A Picture in Black and White

Brigitte's jaw dropped open. Mine did, too. It was an adolescent boy's dream of heaven. Hell, it was a grown man's idea of heaven. There must have been enough outfits here to dress 40 women. My wife's eyes jumped from one outfit to the next. Astounding!

Ellen wasted no time. "Sit down," she ordered. Brigitte sat. Ellen swept along the racks, taking out this and that, shaking her head. Finally she stopped, reached up, and removed a hanger. She slowly unhooked an ensemble from it, and held it up.

"This is perfect," she said simply. "It will flatter you enormously."

Brigitte gulped again as she looked at it: a black satin, quarter-cup bra, trimmed with dark blue lace. A matching satin and lace garter belt, a mere wisp of material, with four garters. And a pair of black satin panties -- although that was stretching the point a bit. Just an inch or two below the waistband, in both front and back, they opened in a wide vee, and the leg bands were mere straps. She could see even from where she was sitting that they would expose her completely, both back and front. She blushed, once again.

Ellen handed them to Brigitte, then turned away to fetch another hanger, this with a pair of black, seamed silk stockings. Finally, she asked Brigitte what size shoe she wore. Brigitte answered, and Ellen turned to a small closet set into the wall. She looked through it carefully for a moment, then turned and stood upright, handing Brigitte a box. "These will do," she said laughingly.

Brigitte took the box and lifted the top. Inside were a pair of 4-inch black patent leather pumps.

"About what I expected," we heard Brigitte mumble to herself.

Ellen heard her, and her tone grew less playful. "Get dressed," she said in a no-nonsense tone of voice that brooked no argument.

Brigitte, nearly naked already, hurried to comply. First she took the tiny panties and began sliding them up her legs. She blushed again at the picture she was creating. The panties, once up to her waist, were little more than a dark frame for her soft, pale skin. Her round buttocks were completely uncovered. Worse still, the panties were cut in front so that not a shred of material covered her dark triangle of pubic hair. She marveled -- embarrassed -- at the image of herself in the mirror.

"And the rest?" Ellen asked impatiently. Brigitte hurried to comply. She removed the already skimpy bra she was wearing and took the even-skimpier bra from the hostess, sliding her arms through the straps. She pulled the tiny slivers of cups up around her breasts. Then, she reached up behind her back with both hands to close the fastening.

She looked back at herself again in the mirror. The blue lace trim at the top edge of each cup did not even reach the lower edge of her aureoles. Her nipples were completely exposed. The shelf design of the bra worked well, she noticed with embarrassment. Each of her breasts was lifted up and out, raising the nipples, too, and making them point slightly upward. She had to admit to herself, however, that the sight was titillating, however embarrassing. Her nipples stiffened as she watched herself in the mirror, pointing out sharply. Ellen smiled as she saw the effect the bra was having on Brigitte.

"There's more," Ellen continued, and handed Brigitte the matching garter belt -- again, black and trimmed with blue lace. Brigitte, only recently accustomed to such things, fumbled with it for a minute, before Ellen stood up and came over to help. She stood behind Brigitte, took both the hook end of the belt in one hand, the eye in the other, and pulled them together, fastening them at the small of Brigitte's back. As she did so, she gently ran her fingers across Brigitte's exposed buttocks, and teasingly ran a finger down between her cheeks.

She stopped, however, and Brigitte, to her chagrin, let out a soft moan. It made Ellen laugh.

"You're not for me tonight," she said softly. "We have bigger plans. I'm sure there will be other opportunities, however..."

Brigitte flushed bright pink again.

Ellen then reached over, took both stockings, and gently slid one, then the other, up Brigitte's legs. She fastened each of the four garters, and them smoothed and straightened the seams in the back. Finally, she took the black, patent leather heels and, bidding Brigitte to sit, slipped one, then the other on her feet.

"Stand up," Ellen ordered. "Turn around. Walk slowly up and down for me."

Brigitte didn't dare disobey. She did as she was told, and watched herself in the mirror. It was remarkable. She was dressed in a complete outfit -- an expensive one, too, to judge from the feel of the material and the quality of the garments -- and yet, she was completely naked! Her full breasts with their stiff nipples, her round bottom, her dark tangle of pubic hair, slightly exposing her moist, swollen lips... all completely exposed! She blushed again at the sight, but Ellen was impatient.

