of disgust would be automatic disqualification. This would be the last task before the final event.

They’d had a quick quiet discussion about whom they might trust handing Lane’s undergarment to. No doubt there were many, many things that might happen to them, and whomever they chose would probably do something, even if it was just dipping them in champagne or something. Though that seemed to have already been covered just a moment ago. This whole day had been one teasing humiliation after another and it was wearing on them. If there was any way to lessen the degeneracy being done to them, they wanted to take advantage of it.

Don let his eyes look over at Jerome. He was a prickly sort of person to be around, but he handled his duties with skill and didn’t have any complaints or issues to speak of, which was saying something in the cutthroat world they worked in. Maybe he could make his coworker a deal? Was that allowed? It most certainly hadn’t been forbidden.

“Jerome…” Don began slowly. “Maybe you’d be interested in holding onto Lane’s undergarments for the evening?” Just saying the words twisted Don’s heart.

The man raised a curious eyebrow and quirked a smile. “Oh? Is that an offer, or are you asking?”

“A bit of both. We know each other well enough. And I feel as if we could trust you. I understand you’re probably under orders to do…something… with the underwear if it’s given to you, but I think maybe you’d be the least objectionable choice.” 

That was mostly true. But Don didn’t really want to give Lane’s underwear away to anyone. There was something truly intimate about a woman’s undergarments. The fact that they were pressed to her most sacred and sensitive spots. A place that was supposed to be reserved for the husband. The partner. But now he was being forced to give a piece of what was his away. To trust it to someone else. And though Jerome seemed… mostly trustworthy, Don didn’t for a second believe that the man was all good intentions and pure of spirit.

It ate at Don. Like something was gnawing at his insides. He’d already suffered several blows to his ego and pride today. This was just more icing on the cake. He wasn’t sure how much more he could endure. But… he would endure it. They both would. Victory would be theirs and nothing was going to stop them, even if it meant literally handing a man something so precious and intimate.

Jerome tapped at his whisky glass, eyes off watching Don’s wife. She was now standing before an older gentleman, bent at the waist, her ass out towards him. He was placing a flute of champagne between her buttocks, seeing if they were firm enough and tight enough to hold it steady. Don wasn’t surprised at all that the glass was held tightly between her cheeks. She stayed in that position for a few minutes as the man chatted with others at his table, taking it from between her cheeks at times to sip and then returning it, as if she was some sort of cup holder.

“I think I can manage that.” Jerome finally replied with a grin.”

Don nodded. He felt he couldn’t make a full deal of some kind, but he hoped the man understood the subtext in what was being offered. You take care of this and you’ll be looked on with favor down the line.

The man finally emptied his glass and put it back on the table, giving Lane’s ass a hard slap, dismissing her. Her fiery eyes found her husband’s, and he waved her over. She came quickly, doing her best to ignore, but not look like she was ignoring, people trying to get her attention.

Once back at the table, she stood next to Don, her breath coming in slow and steady through her nose. It was clear she was furious, but doing an excellent job at hiding it.

“Ms. D, Jerome here has kindly agreed to take your panties for the evening until the final ceremony. Are you in agreement?” Don asked, taking his wife's hand.

She looked at him for a moment, and then let her gaze shift to Jerome, who was smiling up at Don’s bride with kind, but clearly interested eyes. “How about it?” Jerome downed the last of his whisky. “Feel like trusting me with your most intimate piece of clothing?”

Lane looked to her husband one last time, saw his gaze of certainty and then nodded. “Of course.”

“Then step over here and let's get those off you.” Jerome pushed his chair out so that Lane could come to stand in front of him.

Squeezing Don’s hand, she slipped away from him and came to stand before Jerome. The man leaned forward, looking closely at Lane’s panties. Inspecting how they clung to her sex. His finger traced along the edges and then made its way to her center moving down and under up between her ass cheeks, slipping his finger under the thong and pulling it out from between her cheeks. “You look absolutely lovely.” Jerome said with a kind and yet mocking smile.

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited to get these off you. But I’m torn. They look so good on you. But I’m sure they’ll look good in my pocket too.” He chuckled, bringing his hands to Lane’s hips and gently pulling at the waistband. “Wiggle your hips a bit. These are tight.”

