0 comments/ 131027 views/ 20 favorites Kathy & Me Ch. 1 By: Jigs My name is Marge Smithers..., actually my first name is Margaret, but most everyone calls me Marge. I have a story to tell about my friend Kathy and myself. Perhaps our experience will warn you, or perhaps it will tempt you. Either way, I hope you enjoy it. Kathy Konichech and I have been best friends almost forever. We were both in the sixth grade when Kathy Patrillo, as her name was then, and her parents moved into a house just down the street. Kathy and I went through Junior High and then High School together. We were both cheer leaders, we flirted with the same boys, took the same classes, belonged to the same church and clubs, and copied each others home work. We grew up to be a couple of damn good looking gals even if I do say so myself. Kathy is a little over average height, and I am a little under it. She’s dark completed, with very dark brown, almost black, hair and brown eyes. I am fair, blond and blue eyed. My breasts are large and full, bigger than Kathy’s. Hers, however, are better shaped, and have long erect nipples that poke little buttons into her blouse regardless of her bra. No movie star ever had better looking legs than Kathy does, while I tend to be a little chunky around the hips and thighs. In high school we were both very popular with the boys, but we double dated a lot to protect each other, and despite some passionate petting in cars parked in secluded nooks and woods, we both managed to hold on to our virginity as long as we were still together. After graduation we drifted apart for a while. I went off to college and Kathy stayed home attending a secretarial school. Seven years later, however, we found ourselves as next door neighbors in a new suburb of the same New Jersey town where she and I had grown up. We were both married by this time, and I had just delivered my first child. I met my husband Tim in college. He is ambitious, works hard, and was doing well as an executive in the local office of a national funiture manufacturing firm. We could afford for me to stay home and bring up a family. Kathy had not done as well in choosing a mate, or at least I didn’t think so. Stanley Konichech was blue collar all the way. A mechanic by trade, he was one of those guys who spends most early evenings watching professional wrestling, or anchoring his league team at the local bowling alley. Sun up was likely to find him at some sleazy stripper bar. Well, that may be a little catty of me, but I’m not alone. One of my other neighbors who knows him better than I do remarked that Stan is a man of letters..., the NBA, the NFL, and the WBC. I don’t think he treated Kathy any too well either. I saw some suspicious bruises on her arms from time to time, and one Monday she showed up with a black eye. Kathy never complained about her husband tho. In fact, she wouldn’t talk to me about him at all. Kathy hadn’t become pregnant yet, maybe because she needed to work to make ends meet even tho she didn’t live at all extravagantly. By the time we came back into each others lives, Kathy was employed in the secretarial pool of Kates and Cramer, a thirty lawyer firm that occupied the top three floors of the largest local bank building. She found her job dull and she wasn’t any happier with her work than she was with her home life, altho as I said, Kathy hardly ever complained. Kathy’s life was just running along, not very happily I didn’t think, but apparently tolerable, when Steve Hamilton came into the picture. Steve was a civil engineer a couple of years older than Kathy and I who had just come to work for a construction firm whose offices were on the next floor below Kates and Cramer. He was neither handsome, nor physically imposing, at least not until you took a close look. His features weren’t all that bad, but his face usually carried a hard chiseled somewhat frightening expression that was accented by a nose that had been badly broken and never fixed. Actually, the rugged accent of that crooked nose fit quite well with the rest of him. He may not have been a male model, but he was very masculine, and not really all that unattractive if you are willing to overlook that broken nose and intimidating clinch of jaw. Average in height and weight, the expensive sport coats he usually wore disguised the hard muscles hidden under soft Casmir lapels. The way he walked reminded me of a prowling cat..., balanced, agile, and ready to pounce. Something of a fitness nut, Steve worked out regularly at a gym that was the local hangout for professional fighters, martial arts experts, and the like. I heard later from guy who works there that Steve had once been an outstanding amateur boxer who had a brief but promising career in the professional prize ring that ended prematurely when 2nd Lt. Hamilton began the three year hitch he owned the Marine Corps because of his R.O.T.C. scholarship to college. And, he had a way about him with women. Perhaps it was those icy blue eyes; or maybe the confident, even cocky way that came on to us. Whatever it was, by word and gesture he let us know that he admired beautiful women, and was not intimidated by the defenses we girls use to keep a strange man at a safe distance. Later on when I knew him better, I decided he must think of women as flowers in his garden. We were there for him to nurture, to admire..., and to pluck and enjoy. Only occasionally would his manners slip a little, and there hidden underneath his usual charm was a kind of ‘Me Tarzan, You Jane’ air of male superiority. All in all, however, few women were turned off by his open refusal to acknowledge us as equals. Indeed, that very refusal was a part of his charm. Even those I knew to be ardent feminists were among his admirers, altho usually secretly so. His social manners were those you would expect of the son of the old south that he was. He may have been a tad self assured and pushy around women, but he was always complementary, attentive, and protective toward what he obviously regarded as the weaker sex. He was ever the perfect gentleman, but a gentleman with a twist. For one thing he had a way of looking into your eyes as he talked. He did that with men too, but somehow the intensity wasn’t the same, and I’m sure that men didn’t look away to escape his gaze as we girls so often did. His approach to a woman was never crude or backhanded, but he pulled no punches either. If she had a great body, he didn’t fudge with a “you look lovely tonight” comment, he told her straight away how sexy she was. That kind of blunt honesty embarrasses us, but we are always flattered by it. We know he is actually propositioning us without saying so directly, and we can’t help but wonder what it would be like to be in his bed, on our back, with our legs spread. I met him soon after he came to town when his firm had a welcoming party for him at the country club where my husband was a member. I was impressed by his wit and charm, but even more so with how smoothly he came on to me and every other woman there. His attention made all of us feel particularly female . He noticed things about us that men usually don’t, our clothes, perfume, hair do, etc., and he wasn’t shy about telling us when he liked them. For example, we are almost never told by a strange man how good we smell. That is a compliment that leaves us at a loss to respond to because we always suspect it is the odor of our sex, not our perfume, that the man is referring to. Anyway, that evening at the club Steve Hamilton left me as he always did. I just couldn’t help this vague feeling that I had just been paraded before some gallant eighteenth century pirate from the Barbary Coast who stripped me, admired my charms, and then sent me along my way with an friendly pat on my bare butt. I saw him again from time to time after that party, not frequently, but often enough to confirm my first impression that this was a man with a way about him. I wasn’t alone. The secretaries of the prestigious law firm of Kates and Cramer were all a flutter to have such a sexy new male down just one flight of stairs. So taken were these young ladies (and a couple who were not so young) that some announced openly that they intended to have him trapped between their legs at the first opportunity. Others were less star struck, altho there were none who were not fascinated by him to some degree, even if they would not admit it publicly. Kathy was one of those who refused to be swept away by whatever it was that Steve was offering to the women of the First National Bank Building. Once when the subject came up in the ladies room, she outright accused her enamored contemporaries of being sluts for carrying on so over him. Still, Steve was there in the building every day, and Kathy was too. The secretarial pool was a feminine meat shop from which Steve Hamilton could pick and choose, and whether she wanted to be or not, Steve obviously had decided Kathy was a tasty a la carte item on the Kates and Cramer menu. The construction firm Steve worked for had a long standing arrangement with Kates and Cramer for its employees to eat lunch upstairs in the private cafeteria of the law office. Steve ate there almost every day, and more often than not he pointedly chose to take his tray to the secretaries’ table. Even when he ate with the men, he would drop over to banter with the girls before he went back to work. With and without a reason to be there, he was often upstairs even during business hours. While there, he never failed to give some sweet thing a full dose of his masculine southern charm. As often as not, that lucky girl would be Kathy. It was soon noticeable that as Steve Hamilton picked over the sweet meat available at Kates and Cramer, he paid Kathy more attention than anyone else. Still, and altho he dated a wide range of women both in and out of the bank building, he never asked Kathy out socially. Kathy was after all married, and most people thought that was the reason Steve kept his distance. I had my doubts about that. He didn’t strike me as a man who would let social convention stand between his pecker and a good looking female. And, if he was all that proper, why was he spending so much time buzzing around Kathy like a bee who has found the pollen mother lode? It was about this time that Kathy opened up and began to tell me of the second thoughts she was having about her marriage. Was this change because of Steve Hamilton? I can’t say. The desperation in Kathy’s life, and there was a lot of it, had been there for a long time before Steve came along. She was terribly unhappy, and I was finally being told about it. It began to all come out one Sunday morning over coffee in my kitchen. “Marge,” Kathy began, almost ready to cry, “I can’t take much more of Stan. He drinks too much, and he gambles away his paycheck. God damn football parlays! Between what he looses to the bookies, and what his booze and his fancy car costs us, I’m our only support. I’m sure he is screwing some other woman on the side too, and he has become more and more abusive..., with both his mouth and his fist. We don’t have anything in common to talk about any more, and even our sex has gone down hill. He used to lay me pretty good, and that made up for being slapped around a little. He still beats me, now more than ever, but the sex isn’t the same. I suck him hard. He sticks it in and hunches on me for a few minutes. Then he cums. That’s it. Sometimes I can get off on that, but more and more often I can’t.” “Leave the bastard,” I told her. “There is no reason for any woman to stay with a man who abuses her, least of all someone like yourself. You have no children. You’re self supporting. You’re one of the best looking women in town. I’m sure you can find someone who will give you better sex than that. Why do you even consider staying with him?” “Because things are harder than that,” Kathy replied. I can’t stand the thought of being alone. There may be more men available out there, but are they really going to be any better than Stan? Am I going from the frying pan into the fire? Take that Steve Hamilton. I think you would agree, he’s a prospect. I saw you talking to him the other day in the drug store, and even your old married eyes lit up. Sure, he’s a damn sexy hunk, more tempting than I have been willing to admit, but there is something scary about him. I’ve watched him work me and the women around me, and he may be a lot more dangerous to a woman than Stan ever was.” “He stares at me a lot, and he won’t look away when I catch him at it. Up close I get lost sometimes looking into those ice blue eyes. Then there is the way he suddenly interrupts our conversation to tell me what great legs I have. Sure, I’m flattered that he likes my legs, but he’s not just being nice, he’s toying with me. He throws the stuff about my legs at me because it knocks me off balance, and makes me self conscious as hell. Then, while he has me focused on my legs, his hand and thigh just happen to brush up against them as he squeezes by leaving the lunch table. After being set up like that, can you imagine the jolt his touch sends to my clit?” “Come on Kathy,” I said, “you’re just imagining things. Men are deaf and dumb about women, and God never made one that devious and clever.” “Maybe so,” Kathy replied, “but this one is certainly not deaf and dumb. When the elevator is crowded, he is always pressing against my back or side with his nose sniffing in my hair. He smells me a lot, and he makes no secrete of it. He knows damn well it makes a girl all mushy to know a man is attracted by her odor.” “He doesn’t talk sex exactly, but he talks sexy, like how my dress shows off my breasts. And my nipples.., Oh Yeah.., you can bet he has told me how nice he thinks those are. It’s a game with him, a game in which the inside of my head is the prize. He is tempting me to fantasize about having sex with him. We both know that if I ever do that, I am doomed.” “He’s interested, Kathy,” I interjected, “that’s the main thing. Get rid of Stan and go after him while you’ve still got his attention.” “Yeah,” she answered me, “I can get rid of Stan, and I might or might not be able to catch Steve Hamilton to replace him. If I don’t, tho, what happens then? And, if I do, what is Steve really like, and what might he do to me?” “Look sweetheart,” I responded to Kathy’s quandary, “faint heart not only never won fair lady, it never put a cock in a girl’s pussy either. Go for it girl! Right now, you’ve got nothing to lose.” As we shall see, that advice and opinion just shows how little I knew about Steve Hamilton. Kathy didn’t exactly do as I said, but neither did she try to patch things up with Stan. Instead, she equivocated, like we all do when we don’t have the courage to make up our mind. She wouldn’t dump Stan and