"Sit down, we need a bit of make-up," she ordered again, and produced a dark red lipstick, eye shadow, some rouge -- the latter of which she also applied lightly to Brigitte's nipples. A quick combing of Brigitte's dark hair, and then she leaned back and studied her handiwork. She smiled.

"Not bad...not bad at all, if I say so myself," Ellen said with a quiet laugh. And then quickly added: "Come on. They're probably getting impatient." She grabbed Brigitte's hand, and led her toward the door in the corner.

They? Impatient? Brigitte moaned quietly to herself. Now what? she must have wanted to ask, but surely didn't think she'd get any proper answer. She obliged without resistance, following Ellen as she opened the heavy, unmarked door.

It was dark on the other side, or nearly so, so it took our eyes several seconds to become adjusted. As we strained to look, however, we still weren't sure what we saw, or where we were. Slowly, we watched as Brigitte began to make out a type of platform, onto which she and Ellen had emerged. She could see the edge of it several feet away, where it dropped down to a lower floor level. To the right was a sort of gymnast's leather horse, and then several ropes and some sort of loops hanging from above. A wooden trestle stood against the back wall -- the wall she had just come through via the door.

As our eyes grew more used to the darkness, we could see beyond the dais on which she stood with Ellen. Suddenly we realized with a collective gasp that Brigitte and Ellen weren't alone. We began to make out 10 or a dozen people in the room, lounging on banquettes, or leather chairs. The floor was tiered, so that those in the back were up much higher than those in front. Some were couples, men and women. And then, we realized with a gasp, many of them were either naked, or nearly so.

And more, as we looked back at the platform on which she stood, at the various 'props' and out at the room, we understood. So did Brigitte. She let out a quiet 'Nooooo.....' and nearly sank into Ellen's arms for support.

Because she had realized, suddenly, fatefully... that she was the show. That this was a stage, and those in front of her the audience. And that the 'props' surrounding the stage were for her, and expressly her.

Ellen looked over at her, saw her face, and realized that she had figured it out. She smiled wickedly.

Chapter XLI

Brigitte stood transfixed on the stage, looking about her in confusion and concern. We could see her blush at what must have been the thought of the picture she presented to the darkened 'theatre': full breasts, nipples stiffened, held up and out by the expensive, revealing bra, her shapely legs and curves shown off by the black heels she wore on her feet.

What next? she must have wondered to herself. Before the thought would have entered her mind, however, her new master came to stand beside her.

"What do you think?" he asked with a devilish grin. "Remember that I told you that it was 'show time'?"

"Yes, but...but...this," was all she managed to say before he cut her off.

"Yes, this," he replied. "What you've been through so far – tonight, and in the last few weeks – was a mere initiation compared to what you'll now be asked to do," he began to explain. "This is rather different. This involves a degree of submission and discipline that pales in comparison to what you've been subjected to."

My beautiful wife gulped, shaking her head slowly.

"You have an opportunity to say no," he went on. "This requires your agreement. Without it, there is no pleasure – not for me, not for those who are watching, not for Charles, nor for Bruce... Not even for you."

He sounded almost...clinical... in his explanation. Brigitte merely nodded, then shook her head, as he explained what was happening.

"You will do things here you have never done." Saying that, he grinned slightly, as he must have realized that, in recent days, she had already done things she hadn't even imagined before. As if he knew all about Charles and the lessons she'd been put through.

"Well, never mind," he continued with a smile. "You know what I mean. But we will take you to new levels of intimacy, and you may not – no, I guarantee you will not – be the same when we are done. Are you ready for that?"

Brigitte could only moan softly.

"I need your answer," he said quietly.

"I...I... " she began.

"You are free to leave," he cut in curtly. "Shall I call for your clothes?"

"I...nooooo....." was all that emerged from her pouting lips.

"I take that as an affirmative – that you will stay," he answered.

"Yessss....." Her answer was a whisper. Surely mad at herself and the way he was playing her...knowing what she would say.

