Anna's Humiliation Continues (Version Three)

by neff trebor

Copyright© 2016 by neff trebor

Fiction Sex Story: Version Three of Anna trying to get a contract for her husband.

Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   NonConsensual   Reluctant   Coercion   Heterosexual   Fiction   Cuckold   Wife Watching   MaleDom   Humiliation   Black Male   Oral Sex   Cream Pie   Size   .

There are several versions of this story. My first was Anna's Gambit. The next one was Anna's Humiliation Continues. This is my latest revision. I'm in a rut. Rather than start a new one, I have tried to embellish this series. This is the (latest) one I am most intrigued with. The acknowledgement below was part of the original one:

There's an author on who uses the pen name of "scorpi00155." I have gone back to his stories a number of times to read them. His story of "Getting the Contract" is one of my favorites. I have emailed him telling him so. I have offered to re-write the story for nothing other than my own amusement. I believe I stated that I was willing to let him use it as a variation to his own.

As near as I know, he has not responded. His story is still posted under his name and the same title. If anybody objects to my rewriting and posting this, I will remove it. I have changed some of the names and changed some of the descriptions. Please read his to see the difference.

His story (in my mind) has a lot of "run-on sentences." I am 72 and don't see clearly, but there seemed to be many sentences that had commas where there should be a period and the next word capitalized. I don't know why my program didn't catch them on spell check. I have NOT gone through and painfully weeded through all of it like I should. If you are a stickler for proper grammar or reading the works of an educated journalist, this is not for you.

I was just trying to create a story in my mind...

Anna did not like the setup one bit. She crossed her arms stubbornly as her husband started the car and roared off into the night. "I think we're pretty much on time." He said as he glanced over his shoulder while merging with the traffic. He tried to lighten the conversation to see if he could get his wife to talk about something. He knew she was not happy about going to the gathering tonight.

Anna was pissed, but agreed to go. She did not like Jim Wellswood; did not care for the way he looked at her. There was nothing her husband ever noticed, but women seem to have that second instinct about men. Never the less, she had agreed to go. Jim Wellswood was an influential man, and her husband was antsy about his invention, the patent and possibly getting enough start-up capital to continue.

People looking at Anna and Mark Menendez nowadays see them as a successful couple; both in their relationship and business life. Married for fifteen years they have managed to grow ever closer in that time. To Mark, Anna is more beautiful at forty than she was at twenty five when they married. Despite the years her figure is as firm as in her youth. Her red hair had no hint of grey, and her eyes still sparkle with mirth and innocence. Mark, her husband is more distinguished over the years.

Together they have built up a successful supply business. Mark had been interested from the time he was a teenager with Café Racers.

Started five years ago, Mark had gambled most of his retirement fund for the software, patents and machine work for mass assembly. They were close to being the successful couple with nary a care in the world. The thinking had been done. Everything was in place.

Jim Wellswood had a massive website organization. Whenever somebody clicked on a combination of words like: "POD Air Filters; Café Racer; Re-jetting Carburetors, etc." he was paid a few pennies for each click. He was constantly making deals with distributors to be on his website.

"It's not good Mark," Anna sighed, "if we don't get a break soon we'll lose everything."

"All we can do is pray we get the Wellswood contract." he sighed back.

"Do you think we're in the running?" she asked.

"I don't know," he answered slowly, "I really don't know."

"Didn't Wellswood say anything when you met him yesterday?" she asked.

"Only that our quote was under review." he answered "Maybe he'll say more at the party tonight."

"Mark," Anna frowned, "I'm puzzled. Why did Wellswood invite us tonight? Why us and none of the others that have quoted for his contract?"

"I don't know Anna," he shrugged, "and I'm as puzzled as you about that, but we have to go to the party if only to keep Wellswood sweet."

"I know." Anna sighed deeply, "Only I don't like the man, there's something ... slimy about him."

"I don't like him any more than you do," Mark sighed back, "but we need his contract. Without it we'll go under."

"I know, I know." Anna frowned, "And if we get the Wellswood contract it will give us an in with the Carillon group. I just..."