Lane did as he said, wiggling her hips slightly as he started to peel the panties off of her. They were already damp from the ice, champagne and her own juices. She tried to look as dignified as possible as her wet panties came down.

“Fucking beautiful.” Jerome said with a tight, hungry grin. “This has been hidden for far too long. I’m going to need to see it much more after this. Think we could come up with an arrangement?” He was chuckling, but there was a sense that he truly wanted to make a deal.

Don watched his wife’s ass flex as the panties slipped from between them and down her thighs, exposing herself to him in a way he’d seen often over the years but never got tired of. She carefully stepped out of the thin garment and let Jerome take them. The sense of jealousy and yet… arousal he was feeling at seeing this coworker take his wifes panties. His face inches from her pussy. Talking about it like there was some sort of contract they could work out to let him gaze on it more often. It was making Don’s cock harden, but also his stomach twist. He was fine with men looking at his wife, she was beautiful. A true Trophy Wife but not a bimbo or some brainless young girl only around for the money. She had the looks and the brains and the cunning. The entire package.

Jerome was looking at her like something he could pick off the rack at a high end store. Something he could buy. After the revelation earlier about Lane’s infidelity before their wedding, all because of a business deal, he wondered if Lane might be willing to agree to some sort of arrangement. Could they use this to their advantage? Then again, could Don handle sharing his wife like that? Doing it for this interview was one thing… but for every day business… that was something they were going to have to discuss.

“I’ll take good care of them.” Jerome said, opening his jacket and slipping the damp garment into an inside pocket.

“We are sure you will,” Don replied, trying not to think about what Jerome might do or the fact that his wife was now bottomless and the night was still long from over.

— —

The night progressed slowly. Lane was forced to make the rounds without panties now and got several looks, most appreciating her blonde haired bush. Others let their eyes rove over her ass as it bounced. She could feel the gazes, the judgements, the desires of the people watching. It was equal parts thrilling and humiliating and to Lane’s horror, she was realizing that she somewhat liked the mixture.

Men called her over to their tables, one having her stand in front of him, legs apart so he could run his fingers up and down her labia. He didn’t push his fingers inside, thankfully, but the stimulation alone made her wet and the man got her juices all over his fingers, which he promptly dipped into his drink, stirred and then drank it down while looking her straight in the eye.

Another made her bend over his knee while he was talking to a table full of members. He caressed her upturned ass and every few seconds would give her a quick, hard spank, then caress and soothe, then spank again, making her yelp every time. Before he finally had her get up, his hand went between her legs, moving over her to gauge her arousal. Satisfied, he had her get up and dismissed her like nothing had happened.

An older member with thinning hair and wrinkles that not even botox could cure, motor-boated her. Making her bend so he could push his face between her tits, into the draping crystals and let his nose and cheeks and lips rub against her for a solid minute before leaning back with a satisfied sigh.

Some fondled her in various ways. Grasping her ass. Fondling her tits. Rubbing her pussy or her stomach. One had her sit on the table, put her bare feet on his thighs, allowing him to look at her pussy, unobstructed, all while his hands toyed with her toes and feet. She wasn’t sure which the man liked more, her vagina or her feet. She also wasn’t sure if it mattered.

Nearly an hour passed and by the time an announcement was made for the prospective members to take the stage, Lane was soaking wet and dripping down her thighs. Not just from the attention she’d been given, but from the entire experience. She’d been able to catch glimpses of her husband, sitting at the table talking with various members that came up to him. Sometimes his expression was even and calm. Other times, she could tell he was holding back frustration or even disgust. He was in the same sort of boat she was, though far less sexually exposed. But who knew what was being discussed? What questions were asked of him and what he was having to endure, simply sitting and watching his lovely wife get manhandled and used.

Was it exciting him like it was her? Was he jealous? Or had they both just discovered some deep - seated things about their sexuality and desires that might have to be explored at a later date?

All those questions would have to be addressed when the night and the interview were over.

At the behest of the well-dressed man on stage, beckoning the interviewees to come take their place on the stage, both husbands and wives. Lane made her way over, Don quickly joining her and twining his fingers into hers.

“Together?” He asked quietly out of the corner of his mouth.

