“I want to be humiliated.”
Before we met my wife Anne had a strange sexual history. Her two best friends had shared a lot of her sexual firsts. They had encouraged and pushed each other, but they had also demeaned and degraded each other. It hadn’t been healthy.
Anne’s first time having anal sex had been with her best friend Jane’s boyfriend, because Jane wouldn’t do it. Anne had made Jane watch. In turn Jane had once convinced Anne to masturbate while Jane took pictures with an old Polaroid. Jane had shown the pictures to a fairly large number of people.
The third girl in the triangle, Emma, had been an instigator. She’d driven the other two to constantly push each other, to shame each other and to constantly escalate.
The dynamic during her sexual awakening had left its mark on Anne. Anne often switched between being very dominant and quite submissive in bed. So her pronouncement wasn’t a complete surprise. But she seemed more urgent, more strident, than she ever had before.
“You want to be dominated?” I asked cautiously. “Like a BDSM scene?”
“No.” After some of the things we’d experienced together, it was pretty hard to embarrass Anne. She was embarrassed now. “No. More than that. I want to be humiliated. Like psychologically.” She blushed and wouldn’t meet my gaze.
“Oh.” I honestly didn’t know what else to say. I waited for her to elaborate. She didn’t. She sat in silence for a little while, then left the room. We didn’t talk about it again for months. I brought it up again at dinner one night. I wanted to find out more about this desire of hers.
“When you said that you want to be humiliated, what exactly did you mean?” She stopped with a fork of spaghetti halfway to her mouth. She put down the food and took a minute to compose herself.
“It’s hard to explain.” She was embarrassed again. I’m not sure why, but I was loving that. “It’s not a kink or a long term thing. But I want to have one night where I feel absolutely debased, used and degraded. I want a singular incident that I’ll be embarrassed about for the rest of my life, but in the darkest hours of the night, I’ll fuck myself silly thinking about.”
“What exactly would that look like?” I asked. Something of that magnitude had to be approached very carefully.
“I honestly don’t know.” She studied her spaghetti, deliberately avoiding my eyes. “If I told you, I’d be controlling it.” She fell silent. We dropped our food and went to the bedroom. Anne was extremely passionate, but didn’t want to talk about her fantasy anymore.
Time passed and we didn’t really talk about it. Every once in a while I asked Anne if was still on her list. She confirmed that it was, but didn’t follow up. In the meantime I made some preparations. Anne had stopped being friends with Jane and Emma a long time ago. I tracked them down on social media. I wanted to talk with them, to find out more about Anne’s past. They were surprised to hear from me, but I started off by saying that I was planning a party for Anne and the conversation grew from there. They were stunned to find out how much Anne had confided in me.
Both women seemed vastly different now than when Anne had known them. Jane was a divorcee with a couple of kids living in the suburbs and Emma seemed like fairly timid librarian. Both were extremely embarrassed whenever I brought up their past.
A month before Anne’s birthday I checked in with her again. This whole thing made me a little nervous. It would be easy to push too far. Anne confirmed that still wanted a onetime event where she was deeply degraded and that she wanted no part in setting it up.
Two weeks later I told her that I’d arranged dinner with her old friends for her birthday. A bit of a reunion. Anne wasn’t thrilled. She’d broken off the relationship with the two for a good reason and she didn’t feel like rekindling that connection. I convinced her, mostly by telling her that I’d already invited them and that there was no way to back out without looking really bad.
The get together was tense from the start. Anne was obviously uncomfortable and her two friends had other things on their minds than just reminiscing. I think I was the most tense of all, ready to jump at the slightest noise that was out of place. No one had really dressed up, as the entire event was supposed to be casual, although Jane wore a skirt and heels. I had asked her to and specially arranged the heels.
Before dinner, Anne poured everyone some white wine and we lounged in the living room. Only about 15 minutes passed before Emma leaned forward, put her glass on the table and spoke.
“So Anne. Your husband tells us that you are huge slut now.” I think we all gasped. Anne blushed. It was all the more shocking coming from Emma. She was a very mousy woman. She had long brown hair that fell limply on her shoulders. She was wearing a nondescript sweater and gray slacks. Before Anne could say anything Jane chimed in.
“Yes. He told us about the time that a group of men ran a train on you in Paris. I wonder if the last man could even feel anything.” Anne stood up angrily and marched into the kitchen. I followed. When I caught up she had tears in her eyes. I hugged her close.
“What the hell?” She demanded.
“I’m sorry. You asked for one night where you were humiliated. Degraded. This is the best I could come up with. One word from you and this ends and they go home.” Anne looked at me in shock. She peered around the corner to look at her former friends, then turned to the counter and leaned over the sink. She stood there for a long minute. Thinking things over. It wasn’t enough.
“I need a few minutes.” She said. She walked out the door front door, into the night. Her friends looked at me in askance.
“Too much?” Emma asked. I shrugged. I honestly didn’t know.
“Maybe we should go?”
“Give her half an hour. This was a bit unexpected.” The women nodded.
It didn’t take half an hour. Five minutes later Anne walked back into the house. It hadn’t been enough time for her to walk around the block. She squared her shoulders, sat down on the couch and sipped her wine.
Anne tried to maintain her dignity.
“He shouldn’t have told you about that.”
“Why not? It’s not like you have any secrets from us.” Emma taunted. “Remember the first time you sucked a dick? I was there. You were coated in cum. You had to walk all the way home with it on your face.”
Anne looked down at her feet. I watched her closely.