"Just what?" Mark asked as Anna fell silent.

She shook her head then smiled, but though her lips were smiling her eyes were troubled.

"It's just me being silly," Anna finally responded, "I just have a feeling about tonight."

"Feeling?" he asked feeling confused.

"Forget it Mark," she laughed, "Even I don't know what I mean by it.

Mark glanced discretely over at his wife although he seemed to have his eyes on the road. It was clear that Anna had reluctantly decided to at least go through the effort to try to charm their host. She had picked out her sexiest evening dress; one she normally only wore at home. It was a dark grey, floor-length button-front, with a Décolletage that showed off most of her bust. It was thin enough that her daughter, Dakota had teased her about the bra lines and chided her about trying to wear a bra with it. She felt she had made enough concessions by even putting the dress on. She was not going to appear in public without a bra. Since Anna wouldn't wear the dress without a bra, her daughter talked her into giving up the usual, padded, foamed, granny type of bra and used an almost tissue thin, transparent one, made out of the panty hose material. It didn't hide much; but at least for Anna, she had the emotional or psychological support of having some sort of support garment under the dress.

The dress came long enough that her daughter had coerced her into wearing her 6" high black high-heel boots. The boots were zippered up the side, and the tops stopped just below her knees.

Anna felt like a hooker in her daughter's boots and low cut dress, but she had been outvoted by her husband and daughter. Around the house, maybe without her daughter around, Anna, in a weak moment, might have been secretly been thrilled to see her reflection in the mirror; but to be in public like this was unthinkable.

It didn't take them long to get to the Wellswood address. It turned out to be a large house, almost a mansion, with a party in full swing as they drove up to the front of the house. As they got out of the car, Mark glanced at his watch concerned about being late and was relieved to find they were five minutes early. Giving the car keys to a uniformed flunky he took Anna's arm and headed for the entrance.

"Mark, Anna, come in, come in." Wellswood said as he greeted them at the door, "Anna I must say that you look delightful tonight, truly delightful."

"Thank you Mr. Wellswood." Anna responded.

"Come now," Wellswood smiled, "let's not be so formal, it's Jim."

"Then thank you Jim." Anna said; forcing one of her sweet innocent smiles.

Wellswood was in his late fifties, graying at the temples and thinning on top. He had obviously led the good life with plenty of time to spend at the gymnasium, pool and track. He had a bit of a mustache and goatee. His lizard skin boots added a couple of inches to his already full 6'-0" slender frame. Beaming at them he led the way to the bar, Mark felt Anna's arm tense a little when Wellswood wrapped his arm around her back, but she tried valiantly to smile sweetly at him. Leaving them at the bar he went off to attend to some of his other guests with a promise to be back 'soon'. Accepting drinks from the barman Mark and Anna looked around the room, there were about ten people there. Although the situation escaped Mark, Anna picked up quickly that everyone except her was male; but then they began to recognize some of them.

She recognized Ben. She had reservations about him too. Ben Blackwater was their banker and also the father of one of their daughter's best friends. Dakota didn't like him either; kind of creepy. He was always making vague suggestive comments to her. Anna decided not to add to her daughter's doubts by saying anything negative about him. "Why make things worse if it is just my unfounded opinion?" she said to herself.

"Most of these people are top end business men. Think of the contacts we can make tonight!"

"Never mind the contacts," Anna almost whispered back, "just concentrate on getting that contract from Wellswood. If we get that perhaps some of the others will follow his lead."

Anna looked around the room then leaned close to her husband.

"I wonder where all the wives are?" she said softly.

"Home; I guess." he commented, "Does it make any difference?"

"No, I guess not." Anna smiled nervously.

Just then Mark spotted their host heading across the room towards them. He waved for them to follow him to another room so Mark felt hopeful that they were going to get the good news about the contract. Anna must have thought the same thing because she nudged him and grinned. They joined Wellswood in a large study that adjoined the main room; he was perched on the edge of an ornate oak table as they entered the room. Smiling he waved for them to take seats then sipped at the glass he held.

