Dimly I awake.

Slowly regaining some semblance of consciousness, a shudder runs through my body at the realisation that I have no idea where I am. I don’t know what time it is. I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep. I don’t know if it’s still night, or if it’s light.

Nor can I find out.

That’s the rule. One of the rules. I must not remove the blindfold until I am given permission to do so. I could remove it; my hands are free. But I will not. I tremble at the thought that there may be more to come. My almost naked body, spread out on a bed, exposed to anyone who might see it, reeks of debauchery. Debauchery is smeared across my skin. Is there anyone here to see? I don’t sense anybody.

Where am I? I can’t possibly know. My mind grapples with the basic function of memory; the last thing I remember. I remember being carried from the vehicle that delivered me. I am sure I was carried, but whereto; upstairs, downstairs or no, I can’t recall. My wrists are sore, reminding me that I have been tied. I forget how many times during the course of the night I was tied, but I am sure I was tied here too. I don’t remember being untied, but I am sure I was tied. My arms stretched, tied to the bed frame. My legs too, perhaps.

No, not then. My legs were free. I was wearing what I’m wearing now; knee high black boots and black hold-ups. My legs were held, raised, spread.

I remember a stern voice. “Spread your legs!”

No, that wasn’t here, that was somewhere else. I heard those words so many times. “Spread your legs!”

No, here my legs were pulled into position by people I could not see, pulled apart by people I could not see. There was hot breath on my labia, a tongue teasing those folds that were by then long since smeared with debauchery. Male or female? I have no idea. There was a finger, probing me, exploring the territory beyond my folds. A finger probing what was by then my spunk-infested vagina. There was a tongue finding my clit. There was a tongue worshipping my giddy sex. I was making sounds I’ve never made before.

I draw in breath sharply. These memories have caused my fingers to wander dangerously close to the hot spot, lingering mere inches away.

I move my hand away. I feel ashamed. What have I done? What have I allowed myself to become involved in?

Is there anyone here to see? I don’t sense anybody. I strain my ears, but hear nothing. All around is darkness, but I strain my eyes anyway. The blindfold is thick and unforgiving.

This sudden exertion is too much. I feel myself begin to drift. I’m not quite awake, but nor am I fast asleep. If I could muster the energy, perhaps I could focus on nature or poetry or the state of the economy; instead, only the recent past, only last night (assuming it is actually morning) has the power to flow aimlessly through my mind.

I’m in another room. I can hear voices. Distant voices. There are so many voices all night, but few of them can be made out. All is dark, but I am not alone.

I have a cock in my hand. My hand is moving slowly. Behind the blindfold I envisage the foreskin revealing and concealing the bulbous head. I am bent over. I feel a hand on my head, pushing gently. There is another cock, sliding in my bum crack where I’m bent forward. It feels slippery and oily. I move my hand down. My lips touch the cock in front of me. My tongue touches the cock in front of me. I slide my lips over the bulb. I slide my tongue round the bulb.

There is not a sound from the men. From elsewhere I hear the chatter of voices. There is a cock sliding in my bum crack. The only sound is my own breathing. Except for the sound of my mouth, my moist mouth as I suck on the cock in front of me. My mouth is watering. Slowly, gently, cock enters my pussy, sliding into me. My mouth is full, becoming fuller as my lips slide downwards. The only sound in the room is my own breathing. The only other sound in the room comes from my moist mouth as I suck on the cock.

Another sound. A strange yearning whimper from my throat as the cock in my pussy moves faster. I move my head faster. My lips move up and down. My mouth is watering as I suck on the cock. I hear my mouth, my moist mouth, as I suck.

I’m in another room. I can hear voices. Distant voices. There are so many voices all night, but few of them can be made out. All is dark, but I am not alone.