Is this what having a master meant, she must have briefly wondered? Someone who took over your thoughts, who made any degree of independent thinking silly and futile? He gave her no time for further thought.

"Good. Come here." He took her hand, and led her to the center of the stage. He placed her against the leather vaulting horse, turning her away from the yet-unseen audience, toward the mirrored back wall.

Suddenly he barked at her: "Bend over the horse."

It was only two or three feet high. She leaned over it, and we could see her suck in her breath as she felt the cool leather touching her naked belly. On the front side of the horse, on the floor, were fastened two handles. Before she could think, he ordered her to grab them. She obeyed promptly. As she did, he locked her wrists into place with a silver handcuff attached to each handle.

He then reached down, grabbed her left heel, and with a quick 'click' fastened it with a short metal chain and a snap to a ring in the floor. He followed suit with the right, but not before yanking her legs open, nearly as far as they could stretch.

My gorgeous wife was outrageously exposed.

Then, slowly, teasingly, he reached over and grabbed a small metal lever, at the left side of the horse, which protruded up from the floor. And looking Brigitte in the eye, he quickly he began to ratchet it back and forth.

Suddenly, we could see the leather bolster begin to rise – while Brigitte's hands and feet remained securely strapped to the floor by the handcuffs and chain.

The movement served to raise her bottom and, simultaneously, to spread her as the horse rose higher. She moaned, imagining the picture she was beginning to present. Her bottom spread slowly, inexorably, as the leather horse inched upward relentlessly, exposing her cheeks in all their firm roundness.

As it continued to rise, as he continued to work the lever, she was opened wider, exposing everything in between. Slowly but inexorably, with her head nearly as low as her feet, the physics of the maneuver dictated that not only her ass, but also her pussy, would be displayed – and it was. Her lovely pink lips came into view, spreading slowly, too, as the horse rose. Moisture glistened on them.

Worse than that, however – surely at least to her mind – was what the stretching was doing to her bottom. As the horse rose, as her cheeks spread, as her bottom parted, her lovely pink hole became even more exposed to view. And as her new master cranked the horse even higher, more painfully, her anus became even more exposed ... And then, so intimately, the rising of the bolster and the inexorable stretching even began to open the rosy hole... She was powerless to resist...the stretching became almost impossible to bear...

And there her black master stopped.

"Look at Brigitte's lovely bottom," he said in a commanding voice to the darkened audience. "A beautiful sight, don't you agree?" he continued.

"It will be put to good use – good, thorough use -- before we're through here tonight." He smiled again.

Brigitte blushed furiously. She knew she was blushing even without feeling the warm heat that spread itself upward across her chest and face, because she could see herself and the vague shapes of the theatre, thanks to the mirrored back wall. She could see the colored spotlights above the stage, highlighting her; she could see her master as he worked the lever. She could see the darkened shapes of the men in the audience as they watched in fascination. She could see the small, red, blinking light off to the left as she...

What? What is that, she wondered as her eye caught the tiny light. For some odd reason it called to her, focusing her attention. Out of character, she turned her head slightly toward her master. "What...what is it?" she asked, nodding her head toward the steady, blinking pinprick of red.

He stopped cranking the lever, and chuckled. "So – you've noticed that we're recording this for posterity, have you? His grin was positively wicked.

Brigitte literally fainted for a brief moment as the significance of what he said sank in. "Nooooooooooooo.....!!!!" she moaned. "How COULD you!"

Her distress merely caused him to smile again.

"Yes, my dear, this will make an exquisite video, don't you think? Just imagine: our little video of the proceedings safely in my keeping, for those unexpected events – say, when one of my colleagues wants to sample a new woman, and wants a preview... or sold to a chain of adult video stores... or held in reserve in case you fail to obey my future orders. What do you say – rather ingenious, no?"

Brigitte's protest echoed around the tiny theatre. "Noooo...." was all she said as she shook her head back and forth, disbelievingly. "You can't!" But we could see, even as she said it, that her nipples were stiffening.

"That's enough," her master said to her quietly, but firmly. "You are here of your own volition, but this is part of the price. And there is no negotiating this part." Brigitte fell silent, her face still pink with her blush.