"Well," he said at last, "what do you think of my humble home?"

"We haven't seen much of it," Anna replied with a smile, "but what we've seen is impressive."

"Ah, you are a lady of taste." Wellswood laughed, then became serious, "I suppose you are wondering why I invited you here tonight."

"It had crossed my mind; I assumed it had something to do with the contract." Mark replied.

He was puzzled by the direction the conversation had taken, but kept the frown from his face and waited for Jim's response.

"And you assumed rightly." He said, "I'm going to be blunt with you, I know just how close you are to going under and just how much getting my contract would mean to you. What I'm wondering is how hungry you are to get that contract."

'What the hell is this?' was the thought that ran through Mark's mind.

"Hungry?" he responded aloud.

"As in just what would you do to get the contract," Wellswood spoke softly, "How far you would be willing to go for it?"

Totally confused Mark looked towards his wife; she was frowning as though she had guessed at where the conversation was going. Anna looked at her husband. Her eyes were troubled, and for a moment she looked scared, then the penny dropped. Aghast, Mark looked at Wellswood unable to believe that the man was hinting that they would get the contract if they did something for him. Perhaps naively reluctant Mark still had no conception of what that 'something' might be. However, his wife had guessed it almost immediately.

"What do you want?" Anna asked in a low voice that was almost a whisper.

"I think you know that my dear." Wellswood responded.

Mark's mind was running in circles trying to figure out what they had that could possibly interest Wellswood. It was as Mark looked towards Anna for some hint from her as to what the man wanted that he suddenly realized what it was. Anna looked at her husband with haunted eyes as his own went wide in shock and disbelief.

"Now look here..." he started to protest to Wellswood.

"Mark," Anna cut him off. With her head down and not really looking at him, she raised her hand towards her husband. The words were soft; barely audible. With her hand still outstretched, she took a long breath, so she wouldn't choke on her words; so they wouldn't squeak when she spoke. "Let me handle this."

He looked at her in surprise. She shook her head at her husband, knowing he was about to tell Wellswood where to stuff his contract. Reluctantly giving her husband an almost sad smile she looked back at Wellswood.

"At a guess I'd say you want me." She said with all the dignity and calmness she could project. It was almost a whisper. She couldn't bring her eyes up to look at him. Her lower lip quivered and her hands were clenched.

Wellswood, on the other hand, looked like an African Serval; measuring its prey; trying to decide whether it had the upper hand or not. It was a fixed stare without blinking. He was a millimeter from springing at her.

Mark watched in amazement that she could sound so calm about the situation, He was seething inside and it was all he could do not to leap from his chair to strike Wellswood. Anna knew her husband could lunge at the bastard and kill him if she didn't try to take control of the situation. An outburst or an insult could ruin their lives.

"Yes and no." the man responded. He was careful about balancing his insults and humiliation so as to make sure he still got his way.

"And what the hell does that mean?" Mark blurted out.

Anna walked over to her husband and stood an inch from him; their faces almost touching. "Mark, please." Anna said softly. "Please don't get mad. Think about this contract. Focus on that." She had a delicate balancing act too. She knew they both needed the contract. If she appeared to willing, Mark might walk out entirely. She did not know quite how far she herself was willing to concede her dignity to get what they needed.

She took several steps back towards her tormentor, hoping that perhaps some sort of eye contact of her silently pleading with him might make him relent or soften his attitude. Wellswood took a step towards her as well. Their noses almost touched. Wellswood was within a fraction of kissing her. Anna secretly hoped that might end it? His voice was barely a whisper, but the words almost knocked her over.

"Well, young lady; how good are you at giving a good blowjob?"

Anna's hands went to cover her mouth. She couldn't believe anybody could actually ask such a thing. If he had approached her separately; discreetly, and she knew absolutely nobody could ever hear or find out about this conversation that would be almost unthinkable enough. But she knew that her husband had heard it too. What seemed to her like a shout in front of her husband was another matter. He was asking for a response. Perhaps with so much at stake, she might be able to bring herself to do such a thing. But to have the conversation out loud, in front of her husband; for him to hear her agree to such a thing was unthinkable. This was unspeakable. It was one thing to have the man you love reach for the back of your head in the middle of an evening of passion. She knew the drill and had always resisted. It had never been discussed.