I’m on a bed. I am lying on my back. My legs are spread. I hear my own breathing; short intense gasps of breath. I am being fucked. Not by a cock. Not by a proper cock, but by a dildo. Even in the blindfold-induced darkness, I can sense that it is attached to someone. The dildo slides out, the tip of it tickles my clit, slides over my vesitbule. There are whispers; a male voice and a female voice, but I don’t catch what they’re saying.

I hear my own breathing; short intense gasps of breath. I am being fucked again. There is a real cock pushing down on my mouth. I extend my tongue to lick it, but the fucking is too intense for me to concentrate. A finger teases my clit. I hear my own breathing; heavy, intense. The man pushes his cock sideways down between my lips, but all I care about is my own intense breathing and the searing sense of jubilation as I approach orgasm.

I’m in another room, or maybe it’s the same room. I can hear voices. Distant voices. There are so many voices all night, but few of them can be made out. All is dark, but I am not alone. I’m with different people, or maybe they’re the same people.

I am on my back. It feels soft underneath, but I don’t know if it’s a bed. My arms are taken and stretched behind my head. My wrists are held together and secured. It’s not the first nor the last time during the night that my wrists are secured. I hear my own breathing; irregular, nervous.

Nothing happens. Then there is a voice.

“Spread your legs!” I hear those words so many times during the night. “Spread your legs!”

I do as I am told. I am not wearing knickers. My panties disappeared much earlier. I have no idea where they are.

I am on my back with my wrists tied together, my arms stretched above my head and my legs spread. I hear my own breathing; irregular nervous. I am opened up. Fingers probe me as if I’m being examined. Then nothing.

I lay there on my back with my wrists tied together, my arms stretched above my head and my legs spread. My cunt is naked and exposed. I hear footsteps. How many I do not know. People staring at my naked pussy as I lie there exposed with my wrists tied together, my arms stretched above my head and the blindfold forcing me to remain in darkness. I hear my own breathing; irregular, nervous. I am opened up. Fingers probe me. This time fingers graze my clit too.

I hear my own breathing; irregular, nervous. Fingers probe and graze. I hear myself give a soft moan. Then nothing.

I lay there on my back with my wrists tied together, my arms stretched above my head and my legs spread. My naked pussy is on display, and I do not know how many people are in the room. My ankles are gripped. I feel rope around them. My ankles are secured to something, I know not what. All is dark.

My ankles are secured, forcing me to keep my legs spread and my pussy on display. I hear my own breathing; irregular, nervous. I am opened up. Fingers probe me.

I come to with a start. There’s a finger in my slit. My own finger in my own slit. I’m fingering myself in the halfway slumber between consciousness and sleep; fingering myself to dim memories. Have I really not had enough?

I pull my hand away, somehow ashamed of myself, even though I’m alone. I think I’m alone. Is there anyone here to see? I don’t sense anybody. I strain my ears, but hear nothing. All around is darkness, but I strain my eyes anyway. The blindfold is thick and unforgiving.

How could I have allowed all those things to happen? Because I had agreed to them, beforehand. The Blindfold Club people are conscientious, if nothing else. There was a form, several pages long, designed to ascertain my limits – limits they assured me would be strictly adhered to. I filled it out, conscientiously.

Do you agree to:
Participate in any kind of oral sex (If not, please specify below): Yes.
Vaginal penetration: Yes.
Anal penetration: Yes. (With a slight flicker of apprehension.)
Being penetrated with objects (If yes, please specify below): Yes. (I didn’t agree to everything, but most.)
Being fisted: No. (Not for all the tea in China.)

There were reams of questions.

Do you agree to:
Being on the end of a little light spanking: Yes.
Being spanked hard: (Not sure.)
Thankfully there was a scale, stretching from no spanking (0) to the most painful spanking imaginable (10), just to be on the safe side: 4. (Stretching my limit a little.)

Do you agree to:
Being whipped: No.
Being tied down: Yes. (Though really I wasn’t sure at all.)
Being hog-tied: No. (I didn’t even know what that meant.)
Having hot candle wax dripped on your body: No. (No, no, no!)