her marriage outright, but she did turn a cold shoulder on him. She refused to sleep with him, and she threatened to go to court for a restraining order if he hit her any more. He responded by picking up some bimbo in a bar somewhere, and moving in with her. Stan and Kathy had split, but they were not separated in any legal or even agreed way. Kathy in the meantime began to go out with Steve, not every night, but every couple of days during the work week she would have diner with him or go with him to a movie. I couldn’t stand being on the outside of this soap opera, and finally I asked her what the hell was going on. “Look honey,” I asked, “have you been to bed with him yet?” As you can see, subtle diplomacy is not my strong suit. “No.” was all I got for a reply. “Well why the hell not?” I asked unsatisfied with her answer, and pushing her for the details. “To be honest,” came Kathy’s answer, “because he refuses to screw me.” “The son of a bitch isn’t queer, it he? That would just be too much,” I exploded. “No, not hardly,” Kathy said. “To the contrary he is the most completely masculine man I have ever met. To be totally honest about it, I have been willing to jump into the sack with him for some time now, but he won’t touch me sexually unless I agree to a permanent relationship with him. After he kissed me good night on our first evening together he told me quite bluntly that he wanted to fuck me, that he intended to fuck me, but he would not do it until he owned me.” “Well,” I told my friend, “that’s better than I ever hoped for. He won’t screw you until you marry him. What a quaint idea.” “No, that isn’t what he meant at all,” Kathy went on to explain. “He wants to own me, not marry me. Own me, like in a harem, as in sex slave! He says he will fuck me only when I am naked on my knees, wearing his collar around my neck, and begging him for his cock. He insists that I must give myself to him as his cunt slave, the same way a middle eastern concubine would service her Sultan.” “Well, you’re certainly not going to do that.” I said, shocked at the very idea of my beautiful Kathy kneeling naked and begging for a man to fuck her..., but titillated at the dirty pictures that ran through my mind. “Don’t be too sure,” Kathy replied rather absently as if weighing pros and cons that I was unaware of. “I told you before he was trying to get into my head, to make me fantasize about him. Well, God help me, he won that game. For weeks now I have had dirty day dreams about what it might be like to be on my back with him kneeling between my spread legs, aiming his erect penis at my open cunt. It’s a thought so delicious that I don’t know how much longer I can hold out. I think about his cock all the time now. I wonder how big it is, how hard does it get, and what will taste like when I take it in my mouth? Right now, just getting on my knees and begging for it seems like a small price to pay for something I want so badly.” “No, Kathy! You can’t mean that. What kind of a man would demand that a woman demean herself like that? Get a hold of yourself.” I was absolutely wild at the very thought that my very best friend would seriously consider becoming some bastard’s sex slave. “Easy for you to say,” Kathy answered me. “No one has ever put the make on me like this before..., and I dare say, it has never happened to you either. Until it does, you can’t begin to imagine the ways Steve finds to pick at a woman, how he can remind her over and over how feminine she is, and what that means to her.” “Hell I know exactly how feminine I am, and it doesn’t mean I am going to get on my knees and beg for any man’s tallywhacker,” was my quick reply. “No, Marge,” Kathy came back at me, “I know you too well. You have no idea, none at all, about being the woman Mother Nature intended you to be. You won’t ever know until some man makes your cunt leak just by being in the same room with you. When pussy juice begins to run down your leg even tho you haven’t been kissed, caressed, or even touched, let me know. Then you can tell me what you will or won’t do to have that man between your legs.” I tried to interrupt with a denial, “That’s not true at all...” but Kathy cut me off and gave me no chance to go farther. “It is true, Marge. Your experience is pretty thin. You went off to college and married a nice modern guy, one who read all the books. But women are not the way Tim’s books told him we are. There was not one word in there about how absolutely essential a man is to a woman. Not a word about how alone and helpless we feel without one. Equality in wages and opportunity is one thing, but it is quite another to believe that women are simply men with different plumbing. Excuse me for saying so, but your husband doesn’t have a clue.” “And, you of all people should know that, Marge. Tell me..., when Tim was courting you, did he have any idea how desperate you were. Did he ever suspect how eager you were to spread your legs if only he had known how pull your trigger? Of course he didn’t. Tim didn’t have any idea how to get into your pants without marrying you, or if he did fuck you before your wedding day, neither of you were experienced enough to realize how insipid your little roll in the hay really was. I would bet my last dollar that neither of you has learned any better since, but you have a good man, a decent man. He asked you to marry him, and you accepted, but marriages aren’t really about passion. Mostly they are about children, religion, social acceptance, success and security. Beyond such things, your man and his civilized contemporaries haven’t the first notion about the women they are married to. They haven’t the faintest idea how deeply we hunger for a man who will make us into the female we want to be..., a man who will simply take us, fuck us, and make us kneel before him for the pleasure of his penis.” Kathy & Me Ch. 1 “But Kathy...,” I mumbled in one more feeble attempt to have my say, but it was no use. Kathy ignored my interruption and continued, “Perhaps it has been a good thing that men have forgotten our weakness. The good news is women now have a measure of economic and political equality. The bad news is that Mother Nature will not let us forget what it is like to be laid on our backs and hard fucked by a truly demanding cock. We are, therefore, chronically unhappy with our men and our lives, and we can’t really say why. I can tell you why. We are unhappy because our men apparently don’t care enough about us to insist that we submit to them in bed. We are unhappy because until we can have no real commitment to a man, or to the cock that goes with untill we have begged him to stick us with the damn thing.” I didn’t know what to say to Kathy then. She had stopped talking, and was just sitting there, her eyes downcast, looking sad and uncomfortable. I told her, “I hope to hell you know what you’re doing. It sounds to me like this guy is poison, and what’s worse, that you are ready to surrender to the bastard.” “Yes I think so,” was all she said. I couldn’t tell if she meant “yes, she knew what she was doing,” or “yes, she was ready to surrender.” It couldn’t be both, but I was afraid I already knew the answer. I changed the subject, and she and I turned to something more pleasant to talk about. Six days later and it was Saturday again. Late in the afternoon Kathy came over and we sat down over a cup of coffee. “Well,” Kathy began, “It happened.” I was willing to play straight man for her. I asked, “What happened?” Just as if I didn’t know. Kathy shrugged as she began, “When Steve brought me home from the movie last night I took him by the hand and led him up the stairs to my bedroom. I knew what I was to do. I stripped for him. Naked and on my knees, I took off his shoes and socks, and helped him out of his clothes. I handed him a wide leather collar, the one with big steel rings that he told me to buy for myself when I was ready for him to fuck me. He put it around my neck, and attached the leash that went with it.” “If it was girl from the slave market that he wanted, then that is what I would be. I begged him to fuck me. At least that’s what I tried to do. I wanted him in my pussy so bad by then that I was sobbing, and I could hardly get the words out. Over my blubbering, I promised to do whatever he wanted of me if he would just fuck me. I swore that he now owned me; that I would be his sex slave. Stripped and humiliated at what I was doing, weeping with a dog leash hanging down between my breasts, I whimpered and whined for him to give me his cock.” Neither of us spoke for a long time. Finally I asked, “And then....” Kathy didn’t answer right away, obviously she was considering how much she wanted me to know. Finally she shrugged and said, “Oh well, no reason you shouldn’t hear it all. If I’m going to be a slut, I might as well admit it.” “He told me to suck him. I was more than willing to do that, but his penis was almost too much for me. Remember how I wondered what his dick was like...? Well it’s big, Marge, very big..., nine maybe ten inches long and three inches or so around. My lips would only just reach around the head..., but God..., sucking on it was everything I thought it would be and more. I wondered how I could possibly fit such a monster into my poor pussy, but I knew that soon I must take it all inside me. I wanted it all, and somehow I would make it fit. Steve was my master now, and he would make me find a way.” “Anyhow, I sucked him for a while, and all the time I had him in my mouth, he kept pushing a little more meat, and then a little more, past my jaws until I had half of his length and more down my throat. Suddenly he pulled himself away from me. I hated that. I finally had his cock. I wanted to bring him off in my mouth; to swallow his cum for the first time. I protested losing my prize, and demanded that he put it back.” “He told me what I wanted didn’t matter, and that I would be punished for my resistance. For the moment, however, he said the time had come to fuck me. My God, how I wanted that. He lay on his back on my bed and had me throw a leg over him, mount his cock, and then sit down on it. My cunt was flowing like a river, and all that male meat stretched me out as if I had been taking him inside me all my life. It hurt some at first, but, God, did it ever feel good. I have never been so full, or so ready to be screwed...., yet he refused to allow me to move. He had filled me with that great phallus, but now he was not going to let me bring myself off on it. I can’t begin to tell you how frustrated I was right then.” “He said he would not satisfy my pussy until he was sure I understood what it meant to be his slave woman. First, I must hear him out and agree without condition to everything he demanded of me.” “He told me that I must give myself to him absolutely. My tits, my mouth, my cunt, and my ass, he owned them all, and he had the right to use all of them in any way he saw fit. Not only could he use and abuse me as he chose, he could, and would, give me away to others, both men and women. These strangers would take me for their pleasure just as he did. At the same time I was not to have sex with anyone, or even to masturbate myself, except as he ordered me.” “He told me that I would be whipped from time to time. Sometimes I would be punished for misbehaving or failing him in some way, and sometimes just because my pain amused him. I could also expect to be beaten by the men he allowed to fuck me. As his slave I had to expect to be debased and humbled in every way. For example when he wanted to remind me his mastery, he would attach a leash to a permanent ring in my pussy lip and lead me off to be whipped and fucked.” “Then came the biggest shock. He said already has other women in his servitude. He didn’t tell me how many more there are, but he made it quite clear that I must share his cock with them when one of them were in his bed with me. Things wouldn’t end there, either. Occasionally, he expected his concubines to entertain him by making lesbian love to each other as he watched.” “Could I actually do all that? Could I share the penis I loved and so hungered for with some other woman’s mouth or cunt? I’ve never had sex with a another female. Could I put my tongue in a pussy? And, if I couldn’t, what then? At the least, I would surely be beaten and abused, or at the worst he would leave me.” “’Be certain, Kathy,’ he said to me. ‘Do you really want me to own you? There are no options, no halfway. It is all or nothing. Be certain!’” For the first time in a while, I wasn’t sure I could do it. To satisfy his every sexual desire, to wear his pussy ring, even to be whipped and fucked in the ass, that was all O.K.; but to be made a whore for the pleasure of other men, and to have sex with his other women? And, what of those women? Could I bear to think about, let alone watch, the penis I loved so plunging in and out of their cunts? I hadn’t bargained for all that and I began to get cold feet.” Kathy’s story had become more than I could stand to hear. I broke in and asked, “Well surely you told him where to stick it, didn’t you? Surely, you didn’t agree to that kind of shit?” Kathy smiled a knowing smile, and shook her head. “Who are we kidding Marge. It wasn’t like the bastard was really trying to be fair. I had no choice, not really, and he knew it, even if I didn’t. This was all a charade, part of his method. My pussy was on fire, and that was that! For thirty seconds or so, however, I just sat there on his cock, trying my very best to clear my head and think what I should do. Then he played his trump card. Reaching under my arms he lifted me off his cock and sat me down on his thighs. His hard-on just lay there, tilted over against my now empty pussy, its head barely touching my swollen clit.” “I screamed out in protest. To have been finally filled with what I had dreamed about, and then to have it suddenly taken away, was more than any girl could stand. Certainly it was more than I could.” “‘No, No, please, No, put it back,’ I pleaded with him. I began to cry, and tears ran down my cheeks. I tried to reason with him, ‘I have been on my knees and begged you to fuck me, just as you asked. I wear your collar and leash. I have earned your cock, you can’t take it away now.’” “He had no pity. ‘Yes I can, Kathy,’ he told me. ‘Only if I own you can you have this cock, now or ever, and one of the rights of owning you is to deny you whenever I choose. Absolute power over you and your body is what being owned is all about. Those are my terms, and you must consent to them. Say yes, and agree to your servitude. Then my cock will go back in your cunt. Say no, and stay free, but you don’t get fucked. Its up to you Kathy. Which will it be. Do you want me to fuck you..., or not? If its yes, then you must