Now it was like she was being treated as a common whore; what was her price, and under what conditions would she perform; it was like he was trying to get the best lease on a rental car. She had always believed any sex act was done in the dark; consensually and in the throes of love.

"Well, you two think about it and take some time to decide. It has to be something you both agree with." He started to leave, and then turned around with an afterthought.

"If you do this, you will need a different hairdo. I am going to want to see those lips wrapped around my cock. I want to see it going in and out. I want to see whether you can hold and swallow. I am going to want to see that sweet tongue of yours clean and caress the thing. I don't want to see any crying or complaining. You are a dignified and beautiful woman. I expect exemplary service from that mouth of yours. You need to do your hair up so I can see your face. I want to see those sweet lips."

"I'll tell you what," Wellswood gave a half smile as though he already knew that he would get what he wanted, "I'll leave you two alone for a couple of minutes to talk this over."

Without further comment he left the room. Rising to his feet Mark crouched in front of his wife and took her hands in his.

"Anna," he said firmly; "Let's get the hell out of this place."

"Mark," she replied giving him a brief kiss, "You know we can't afford to do that. I love you and nothing will change that. W ... W ... W ... Will you trust me darling?"

"You know I trust you," he sighed knowing that he would go along with whatever she decided on, "but..."

"No 'buts'," Anna smiled sadly, "It's this or lose everything. The bastard knows he has us over a barrel. If we don't get his contract we'll end up with nothing but the clothes on our backs. Mark, we HAVE to go along with it, whatever it is. But we have to have an agreement between us."

"Okay, but I don't have to like it." he surrendered,

Anna bent down on her knees between her husbands'. "I think we can get through this; whatever it takes. I will do whatever he says; on one condition. I have to know that you love me unequivocally. I need to know that you will still love me no matter what you see me do. Can you do that for me? Our future depends on it."

Mark could not meet her gaze. He nodded almost imperceptibly. Anna stood and wrapped her arms around him. Neither said anything, but Mark could feel her torso shudder to hold back a sob.

Wellswood returned. As he shut the door behind him, he saw that Anna was sitting at the vanity. She had undone the small braids at her temples. She was combing her long red tresses and weaving them into a French braid. She had the emerald butterfly clips on the table.

Nothing needed to be said. The answer was obvious. Anna had implied without comment that she had resigned herself to capitulate to the evil African Serval starring at her in the mirror. He tried not to gloat. He was in a delicate situation. He was getting what he wanted. He did not want to rub the humiliation in right away. At some point they would be in it too deep to back out. Now was not the time for additional humiliation.

Jim looked at the couple but didn't say anything. He turned, opened the door to the large walk-in closet and turned on the light. Along both walls were assortments of clothes on hangers. Most were in moth proof bags. "Come here, young lady." Wellswood said without looking over at her.

Anna stood on wooden legs and looked desperately at her husband as she approached him. He looked over at her and pulled out a dress. "Put this on." He said nonchalantly as he handed it to her. Anna stood there, looking for some place else to change.

"No; Mrs. Mendez. Do it here. Mark and I want to see whether we approve or not."

Anna's cheeks reddened. "Surely he's not serious." Her mind screamed. She hesitated, not willing to submit.

"Listen, cunt. You're here on your own free will. If you want that contract signed, don't fuck with me. If you don't like what's going on, get the fuck out. Go home."

Anna's shoulders shrugged as he handed her the first item. It was a pair of hose. Anna took the hose and looked at it. She went back to the chair in front of the vanity and sat.

"Face us, Mrs. Menendez. We want a fucking show." Anna looked up. She turned the chair 45° so it was parallel with the table. She crossed her legs and slowly unzipped one boot; trying to get used to the idea she was on display. She removed the boot and re-crossed her legs; repeating the process with her other boot. She sat there, wondering how to discretely put on the hose with some sort of dignity.