There were activities there I had no idea people engaged in. And there were activities that I agreed to, that under normal circumstances…

My body has been subjected to so much. It reeks of debauchery. Debauchery is smeared across my skin. I feel myself begin to drift. I’m not quite awake, but nor am I fast asleep. If I could muster the energy, perhaps I could focus on nature or poetry or who I might vote for in the upcoming election; instead, only the recent past, only last night (assuming it is actually morning) has the power to flow aimlessly through my mind.

I’m in another room. I can hear voices. Distant voices. There are so many voices all night, but few of them can be made out. All is dark, but I am not alone.

I am on top of a man. My naked breasts are splayed against his skin. My nipples are hard. His hands are on my shoulders. His lips are touching the soft folds of my pussy. My lips surround his hard cock.

All is dark. The blindfold is unforgiving, but I know that his cock is very long. He puts his hands on my temples, encouraging me to go deeper, but however deep I go, his cock never ends. His tongue lashes at my clit. I moan at the back of my throat. His cock is deep in my mouth. Too deep.

He allows me to come up for air. I moan as his tongue sweeps across my slippery sex. I stroke his cock. I wriggle my tongue across the swollen bulb. He holds me open, his tongue sweeping across the full expanse of my ravenous pussy.

My lips surround him. I move my head up and down. He sucks on my swollen clit. I suck on his swollen cock. I moan. He grunts. My lips slide down his never-ending cock. His tongue flicks at my clit. I moan. He grunts. My body prepares. I know I will cum. Soon. I know he will cum. Soon.

I’m in another room. I can hear voices. Distant voices. There are so many voices all night, but few of them can be made out. All is dark, but I am not alone.

It must be early in the evening, because I am still dressed. I am standing. My breasts are being touched through the silk of my blouse. My bottom is being fondled through my lamé skirt. There is hot breath on my neck. A hand is touching the inside of my thigh, where stocking top gives way to skin.

All is dark. I do not know how many people are in the room with me, but I sense there are a number. They are touching me. Hands grope and fondle. There is hot breath on my neck. My ponytail is twisted round fingers. Other fingers grip my wrist.

My hand lands on skin. Male skin. I can tell because of the fuzz of hair against my fingertips. The man must be prostrate. I understand that when my hand is lead to his expectant rod. Hands squeeze my breasts through the silk of my blouse, making the nipples harden and swell with desire. There is hot breath on my neck. A hand is touching the inside of my thigh, where stocking gives way to skin. There is a voice, masculine.

“Do you think she’s ready to sit on that cock?”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

A female voice, as the hand on my thigh slides upwards under my skirt. Other hands fondle my tits, fingers slide across the swelling with only thin silk between fingertip and nipple. It is early in the evening, but I am ready; as the hand sliding up my thigh is about to discover.

I’m in another room, or maybe it’s the same room. I can hear voices. Distant voices. There are so many voices all night, but few of them can be made out. All is dark, but I am not alone. I’m with different people, or maybe they’re the same people.

I have one foot on the floor, one knee on a bed. I am leaning over. I have one hand round a cock. I have my lips round the cock. So many times during the night, I have my lips round a cock.

There is a tap on my shoulder. There is a voice, a masculine voice.

“Turn around.”

I turn, still holding the cock I’ve been sucking. I sit on the edge of the bed. My other hand is guided to a stiff cock. A hand on my head guides me gently. I cannot see, the blindfold is unforgiving; but I know what is expected of me. My lips part. My lips engulf this second cock. It must be quite early in the evening because I’m wearing my blouse.

My bra has disappeared, though.

A button is undone. A hand slides inside my blouse, finding an erect nipple. Fingers roll my erect nipple between them. I’m wanking one cock and sucking another. A hand touches my thigh. It must be quite early in the evening because I’m still wearing my skirt. Not for long.