Lane was shaking with need. Even as humiliated as she felt, all the stimulation and attention had made her pussy burn with want. She had to see this through. Everything in her was shaking from being put on edge, but she wasn’t going to let that be the master of her. She was going to see all of this to the end and be victorious. Then she could focus, along with her husband, on finding ways to get back at all of these people for what they'd done to her.

Funny how she so desperately wanted to be a part of this club for its status and the doors and opportunities it would open. But hated and wanted to break down the people that made the club what it was. Her life was nothing if not filled with paradoxes.

“Together.” She said firmly, almost a quiet snarl.

Don nodded, and they stepped up onto the stage together. Other couples followed, all six on stage standing side by side and facing the large dining hall and all the members with their judging eyes and arrogant smiles. This would be one, if not the, final test of the evening. They had to stay strong and stay collected.

The man standing at the microphone began to motion to those lined up behind him, speaking eloquently and excitedly. “As you all know, we have prospective members tonight. Earlier, they were instructed to hand off their panties to a lucky member. Now it’s time for them to get those panties back. Will those members that received a garment please come to the stage and put them back on our lovely applicants?”

Don stepped back as four men (including Jerome) and two women came up on stage, all holding various kinds of panties. They each stepped up behind one of the women, Jerome stepping in front of Don, looking back briefly with a little wink. Don couldn’t see what had been done with the panties, hopefully nothing too untoward, but it seemed he was going to be left in the dark, facing the man’s back as he bent down to help slip the panties back on.

Lane kept her eyes up, afraid to look down. Unsure if she was allowed to look or not. She took careful steps to allow Jerome to put her panties back on, feeling the light caress of damp lace sliding up along her thighs. Lane suppressed a cringe. She felt the warmth before it touched her. Jerome pulled the panties up around her hips, letting them snap into place. The feeling of slick, warm, sticky cum pressed to her pubic hair and pussy.

“Sorry, I couldn't resist cumming in such a pretty lady’s panties. Plus, knowing my cum is against that lovely pussy is too big of a turn on to pass up.” Jerome put his hands on her shoulders, leaning in and whispering the words. “How do you like it? I put two loads in it just for you.” His chuckle was grating in Lane’s ear.

The feeling of that slick spunk against her, pressing and oozing and sliding along her privates, was making her… it was making her excited. Yes, she was embarrassed, mostly because she was standing before an audience of nearly a hundred people, watching as her soiled panties were pressed to her sex, that had already been toyed with all night. But had she been in private… there was no doubt in her mind that she would be masturbating, letting that cum make her slick and using it to fuck herself. This past day had triggered something inside and she knew it wasn’t going to stop after the interview was over.

She tried to keep her face schooled to calm and complacent. Apparently she did better than a couple of the other women at her side. Whispers and chuckles and camera flashes filled the hall and with a quick glance Lane saw one of the women next to her, a shorter brunette, nearly crying. Another quick look told her that the woman’s panties had been dipped in what looked like chocolate from one of the chocolate fountains on either side of the dining hall. It was dripping in thick, viscous globs down her thighs. If it was still warm or cooling, Lane wasn’t sure, but it was clearly uncomfortable and the woman was barely holding it together.

Lane was positive this woman wasn’t going to make it into the club. She was being too emotional. Part of the point of all of this was to show you had stamina, poise, that you could face any sort of treatment and come out as if nothing had happened. It was important in the business world to convey the kind of solemnity that brought to mind a level head and an air of control and self assuredness.

Another woman was trembling. Her panties were covered in cum, like Lane’s, but it was clear there was a great deal more. Possibly loads from multiple people. It was thick and dripping, much like the chocolate. Lane suppressed a grimace.

“Wonderful!” The announcer laughed. “Well done, well done!” He clapped. “Now comes the final portion of our night. Since dinner commenced, we’ve held a silent auction.” the man paused for dramatic effect, turning to face the six women and their husbands. “This auction was for the highest three bidders for each interviewee.”

Lane listened intently, but before the words even left the announcer's mouth, she understood what was about to happen and mentally steeled herself for what she was about to be subjected to.

“We have the final tallies in for each lovely lady and now we will allow our winning bidders to come up and do as they please with our lucky prospective members!”

Claps and applause and cheers and whistles filled the hall. Several people got up from their places at tables and stepped to the sides, mostly men, coming up towards the stage.