She crossed her legs and pulled her dress up past her knees. She rolled one stocking up like a donut; crossed her leg and slowly began putting it on. It wasn't like hers. It was going to roll up quite a bit further than just past her knee. Struggling with her dignity, Anna raised her leg and began rolling it up further. She blushed. It was going to go almost clear to her crotch. She blushed as she showed almost her entire leg.

She tried not to look in the direction of either of the men as she struggled to get the other stocking on.

"Next." She heard Wellswood almost whisper. He handed her the hanger.

She put the hanger with the dress under one arm; took her wire-rimmed glasses off and wiped a tear with the back of her hand. She took a deep breath, trying to gather her wits.

Anna slumped against the wall as she peeled the cover off of the dress. "What to do first?" her mind screamed in procrastination.

Holding the hanger and dress in front of her for concealment, Anna began to unbutton the front of her dress.

"Put the fucking dress down, Mrs. Mendez. We want to enjoy the fucking show." Wellswood whispered.

Anna hung the hanger on the handle of the closet door. Slowly she pulled the dress over her head. This put her in practically a naked situation. The translucent stretch fabric of her hose-type undergarments left her for all practical purposes naked. Embarrassed, she held Wellswood's dress in front of her.

He held his arm outstretched; palm up. Anna tossed the dress she had stripped off to him, not wanting to approach him. Humiliated, she crossed her arms in front of herself for cover and turned to pick up the new dress.

"No fucking way, Anna." She heard Wellswood snarl. You don't get to keep the bra and panties. Those are granny panties. Anna bent over in half; covering her lower body with her hands over her breasts.

"You've got to get through this." She told herself. "Your husband needs the contract."

Anna stood with all the dignity she could muster; raised her glasses and wiped the beginning of a tear. She was determined to not let anybody see her cry.

Anna arched her back and unsnapped her bra. She managed to trap it against her sides under her arms as it popped free. She cupped her hands over her nipples as she let the bra flip around her. She held it there; desperately trying to procrastinate revealing herself.

Wellswood held out his hand; palm up. Anna took the few steps over to him; making eye contact, hoping he might relent. With one hand out, and the other trying to cover herself, she stared pleadingly at him as she handed him the bra.

Anna may have been forty, but time had been gracious to her. Her breasts were not large. They did not sag. They were melon sized and stuck out farther than anyone would have expected. Her alabaster moons were framed against her firm toned and tanned torso. Her coral pink Bai Ling nipples were the longest Wellswood had ever seen. His stare made Anna cover herself.

"Next." Wellswood whispered as he walked over to the closet door and brought the hanger over.

Anna shivered as she looked over helplessly at her husband for some kind of reassurance that this was necessary. She could hardly move her arms as she stuck her thumbs between the elastic sides of her panties and started to slide them down.

"God in Heaven; Kill me now." She said to herself as the panties slid down her thighs and caught on the sides of her boots. She used her ankles to slide the panties off and onto the floor. Goosbumps covered her as she stood there. Both men were astonished.

Anna had run 10 miles a day and sunned herself regularly. Her slim, trim body was copper toned and shined with the slight sheen from the perspiration of humiliation that was forming. Her vagina was a sight. Reddish brown and curly at the center, the thatch had been shaved into a "landing strip" above her cleft. Below that, she was bare. Her patch was curly and deep reddish brown at the center but thinned in number and color towards the outer edges until it seemed like the almost transparent blond of a newborn baby.

The brown thatch was framed by a thin wisp of alabaster white bikini outline. Her bikini area was framed magnificently by the Coppertone sheen of a woman who had spent several hours in the sun most days.

Anna blushed as both men's eyes lowered to her shaven cleft. She had been embarrassed by comments from her daughter about not shaving. Somehow in the back of her mind, she was going to shake things up at home with her husband by doing this. This was the first time he had seen her this way. Now, instead of sharing this intimate experience in private with her husband, she was on display like a common whore by a stranger.