My memory skips. I’m bouncing up and down on a cock, holding the other in my hand. I’m moaning out loud, crying out. I can’t focus on the cock in my hand, which seems to annoy the man to whom it belongs.

“Suck on it!”

But I can only hold it as I bounce up and down, moaning and gasping and crying out. My pussy is a flood of debauchery as I bounce up and down. Is it really me crying out?

“Oh, I love that cock!”

My head is grabbed. My mouth is invaded. I bounce up and down, trying to scream. The screams get stuck in my throat as I feel the cock in my mouth expand.

I come to with a start. There are two fingers in my pussy. My own fingers in my own pussy. I’m finger-fucking myself in the halfway slumber between consciousness and sleep; finger-fucking myself to dim memories. Have I really not had enough?

I pull my hand away, somehow ashamed of myself, even though I’m alone. I’m think I’m alone. Is there anyone here to see? I don’t sense anybody. I strain my ears, but hear nothing. All around is darkness, but I strain my eyes anyway. The blindfold is thick and unforgiving.

How could I have allowed all those things to happen? Because I had agreed to them, beforehand. I filled out the form conscientiously, even though there were so many entries.

Do you agree to:
Partake in watersports: No. (I assumed they didn’t actually mean swimming or jet ski.)
Multiple simultaneous penetrations: Yes. (Having agreed to anal sex, it seemed pointless to refuse.)
Engage sexually with other women: Yes. (Well, I’d become curious.)

More importantly, how could my husband have allowed this to happen? Yes, we were going through a fallow spell. Yes, we’d talked about spicing things up, but…

My husband actually drove me to the pick-up point, a spot by the railway where it skirted a semi run down industrial estate. There was already another car there, but I didn’t see any people. Dave made sure I was standing; I remember facing graffiti-covered concrete. I trembled when I heard the crunch of boot on gravel behind me. Then it all went dark. The blindfold applied, pulled tight. It became dark, so dark.

A voice.

“Right! We’ll take her from here!” Blindfold Club rules. Spouses must be separated when the Club is “in session”.

I was placed in the back of a different car. Alone in the back, in the dark. The blindfold was unforgiving. The woman was driving. I know, because the man’s voice came from directly in front of me, on the passenger side. I gathered from their voices that they had some kind of Caribbean background, though they were obviously not married. Blindfold Club rules. Spouses must be separated when the Club is “in session”. They talked, but not to me.

“Where should we take her?” the man asked.

“I’m thinking…” The woman gave a slight giggle. “You know, at my initiation, I was thrown in at the deep end.”

“You think that would be right for her?”

“It was the right thing for me.”

“But is it the right thing for her?”

“It’s always the nervous ones who need it most.”

That’s how it was. All night. People talking about me, never to me. No, people talking about me, never to me, unless they had some command for me; “Spread your legs!” or “Suck on it!”

How could I have allowed it? How could my husband have allowed it? How could Dave have allowed my body to be used and debauched? How could I have allowed my skin to become smeared with debauchery; to reek of debauchery? How did we even find out about the Blindfold Club? I don’t remember. Not now. I feel myself begin to drift. I’m not quite awake, but nor am I fast asleep. If I could muster the energy, perhaps I could focus on nature or poetry or the housing problem; instead, only the recent past, only last night (assuming it is actually morning) has the power to flow aimlessly through my mind.

I’m in another room. Loud music assails my ears. The music makes it hard to hear the voices. All is dark, but I am far from alone.

I am bent forward, resting my hands on some kind of ledge. My skirt is up around my waste. A hard cock is in my pussy. Thrusting, thrusting. Fucking me so hard. My blouse is open. Hands are groping my tits. Fingers are toying with my swollen nipples.