tell me again that I own you. You must beg me again to be my slave..., beg me to please fuck you..., but this time you will also beg to be whipped, to whore for me, and to lick the pussies of my other women. Otherwise I won’t fuck you..., not tonight or ever.’” Shaking my head in disbelief I asked, “Couldn’t you have just said no, Kathy?” “No I couldn’t,” she answered. “But I didn’t give in right away Marge, I swear I didn’t; it was only after he started to count.....” “Slowly he began; ‘One..., Two..., Three...; When I get to ten Kathy I’m going to get up and leave you...; Maybe that stupid shit you are married to will come home and fuck you..., but I won’t..., Four..., Five...,’” “I was too far gone to lose him now. I had to have him inside me, just as he had known all along.” “My surrender was an explosion. ‘Yes, Yes, my God, Yes,’ I promised him. ‘You do own me, all of me. Please make me your slave. Do with me as you like. Beat me if you must. I will be your whore. Give me to strangers to fuck. I will suck the pussies of your other whores if that pleases you. WHATEVER YOU WANT, BUT PLEASE, PLEASE..., PLEASE, TAKE ME NOW! PLEASE FUCK ME NOW!’” As poor Kathy’s story went from bad to worse, I couldn’t bring myself to believe what I was hearing. It just couldn’t be true, but Kathy wouldn’t lie about such a thing, and it was clear she was no where near finished. “He lifted me, and sat me back on his cock then. Now he let me ride him as I wanted. I don’t know how many times I came. It could have been a dozen times and more, or perhaps it was only one huge continuous orgasm. Whichever, I have never been fucked like that before. Dear God, no woman has ever been fucked like that before. I must have teetered there at my peak for ten minutes and more, or was it for an hour, I don’t really know. Just when I thought I could stand no more, I felt him shoot into me.” “Afterwards, he let me just sit there for a while enjoying the fullness of my pussy as his cum oozed out from around his pecker. Finally, he pulled me off and put me to work cleaning him with my tongue. His cum was salty and sweet, and I could taste myself on him. It was all an aphrodisiac to me. Never have I been so turned on.” “It wasn’t long tho before he brought me back to reality. He reminded me of how I had protested when he took his cock out of my mouth. It was now time to pay for my misdemeanor. He led me by my leash to the bottom of the stairs. He made me stand on tip toe facing the staircase as he pulled my hands up toward the banister rail, and tied them there. I hung there trying to stretch my toes to take the weight off my arms while he rummaged around in the hall closet. He found an old fishing rod there, and from the tip end he cut himself about a three feet length. He used that to cane my bottom. It hurt like hell. I screamed in pain and sobbed out my promise to never argue with him again. He marked me, Marge, marked me with big red whelts across my ass and thighs. Would you like to see what a slave’s ass looks like after she has enjoyed a night of sex with her master?” I don’t think Kathy expected an answer to that question, and I didn’t give her one. “He took me down then, Marge, and turned me around to face him before retying my arms back up over my head. This time tho instead of being on my toes, my weight was all on my feet as he spread my legs and tied them off to the side. I was much more comfortable than before, but I was scared to death he had turned me around so he could cane my belly and breasts. Thank God, tho, he was through beating me. Instead he knelt between my spread legs, and took my whole pussy into his mouth. Bound to the stair case and helpless as I was, all I could do was enjoy the moment and throw my crotch forward to ride his tongue. Up and down my slit he licked, and for longer than I could stand he nibbled on my clit and hunted for sensitive spots in the walls of my cunt. I came, and I came, until I thought my heart would stop under the strain.” “God help me, Marge,” Kathy continued, “I don’t care what he does to me. It is worth any pain, any humiliation, just to be eaten like that. If you just knew how good that tongue was, you would certainly agree, and so would any woman. If a man will just lick a woman like that, slavery in return is more than fair.” “Even then tho, he wasn’t yet though pleasuring me. He took he back upstairs to bed, laid me on my back, and fucked me again. Oh, how gloriously he fucked me again. My poor whipped bottom burned like fire rubbing against the blanket every time he thrust into me. I didn’t care. I was having one crashing orgasm after another. What did a little pain matter? What did it matter that my poor pussy was so stretched that I thought it might split? Only with my legs spread as wide as I could make them reach was I able to take all of him. I have never been so open for a man, and none has ever been so deep inside me.” “For the second time that night, he came in my pussy, and once again he had me clean his cock with my lips and tongue. Even then he was not done with me. Hard once more, he dog fucked me on my hands and knees. At first, however, he left me just dangling there on the end of his cock, and when I could stand it no more, he allowed me to pump my hips to slide myself on and off that great rod. Only at the end did he ride me hard like a dog bitch, driving me forward, pulling me back, making my dangling tits bounce and flop. When he was finally ready to sleep, he used the rings on my collar to tie my head between his thighs. I was told to suck on him gently as he dropped off to sleep, and thereafter I was to let his cock soak in my saliva over night. I spent the rest of the night that way, my head tied to his crotch, and his soft penis in my mouth. I didn’t get much sleep, but then I had a lot to think about.” Kathy had finished her story. There wasn’t much more for either of us to say. I asked her, “Are you sure this is what you want, Kathy? Its not too late, you can still break it off with him.” “No, Marge, its not what I want,” she replied, “but it is what he wants, and that’s what matters.” She paused before she went on, “To have his cock in my mouth, to have him eat me, to have him fuck me again the way he did last night, I will do anything he wants, anything at all.” Kathy got up from the table suddenly, and without another word she fled out the door. She was crying as she went. To be Continued… Kathy & Me Ch. 2 The days flew by and I didn’t see Kathy again except to wave to her from the front door as our paths crossed ever so briefly in the going and coming of our lives. Even though she was my best friend, I was reluctant to get too close to the trouble brewing next door. Two weeks had gone by before I finally sat with her in my kitchen again. “Come on girl give with the dirt,” I said. I’m dying to know how this slave thing is going down.” “I’m not sure I know,” was Kathy’s response. “I’ve never been submissive to a man before. There are times..., times when I am ashamed to be so horny and hungry for his cock..., times when he humiliates me by making me crawl naked to him on all fours, my pussy wet and swollen, my breasts swaying under me..., those are times when I wonder why I let him do this to me. Then there are the times right after those when he fucks me, and my God..., the orgasms I do have. Then I think how silly it was for me to resent what he does to me. You see, doesn’t really abuse me, Marge, at least not the same way my husband did. Everything Steve does to me has a purpose. He is always pushing the envelope, raising the level of sexual intensity.” “Has he beaten you again?” I asked remembering Kathy had told me that he had done so on the first night he had fucked her. “Yes, but not often,” Kath answered. “Actually he’s pretty lenient with me. I’m resistive and misbehave sometimes, but I’ve been tied to the staircase banister and caned only twice since I was punished on our first night together.” Kathy shuddered a little, apparently from the thought of that banister. Then she continued. “Everything he does to humble me, even being caned, turns me on. Surrender and submission I’ve found do that to me..., its like BANG, and I’m in heat. Begging for a cock is a very sexy thing to do. You should try it sometime. I promise you, it will make your pussy wet.” “Oh, sometimes its seems too much, too far out, especially when he makes me really grovel, but the shame passes, and after all, surrender is such a small price to pay for the pleasure he gives me. Am I willing pay that price? You bet I am! He has made his point. The price and the payoff are two sides of the same coin. Submission and orgasm are the ying and yang of being female.” “Don’t you ever have to act, pretend, in order to play the game he wants?” I asked Kathy. “Once in a while,” Kathy admitted. “I was reluctant when he fucked my bottom for the first time. I had never taken a man there, and I wasn’t too sure I wanted to, especially a man with a dick the size of Steve’s. It was something new, something I was afraid of, and I resisted him. He refused to relent. He took me to the staircase and he caned me. Then he laid me over an arm of the sofa, and made me hold the burning cheeks of my ass apart with my hands. I could see he was going to stick his cock up my rear no matter what I did, so I gritted my teeth, and pretended, faking the passion with which I begged to fuck my ass.” “Actually, once he got the damn thing in me, it felt pretty good. I even got my rocks off. That may not prove much, tho. Steve keeps me so sexed up all the time that I orgasm now for almost no reason at all. Anyhow, since then he has butt fucked me pretty regularly, and when I beg him to take my ass, I’m not pretending anymore. Like I have been telling you, submission is inherently sexy, and a woman is never more submissive when she is on her hands and knees being ass fucked.. One thing feeds the other. Steve knows that and uses it to push me into being a horny bitch always obsessed with his cock.” I was full of questions, and I interrupted, “Has he given you to a stranger to fuck? And what about his other women? Have you met any of them?” Kathy grimaced before she began her answer, “No Steve hasn’t made me fuck another man yet. He mentions it once and a while, and once we had a kind of mini-orgy with one of his other slaves and her husband. All Steve allowed the husband, however, was to lick my pussy. That has been as far as I have had to go with another man up to now.” “Steve has been careful not to push me into anything I might not be able to handle yet. So far he seems satisfied to indoctrinate me with little erotic gestures. Like, he makes me do my housework naked with a leash on my dog collar. The damn thing hangs down between my tits, and its handle bumps against my pussy with every step I take. I get so horny I can hardly finish vacuuming. Then there’s that ring he punched into my pussy lip. He really enjoys attaching his leash there and leading me off to his bed by my cunt. Can you imagine a more humiliatingly erotic symbol of female sexual servitude than that? Certainly it certifies what I am and who my little ass belongs to.” “And his other slave women?” I asked again, Kathy frowned but continued, “Yes I have met them both.” Kathy paused here, plainly torn with whether she should say anything more on this subject. Finally she must have decided that I was trustworthy. “The first was Sheila, also known as Mrs. Malcolm Porter III.” “That can’t be,” I exclaimed. “Her husband is one of the richest most prominent men in town, and she’s is a pillar of local society. Besides, she must be at least ten years older than Steve.” “All that is true,” Kathy replied, but she is also Steve Hamilton’s sex slave, and a very horny one at that I might add. You ought to see her on her back with her lily white patrician legs spread wide, pleading for Steve to stick her with his cock. She licks a mean pussy too. I can tell you that from personal experience, Her favorite thing though is a big dick up her ass! She likes it there best of all when Steve makes her kneel with her head and shoulders on the floor, her ass in the air, and her hands tied behind her back.” “She is really very nice though, and she has been kind to me. I don’t think Steve wants us to be friends, but we have become so anyway. We sometimes have a chance to talk after Steve is asleep. She told me that when she was a senior in high school, a college boy she had a crush on dated her for New Year’s eve. Instead of welcoming the new year, her date tied her hands behind her back, fucked her and made her suck him off. Even though she had been a virgin before that attack, she had several orgasms from the abuse she took. After that experience she wanted more of the same, and she still can’t enjoy sex unless the man dominates her.” “Her husband is twenty two years older than she, and is himself sexually submissive. There was no way he could satisfy Sheila, or cope with what she needed done to her in bed. He had already paid off two unsatisfied wives in expensive divorces, however, and he needed to keep this one happy. Mr. Porter somehow heard about Steve’s talents, and he negotiated for Steve to take her on and give her the kind of sex she craves. It was a good deal for Steve. A gorgeous mature blond was not only handed to him ready and willing to be his sex slave, and she brought with her a handsome dowry for his services. “I assume,” I interjected, “that the rules for her are different..., that she doesn’t have to screw other men for example.” “Oh no,” Kathy replied, “Steve would never agree to anything like than, no matter what the fee. She herself told me that she gets fucked and abused by strangers just like we all do..., or will’” Kathy frowned at the amendment she had to add to the end of her last sentence. “You mean that the big shot Mr. Porter allows his wife to be a whore for strange men, and even pays somebody pimp for her?” My voice must have sounded as incredulous I found the very idea of it to be. “Not only that, Marge, but he also participates,” Kathy told me. “Steve and his friends fuck her and abuse her right in front of him. They make fun of him and call him names while doing so. After they have all screwed her, they make her crawl on her hands and knees over to her husband so he can clean her cum filled cunt with his tongue.” “Have you seen that happen,” I asked. “No, but I know it does because Sheila told me. Besides, remember the mini-orgy I mentioned earlier, well that was with Sheila and Malcolm. I saw for myself Malcolm Porter III naked and wearing a slave collar. I sat on his face while he licked my slit and Steve was fucking his wife in the same bed with us. After Steve dropped his load in Sheila’s cunt, Steve made Malcolm clean her pussy out with his tongue. Both