“And the time you let Ed fuck your ass in front of us?” Jane joined it. “You’ve always been a huge slut. ”
“I have not.” It was a weak response from Anne and I was a little shocked. She usually had more confidence. But being with her old friends, she was reverting back to the same dynamic she had in the past.
“Bull.” There was actual anger in Jane’s voice. I wondered if she was still upset about the incident with Ed. “I bet you’ve been fucked by so many men that your poor husband thinks he’s fucking a tunnel.” I cringed.
“That’s not true.” Anne answered.
“Prove it.” Emma demanded.
“What?” Anne was shocked.
“Prove that you’ve got a tight pussy.”
“How the hell am I supposed to do that?
“Show us. Show us your supposedly tight pussy.”
“I’m not going to do that.” Anne was outraged. But I noticed she was squirming a little in her seat.
“Show us your tight little pussy Anne.” Emma insisted. “Prove that you haven’t been ruined. Let us see what you still have.” Emma knew Anne. She knew that Anne had a fetish for being seen. If there was any way to push Anne, this was it.
“Fine.” Anne stood up, undid her belt and dropped her pants. She stood in the center of room, pants around her ankles. “Look! Is that enough for you?”
It was Jane that responded. She stood and walked over the Anne. Anne looked at her nervously. Jane walked right up to Anne. Anne slowly shuffled backwards until her ass bumped up against the kitchen table. Jane poked Anne in the shoulder, hard.
“No. It’s not enough.” With a very forceful move she twisted Anne around and pushed her over on to the table. Anne’s bare ass was high in the air. Anne whimpered.
Jane bent down and pulled Anne’s pants off completely. She kicked Anne’s legs wide. Anne’s pussy was exposed. Anne normally shaved her pubic hair into a tight landing strip. But she hadn’t been expecting this at all. Her dark hair was unkempt and thick. Jane pushed Anne’s legs far enough open that she had to stand on the tips of her toes.
Emma came over to behind Anne. Jane put a hand on Anne’s back, pressing her hard into the table. Emma put softly touched the curve of Anne’s ass and Anne shuddered.
“Are you going to fuck me?” Anne tried to sound calm, but there was a note of anticipation in her voice. Her friends heard it.
“No.” Emma said harshly. “You are going fuck yourself.”
“What?”
“You are going to fuck yourself. We are going to watch.” Jane released her hold on Anne and stepped back. Anne slid one her hand beneath her hips. The other gripped the edge of the table. She moved her hand back towards her pussy and spread her lips. She was soaking wet. I stood up and walked to where Anne could see me.
“This is amazing honey. I have to remember it forever” I grabbed my camera off the kitchen counter.
“No. Please don’t.” Anne had never let me take pictures of her. The incident with Jane had left a scar. I took a picture of her splayed on the table. The shutter was loud, the flash almost impossibly bright. Anne closed her eyes. I moved behind her and took another picture. Anne pushed two fingers into her pussy. She made a slurping sound. She was drenched.
“Wow. You really like this don’t you?” Jane demanded. She wiped a hand along Anne’s pussy, getting her fingers soaked. Anne groaned. Jane moved around the table and wiped her wet finger across Anne’s face, using her like a towel.
“You need to fuck yourself harder. You’re such a slut, I bet you can hardly feel your fingers” Emma demanded. Anne picked up speed and pushed a third finger inside herself. I took another picture. Jane grabbed Anne’s hair and pushed her fingers into Anne’s mouth. She was not restrained. She pushed her fingers deep. Anne gagged and choked against Jane’s hand. Her body bucked on the table. Jane pulled her fingers out.
“You know.” Emma said. Her tone was almost conversational. “I’m not seeing this well enough. I need her bent over more.”
Jane grabbed Anne by the shoulders and pulled her off the table. Anne collapsed to the floor. Emma pulled Anne hips up, exposing her pussy, exposing her ass. Anne grunted and Jane pushed her fingers back into Anne’s mouth.
Anne continued to fuck herself. Emma watched almost clinically. Jane seemed to be taking delight in causing Anne to gag. She would push her fingers in until she reach Anne’s throat. Anne would try to hold her breath but when her air ran out she would buck frantically. Jane would pull her fingers out just long enough for Anne to catch a breath, then fuck her mouth again. Anne was drooling heavily. A pool began to form beneath her chin. Anne fucked herself frantically.
Suddenly Anne stiffened. She tried to hold back but she couldn’t. She came hard on her own fingers. She screamed around Jane’s fingers.
“You came from that?” Emma asked. “You love being a slut.” Anne grunted. Emma gestured for Jane to take her fingers out. “Don’t you?” Emma insisted.
“Yes.” Anne was almost sobbing.
“Yes, what?” Emma insisted.
“Yes, I love being a slut.”
“No, Anne. You love being our slut. Don’t you? You always wanted us to use you. To take our pleasure on you and toss you aside.”
“No. I…” Jane forcefully pushed Anne’s head against the pool of saliva. Anne whimpered. “Yes. I want that.”
“Want what?” Emma’s voice was cruel.
“I’ve always wanted you to take your pleasure on me and toss me aside.” Anne’s voice was catching. I knelt down beside her and took a picture of her face pushed into her own drool.
“What else?” Emma demanded. Anne was silent and Jane pushed her face harder into the wet puddle. “Beg for it.”
“I will do anything you ask. Please use me. Please, please use me.”
There was a long silence.
“Yes.” Emma sounded coldly calculating. Anne shivered under Jane’s forcefully hand. “I think we’ll do just that.”
[The Chronology of Anne](https://old.reddit.com/user/LordUnderTheMountain/comments/xnzum9/the_chronology_of_anne/)
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/ycs7tr/watching_them_degrade_my_wife_fff