I am bent forward, resting my hands on some kind of ledge. My skirt is up around my waste. My pussy is stretched out by a thick cock. I am fucked hard. The thick cock uses me. A hand slaps my arse. I can just about hear myself squeal as my nipples are pinched. The thick cock fucks me, uses me, slams into my pussy. Liquid trickles down the insides of my thighs. Loud music assails my ears. I hear nothing else, but I feel it, the cock in my pussy, what is happening. It twitches hard, delivering spurt after spurt in my pussy. My dear, overheated, salivating pussy. Hands grope my tits, pinch my nipples. The cock pulls out. Sperm drips from my pussy along with my pussy juice. Another cock invades me, fucking, thrusting, slamming into me, using me.

I’m in another room, or perhaps it’s the same room. Loud music assails my ears. The music makes it hard to hear the voices. All is dark, but I am far from alone. I can sense people close to me.

I am standing. My blouse is open. I am groped. Hands feeling me all over. No part of my body is left untouched. My nipples are hard, pure lust rushes to my pussy. Fingers push up inside me, invade me. Lips come up close to my ear, so that I can hear above the music.

“I’m going to fuck you. Lie down on the floor and spread your legs!”

I comply. I feel wild and liberated. I lay on the floor and spread my legs. So many times during the night I am instructed to spread my legs. My pussy drools expectantly. I sense the man on top of me before his cock enters me.

My cunt is invaded, I try to spread my legs wider. I want the man to use me. My hands seek out his buttocks. I push him into me. He fucks me hard, slamming into my pussy, using me.

Then someone else is above me. Over my face. A woman. She pushes down on my mouth, her pussy leaking, reeking of desire. My pussy is drooling, revelling in being fucked and used. I use my tongue on the drooling cunt on my face. All is dark, the blindfold is unforgiving. But I can smell. Everything reeks of sex. Everything reeks of debauchery. And at the centre of it is my wild, liberated body.

I am fucked and fucked. Hot cunt is ground against my face. My face becomes sticky. I open my mouth for the woman to drool her sex juices straight into my mouth. The cock in my pussy expands, begins to twitch. Hands on the man’s buttocks, I force him in; force him deep. I hold him there, making him deliver his sperm as deep inside my snatch as he can. It’s very deep. He is very long.

I’m in another room, or perhaps it’s the same room. Loud music assails my ears. The music makes it hard to hear the voices. All is dark, but I am far from alone. I can sense people around me. Maybe they’re the same people, maybe they’re different people. I can feel people inside me.

I am on all fours. There is a cock inside my pussy. A big, hard cock, thrusting, fucking hammering me into submission. I am naked except for my hold-ups and boots as I am fucked hard from behind in the presence of other people.

There’s a cock in my mouth too. My head is held as the cock thrusts in my mouth. Cocks thrusting in pussy and mouth. I can feel liquid running down the insides of my thighs. My pussy is fucked hard, used. The cock in my mouth slows. I sense that the man is using his hand, holding me steady, holding his cock steady. My pussy drools as cock meat slams into it. Sperm bubbles out onto my tongue.

There are lips against mine; soft, feminine lips. I let mine part so that the woman can insert her tongue, scooping out the fresh, hot sperm. We kiss as I am fucked hard. We kiss as I am used as a vessel for more sperm. My pussy drips sperm and cunt juice onto the floor. Then I am invaded again. A cock burrows into me from behind, fucking, thrusting, slamming into me, using me. Two cocks prod at my face. I suck one, then the other. All the while I am fucked hard from behind, fucked and used, my pussy hammered into submission.

It’s raining on my back. Hot, steamy liquid landing on my body. I am fucked and fucked. I suck and suck. A hard cock slams into my pussy. I am used, fucked without mercy. All is dark, the blindfold is unforgiving. But I can smell. Everything reeks of sex. Everything reeks of debauchery. And at the centre of it is my wild, liberated body. Cocks push into me, pussy and mouth, using me.