Porters then had to wait on their knees at our bedside listening to Steve fuck me in their bed, and after we finished poor Malcolm had another pussy to clean, only mine this time. As a grand finale, Steve made each of them hold a vibrator up the other’s ass while they sucked each other in the 69 position. Mr. Porter III and his good looking blond wife may be big shots in this town, but in the bedroom, they do whatever Steve Hamilton tells them to.” “But Kathy, what about Bob’s other female slave? You said you had met two of them.” I was so into Kathy’s story by now I could hardly contain myself. “Yeah, that would be Victoria Winthrope,” Kathy answered me. “You know the little blond that’s always being mentioned in the newspaper society columns as having attended such and such a big deal rich bitch function, usually in the company of one Steve Hamilton.” A frown came across Kathy’s face at the mention of the name Victoria Winthrope. It was clear she didn’t care much for Victoria, perhaps even a little jealous. “She may be a debutante but she’s also only another one Steve Hamilton’s cunt slaves just like I am. She is such a first class bitch though. The night Steve wanted to fuck Vicky and I together for the first time she became so bitchy that she disobeyed him. I didn’t like Vicky even then, but Sheila had already shown me how to lick a pussy, and I was ready to do what I had to. Steve sent me up to bat first, and I brought Vicky off with my mouth like a good little slave girl. Vicky, however, decided my pussy wasn’t good enough for her.” “Her refusal to eat me angered Steve and he really lit into her. Vicky never had a chance. Steve hung Vicky up by her ankles from a pair of ceiling eye hooks. Her head and shoulders were on the floor but her legs were up in the air and spread. Steve opened a dresser drawer and took out an evil looking thing with a handle at one end and half dozen of so short nylon thongs at the other. Steve called it his pussy whip, and used it to beat the little society bitch directly on her cunt. You can’t believe how quickly Victoria changed her mind about sucking my cunt, even begging to do so.” “Steve had other ideas. He left her hanging there while he fucked my ass. When we were finished, he had me sit on Victoria’s face so that his jism oozing out of my bottom dripped into her mouth. Then he made her use her tongue to probe my ass hole and make sure it was clean.” “Victoria spent the rest of the night with her hands cuffed behind her, kneeling on the floor at the end of Steve’s bed with a vibrators strapped into her cunt and ass. Every time Steve finished fucking me, she had to crawl into my crotch and tongue me to orgasm. With his cum dripping from my pussy, Steve would laugh and tell her, ‘Give her another one, Vicky, one for the road.’ Then Steve would have her suck him hard again, and I know she could taste me all over his cock. Little Vicky never did get fucked and she didn’t have a fun evening. She blames me for that and she hates me for it. It’s O.K. though, I don’t like her much either.” I still had a big question for Kathy. “What about Stan?” I asked. “What are you going to do about him, and does he know what is going on?” “God, I wish I knew,” Kathy answered me. “He has begun to call me a couple of times a day so I know he is suspicious. I keep warning Steve about him, but Steve won’t even be discrete about sleeping with me at my house. Anyone can see him coming and going at all hours. Steve says not to worry, that he will take care of Stan when the time comes.” “Jesus,” I told Kathy, “you mean to tell me that Stan has just been left a loose cannon to roll around the deck? He’s one very big mean dude, and he’s likely to kill somebody when he finds out you have a lover.” “Yes, I know all that, Marge,” Kathy replied, “but what can I do. I can’t call him up and say, ‘guess what Stan, I have found someone who screws me better than you did, and I want a divorce.’ I don’t know what to do, but I’m going to have to trust Steve when he says he will take care of the problem.” My husband Tim came into the Kitchen right then, and Kathy and I had to cut our talk short. It was the last time I had an opportunity to discuss things with Kathy before my phone rang at about 9 p.m. four days later. It was Kathy, and she was sobbing and almost hysterical. “Hello..., Marge..., this is Kathy,” she began. “Please..., please come over right away. Stan is downstairs and he knows about Steve. I don’t know whether Steve will come by tonight or not, and I can’t reach him to warn him to stay away. I need your help. If you’re here maybe Stan won’t hurt me, and if Steve does show up, maybe Stan won’t dare kill him in front of a witness. My God, Stan is twice Steve’s size. He might beat him to death if someone isn’t here to stop him.” “No Kathy,” I told her, “let me call the police. We’ll get you out of there and let the cops take care of whatever happens next.” “No, Marge..., Please no police,” she begged me, “You know how dirt travels around here. If the police come, this whole thing will be all over town by morning. I know what they will all be saying too: ‘That slut Kathy had to call the cops to keep her husband from killing her lover. Hot little piece of ass that Kathy..., always knew she was.’ My folks will find out, and it will break their hearts. And, the office..., the girls there will make my life hell after what I said about the way they were fawning over Steve. Anyway Kate's and Cramer is very sensitive about scandal. I’ll probably lose my job.” “O.K. Kathy, no police,” I promised, ‘but I’m not sure that me being there will do anything but add one more body bag to take away in the morning. What good will I be, really? Why don’t you just leave, and let the two men do their thing?” “Because, Stan won’t let me out the door, that’s why,” she screamed her answer at me. “He has me stripped down to my panties and bra, and he says that after he’s finished with Steve, he’s going to tie me to the bed and rape my ass hole. Please come Marge, you’re my only hope. With you here there’s at least a chance. Otherwise for sure Steve or I, or maybe both of us, are going to be dead.” “Alright Kathy, I’m on my way,” I finally relented. “I wouldn’t do this for anyone in the world but you. Maybe we will get lucky and Steve won’t come by.” I slipped away without saying anything to Tim. Tim is no fighter. No reason to have him in this, and there was no time to explain things. Within a minute or two of the phone call I was at Kathy’s front door ringing the bell. Stan opened it. Behind him stood a terrified Kathy in her bra and panties like she said. Stan was surprised to see me. Obviously he thought it would be Steve at the door. “Hi, Stan,” I said brightly, trying to bluff my way by pretending that I didn’t know what was going on. “Is Kathy home?” “Hell, yes,” Stan answered, “and you ought to be too. Go home, I’ve got some business to do with Kathy’s God damned boyfriend, and you’re going to be in the way.” “Well, I’m not going home,” I told him as bravely as I could muster, “and, if I do go home I’m going to call the police and we’ll see what they say about the ‘business’ you have planned.” This time my bluff worked. I could see in his face that he didn’t want the police, and he started to back down a little. “Come in then God damn it,” he told me, slamming the door behind me. “I don’t know what the hell you think you are doing here, but stay out of my way. I’m going to teach that son of a bitch he can’t come into my house a fuck my wife in my bed, and you are not going to stop me.” I rushed by him to give Kathy a reassuring hug, although, in truth, I needed a hug and something more for my own morale. There was no time to say or do anything more because just then a car pulled into the Konichech driveway. We heard the car door slam and seconds later the door bell rang. When Stan yanked it open, there stood Steve. He didn’t even look startled by the hulking figure that blocked his entrance.” “Well hello, I assume you’re Stanley Konichech,” Steve said calmly. May I come in, or shall we fight out here in the yard and entertain the neighbors?” “Yeah, come in you son of a bitch. I don’t care whether I bust your ass out there or in here. You are dead meat anywhere, mister.” Stan was almost foaming at the mouth as he stood there threatening the icy cool Steve Hamilton. Steve brushed by him and went over to the trembling Kathy, and kissed her lovingly on the cheek. “Its O.K. sweet thing,” he told her, “everything will be just fine.” With that he turned back to face Stan, and said, “and you were saying...?” That insolence did it for Stan. With a bellow of obscenities he charged, his face flushed and his fists raised. Steve braced for the attack in the classic stance of a professional prize fighter, weight on the balls of his feet, crouching on bent knees, with forearms raised in front of his face. Stan threw a sweeping right as he bore down on what he was sure was a walk over. Steve stepped straight forward inside Stan’s flailing arm, and threw a piston straight left jab..., except that this was no mere jab. Solidly behind it was Steve’s left shoulder, and it caught Stan coming toward the punch at full bore. Steve’s fist landed flush on the tip of Stan’s little pug Polish nose. Bone and cartilage gave way with a soft crunch. Stan screamed with pain, and blood gushed from smashed flesh that only an instant previously had been a recognizable part of his face. The stream of blood had not yet reached Stan’s chin when Steve’s second punch followed his first one like a rattlesnake strike. That straight right landed square on Stan’s mouth, split open both his lips, and loosened his front teeth in the bargain. Stan staggered backward shaking his head trying to clear the cobwebs from those two savage punches. Blood was pouring from his nose and mouth, and he sent it splattering everywhere like rain water shaken from the soaked coat of a wet dog. Stopping to think was never Stan’s thing. He was hurt, hurt bad, but all he knew to do was to come on again, still flailing, trying as best he knew how to strike back. His lunges were clumsy and futile. Steve side stepped every charge and snapped quick hard lefts and rights into the bloody mess that was now Stan’s face. Tim and I had seen a bull fight in Mexico City when we were there on our honeymoon. This was just like that. Helpless before the agile and graceful toreador, the strength of the bull was bled away. The rushes of the bull were weaker now, and finally Kathy’s personal matador stepped inside for the kill. A savage right uppercut landed just below Stan’s heart. Stan sagged, and as his hands dropped from the body blow, Steve threw a crushing left hook that almost took off Stan’s lantern jaw. Stan went to his knees like he had been hit with a two by four. Before he could slump farther, however, Steve stepped back and swung his leg in a sweeping kick. His instep landed squarely across Stan’s brow and drove him suddenly upwards and back. Stan’s head hit the floor with a solid thump, and he lay still, out cold on his back, or maybe he was dead from all I could tell. Steve sent Kathy after fishing line to tie Stan, and then upstairs to bring down the video camera and its tripod. While she was gone Steve turned to me and said, “I need your help. I need to put him in such a box that he won’t dare make any more trouble. You and I are going to set this gorilla up on video begging me to fuck his wife while I do just that. This macho piece of shit won’t want his animal friends see that he lost the fight over his wife, and wound up a fool and a coward as well.” Kathy & Me Ch. 2 “You are going to run the camera for this cinema masterpiece, and when necessary give Stan here the motivation he needs to play his part. I hope you get off on this kind of movie, Marge, because its the only way I have to keep Stan from coming back. The next time he will bring his friends. Alone, I can whip him, but I can’t handle him and four or five of his stupid buddies all at the same time.” While I set up the camera, and Steve and Kathy went to work on the unconscious Stan. First they tied Stan’s hands behind his back. Then they stripped him of shoes, socks, pants and underwear. They folded his legs under him yoga like, and at one end of a short length of stout fishing line, Steve tied a slip knot that he looped tightly around Stan’s cock and balls. The other end Steve tied to one of Stan’s big toes with about two feet of slack. That toe Steve then connected with another 10 inches or so of line to the big toe on the other foot. Any attempt by Stan to stand up or straighten his legs would be unpleasantly painful at best, and disastrous to his manhood at worst. Right below the slip knot, Steve carefully slid Stan’s testicles between the jaws of a small carpenters clamp he retrieved from the garage. After tightening the bolts of the clamp to just enough that its jaws held Stan’s tender balls in a firm grip, Steve turned to me and said, “OK camera lady. From right over here you can catch Stan in the foreground and Kathy and I on the couch in the same picture. I want a lot of close ups of Stan while he is begging me to fuck his wife. He will refuse to cooperate at first, of course. Then I will tell you to motivate him. Leave the camera running and focused on him. Go tighten the vice a little. Not too much. Just enough to make him scream. I will ask him again to do as he was told. If he still refuses, I will have you tighten some more. He will scream. We will go on like that until he does what I want him to. This tape is our insurance policy so do a good job. Got it?” I told him that I did, and about that time Stan began to come around. He was groggy, but as the minutes passed he became more and more coherent, or at least as coherent as Stan ever is. “What the hell is this,” Stan asked as he tested his bonds. “This is called ‘losing the fight’ you stupid ass hole,” Steve replied. “Don’t go moving your legs real fast unless you would like to sing soprano. And, by the way, do you like movies Stan? See that video camera over there, well, you and I and Kathy are going to make a movie. I will be fucking your wife on the couch there. You, however, are going to be the real star, because you have all the good lines. You are going to beg me to keep fucking your wife all the while she is enjoying my dick.” “Like hell I will,” Stan interjected. “Yes Sir, its going to be just like hell. That’s for sure. Have you noticed that vice on your balls? It’s not tight yet, but it will be..., tight enough that you will be glad to cheer Kathy on while she enjoys my cock. Yes Sir Stan, it’ll be just like hell! You will either beg me to fuck your wife, real loud like so the camera can hear you, or I’m going to turn your balls into two pieces of pressed