Wellswood handed her the dress. Relieved by the slightest gesture for some modesty, she thankfully took it and put it on. It was a silk dress that fit like a glove. Anna started at the middle and began buttoning the button front dress from the middle; anxious to cover herself. Only it didn't; not really. The buttons from mid- thigh to the hem were missing.

The top was outrageous. The top did not cover her nipples. The Décolletage top/front was built with stiffeners or reinforcing under her breasts, holding them almost straight out; leaving her pink nipples peeking over the top like curious puppies waiting to be fed. Anna crossed her hands in front of herself; her eyes pleading. "Please, Jim; surely you don't intend for me to go out in front of some of these people that Mark and I know like this?" One of the men is our banker. We are trying to get a loan from him. Another is one of our suppliers. One man is the father of..." Her voice trailed off as she thought better of it. She thought better of telling that the man was the father of her daughter's best friend. "Did Wellswood know they had a daughter?" Anna wondered.

Anna shivered in humiliation; not only in her exposure. Being brazenly exposed like this might have been worse than completely naked. Perhaps being naked might suggest some reluctance or coercion by others. Being mostly covered but obscenely exposed seemed to imply more of a willing presentation of herself.

The last piece on the hangar was a bolero vest with ¾ length sleeves. He handed it to her. She put it on.

It was just long enough to go down past the bottom of her breasts. The oriental style buttons hooked through some thin decorative loops

Anna stood there silently as the two men took in the sight. "What's next? You need to tell me what to do." Anna asked bluntly; as if she didn't completely know.

"You were almost right when you said I wanted you," Wellswood said looking directly at Anna, "but I don't want you to myself. I have a number of guests here and I think it would be nice if you entertained them my dear." They are people who are influential and beneficial to both of us. You are here to sweeten the deal; as they say."

"I assume by 'entertain' you mean I should g ... g ... g ... go to one of the rooms with them." Anna stammered.

"Good lord no," he laughed, "nothing so mundane. What I want is for you to go out there and circulate. My guests will decide the "where's and how's" and I doubt any will wish to waste time going up and down to a room."

"Surely you can't mean she should let them have sex in front of everyone!" Mark gasped.

"If that's what they want," Wellswood half smiled, half smirked, "what I am proposing is that Anna lets my guests use her as they see fit for the rest of the night, in return I will sign that contract with you and use my influence to place other business your way. Well?"

"And Mark?" Anna asked uncertainly; her voice beginning to crack.

"You are a couple. You can't be a couple and have secrets from each other. He must watch. That goes without saying. Your future depends on this contract. If your wife is going to sacrifice for it, you need to know what she has had to go through to get it. " Wellswood grinned knowing he had already won, "Your husband will be the only one here who can't touch you. Is that clear Mark? If Anna agrees to my terms you will only be able to watch, nothing else."

"I understand damn it!" He snapped.

"Anna?" he said softly.

"Whatever you say." she replied in a low voice, barely above a whisper.

"I thought you might." Wellswood laughed, "I'll give you five minutes to finish. After that my guests will be waiting."

True to his word Wellswood left them alone in the study, even closing the door behind to give them their last few moments of privacy. Neither of them spoke. What was there to say under the circumstances?

When Anna was done with the French braid, she tied the bottom off with one of the emerald butterfly clips. She put the other one about half way up the braid. She stood and turned. They held each other; Anna clung to him; feeling her whole body trembling. As he looked into her eyes he saw her fear and humiliation start to form as the discussion began to sink in.

The minutes passed as they clung to each other, it pained Mark to know that this would be the last time he would be able to touch his wife until the evening was over. A fear rose within Mark that after all she would surely have to endure Anna may no longer want to share physical acts of love with anyone, ever again, let alone with her husband, It was a terrifying thought that in gaining a contract he could lose this beautiful innocent woman.

"I love you Anna." he said softly, breaking the long silence.

"I love you Mark." She replied softly. "Mark, promise me you will stay nearby, no matter what they do, no matter what you have to see me do, please stay near to me."