More sperm is squirted into my hot, willing pussy. More sperm, filling me. I feel hands; hands pulling me, manhandling me onto my back. I lay there, legs spread, sperm and cunt juice dribbling out of me. Loud music assails my ears, making it impossible to hear anything else. But I can feel. Feel the sperm raining down on my soft breasts and rock hard nipples as another man climbs on top of me and begins fucking, thrusting, using me, hammering my exultant cunt into submission. My pussy drools. I feel wild and liberated.

I come to with a start. There are three fingers in my pussy. My own fingers in my own pussy. I’m finger-fucking myself in the halfway slumber between consciousness and sleep; finger-fucking myself to dim memories. Am I really not satiated?

My skin is smeared with debauchery. It reeks of debauchery. Debauchery envelops me like a fog, and I cannot pull my hand away. Is there anyone here to see? I don’t sense anybody. I strain my ears, but hear nothing. All around is darkness, but I strain my eyes anyway. The blindfold is thick and unforgiving.

I thrust my fingers deeper into myself. I can’t help it. Fully conscious memory crowds in.

I remember being nearly naked, except for hold-ups and boots. There are voices. There are so many voices all night, but few of them can be made out. All is dark, but I am not alone.

I am sitting on a man, on his cock. I am sitting on a man’s thick, hard cock. He is thrusting up into me. I want to scream with delight, but there is a cock in my mouth too. A thick, hard cock using my mouth. Fingers are squeezing my nipples, so tightly it feels like they might burst. Fingers squeeze my nipples as hard cocks take what they want from me, using my pussy and my mouth.

And there’s a third cock. A thick cock stretching my tight anus. A thick cock fucking my arse hard, using me. I want to scream with delight, but there’s a cock in my mouth. I have cock in all my holes, and hands squeezing my breasts, pinching my nipples. Three men, three cocks, using me, fucking me, fucking my holes, thrusting their cocks in me, mercilessly, forcing me to submit.

My body is tense. My body is full to bursting. My body feels as if it will explode at any minute, torn apart by those three cocks. The cock in my pussy, the cock in my mouth, dampening my screams, the cock in my arse. Three men, three cocks, using me, fucking me, fucking my holes, slamming their cocks in me, forcing my body on towards ultimate ecstasy.

Alone on the bed I strain my ears, but hear nothing. All around is darkness, but I strain my eyes anyway. The blindfold is thick and unforgiving. Is there anyone here to see? I don’t sense anybody? The scent of my own debauchery is thick in my nostrils. I push the three fingers deep inside myself, bringing my other hand down to rub my clit.

Everything blurs. All around is darkness. The memory is so real. I hardly know where I am or what is happening. Oh yes, I’m alone on a bed, trapped in darkness, my hands moving against my satiated yet insatiable sex. But I’m also back in that room, with those men, their cocks fucking my pussy, fucking my mouth, fucking my arse. My body is tense. My body feels like it will explode. My pussy is tightening as it speaks to me of its lust in the language of the sea. My mind feels like it will overload.

My pussy tightens so that I fear my fingers will snap, but still I fuck myself. My other hand moves against my clit. The memory is so clear, of those men, their cocks fucking my pussy, fucking my mouth, fucking my arse; using my pussy, using my mouth, using my arse; hands mauling my tits.

“Yes! Yes!” I scream as I lay there all alone, writhing, with fingers in my pussy, fingers on my clit. “Fuck me! Fuck me! Make me cum!”

I’m on the verge now. On the verge of an orgasm that will kill me if I’m not careful. Just a few more seconds.

There’s a sound; a sound that doesn't belong. Instinctively I pull my hands away even though I’m so close it kills me not to follow through. I have no idea where I am; if it’s night or if it’s light; if I will be allowed to remove the blindfold, or if I will be taken somewhere and used again (and again), or used right here.

All around is darkness, but I strain my eyes anyway. The blindfold is thick and unforgiving. The scent of my own debauchery is thick in my nostrils. I strain my ears. A door handle is turned. I feel a soft draft against my debauched skin as a door opens.

I am not alone anymore.