lunch meat.” And that is pretty much the way things went down from there. Steve had Kathy begin the tape by posing in front of the camera as she took off her bra and panties. I thought it was a bit much to ask of Kathy, but she didn’t object, and a beautiful woman stripping herself naked like that certainly made a sexy opening scene. Steve called out to Stan, “Beg me to fuck your wife Mr. Konichech.” “Fuck you son of a bitch,” Stan answered. “Marge, go convince Stan that he is Marlon Brando. A good method actor needs to understand his role.” I went to where Stan lay at the foot of the couch and tightened the screw on the vice a quarter turn. Stan screamed. “Are you ready to beg me to fuck your wife now shit head, or to you want Marge to take up another notch on that vice?” Stan didn’t say anything. He just sat there sobbing with pain. “Explain his part to him again, Marge,” Steve told me, and I gave the vice bolt another nudge..., not too much though because I wasn’t sure at what point I would do some real damage to Stan’s poor nuts. Stan screamed again, but this time he was more than willing to give in. “God, please, O.K., O.K., please fuck my wife God damn it.” “No, No, I mean with feeling shit head, make me think you mean it. Another little turn please, Marge,” Steve said as he continued to torment poor Stan. “God, No, No,” Stan pled with me as I started toward him. “I’ll do it! I’ll do it! I swear! Fuck my wife, Fuck my wife.” “Okay, Marge,” Steve told me. “I Think he’s got it. By George, I think he’s got it.” Then addressing Stan, Steve told him. “Stan try to remember: it’s ‘PLEASE fuck my wife MR. HAMILTON;’ and don’t forget to tell her to enjoy what I’m doing to her. And ask me to do this often, and stuff like that. Improvise, you shit head, because if I don’t like your performance, Marge will make crushed almonds out of your nuts.” From there on Stan did everything exactly as he was told. He begged for Steve to fuck Kathy, and with a little prompting, told him that he could fuck her anytime he wanted, asked Kathy have a good time on Steve’s cock, etc. All the while, Steve had Kathy sitting on his cock pumping herself up and down on it in a frenzy. It was obvious that Kathy wasn’t just acting. Despite the circumstances, Steve’s cock was like candy to my sweet Kathy. She just couldn’t get enough of it. In the beginning, I was embarrassed to be taping my butt naked best friend fuck the balls off her lover with her husband watching. I must admit, however, that the longer I watched, the more I was turned on by it all. Steve eventually came, of course. No man could stand having Kathy’s velvet pussy ride his cock indefinitely. He had no sooner filled Kathy with his cum, however, than he ordered a new scene added to our movie. He lifted Kathy off his softening penis and moments later he had her crouched in front of Stan with her legs spread and straddling his face. “Alright, shit head,” Steve told him, “now lick your wife clean of my cum. Be good for something. God knows, you aren’t man enough to fuck a pussy, but maybe you can eat one. So lick out my cum and swallow it, shit head, it will make you grow up big and strong.” Stan’s lips and teeth had taken a terrible beating in the fight and his wife’s pussy grinding on his mouth must have been very painful to him. At first he resisted, but Steve reached for the clamp once more, and Stan gave in, licking and sucking vigorously on Kathy’s slit. After Stan had thoroughly cleaned Kathy’s cunt, Steve put the icing on the cake. Moving Kathy out of the way, he took her place over Stan’s face and put his cock up against his poor battered lips. “All right, you faggot son of a bitch,” Steve told his victim, “now you can suck me clean too; and if you bite me, I swear your nuts are mush.” Stan refused to open his mouth for Steve’s cock until Steve took one more small turn on the clamp. That was enough, and my camera recorded for posterity the big tough he-man Stanley Konichech sucking the cock that had just fucked his wife. After Steve shut down my video camera, he knelt down close by Stan, and said. “I’m going to turn you loose now, shit head, but before I do, lets get a few things straight. First, when I cut you loose you are going leave quietly because if you don’t, I’m going to knock your teeth out one by one. Second, from here on out you’re going to be a good boy. Kathy will file a divorce suit that you will consent to. In that divorce you will voluntarily deed her this house. It was her money that bought it anyway.” Stan didn’t look very happy, but he didn’t argue, and Steve went on, “And, you’re going to leave Kathy alone from here on out, and me too. If you ever feel tempted to do otherwise, run you finger along your nose. It will remind you what I’m going to do to you don’t behave yourself.” Finally, don’t go crying to those shit head friends of yours for help. Dumb as they are, I bet they just love dirty movies. If you bring them into this, I will see to it they all get copy of the little XXX rated number Marge captured on tape tonight. It may be less than an Alfred Hitchock production, but your jerk off buddies will enjoy the hell out of it. They probably haven’t seen you beg a man to fuck your wife before, or suck his cock when he finishes. After your buddies see that, I suspect you won’t be Big Stan at the bowling alley anymore.” By the time Steve finished talking to him, Stan looked positively drained. “Do, you understand me, shit head,” Steve asked. “Yeah, I understand,” Stan replied. “But are you going to do as you are told?” Steve demanded pointedly. Stan did the best he could to save what little pride he had left. “Yeah, you can have the little bitch. I was tired of her anyway. I could take you next time, but its not worth the hassle. I just wanted to teach her a lesson before I threw her out anyway.” “Good!” was Steve’s response. “We are in agreement then. Now you get the hell out of here.” Stan left quietly, and I went home. To Be Continued... Kathy & Me Ch. 3 A week after Steve drove Stanley Konichech from Kathy’s life, she filed for a divorce. Her Petition was quickly granted without opposition. Stan signed over the house to his ex-wife as Steve had insisted, and shortly thereafter Steve gave up his apartment and moved in with Kathy. To all appearances, Kathy and Steve were just another couple with the usual late twentieth century semi-respectable ‘living together’ relationship. Only I and those closest to Steve knew what Kathy really was, or about the other two women Steve kept as his concubines. Some evenings expensive black cars would come and go at Kathy’s home in the wee hours. Otherwise, the dull routine of faceless suburbia covered our neighborhood. Kathy and I talked from time to time and she seemed generally content with her situation. She was relieved and grateful to be rid of Stan, and even though the sex Steve gave her was demeaning, even abusive, she was becoming more and more addicted to it. To be tied naked and spread eagle on the bed, pleading pitifully to be fucked, excited Kathy, and she had come to love it. She even claimed not to mind being tied to the staircase and whipped. Kathy said that waiting to be punished, stripped and helpless like that, turned her on as much as it did Steve. A little pain, and little groveling, they seemed a small price to pay for the to have her pussy filled so delightfully with her man’s big hard cock. Sharing him with his other women, and being shared with other men, were another matter. That was hard for her, and Steve seemed to purposely rub salt into her jealous wound. She broke down and cried as she told me how he insisted that she guide the head of his hard-on into Vicky’s waiting pussy. Then there was the night when he traded her for the wife of man she had never met before. To make things worse Steve screwed the man’s wife right there in the same bed where the stranger was fucking Kathy. When the men were through, they made the women suck each other’s pussy clean of the night’s lovemaking. Kathy was sobbing was almost beyond control as she told me how humiliated she was when despite herself, the woman’s tongue probing her slit gave her an orgasm. That is where things stood as an early summer came busting out all over. My husband, Tim, had no idea about the unusual life style of our neighbors, and I hadn’t enlightened him. He had met Steve only briefly, but he liked him, and he knew how fond I was of Kathy. Innocent of the possible ramifications, Tim suggested that we have Kathy and Steve over for dinner. I had my own reasons for inviting my friend and her new lover over for a social evening . As a couple, they had kept to themselves in the weeks since Steve had moved in with Kathy. I was dying to see for myself if this slave thing was really clicking between them. I was impressed how easily Steve disposed of Stanley Konichech, and I was more intrigued than ever about this man who so completely dominated my friend. He was clearly a man to be reckoned with, but what made him tick? What was his Svengali like attraction to women? I must admit that the more I wondered about Steve Hamilton, I had begun to feel a twinge or two in my own clit. That was how on one Saturday night in late May, Kathy and Steve became our guests for dinner. I worked hard to make the evening as perfect as possible. Well oiled with pre-meal cocktails, we stuffed ourselves on a prime cut of roast beef, and washed it all down with a gallon or so of good red wine. Steve, as usual, was full of southern charm. The dinner conversation was alive and bright, and on occasion even a little raw and bawdy. We were feeling little pain, and enjoying our after dinner coffee and brandy when somehow the conversation turned to Kathy and Steve, and their courtship. Tim was innocently joking about their sex life together despite my attempt to change the subject, when Steve, as was always his way, boldly took the initiative. “Well, you see, Tim,” Steve began, “Kathy and I have something of an unorthodox relationship. Kathy is by her own choice my sex slave.” Tim laughed, and interrupted him a little drunkenly. “Hell yes man, that is always the best way. Keep ‘em barefoot and pregnant! The country started to hell when we allowed them to vote.” No, Tim, you don’t quite understand,” Steve went on trying to explain to my slightly drunk husband. “I mean that quite literally. I own Kathy. That is with her consent to be sure, but she is none the less my property, a sex toy for my pleasure, and I use her sexually in whatever way I see fit. I have no legally enforceable rights, of course. Her obedience is purely voluntary, and if she wanted to leave me, she certainly could do so. I certainly would not try to stop her. Then, however, her hungry little pussy would no longer have my cock to fill it. I fuck her only on the condition that she accepts her servitude and remains submissive to me. She might change her mind someday, as early as tonight perhaps, and decide to deny me her obedience. Until that day comes, however, I own her as completely as any seventeenth century Arabian Sultan owned some poor wench he held captive in his harem.” Steve turned and looked deep into Kathy’s eyes, “Isn’t that true Kathy? Tell Tim what you are.” Even under her spring tan Kathy flushed at Steve’s request, and she looked very uncomfortable as she dropped here eyes and answered, “Yes, that’s true Tim. Steve owns me. I am his sex slave. He uses me for his pleasure whenever and in whatever way strikes his fancy.” “Augh!! You two are pulling my leg,” said Tim with a little laugh, but I could see he was suddenly uncertain, and a little sorry he had ever opened the door on this business. Steve, was not embarrassed though, and he continued on. “I’m glad you brought the subject up Tim. I can see that your wife has been too loyal to her friend to share with you what some might call our dirty little secrete. Such discretion is a rare virtue. I thank her for it, but Kathy and I have nothing to hide from our friends. We are all entitled to our privacy, but the truth is what the truth is, and it can’t be escaped. Before long you might notice things you wouldn’t understand, or perhaps you will hear smutty little rumors that would make you wonder what is going on next door. Before that happens I want you to hear the real story from the horse’s mouth.” Steve paused, but all this seemed more than poor Tim could absorb and my husband said nothing. Nodding at Tim’s silence, Steve continued, “You see, Tim, female submission is not as rare as you might think, even in this day of democratic and equalitarian anarchy. Women were never the virginal, asexual, fragile, and frigid creatures that Christianity tried to make of them. Neither are they the independent and self reliant imitation men that feminist politics would have us believe. The fact is that few women are vestal virgins. Fewer still are assertive or confident enough to survive alone at the fiercely competitive level required in a male dominated world. I do not mean to imply that the female is inferior to the male. If all talents are averaged, they are no less able, no less intelligent than men..., but they are different in many ways. Those differences are important, and none is more so than the way men and women view the opposite sex.” “To men, women are sex, directly and simplistically. Mother Nature wanted men to spread our genes around. She made us polygamous horny creatures always looking for a woman to screw. In the thousands of years that our early ancestors wandered the earth hunting and gathering, the male was pretty much self sufficient. Once he had been laid, primitive man sent the woman back to gathering berries with the other females and children while he wandered off to go hunting with the guys. Modern man is remains programmed in that ancient way, and to us sex is still as simple and uncomplicated as our hormones.” “To the female though, sex is a quite different matter. Getting laid is one thing, and easy enough to do..., there are always lots of male volunteers for that. Sex alone, however, is not enough for the female. For thousands of years, a woman needed a man to protect her from the wild beasts who would have otherwise made a meal of her. She needed a man to hunt for her, and to drive away other marauding males who, if they could, would impregnate her, and then leave her and the child to shift for themselves. Unless the man regarded the female as his property, however, he was unlikely to stick around to defend her, and she learned to accept that. After all, to have a man of her own was the key to her survival, and the survival of her children, in a hostile world. Time has imprinted this need for a man, and what she must do to have one, deep in the female genes. Not all will admit it, but every woman instinctively knows