Lane knew this would happen. Knew that at some point she’d have to have some sort of sex. Cupere was more than just a club of aristocrats and the uber rich. It was a club of indulgence. Of earthly delights. Some of those delights were shared among members, but others still were facilitated by the club. Things the lower tiers of society could only dream of in their most depraved of wet dreams. Whatever happened now would only be a drop in the bucket of the possibilities she and Don would be allowed to indulge in. But first… first she had to be the one to indulge the others. And Don was going to have to watch.

Jerome hadn’t left the stage. He stepped up behind Lane and wrapped his arms around her, cupping her breasts under the dangling crystals. “I kept one load in reserve just for this,” He whispered.

Lane suppressed a shiver.

Torrance Myers, her family doctor, stepped up in front of her, already undoing his tie as he smiled at her wickedly and with a lust in his eyes that made her shiver. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about this. Your pussy has been one of my favorites to look at when you come in for your appointments. So tight and plump. It has just been begging for me to sink my cock into it.” His grin was salacious. Lane wanted to slap him, but she didn’t dare move. Not when she was so close to the finish line. 

Once Dr. Myers’s tie was free, he quickly looped it around Lane’s neck and tightened just enough to make her gasp.

Another man appeared to her left, one she didn’t recognize and couldn’t put a name to, his slacks already open and his sizable penis out being stroked.

Without a word, Dr. Myers pulled the tie, now a collar, so Lane was forced to bend down, being guided to the third man’s cock.

“Open up.” The man encouraged, and Lane obeyed. She tried to push her mind away, to let instinct and desire simply take hold and let her consciousness drift away while this happened. But it was impossible. She was hyper aware of all the eyes on her. Of the other women on stage with other men and women beginning to grope and kiss and use those being interviewed.

Her lips opened and the man’s cock slipped inside. It was warm and salty with sweat, filling her mouth as he put his hand on the back of her head and began to guide her up and down on him. Jerome continued to grope her breasts as they swayed while she was bent. Dr. Myers stepped behind her, still holding the tie, pulling it to make Lane choke slightly as she swallowed the other man’s cock. Her doctor’s cock was out now too and rubbing against her messy panties along her valley between her thighs.

Lane panted, eyes shut as she sucked the best she could while being moved back and forth.

Groans and gasps started filling the dining hall. The stage rocked with the movements of the members of what was quickly becoming an orgy, or maybe a gangbang? Lane wasn’t sure how to classify it.

Before she knew it, her panties had been pulled down around her thighs. She was moved so the whole audience could see her ass and spread legs, pussy dripping Jerome’s cum in long sticky strings down her legs and between her lips and the panties. Dr. Myers slapped his cock against her ass as she continued giving the man in front of her a blow job.

Jerome stepped up next to the other, his cock out, grabbing hold of Lane’s hair and moving her from one cock to his. “Good girl.” He muttered, and she swallowed him while holding back a sharp retort. She was no girl. But that would have to be declared later.

A cock slid inside her pussy. She moaned loud around Jerome’s cock as the other man was slapping his against her swaying tits. Having been edged all evening, she couldn’t hold back her orgasm. Her legs shook, the Doctor holding her hips firmly as he sank every inch inside her pussy. She felt his skin against hers. He was raw. He began to move back and forth, angled so the audience could see him inside her. Spanking her ass every few strokes.

Words drifted in and out. Lane couldn’t make much sense of them. Some were from the audience, calling out encouragement. Some were from the members on stage giving instructions, taunts, laughs, moans and grunts of pleasure. Pussys were licked, fucked. Asses spanked, penetrated. Tits were twisted and slapped.

A brief glimpse to her left and Lane saw the brunette that had been near tears riding a man reverse cowgirl, another man over her thrusting inside her pussy while the one below her was in her ass. The third was a woman, and she held the woman’s face to her pussy, making her lick and suck at the lips and clit.

Lane felt her doctor start to fuck her in earnest as she was made to alternate between Jerome and her third, sucking one after the other, making them groan and grin. Her hips were pulled back into Dr. Myers, his thighs slapping against her as he thrust deeper, making her pussy drip from all the arousal she’d been holding onto all night.