"I promise darling," he said firmly stroking her hair, "Even if the bastard hadn't made it a condition I had to watch I wouldn't leave you alone with those sharks."

"I guess our five minutes are up." Anna sighed, reluctantly looking over his shoulder as the door opened.

One glance showed that Wellswood was at the now open study door and was signaling that it was time to leave the room to 'mingle' with his guests. Giving Anna one last squeeze Mark let her go. She took a deep shuddering breath and walked towards the door with Mark a step behind her.

Anna tried to appear calm as Wellswood wrapped his arm around her and led her into the main room.

Mark could hear laughter and had no doubt that he had informed the other guests that their 'entertainment' was just coming. Anna would have made a great actress; she walked into the main room with her head held high as though nothing unusual was happening. Mark was not as cool as she; his face was fixed in a scowl and felt nothing but contempt for the pigs Wellswood called 'guests'. When they entered the main room they had no idea what to expect.

Somewhere in the back of Mark's mind he was expecting the guests to leap on Anna en masse; thus it was a surprise to find nothing happening. The last thing either expected was for the party to continue as though nothing was out of the ordinary; Mark did notice the looks of lust his beautiful dignified wife got from all quarters, but no-one seemed in a hurry to do more than look at her.

The living room was a two-story affair; roughly in the shape of a triangle. Starting at the vertex, a spiral staircase led to a mezzanine. The staircase started out about 6'-0" wide and narrowed down to about 3'-0" at the top. The first two treads and risers flared out beyond the treads above and was formed out of concrete and clad with green marble. The stringers supporting the stairs were polished 2" by 14" aluminum tubes. The treads were 1 ½" green glass, etched on the top for a non-slip surface. The handrails were a carved hardwood that curled around 18" wide green glass balusters coming up from the top marble tread at the bottom. The green baluster was shaped in a phallic symbol with a domed crown.

The lobby or living room was about 28'-0" high. The hypotenuse of the space was a gently curving wall all glass wall with a panoramic view over a vast expanse of exquisitely manicured landscape beyond. A huge formed concrete fireplace, rising about 3'-0" outside of the glass window extended itself up the side of the house and above the roof. The firebox extended from the exterior chimney in, through the glass wall. It was styled like an early colonial fireplace, big enough to stand in. It had a steel arm that could pivot from over the wood, out into the room to hold a big rendering kettle.

The firebox was about 30" above the floor, so the hearth was high enough to function as a sitting area. On each side of the firebox were large concrete storage spaces for the wood logs. Above the fireplace was a long, formed concrete mantel. Above that was a flat screen television; perhaps supported from the mantel.

Outside, the living area continued several feet and stair-stepped down to a large pool. Beyond were the emerald green lawn, landscaping and view to the forest beyond; typical of a Richard Meyer house in rural New York State. If not for the situation they were in, the atmosphere would have been incredible.

In front of the hearth, was a long glass coffee table with a long leather couch in front of it. On each end of the couch was a Barcelona chair to complete a conversation center.

Jim guided Anna towards a couple of men who were standing in front of the hearth. "Anna Honey, I want you to meet a few friends of mine. Anna, I want you to meet Mr. Richardson and Mr. McCoy. Jon; Conrad, this is my beautiful guest, Mrs. Anna Mendez."

"Anna and her husband are here as my co-hosts. By the way, Anna's husband has an intriguing business proposition they want to promote. But then, I'll let her tell you about it and what might be in your best interests for investments." Wellswood said in a perfectly innocent voice.

The two men could hardly conceal their lust as their eyes took in the beautiful woman. "Hello, Mrs. Mendez. My name is Conrad; Conrad Richardson. This is my friend; Jon McCoy. Please just call us Jon or Conrad."

Anna forced a sheepish grin as she extended her hand to each. They stared into her eyes as each man in turn kissed her hand. "Do they fucking know?" She wondered. "Does she just take each one up to one of the bedrooms on the mezzanine and fuck them; or does she wait to see what they say?" Maybe they don't know about Wellswood's outrageous proposal and this is a legitimate business deal? Again she forced a smile as she nodded to their innocuous comments.