that it is better to be owned than it is to be abandoned and alone.” “There is nothing similar in masculine instinct. Women are important to us, of course, but that importance is not constant. What she has for us between her legs is certainly pleasant, but we never feel, subconsciously or otherwise, that we could not survive without a woman. On the other hand, most women never lose that ancient need to have a male protector and provider all her very own. Why else does every prostitute instinctively find herself a pimp? Clearly satisfying this primal urge to be owned and protected is the all consuming interest of most women’s lives from puberty onward. This difference between the sexes is quite remarkable, and explains much how we treat each other.” Tim looked doubtful and shook his head as Steve continued, “You don’t think so! Test if for yourself! Go spend a day in a woman’s dormitory at any college, and then compare what you hear there to what is being discussed over in the men’s dorm. The girls talk, eat and sleep, boys, boys, and more boys. The men intensely discuss girls too, but their attention span is short. Football, fishing, cold beer, tomorrow’s exam, tonight’s movie, all those subjects will in come up in turn to grab the male attention away from sex and girls. Given her choice, the coed would like to be with her boyfriend all day and date him every night. The boy looks forward to a date this weekend, but tonight he would just as soon go to out drinking with his buddies. Tim interrupted him to ask “If we are so all important to women, why do they make us work so hard to get in their pants?” Steve grinned as he answered, “A good question for sure Tim, but one I have already answered. For a female, sex is the bait Mother Nature has given her to insure her survival. Oh, there is Clark Gable syndrome to deal with, a few men who are so handsome and attractive that almost all women find them sexually irresistible. Women instinctively look for genes like that to pass on to their children, but lets face it, there are not enough super studs to go around. Women know this, and experience soon teaches them that almost any man is better than no man at all. If the woman must settle for a mate less than the hunk of her dreams, so be it. It is enough that he finds her desirable, and lusts so after her body that he might stick around to enjoy the regular use of her pussy. For 98.5% of all the women out there, this is the accepted reality of things.” “Aye, and right there is the rub..., the crack in the female armor. Even the most beautiful woman usually has serious, even if well hidden, doubt about her ability to attract and keep a man, any man at all. Those less endowed by nature live in a panic about it. Whether swan or ugly duckling, every female is out there trying to be sexy, peddling her charms the best she can in the hope that a suitor will show up that she can seduce into a lasting and supportive relationship. The uncertainty of that hope is nerve racking, and most women are stressed to a high level of anxiety over it.” “Fortunately for the species, however, Mother Nature somehow sees to it that almost every woman is sexually desirable to somebody. By a strange inexplicable quirk in the laws of probability, the two of them somehow seem to always find each other. Once a man comes on to her, the woman instinctively interprets his attention as a testament to her desirability. However low the fire in her sexual furnace at his arrival, masculine attention, sincere or not, primes the female pump and causes a woman to blossom erotically. This change is sometimes remarkable and often confuses her poor suitor who hasn’t the slightest notion of what triggered this sudden passion.” “You see, Tim,” Steve continued, “a woman doesn’t start off wanting a particular man nearly so much as she wants some man, any man, to want her. A male is the catalyst of female sexual desire rather than its objective. The female erotic temperature does not depend so much upon how she sees the man, as it does upon how she sees herself. It is only with a heavy dose of masculine attention that a woman can picture herself as alluring, sensual and sexually delectable. Intoxicated by the aphrodisiac of male attention, and the boost it gives to her self-esteem, she begins to wonder what it might be like to have the man between her splayed legs. Here is every woman’s Achilles heel. Any man who understands how to use it properly can fuck himself to death.” “Most men, however, don’t understand, and go about seduction in all the wrong ways. Even the word ‘seduction’ misleads us. To us sex is a physical thing, and therefore seduction must be also. It is common masculine mythology that foreplay is the principle tool of seduction! Grab a bare tit and squeeze it at every opportunity is the masculine game plan. Not so! Foreplay certainly has its place in pleasure filled sex, but it has little to do with seduction.” “Seduction begins in a woman’s head, not in her genitals. The mind, that is the real female erogenous zone. Let her know that you lust for her body, subtly of course, but persistently. That attention will trigger the woman’s urge to have that protective mate, and from there her imagination will take over. Primed with a constant flow of quiet masculine lustful suggestion, she will begin to dwell on her own sexuality. She begins to wonder about the size of his cock, and what it would be like to be filled with it. From there she draws pictures in her mind of what he might do to her once he has her on her back. It is these naughty ideas, not our roaming hands, that will warm her loins, lubricate her vagina, and eventually cause her to spread her thighs for us.” Kathy’s face had by now turned a deep crimson, my husband was clearly too mesmerized by what he was hearing to comment, and me, me I couldn’t think of a thing to say. Without interruption then Steve continued with his monologue. “Properly courted, the woman is readily overwhelmed by her own fantasies, and she will become more and more helpless to resist her lover’s demands. If driven hard enough, all limits on her conduct will be erased, and she will give herself in total submission to her lover. After that surrender, there is no price she will not pay to have the raw sex of her visions..., even if that price is total servitude. Her chains are unbreakable because she forged them herself. They will hold her in bondage as long as her thoughts remain focused the cock that she has committed herself to.” “Tim,” Steve continued, “you’ve heard I’m sure that I have a reputation with women. Yet, I am a very ordinary guy. Women are attracted to me only because I make every mother’s daughter of them believe she is the erotic passionate creature that down deep she would like to be. I am on the make! Everywhere, and all the time! They all know it, and they all love me for it. When confronted by a man on the make, not even the preacher’s daughter gives a damn about western Judeo Christian morality. Many may not yet be aware of their natural passion, but for eons, Mother Nature has prepared them for marauding male who lusts for their bodies and will make them his. I make them believe that I am that man, and to satisfy the desire that my attention arouses in them, they will even become my slaves. Observe if you will the power that is in raw sexual desire.” With that Steve turned to Kathy, and ordered, “Stand up Kathy!” Kathy looked flustered and uncertain, but she stood without comment, awkward and stiff, like a second grade school child waiting for the punishment she knows will soon come. Steve then asked, “Are you wearing panties tonight Kathy?” Kathy blushed under her tan, but she answered, “No, Steve.” “Why not, Kathy?” Steve pushed her to elaborate. “Because you don’t allow me to wear them anymore.” “And, why is that?” Steve unsatisfied with her answer pressed his victim even harder. “Because..., because, with my pussy bare, I feel all horny and sexy, and I think about being fucked all the time.” “How does that happen, Kathy? Explain to Tim here what walking around with a bare pussy does to you.” “Without panties,” a flushed Kathy began, “my pubic hair rubs directly against my dress as I walk. Knowing that my vagina is unprotected makes me feel very vulnerable. I am constantly moist. The men I meet on the street, or those at the office, do they smell me..., does my odor tell them how horny I am..., how open and unprotected I am? If one of my bosses should catch a glimpse of my hairy slit, what will he think? Just another horny bitch, an office slut perhaps? How would he treat such a woman? Would he pull up my skirt, and fuck me right there on the nearest office couch? I imagine myself like that..., on my back, a young lawyer between my spread legs, hung up on his prick like a dog bitch in heat. I didn’t used to think about such things..., when I wore panties I mean.” “You see,” Steve turned back to Tim and was speaking directly to him now. “It’s a small thing, but without panties, Kathy is constantly reminded of her cunt, and that makes her feel sexy and erotic. Her imagination does the rest.” Tim didn’t reply at all. He was clearly flabbergasted to hear our sweet Kathy talking about having her pussy fucked. “Still, you don’t quite believe it eh? Steve turned back to Kathy. “Lift your skirt up Kathy,” he commanded, “and spread your legs. I want you to show Tim your bare pussy. Keep the skirt up till I tell you to drop it.” Kathy started to protest, “Please Steve..., Don’t...,” but she saw the frown on Steve’s face and went no farther. Resignedly she lifted her dress, and held it bunched at her waist. No panties at all! Just the soft curls of pubic hair. Slowly her thighs parted to show us her pussy lips. There in one of those lips, sparkling against the dark hair of her cunt, was a gleaming gold ring. Steve began, “How does it make you feel to show Tim your cunt Kathy?” There was a catch in Kathy’s voice as she answered, “I feel ashamed, very ashamed, and humiliated!” Steve’s next question cut to the quick. “And, why is that Kathy? Kathy’s answer was mater of fact without expression, “because I must be a slut to let you do this to me.” “And what does a slut want most of all, Kathy?” Kathy was red as a beet now as she answered, “To be fucked. I want to be fucked.” “Does it excite you that Tim and I are looking at your cunt, Kathy?” Steve asked. “Yes! Yes it does,” she replied simply, her voice suddenly husky. Steve could see the distress on his woman’s face, and he pushed her on even harder. “Are you wet, Kathy?” Kathy’s lips tightened, but she answered, “Yes I am very wet.” “Show us, Kathy,” Steve requested. “Run your finger up your slit, and show Tim how being put on display like this makes your pussy run.” Kathy’s face remained impassive, but a small tear began to run down the right side of her face. Slowly she inserted her right index finger into her sex, and brought it out glistening with her juices. She said nothing. Kathy & Me Ch. 3 “That’s very good, my sweet harem girl,” Steve told her. “Suck your finger clean now, but please stay as you are and keep your skirt up.” Dutifully Kathy plunged her wet finger between her lips and ran her tongue over it as Steve turned to address my husband once more. “You see Tim, Kathy knows that she has made your dick hard and knowing that has her flushed with desire. That I have forced into such a degrading performance makes her sexual rush all the greater. She hates me right now for making her do this, but she also finds her submission so erotic that she can barely stand it. She aches for me to complete my dominance by fucking her..., even if I should choose to do so right here in front of you and Marge. She would be terribly ashamed were I to publicly fuck her like that, but her need for a cock right now is so great that she is willing to bear any humiliation to have mine inside her. She will even beg me to fuck her while you watch.” “Isn’t that so my dear Kathy?” “Yes Steve,” was Kathy’s simple reply. “Then beg! Do it now!” Steve commanded. Kathy was quick to respond, but she bit her lip as she quietly whimpered, “Please Steve, please fuck me!” Steve frowned and shot back, “Come on Kathy. I have taught you better than that. I said beg! Put some meaning in it! Humble yourself! Marge and Tim want to hear how a slut sounds when she is in heat. Tell us how badly you want my cock..., ask me to fuck you right here and now while they watch.” Kathy was clearly tormented by her situation, but she also understood that she had no choice. “Oh God yes, take me now Steve..., on my back right on the floor if you like..., they can watch me spread my legs and take your cock in my cunt..., I’m begging you..., please, please fuck me. For God’s sake, I have done everything you asked. Give me your cock you bastard! Put it in me! Split me open! For the love of God, please fuck me!” Kathy’s face was flushed with shame and anger, clearly resentful of the way Steve was forcing her to shame herself. “You son of a Bitch..., do you want more? You do want more don’t you? I’ll do more. Would you like a blow job? Don’t you want Marge and Tim to see how I go down on you every morning..., naked and on my knees..., my lips tight around your dick..., careful to catch every drop and swallow it for my breakfast. God, how I do love the taste of your cock and your cum! I’m sure my friends would just love to see me suck you off.” “Would you like me to whore for you? I’ll do that too! Order me to suck Tim’s cock. Marge can watch. I’ll bet she has never seen Tim’s penis in another woman’s mouth. Or, maybe you would rather stick your dick up my ass? Butt fuck me in front of my friends. Let them see the way you make me take you there..., on my knees, my ass in the air, my shoulders on the floor, my nipples rubbing the rug with every thrust..., I don’t care, I’m a whore, a living cunt in heat, and I need to be fucked...,” It was quiet for a moment, no one saying anything. Kathy just stood there, head down, eyes closed, sobbing hysterically, but still holding her dress up to her waist. Then she through her weeping she spoke again, “I have done what you asked. I have been your slut. I have begged you like a common whore. I have shamed myself in front of Marge and Tim. For the love of God, Steve, isn’t that enough? I have earned my reward. Do me now! FUCK ME..., please fuck me now, please, please!” Kathy tried to go on and say something else, but she was unable to get the words out. Steve stood and dried here tears with his handkerchief. “No my sweet thing,” he told her, “I don’t think my little demonstration requires taking things quite so far. It might have been interesting, though, to see you suck Tim’s cock.” “Would you have liked that Tim,” he asked turning his head away from Kathy towards Tim. He gave Tim no