Her master had stopped cranking the lever for the horse. Instead, he now depressed a small pedal in the floor, and grabbed the bolster. It turned easily and soundlessly in a half circle, then stopped with a click, leaving Brigitte facing the audience. He then walked over to the corner of the stage, and returned with a short metal rod, at the top end of which was fitted a small, leather-covered cup. He placed the lower end into a small fitting in the floor, and brought the cupped end up under Brigitte's chin, raising her face slightly as he did so. It fitted perfectly, and served to keep her head level and facing outwards toward the crowd. He then cranked the lever again, but in the opposite direction, lowering the horse and bringing Brigitte's raised bottom down until her knees rested on the floor. We wondered what was to happen next.

"Who is first?" was all her new master said, addressing the audience.

A man – tall, black – heavy-set – stepped up to the stage. We could tell that Brigitte could see little of him, the spotlights nearly blinding her. We knew that she could see only that he was naked, his erect penis bobbing in front of him. Abruptly, he stepped in front of her and, without ceremony, thrust his hard shaft into her mouth, saying nothing. The thickness and length of it made her gag several times and stretched her mouth widely. No doubt she could feel it banging into the back of her throat.

"You will service him," her master said quietly, "and any others who care to take advantage of your services." Brigitte blushed again furiously.

She sucked him, as ordered. He said nothing, only moaning quietly as his cock erupted into her mouth, filling it with hot semen. She swallowed nearly all of it, only a few drops escaping from her eager mouth to run down her chin.

A second man followed, as large as the first. He, too, said nothing as she coaxed the sperm from his balls with her tongue and soft lips. She swallowed him, as well, licking the final drops from his swollen purple cockhead as he withdrew, a thin string of cum trailing from his cock to her full lips.

A third stepped up, and then a fourth, and a fifth. The fifth man chose not to ejaculate in her mouth. Instead, as his balls tightened and his cock began to jerk, he pulled out from between her soft lips, grabbed her dark hair with one hand, his cock with the other, and spewed his cum across her face as she looked up at him. It ran down her cheeks, and dripped from her chin. She licked her lips.

The sixth, by contrast, began addressing her before he allowed her to take his penis. He looked down at her as she waited with her mouth open, the thick shaft bobbing before her cum-covered lips.

"When I call for you," he began, and her heart must have skipped a beat, as mine did when I heard him.

"When I call for you," he resumed, knowing full well the effect his words were having, "...and I will, when your husband is home, and regardless of whether he gives his approval...you will service me as I'm about to explain."

With that, he slid his warm cock into her opened mouth.

"You will dress in a black elegant dress," he continued as she began sucking. "Underneath, you will wear a black lace demi-bra and matching panties.

"When I arrive at your house, I expect your husband to be there, and to greet me when you do. As he watches, you will proceed to the center of the living room, and unzip your dress and slide it down to your waist."

He paused for effect, his hard cock sliding in and out of my wife's mouth, relishing the service she was providing. Then he began again.

"You will then get down on your knees. As you are kneeling, you will unhook your bra and fold the cups of it down so that your breasts, including your nipples, are exposed."

Brigitte gasped, and began to suck him harder and faster.

"Once you have done so, you will unzip me, and begin to suck my penis like you're doing now. Your husband will be watching all of this." Brigitte moaned. We could hear her from where we sat.

He continued: "When I'm ready to cum, I will pull out of your mouth, and you will hold your breasts up for me. I'll shoot my semen over them. You will then pull the cups of your bra back up and refasten it. Once your dress is zipped, we shall leave for our dinner rendezvous."

Brigitte sucked furiously as he concluded his story, and as he began to ejaculate, he withdrew quickly from her mouth and aimed his cock at her full breasts. Stream after stream of semen sprayed across them, covering them with ribbons of his white, sticky cum. She nearly collapsed as he came on her, and we could see, even from where we sat, the effect of the orgasms that rolled from her hot, wet cunt and shook her entire body.

Chapter XLII

For the next two hours, we watched as my lovely wife was pleasured – and gave pleasure in return – to the dozen or so black men who comprised her audience. One by one they came up, eager and hard. They held nothing back – no act was too personal or intimate to perform with this beautiful white woman whom they held so exquisitely in control.