P02E11

I was in a pensive mood when Howard drove us back to the ranch. It took at least five minutes for me to address him: “Uncle, do you realize that in this entire evening of lust, Eric shot a load across the face of a waitress, but I think that was the only orgasm? None of the other men unloaded, I think? “

“Yeah, I think so as well. “

“So we just visited a wild sex orgy, diving into debaucheries for hours on end, pushing for the limits of human lust and humiliation, and only one man came… ?“

“Do you think that is remarkable? Why? “

“ Well… It is a sex party, you know… “

“And do you truly believe that quality can be measured in an amount of orgasms? “

I declined an answer; I didn’t have one. But the cock in my pants was singing a happy song: “I don’t mind, I’m hard as hell… “

Howard continued: “I could ask you the same thing. If you thought this was such an invigorating event, why didn’t you shoot yourself? The waitresses would have been happy to take your load off you. “

“It just didn’t seem appropriate. “I paused to analyze my feelings. “And I didn’t feel the need either. It was fine to get all excited about watching her, I was actually horny as hell… shooting would just have distracted from it. “

“Exactly. So I guess you learned a lesson tonight. “

“That you don’t have to shoot to get aroused like crazy? “

“Even more than that. You instinctively felt that your shot would have killed that arousal, it would have broken the continuous buildup of the joy of watching her.”

I pondered his words, but quickly realized that I needed to ponder it a lot more. So I changed the subject: “And what is all that stuff about money, uncle? Why does everybody pay all that money just to see her get fucked? “

“Yeah, that’s a very good question. Why do you think?”

“Well you guys are their husbands, not their pimps, correct? They are your wives or your slaves, but not your whores.”

“No, they aren’t. But the feeling of being sold for money is very sensitive to a lot of the wives. Some don’t even realize that no one gets any money from it. “

“What do you mean? I was keeping tabs a bit, and Ben pocketed over eight grand in there. “

“Yes, he did earn that money by selling his wife’s body to his friends. But what do you think will happen to that money? “

“I don’t understand… What do you mean? “

“Well, do you think that the men around that table all earn enough to spend thousands of dollars on watching a girl?”

“They don’t?”

“Of course not. Ben took home that money today, but in two weeks time, Eric will bring his wife to Kervail and Ben will buy her body. He will buy himself an ass fuck for a 1000, or a bondage in Eagle spread for 500. And all the guys do that and at the end of the evening, Eric goes home with $8000 and a week after that, Sam takes it home. Nobody really pays for anything. “

“Yet it makes them all feel like prostitutes… “

“Exactly, there is a special delicacy for a girl’s mind for the specific humiliation of being sold. They find themselves on this strange wire, where they are disgusted by the thought of being prostituted, yet find that when they are anyway, they find pride in inflating earnings. They find themselves whoring away their best features, their juiciest holes, and their hardest orgasms, so that her husband earns a lot and will be proud of her.”

“You mean that those 8000 aren’t always 8000? “

“Of course they are not. When Sam brought his second wife here for the first time, she earned him $34,000. It is the all time record, and it is already 19 years old. She was highly respected and honored for it throughout her marriage. “

“And at the other end? “

“Well, When she is heading for her divorce, a girl could maybe hope to get two K. When it gets below that, her husband doesn’t take her anymore because it would embarrass him.”

“And that is a pattern? That they earn less and less? “

“Of course it is, it provides a girl with a lovely feeling of decay and failing, and teaches a lesson about the passing of time and the need to grab joy when it is still available.”

“But isn’t that unfair? You are basically creating despair. “

Howard shrugged: “Well, what can I say? Yes, we do, I guess, and when we do it, we find that our wives love it. Well, actually their pussies love it. The injustice of it thrills them, they savor inferiority and whim. They juice easy and cum hard, it makes them holler to the skies. They only become our wives, because those are their primal desires. It would be cruel of us to deny them, to ban tools which promote further disgrace. It is the core thing we concoct for them.”

“Is she still a woman to you? Marcy, I mean?”

“Of course she is. I love her, she is my wife, and I wouldn’t want her anywhere else than on her knees for me. She surprises and delights me in a new way every day. And deep down on the bottom line, I only do all the stuff I do to her, because she wants me to do that. If her desire for inferiority waned, I would release her tomorrow. I would gladly give up being her Master if it would make her happier in any way. But,” he shrugged, “that’s the last thing that she wants. “

The deep dark romance of it hit me again. Was this… Happiness? Or just addiction? Or something else entirely? Fulfillment? Destiny?