Both men were black. Both men were at least 6'-0" and weighted a good 200 pounds. Neither was fat. "How could these men be business men?" she wondered, thinking first they must have been pro athletes.

A butler came by and each of them took a drink. Conrad handed one to Anna.

"Well, Mrs. Mendez. Jim here says that your husband is quite a business man. What does he do?"

"My ... my husband; Mark has some patents; on ... on ... some motorcycle accessories..." Maybe this isn't what I thought it was, Anna said to herself as she tried to put on her salesperson mindset." She noticed that Conrad had situated himself behind her sitting on the hearth. "He,,, he..." Anna felt herself being pulled down onto Conrad's lap. He sat her like a child on Santa; ready to reveal her wishes.

"He has customized some gas tanks for motorcycles..." Anna felt Conrad's hand on her lap. She crossed her legs and put her left hand over his; more of an attempt to stop his hand from moving up her leg than what her husband began to view as a sign of intimacy or cooperation. Anna tried to ignore the hand; but it seemed obvious that the men had some sort of knowledge of Wellswood's deal.

"He started with a 1979 Suzuki 459 GS..." Anna said as she looked up at Jon; trying to have a serious conversation. She felt Conrad's fingers. He was pulling her dress up; past her knees; up past middle thigh. She struggled to keep that part; with no buttons together. He raised her hands so the sides fell away. Now she put her hand; again over his, hoping to prevent further exposure. Jon was listening, but now more focused on the beautifully tanned legs in view.

"He ... he ... he developed some custom handle bars..." Anna's heart skipped as she felt Conrad begin to unbutton several more of the remaining buttons below her waist. She struggled to keep a smile she did not feel as she glanced quickly around the room at her husband and then the two men.

"He developed a single unit that replaced the gas tank, seat and rear fender so that was all one piece..." She stammered; almost absentmindedly as Conrad now uncrossed her legs. Anna was forced to put her right leg down onto the floor for support as he parted her legs.

Conrad took his left hand and raised hers; wrapping it over and around his neck. "I don't want you falling off, Mrs. Mendez." He whispered into her ear as he smiled.

Anna had her wine glass in her right hand and her left arm wrapped around Conrad's neck with her left leg on his lap and her right foot on the floor. She groaned and struggled not to show outrage as she felt his large left hand slide up towards the juncture at the top of her silk stockings.

"The tail section; the back bumper has b ... b ... built in cameras." Anna said in an almost whisper as she felt a large finger wiggling at her entrance. He did not enter her; at least not immediately. The finger flipped the clit around like a curious child that had found a new toy.

The men seemed mostly oblivious to her mutterings right now; more intrigued with her efforts to obscure her humiliation. "What a magnificent looking clit; Mrs. Mendez. Isn't she just spectacular, Mark?" Anna thought her heart would explode with the indignity of her husband being part of the conversation. There was no response from her husband.

Mark watched furiously as Jon McCoy; the man standing and having a conversation with her bent down. Women seem to know without being told. She turned her face up to meet his. She turned her face so their noses missed. They kissed; briefly; tentatively. Her eyes were closed. They kissed again; a little longer. He moved to whisper in her ear. Mark could see her face flush as her eyes met his. She kept eye contact with him as she handed him her glass. With one wine glass in each hand now, Jon stood up; away from her.

Mark watched in astonishment as his wife reached for the buttons on her bolero. One by one, she opened them. For a millisecond, her eyes darted over to gauge her husband's reaction as the bolero opened. Anna tried to tell herself she and Jon were the only ones in the room as she reached up for her right nipple. Her face flushed even redder as she struggled with her emotions as she took the nipple between her thumb and forefinger and began to roll it.

"The ... the ... the built in cameras replace the rear view mirrors; m ... m ... making it more streamlined. They ... they ... they give you a better picture of anything behind or on each side of the driver." Anna stammered, futilely trying to add some shred of dignity to her position.

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