“Yeah…yes fuck. Your pussy is so good. I knew it would be.” Lane tried not to think about how this man had seen her at her most vulnerable, seeing her nude and checking up on her when she was sick. Now he was balls deep inside her and clearly driving himself towards his own orgasm. “Mmmm I hope you’re on the pill because my cum has been known to be fairly potent.” The man chuckled. “I’ve got a few little surprises running around from some notable patients.”

Bent over and unable to look back, Lane tried to keep calm. She was on birth control. But she wouldn’t put it passed those in the club to have possibly spiked a drink or food with something that might negate her medication. They were capable of anything and Lane getting pregnant during a club interview would be something they would be able to hold over her forever. Always the question, who was the father? She did her best to shake it off and concentrate on what was happening now, not what might be happening later.

“Time to switch?” The voice was from the stranger and without argument, her doctor pulled out from her pussy with a slick pop and the other man quickly replaced him. He was a bit thicker and stretched Lane’s pussy wider, making her gasp, which her doctor then filled her mouth with his slick cock. She tasted her own juices and the mixture of Jerome’s cum from her panties. He held the tie around her neck and pulled her against him.

“Like that Mrs D. Like that. Swallow it all.” Lane moaned. Her eyes briefly sought out her husband, but she couldn’t see him in the crowd of bodies.

Jerome pulled at her ass cheeks, opening her up and spitting on her asshole.

After a minute of her third fucking her, they switched again. Jerome slid inside her and moaned deep, hand on her back guiding her back and forth. “Good. Good. So fucking talented.”

“What do you think?” Her doctor muttered, pushing Lane’s head down further so her nose was buried in the man’s sweaty pubic hair.

“She’s got the body for sure. And her cunt is fucking tight.” The other man slapped his cock against her tits.

“Oh, shit, she’s got my vote. Look at how she’s gripping me!” Jerome laughed.

Lane’s stomach twisted. She wanted to sneer and snarl at these men as they were using her. More chatter drifted to her through the grunts and groans. Talks of talent. Of demeanor. How the women were taking it. How good they looked with cock or pussy. They were weighing and measuring and judging. Declaring votes. Whether that would hold up in the actual election was up for debate, but she felt if they were stating their vote now, it wouldn’t change.

The three men moved in a circle around her, swapping places. Pussy, mouth, tits. Over and over for a solid few minutes before she was finally guided down to all fours. Dr. Myers slipped in under her, eye to eye, grabbing her hips and guiding her pussy back down on his cock with a deep groan. Jerome squatted down behind her, spitting on her asshole again, and rubbed his cock against her before slowly pushing into her ass. As she gasped in pleasure and pain, the other man held the makeshift collar and pulled her to his cock, making her airtight.

She rocked on them. Sucking, fucking, throwing her ass back against Jerome. Sweating and slick with spit and juices, she moaned and began to lose herself in the never ending pleasure of being fucked. She felt the eyes on her. People filming her. Would they keep these videos? Would they be forced to delete them? Maybe they gathered them up and put them into a file. Lane didn’t have time to consider all the possibilities, but knew that if they were doing this with her, then most likely there was evidence of what had happened to every member. She might be able to use that one day.

Her ass became red and raw from the slaps of Jerome’s hands and thighs as he went deep inside her ass. Dr. Myers was thrusting hard and deep into her tight pussy, balls slapping against her. Her mouth and throat were full of cock as she was pulled and pushed down. Glug glug glug!

Time ceased to mean anything. Eventually, they swapped places. Jerome sliding into her pussy. Doctor into her mouth. Stranger into her asshole. They circled and used her over and over. She felt raw and burning and red and then finally…finally, they came. Jerome shot his cum deep inside her pussy, whispering in her ear that she might be having his little Jerome Jr. running around soon. If that happened, would Don be able to handle raising another man’s child? Could Lane bear it?

The stranger’s load burst deep in her asshole. Dr. Myers shot his into her throat, making her drink every drop. It sounded as if everyone had managed to time their orgasms together. The stage filled with moans and cries. Gasps and choking coughs as cum was shot into holes and throats and over tits and asses and faces. The whole area was thick with the smell of sex and cum and sweat and champagne and cigar smoke.

Lane was dizzy from it and her own continual orgasms. She’d lost count at six. Never in her life had she cum so many times in a single session. Her whole body was exhausted. Shaking. Drenched with sweat and spit and juices and now cum dripping from her lips and down her thighs and ass as the men moved to slide out of her.

