My apartment was quiet and dim. I sighed in relief as I toed off my work heels, then dropped my keys on the sideboard before scooping up my mail. The small square parcel with the neat lettering had landed demurely between two takeaway menus, and rendered everything else inconsequential.

The bottle of Vino Nobile di Montepulciano still sat on the kitchen counter. I’d allowed myself one tiny glass last night to calm my nerves before my presentation to the board of directors today; a presentation which had gone exceptionally well. I was well-versed, knowledgeable, confident. At least, I was... My hands now shook as I poured a large glass. One communication and my composure was shot.

The apartment was still shrouded in darkness as I brought my wine and the parcel to the dining table. I hadn’t tidied my personal laptop away yet. The table doubled as my home office when called for and floor to ceiling windows to the city below provided inspiration when needed.

I didn’t need to switch the lights on. There wouldn’t be a letter. I waited on my laptop booting as I ran shaky fingers over the seal. At the log-in screen I typed my password one-fingered, not trusting myself to touch-type. When the familiar tones of the home screen sounded I opened the DVD player and broke the seal on the package. The disc was all there was. No name. No writing. It could be blank... I toyed with it for a second. Hesitating. It wasn’t blank. I knew it wasn’t.

I inserted it and gulped wine as the drive whirred into action. My heart raced. It had been three months.

The scene was static. A single camera affair, set beside the bottom corner post of the bed. The woman was spread-eagled and restrained, a masquerade mask shrouding her features.

Shrouding my features.

I tried to watch objectively, but it all flooded back. For the first time on one of these DVDs there were three of us. All because I’d lost a bet.

On screen the two men circled the woman. I didn’t need the wetness on her thighs to tell me she’d already cum. My pussy twitched at the memory of being left in a post-orgasmic haze, waiting for the third of our illicit triumvirate to arrive and wondering how they’d use me when he did.

They hadn’t made me wait long. On screen they were already naked, lazily fisting impressive erections as they prowled. I saw my mouth open greedily as one stopped by my head, gripping my hair as he fucked my face. I remembered my distress as I felt the other's tongue on my ass. How was I to concentrate with such exquisite debauchery taking place?

I'd tried to compartmentalize and failed miserably. My brain threatened to overload until I'd finally let go, letting the pleasure wash into every part of me. My throat opened as my body’s defences retreated, allowing it to be fucked fully.

I raised a hand to my throat, remembering the rawness. After a while he’d pulled out and straddled my head, gripping my hair in both hands and forcing his cock back down my throat. I could no longer see the man tonguing my ass; could only feel when his thumb had slipped inside it and his tongue moved to my clit.

I’d cum like that... juices leaking from my empty pussy, ass clenching around its intruder and as I shook silently and intensely in the throes of climax, I felt warm cum spilling down my throat and I’d greedily swallowed it down like the good slut I was.

My cheeks reddened as I remembered. They’d fucked me after that, releasing my bonds to turn me onto all fours. They’d taken turns fucking my mouth, my pussy and my ass then they’d taken the latter two holes at once. I’d orgasmed again and again and when I’d finally left them, I had semen leaking from most of my orifices. When I got home, I’d showered, frigged myself to one last climax then slept for ten hours straight.

I whimpered in the darkness and paused the recording. My nipples ached and my pussy was drenched. I stumbled back to the kitchen and poured the last of the wine, downing half the glass in one go. Alcohol burned, feeding my fervour. It wasn’t just the recording, it was the anticipation. These recordings always preceded another encounter. I only had to make a phone call to arrange a time.

I took the empty bottle and my cellphone back to the table with me and resumed the recording. As I watched myself get fucked on screen, I brought my feet up, pulled my panties aside and inserted the neck of the bottle slowly into my dripping pussy. I groaned as my pussy stretched desperately around where the neck began to widen. I held it there as I dialled, then fucked myself slowly as I heard the tone.

“Hello?”

Fuck, even his voice made my pussy spasm.

“I’m watching it. Right now.”

His breathing quickened.

“Are you playing with yourself, pet? While you watch yourself get fucked?” 

I groaned. “I... I have a wine bottle,” I admitted.

“Such an enterprising slut.” His tone was appreciative. “8pm, tomorrow night.”

I moaned out my affirmation as my orgasm approached rapidly. I kept him on the line as my pussy squelched obscenely and I held the phone down near it, letting him hear what he did to me. I kept it there as I rammed the wine bottle repeatedly into my wet hole until it finally pulled an orgasm from my needy body.

I left the bottle jammed into my hole as I brought the phone back to my mouth. “8pm. I’ll be there.”

His voice was tight, the arousal evident. “My rules tomorrow, pet, yes?”

I blanched, but the post-orgasmic haze betrayed me again and I found myself agreeing.

"Your rules."

What the fuck had I signed up for this time?