chance to answer, however. “I think you would, but you and I are both afraid that Marge might not approve.” Tim reacted to Steve’s last comment with a quick look over at me. I could see the question marks in his eyes. I thought to myself..., he wonders what I would say if my best friend gave him a blow job. He is uncertain and wary about just how I am taking all of this. I said nothing as my own eyes returned to poor Kathy standing there still showing us her cunt. Good question, tho! How am I taking it? This horrid man has made my best friend put on a humiliating show in front of my husband..., a disgusting, despicable thing to do. So why is my pussy wet? Why is it I can see myself standing there submissively showing the men my own blond cunt hair..., begging them to fuck me? Why do I ache so to have a cock in me, Tim’s cock, Steve’s cock, anybody’s cock? Steve spoke again. “Some other time perhaps? You can drop your skirt now Kathy. You have done well. I think Tim and Marge have gotten my point. It is time I took my woman home and tied her to the bed where I can tease her properly. A woman must prove her submission each time she takes her pleasure from a penis. Kathy knows that and she knows I will not will I satisfy that itch in her pussy until she shows her obedience once more later tonight.” Then shifting his eyes to me, Steve added, “Tim may decide to require the same of Marge this evening. From the look on her face, she would like that..., and wishes he would.” With that, our guests left. Tim and I just sat there, even too stunned to be polite and show them out. “Would you like me to do that? Tie you naked and helpless to the bed, and tease you..., make you crawl and beg before I fuck you?” Tim asked. Somehow I couldn’t look him in the eye. “Yes,” was all I could get out in reply. “Do you want to suck my cock, Marge?” Tim asked. I was all choked. “Yes, please yes,” was all I could manage in response. Tim opened his fly and dropped his pants and underwear down around his ankles. His voice was hoarse, “Well then, woman, stand up and strip. I want you butt-ass naked, on you knees. Crawl to me bitch! Tell me what you want done to you!” I stood, and submissively as I knew how, removed my clothes. Nude, I knelt before him, and locking my fingers behind my head I thrust out my breasts, offering myself in a pose of servitude. “Yes, my Lord, I will tell you,” I answered my husband’ question. “I want to be forced to spread myself, and then to be raped with your hard cock.” In heat as I was, I could not stop rambling. “Steve is right you know, a woman in never so female as when she surrenders her body to a man. While Steve was shaming poor Kathy tonight, I thought how marvelous it must be to be controlled like that. More than anything I want an owner, a master, just as Steve is to Kathy. Now here I am, naked and on my knees, and I await your command..., and your cock. I beg you! Make me a cunt slave..., your cunt slave! Take me! Use me! Abuse me! Make me crawl and beg before you fuck me. Take me to your bed and tie me there, humble me, tease me, punish me, bend me to your will, but for the love of God, in the end, please fuck me. That is what I want. Do me that way, and I promise that from tonight on I am yours more completely than I have ever been before.” With one hand Tim pulled my head down and onto his cock, and with the other he pinched hard on a nipple. I sucked him in, deeper down my throat than I have ever taken him before. My hands left my head and gripped his hips, pulling him to me where I could swallow him whole. The minutes flew by as I knelt there with my throat gripping his cock. Finally he began to fuck my mouth, plunging in and out until I was rewarded with a flood of salty cum. I had never taken such a load from Tim before. It came in such gushing gobs that I couldn’t swallow it all. The excess ran down my chin and into the hair on to his balls. He left his softening dick in my mouth to soak for a while. Then he slipped away from between my lips, and pulled my head deep into his crotch to lick away the cum I had allowed to spill there. I helped him undress. He freed his belt from his pants, and used it as a noose around my neck to lead me up the stairs to our bed. There he used old neckties to tie my hands straight up to the headboard, and my legs to the corners. My blonde crotch was spread obscenely before him, my juices leaking out onto the sheets. In due time my husband split his worthless slave girl open with his great prick, but that was to be only the beginning. I spent the night bound and helpless, securely tied first in one position and then another..., but what a night. I was Tim’s toy to be played with! He spanked me! He tickled me! He teased me! He tormented me! He made me beg! Oh yes, how I did beg for him to fuck me, to eat me, to let me eat him! I couldn’t get enough! I was his passionate slave woman, and I reveled in it, enjoying it all as I had never enjoyed sex before. When dawn finally began to break, I lay there quietly, knees up with my wrists bound to my ankles, my husband resting at my side, but with his finger hooked in my cunt as if to remind me of his newly found mastery over my body. My thoughts returned to Kathy and how all this began. Could that really have just been hours ago? “Did you want Kathy suck your cock, Tim?” I asked him. “Of course I did,” he replied. “Why didn’t you say so? Steve would have given her to you.” “Because I thought you would object.” “How can a slave wife object to anything her husband and master wants? I asked. “You were only my wife then. You weren’t a slave yet, and I didn’t understand that you wanted to be. We have always been such a correct modern couple, equal and sharing.” “Well,” I responded, “I didn’t know then that I wanted to be a slave either. Anyway, we can still be equal and sharing. It is just that where your cock and my body are concerned, you are master, and I am your cunt slave. I know you will still love me, provide for me and our children, share your life with me, and help me to learn and grow, but we are talking about sex here. In matters male and female, now I have something better. I am a sexy concubine, a whore bitch, desired and lusted after by the man who owns me. I have a more than a husband, I have a master to serve with my mouth, my cunt, my ass. I am not just some old wife. I am my husband’s trashy slut, a woman with a permanently wet pussy that needs to be filled.” “And,” I concluded, “if my husband and owner wants another woman to suck his cock, that is his right. The politically correct wife of his previous life once might have objected, but how could I, a common whore in servitude, possibly do so?” “And, if I want to fuck Kathy?” Tim asked. “Then that is your right too,” I answered. “And, what if in exchange Steve demands that I give you to him?” That was the big question, and I had been waiting for it. I told him straight away, “Then you will decide. I am a whore and you are my pimp. I do not decide such things. I will fuck whomever you tell me, but only those that you choose. Whose cock I want, or don’t want, is not important as long I can have yours in my pussy often.” “Did you want to fuck Steve before tonight?” “I’m not sure, Tim. I think I might have. I couldn’t help but wonder what he was giving Kathy that she found so irresistible. I wasn’t completely hooked, but I was beginning to imagine things like he said. It might not have been long until he had me dangling on the end of his cock. Thankfully though, you marked me first. I know who owns me, and it isn’t Steve. Now I have your cock to fantasize about, and I will have no need for his.” Tim cut me loose then, and I went downstairs to fix his breakfast, and still naked, I brought it to him in bed. “Your breakfast, O Magnificent Sultan,” I said to him as I handed him his tray. “Your worthless harem concubine awaits your command, but may she suggest that she begin your day by sucking the jism out of your cock?” And, that was the way Tim began his first day of mastery over the slave woman who formerly had been merely his wife. To Be Continued... Kathy & Me Ch. 4 Later that morning, I slipped over next door to visit with Kathy. We had so much to talk about. She answered the door dressed only in a broad leather collar and leash. She looked so gorgeous, so sexy and vulnerable standing naked there, that I had a twinge of jealousy. No wonder Tim wants to fuck her. There were, however, two new red welts across her buttocks. As soon as she brought out the coffee pot and we sat down to talk, I asked her about the marks on her ass. Kathy actually seemed proud to tell me. "Steve punished me for resisting him last night when he first asked me to show my pussy. He said I did well after that, however, so he only gave me two swats with his cane. Then he took me upstairs and handcuffed my hands behind my back. He lay on the bed with his hard-on straight up like the mast of a ship. I wasn't easy with my arms in restraint behind me, but I mounted him, impaling myself on him down to his balls. In needed that in the worst way. After he paraded me in front of you and Tim, I was in heat, frantic to be fucked. I had played the submissive slut for him, and let him shame me in front of my friends. I had earned my cock, and by God I meant to collect. I kept my feet and legs under me as I squatted on his rod. I could lift my ass, then let it drop, sliding on and off the hard rod inside me until I began to cum..., over and over. After he came, I begged him like the bitch in heat I was to turn me over and butt fuck me. It was wonderful, Marge. My pussy ran like a river, and I must have cum fifty times. When he was finally done with me, he let me suck him off before he went to sleep. I slept by his side with a huge dildo in my pussy, and my arms still cuffed behind me." Then it was my turn. I told Kathy how, just as Steve had suggested, Tim had made me strip, suck him off, and then took me upstairs with his belt around my neck. I gushed a bit as I explained how good it all was, how being tied to the bed, helpless and submissive, had melted my very core, so much so that I had begged Tim to take me as his permanent sex slave. My newly found servitude was something that seemed to frighten Kathy. "Are you telling me," she asked, "that you are now going to submit to Tim the same way I do to Steve?" "That's it," I answered. "I belong to Tim now in a way that I never have before. He may use me as he chooses, and the very thought of it makes my juices run down my leg, just like you said it would." "But, Marge," Kathy protested, "Tim wants to fuck me. I could see it in his eyes last night the way he stared at my bare pussy. Steve will let him do it too, I just know he will. If you are Tim's slave, you won't be able to stop them. There is no way out. Your husband is sure to pin me down on the end of his dick, and what about you? For certain, Steve will ask for you in trade. What will Tim say to that? Do you want Tim to fuck me, Marge? Do you want to Steve to fuck you?" "Yes, yes, and yes, Kathy," I answered, "or at least I think so. Perhaps its just because I am so sexed up right now, but swapping our men suddenly seems very erotic to me. What I want makes no never mind though. A slave woman fucks whomever she is told to. You are the one who taught me that. I thought it was awful when you first told me about being made to screw other men and all, but after last night, I am willing to take a strange cock on command, just as you do. At least it won't be a total stranger, not this time anyway, who Tim sends to fuck me." "But Marge," Kathy continued to argue, "All this didn't just happen. Steve set you up, and showing off my bare pussy was his bait. You were ripe, and he knew it. He saw the want in your eyes the night he fucked me in front of Stan. I saw it too as I stripped before your camera. You wanted to be fucked, really fucked. I mean laid on your back, arms out and legs spread, mouth and pussy open, and cock stuck..., hard fucked until you were too sore to walk." I tried to deny any of that was true, or that Steve had anything to do with my submission to Tim, but Kathy wouldn't let me interrupt. "No, Marge, you were as easy for him as I was. When I was standing there last night showing my pussy, you wanted a cock in you in the worst way didn't you? You could see yourself in my place, humiliated like that, making Tim's dick all hard and ready to split your wet pussy wide open. I wasn't the only one who was imagining what it might be like to be fucked in front of the neighbors was I, Marge? All those sexy images went straight to your clit, didn't they?" "Well...," I started to answer, but I was too slow. While I considered how to evade the truth of what she was saying, Kathy continued. "So now you are a slave woman are you? Well let me be the first to break the news. Your wet pussy comes at a price. Tim has no idea yet how to really humble you, but he has Steve to coach him. Steve has already shown him how to shame a woman by making her show her bare wet pussy while begging for a cock to full it. I hope you enjoy that sort of thing. It won't be long before you will be doing all manner of humiliating and embarrassing things you never dreamed you would do." "Steve will be glad to teach Tim the fine points of how to bring a submissive female to heel. How well do you think you'll sleep on the floor with a dildo up your ass, your arms spread and handcuffed to the legs of the bed? Will you enjoy watching me give Tim a blow job? And, oh God yes, don't let me forget..., Steve will include at no extra cost a personal demonstration of how little Marge should be fucked. That has been Steve's plan all along. He has always wanted his cock in my Marge's cunt, but poor dumb me, I didn't think there was any way." "All that may be true, Kathy" I answered, "but all that only proves that I am as big a pushover as you are. O.K. so be it! I'm a slut! I will crawl! I will beg for a cock in my cunt! I don't care if Tim gives me to Steve. I am suddenly very female, and yes, I want somebody to fuck me. Anyway Steve screws a lot of women. Why should you care if one of them is me? Tim will have other women now too. Why shouldn't it be you rather than some bitch I don't even know. Kathy was almost in tears as she replied, "But its different with you and Tim. You have a baby. You have a good marriage. You didn't need this slave stuff. What have I gotten us into? You..., you were my rock. If I went too far, I could always count on you to protect me from myself. Who will protect me now? And, as to sharing our men..., at least I'm not married to Steve, but Tim is your husband. What kind of common slut goes to bed with her best friend's husband?" "A slave slut, that's who does," I answered her, "but a slave can't be blamed for what