Before she could make a move of her own. Dr. Myers moved her so that she was on all fours, ass out to the crowd as they all began to cheer and clap, flashes and snaps from cameras mixing with the raucous crowd. Her holes were on full display, gaping and dripping semen. Somehow, she managed to lift her head and finally found Don. He was standing at the back of the stage, staring at her, his face red, his pants a mess from cumming while watching.

Don mouthed, “I love you”.

Lane blushed and took slow breaths trying to calm down her raging heart. “I love you.” She mouthed back.

Whatever the announcer said after that was lost to her by the roar in her ears from her pounding heart and rushing blood. Dizzy and exhausted, in a few blinks, Lane found herself back in her small room. How she’d gotten there she couldn’t remember. It didn’t really matter, anyway.

Don was there with her. Helping her get undressed. Guiding her into the shower and assisting her in cleaning herself off, scrubbing off the grime and cum and sweat. Washing her hair. Treating her delicately and lovingly. As a couple, they were mostly reserved and very businesslike, but Lane did love Don. He was a sweet man. A good man. Ruthless when it came to business, but when it came to those he cared for, he was a gentle soul. That’s what made him so appealing and dangerous. Those that were always harsh never got very far without making so many enemies that they eventually got pulled down. Don could make friends, allies, those that would be loyal when the time came for the attack.

As her husband gently scrubbed her stomach with the sudsy loofah, she reached out and took his face in her hands and kissed him. Slow. Deep. Firm. Their tongues twisted softly, water falling all over them. She hitched up one of her weary legs up around his hips and he easily slid inside her. “Oh…” she gasped. Her pussy was sore beyond words, but she wanted Don. She needed him. Not exactly for sex, she was satisfied on that front. What she needed was connection. On stage she’d been used, now she needed to be touched, valued.

Don held her by the ass and guided her up and down slowly. Kissing under the shower spray. It wasn’t long. They were both exhausted and stretched thin. A few minutes of slow love making. A soft orgasm rushing through Lane’s veins. Don cumming inside her as he held her tightly, and then it was over. They finished rinsing off and went to the bed, quickly collapsing and falling into a deep dreamless sleep.

— —

Lane and Don left the same way they arrived. The whole next day after the dinner they were allowed to remain in their room. Given room service. Allowed to sleep and rest and then in the evening instructed to get dressed and proceed to the elevators where they would be escorted out to a car that would take them home.

No word on if they’d been accepted yet. That would come later. When? They weren’t told. It was infuriating, but it was one last little piece of control that the club was asserting.

Dressed in a dark suit, Don joined Lane in the hall as they exited their rooms. Lane had chosen a lovely dark blue dress, more modest than the one she’d arrived in, but still tight in all the right places to show off her curves. She took her husband's arm, and they walked to the elevators like they were strolling to a senator’s banquet.

Once in the small space, the doors closed, they both took a slow and deep breath.

“Well?” Don asked quietly.

Lane stayed quiet for a moment as the elevator made its slow way back down to the lobby. “I’m fine.” She said eventually.

Don nodded. “We can talk about it later.”

She nodded and held a bit tighter to his arm. “Just so you know…” She looked over at him with a sly smile. “Last night was definitely a ten.” 

Don snorted in a laugh, leaned over and gave Lane a soft kiss on the cheek. “You’re always a ten to me.”

She blushed and they turned back to the doors. Waiting for them to open. The lobby was quiet and outside the streets were dark as they walked out to the waiting town car, slipping in and settling into the leather seats. They left the building quietly and with no fanfare. The car pulled away and started to drive back to their apartment across town.

Lane held her husband’s hand as the city lights passed in blinking flashes. They’d have to wait again. At the whim of people they might or might not know. Deciding their fate after they’d subjected themselves to humiliation and judgment. But they were confident that they’d be admitted. They were Davison’s. They wouldn’t be denied.

As they drove quietly into the night, Lane turned to Don, and their eyes met. A quiet agreement slipped between them in the silence. When this was over… they would make those that had pushed them so far down, pay.

“Together.” Lane’s smile was wicked.

Don nodded, the fire and fight in his eyes burning bright. “Together.”