Win or Lose 2-Anniversary Present

“What’s this for?” I asked, showing my wife the four hundred dollar check from her friend Linda.
“Oh, that,” Jean said. “I have to show you something.”
She turned her laptop so that I could see the screen and opened a website with the title “Your Neighbors’ Secret Lives”. I was utterly amazed as she typed in a user name and password to this obvious porn site. I mean, I was the porn aficionado in the family. Under the title was the brief site description ‘All participants in our content wear masks both to maintain their own privacy and to enhance your enjoyment. Feel free to imagine they are your friends and neighbors…maybe they are.’
“You know how you love to post pictures and stories to that one porn site?” She asked. “Well, I decided to expand on that and make some money too. This is Linda’s website.”
This was shocking since she had never seemed very thrilled by my hobby. Not all that shocking that Linda ran a porn website. It still didn’t answer the question though.
“You got money from Linda for…OK, why did you get money from Linda?”
Without a word she clicked on the category BiSexual and scrolled down to a one entitled ‘The Big Loser’. It opened and I got to watch a professionally edited video of my adventure with the unidentified man at Linda’s house. I was completely stunned, a little humiliated and really turned on.
“So we got one hundred each for the video and, for every two thousand new views we get another fifty. It’s Linda’s website. Started it when she was out of work. All the people in the video are people that she knows. Best thing is that she never shows faces…unless people want to show their faces.”
We sat there watching me get fucked in lingerie for a while as I did the math and determined that at least 8,000 people had watched it.
“I’ve signed you up for another shoot next weekend. That first one we did is doing really well and Linda got a special request. You’ll need to watch your diet and get lots of exercise. Plus I’ve signed you up for some tanning sessions and bought you a pair of high heels to practice in. Don’t worry, you’ll love it.”

The phrase ‘signed you up’ had really stuck with me for the next few days…after I got over the ‘high heels’ part. Was she not coming? So I was very nervous as we arrived at Linda’s house on the assigned day. I felt a bit relieved when she settled down with Linda for a drink before Linda sent me upstairs to the master bedroom to ‘get into costume’. The ‘costume’ proved to be almost identical to what I had worn on our previous adventure, a hood with holes for the mouth and eyes, cuffs, collar, corset, garter belt with stockings and a thong. This time however, every item was pure white and there was a pair of white leather high heels. Once everything was on, I took a quick walk back and forth in front of a mirror, a final practice of the strut my wife had had me work on. Not bad, I thought, the tan really worked with the white frilly stuff.
Back downstairs the ladies had donned masks and there were now video cameras set up around them, which meant the show had begun. They ordered me to parade before them and the cameras, which I did as well as I could. With a nod of satisfaction, Linda picked up a small bell from the coffee table and rang it once. Two large muscular men dressed all in black and wearing sunglasses instantly appeared through a doorway. I glanced at them nervously as they moved up on either side of me.
“Take him to the client,” she ordered.
My wife smiled at me reassuringly as they cuffed my hands behind me, strapped a ball gag around my head and attached a dog leash to the collar around my neck. Then they put a large full length trench coat over my shoulders and led me out the door. I looked back over my shoulder and my wife picked up her drink and turned to talk to her friend. ‘Holy crap,’ I thought, ‘she isn’t coming.’
My anxiety grew as they led me into the garage and put me in the backseat of a nondescript four door sedan. One got into the drivers seat while the other took the seat next to me. He also pulled out a small video camera and began filming our trip. We left the neighborhood and were soon on a major avenue through town. I felt very exposed sitting by the window in a white hood and dog collar as we passed other vehicles. We stopped at a traffic light and a woman in the car next to us, after originally looking startled, smiled, pulled out her cell phone and took my picture. I idly wondered what website it would end up on. At another intersection, a partying group of men and women spotted me as well. They laughed, made crude comments and also took my picture. It was humiliating.
Eventually we arrived at one of the larger resort hotels in the area and pulled into a parking lot in the back. The driver opened my door and, when I hesitated, used the leash to pull me out of the car. He led me toward a nearby entrance while the other man followed, camera still running. A young couple came out of the door and stopped as we approached them, smiles crossing their faces. The raincoat didn’t close in the front so they got a good look at the corset, thong, stockings and high heels underneath it.
“Have a good time,” the woman said as we passed, then laughed and kept walking into the parking lot.
The driver pulled out a key card and opened the door. There was a staircase just inside and we took it to the third floor. We ended up at the door to room 333 and the driver knocked three times.
“Come in,” a woman’s voice called from the other side and my escort used his key to open the door before leading my in, his partner trailing behind.
Room 333 was a large, very nice hotel room. There was a living room set on one side and a kingsized bed on the other. Everything was very well-lit and, as I expected, there were cameras scattered around the room. All of the blankets had been removed from the bed and there were ropes and chains laying on the bright red sheets.
A man and woman were seated on the sofa facing the bed. They were well-dressed and, surprisingly, did not have masks on. Both were somewhat older than I was, late forties or early fifties. She was a rather tall, full-bodied blonde and he was about my height but much heavier, not fat just larger. Drinks in their hands, they watched as I was led over to stand in front of them. The driver pulled the raincoat off of my shoulders and then paraded me for them, hands still cuffed behind me, as I remembered to do the stripper strut my wife had taught me.