her man makes her do. If our men swap us, so what? Tim isn't just my husband any more. He owns me. If he wants my friend Kathy to suck his dick, that something I must learn to live with. If it pleases him to see me on my back with my legs locked around Steve Hamilton, or anyone else for that matter, then that's the way things are, and I must learn to live with that too. O.K., I admit it..., it might not be so bad! The thought of allowing some stranger to fuck me while my husband watches makes me all mushy." Kathy shook her head in denial. "But Marge, that is just my point. Being used by Tim pushes my buttons too. It isn't as if I don't want Tim to screw me. He's a good looking virile guy. I know I will enjoy his prick, every inch of it. Most likely I will be a bitch in heat, begging him to fuck me. He will stick me, and I will cum on command for him. All that is exactly my problem. If I could just screw him without enjoying him so, I wouldn't feel so ashamed of myself." "You aren't to blame, Kathy," I answered, "nor am I when I orgasm for the first time, or the hundredth time, at the end of Steve's prick. I have at last learned what it means to be female, and I refuse to feel guilty about it. My marriage is going to be better than ever. It may be different, politically and socially incorrect, but its going to be better because my husband no longer just loves me, now he sets me on fire. No matter how badly he shames or abuses his wife and concubine, the next morning he will still love me, you will still be my best friend, and I trust I will remain yours. We are not cheating on each other or on our men, we are only performing as the cunt slaves that our men have made of us." Kathy shook her head in doubt, but there was nothing much else to say, and I returned home. * * * * * Over the next days, Tim put me on a crash course in female submission. I did my housework naked now, except of course, for my collar and leash. Steve helped Tim install still eye hooks in the ceiling beams of the family room and in door facings there. Tim had his choice when he wanted to punish me for my failures as a love slave. He could hang me up by my wrists with my toes barely touching the floor; or he could stretch me spread eagled across the open doorway with a dildo in my cunt and play with my tits until I begged him..., pleaded with him..., to give me his cock. Tim fucked me frequently of course, sometimes in restraint, and sometimes not, sometimes lovingly, sometimes harsh and cruelly. Either way I was on a constant sexual high, and so well fucked, that I really didn't care what husband and master made me do. Of course I had to be trained in humiliation and obedience. Tim would make me masturbate while he sat in front of me playing with his cock. Other times I had to hold a running vibrator in my pussy while I knelt between his legs and jacked him off. Groveling on my knees I would take his ejaculation in my open mouth, or on my face and tits. A good cunt slave must learn to accept being shamed like that. I practiced daily on giving him a proper blow-job. I learned to swallow him all the way down my throat. With every bob of my head, my lips would rake his full length from the big tender ridge around the cock head to burying my nose deep in his pubic hair at the hilt. If I allowed even a single drop of his cum to escape my lips when he shot off in my mouth, Tim would hang me across the doorway and punish me with a limber switch from some handy tree in our yard. And, oh yes, I shouldn't forget how he trained me to take his cock up my ass. First he stretched my rear hole with a butt plug for several days. When he decided I was properly dialated, he made me kneel on the floor facing the end of the bed, and then pulled my upper body across the bed with ropes that stretched and spread my arms to the head posts. He spread my thighs apart with ropes that tied each of my knees to a leg of the bed. Helplessly bound spread eagle at the foot of the bed that way, I could only whimper in frustration as he licked my slit and probed my ass hole with his index finger. God, how in heat I was! I would have given anything to have his cock in my cunt. Tim had other plans, however. Momentarily he eased my suffering with a small vibrator in my poor pussy, but after that probe was well lubricated with my pussy juice, he took it out and used it to pry open my rectum. Then, with the buzz of that vibrator buried to the hilt in my ass, he began to cane my buttocks and thighs. I wanted his cock soooo bad, but in my pussy, not my ass. I terrified how it would hurt to take him in my behind. In the end he gave me no choice, however. The stripes of the cane burned and stung so. As all slave women do, I finally gave in and begged him to butt fuck me. Only then did he remove the vibrator, and kneeling behind me, he rammed his cock into my bowel. It hurt! It hurt a lot! I cried out in pain, but he stayed with me, tempting my willing erotic core. Bending over my body he licked me between my shoulder blades and forced his hands under me to play with my tits. His attention set me on fire. Just as he plundered my ass hole to his completion, I was shattered with my own orgasm, as great an orgasm, as I have ever had in my life. How could a woman enjoy being ass raped like that? I can't say really. I only know that I accepted what I was, a cunt slave, my husband's plaything, his slut. At the same time, however, I had become so completely female, so satisfied with my sexuality, so fulfilled by my servitude, that I wanted nothing more. The one thing I never adjusted to, however, was being forced to parade myself naked in front of Steve Hamilton. Just as Kathy had predicted, Steve dropped by often to see how things were going, and offering his advice and help. On those occasions, Tim would always require me to flaunt my nakedness for Steve's amusement. I told Tim how embarrassing it was to have Steve ogling my bare tits and pussy, and how much worse it was for me to have him there watching while I was taking cock, or being punished. The bastard made no secrete that he especially got his jollies off on seeing me either in heat or in pain. I shouldn't have brought the subject up. After I complained, Steve came by even more often. Even worse, Tim raised the ante by insisting that I put on dirty little shows just to entertain Steve. One day Tim mght make me do a sexy dance with my finger in my pussy masturbating myself to the music. When I was finished, Tim would make me stand at 'slave attention' with my legs spread and my fingers interlocked behind my head while Steve pawed my tits. Every time Steve showed up Tim would make me perform in some disgraceful way like that while the son of a bitch leered at my nudity. He delighted in taunting me, and calling me a whore, a slut, and a bitch. He almost always also reminded me of the dirty sexy things that one day he would make me do for him. And as time went on, Steve's participation became steadily greater and more intense. He took to fingering my pussy while I was at slave attention, and then he would make lick his hand clean of my juices. Things reached a new low, however, the day he took his aroused cock out of his fly, and rubbed it along the inside of my thighs, and up and down my slit. He kept that up, and at the same time played with my tits, until I became so aroused that I begged him to stick that thing in me..., and meant it! The worst part of the whole thing was that he refused to fuck me, and I had to just stand there unsatisfied with pussy juice running down my leg. It was Steve's suggestion that Tim watch while I gave Steve a blow job. I not only had to suck him off in front of my husband, I was required to simultaneously masturbate myself with my fingers. Tim told me I would be whipped if I didn't come before Steve did. Directly in front of the hall mirror, that was the spot Steve chose to have his dick sucked. He wanted to me to have a good look at the little strumpet Margie in action. It wasn't a pretty picture. There I was..., squatting at Steve's feet..., my knees wide apart..., my pussy exposed..., my fingers rapidly stroking my clit..., my mouth stuffed full of Steve's big prick..., my head bobbing my lips back and forth over his full length. I felt like a street whore, but shamed or not, I not only orgasmed before Steve did, I came three times to his one. Steve finally shot that load in my mouth, and I swallowed it all. I must have liked it a lot. The taste of his cum stayed with me for the whole day. Then, one day just as my training neared its end, Tim chained me standing spread eagled across the kitchen doorway. He stood in front of me and slid his cock to the hilt into my cunt. He had often fucked me in the doorway, but always as a test to see if I could stand firm and motionless while he masturbated himself in and out of my pussy. If I moved the least bit, he would stop and give my breasts a taste of the cane before starting over. This time, however, he just stood there, all the way inside me, pressing himself firmly against my belly, his cock pulsing but otherwise motionless. He pinched my nipples with his fingers and squeezed each breast while I waited patiently for him to begin, but he refused to move. "Please..., please," I began to beg for it. "No Marge, not today," he told me. "Today you must do the work. Squeeze me with your cunt. Hunch me with your hips. Bring us off Marge! Show me how much you enjoy my cock." I was more than willing. Like a wild woman I began to punch at him with my hips, sliding on and off his wonderful rock hard penis. It was no more than a minute or two later, however, just as my first orgasm was coming on, when Tim suddenly pulled out and backed away, denying me the release I worked so hard for. I actually screamed so great was my need. I begged him to put his dick back into me, but he turned away and left me hanging limp on my chains, my pussy open and empty. As I sobbed my frustration, a naked Steve Hamilton suddenly stood where Tim had been. Behind him Tim reappeared, grinning like the Cheshire cat. Steve must have been in the kitchen all along hiding in the breakfast nook. Now his belly was against mine and I could feel his cock probing at the lips of my pussy. Smooth as silk, the plumb head of Steve Hamilton cock slipped into the portal of my vagina. He didn't go all the way in as Tim had done. Instead he stepped back just a little so that I hung there on just the ridge around the huge head of his prick. I knew he was teasing me. Why was he doing this? I didn't want Steve! I wanted my Tim! I pled with both men not to torment me this way, but all I got was laughter in return. Steve was smirking, almost leering, as he explained that I didn't have to fuck myself on his cock if I didn't want to. If I preferred, we could just stand quietly with only the bulbous end of his hard-on in my poor pussy. But on the other hand, if I wanted to, I could resume sliding myself up and down his shaft, just as I had done with Tim, until I brought us both off. It was all up to me! The bastard was grinning from ear to ear as he explained how much my best friend Kathy loved his cock, and how she hated the other women he fucked with it. "Was I willing to spit on my friendship, and fuck myself on Kathy's cock..., or not," he asked He said he wanted to know which meant more to me, "Kathy or his cock." Damn Steve Hamilton to hell! Is there any doubt what I chose to do? Damned right! Kathy who? With all my might I hunched my hips, forcing my cunt to climb up that big hard rod. My pussy was still wide open from when Tim fucked me, and it swallowed even Steve's huge prick with those first thrusts. Raising and lowering my pelvis, I continued to slide on and off that long lovely male shaft until a string of powerful orgasms left me hanging limp in my chains with Steve's cum dripping from my stretched hole. I knew I was a whore, but may dear God help me, I didn't care. My pussy felt soooo good. Three days later, Tim announced that my submission training was over. I never knew if Kathy was told how Steve helped break me in as a slave girl. If she knew Steve had cum in my mouth, and that I had brought myself off hunching my cunt along the length of his cock, she never mentioned it to me. It really should make no difference I guess. We both know what it is like to lust after a male penis, and we do what we must do. Yet, I thought it better not to bring the subject up, and I never have. It was almost three weeks after our first evening together when Steve and Kathy again came to our home for dinner again. Things were different this time. Our conversation was tense, the meal hurried. We all knew that Kathy and I were the evening's real main course. Tim and Steve were horny and impatient. Kathy and I were nervous about what was expected of us, but we too were anxious to get on with it. All week we had wondered about those two big cocks, and how they would taste and feel. Our pussies were moist in anticipation of what was to come even as we ate our meal. When our deserts were finished, all four of us retired to our living room. It was only moments before the four of us were stripped. The men sat side by side on the sofa, thighs apart, cocks hard and erect. Kathy and I were naked and on our knees before them. Kathy was to be Tim's cunt slave for the evening, while I would belong to Steve in exchange. Swapped for the first time, Kathy and I both knew how the rest of the evening would go. Kathy & Me Ch. 4 I was ready to be Steve's whore. My submission training was over. I as a real slave woman, compelled to serve whomever husband and master might command, and tonight that happened to be Steve Hamilton. We have always shared so much, Kathy and I, and now before the night is over we would be sharing not only mates and lovers, but our own bodies as well. Tonight, we would take one more step into the strange world of female submission that Steve Hamilton has woven around us. Where might all this end? To Be Continued... Kathy & Me Ch. 5 It is four in the morning now. More than an hour ago my husband Tim led me away to our bedroom on a leash clipped to the ring in my pussy lip. Steve reclaimed Kathy the same way, and took her to our guest room. I am drained, my libido fully sated. Tim is on his back snoring loudly. I lay face down between his raised knees. The upper half of my body is on our bed. From my waist down I hang off the end of the mattress with my knees on the floor. My arms pass under and around Tim’s legs. Over the top of each thigh my wrists are brought together and shackled to a ring in the broad leather belt around Tim’s waist. Firmly anchored between my master’s legs in this way, I can not escape the flaccid cock that is stuffed in my mouth. I am careful to let Tim’s penis lie quietly on my tongue so that the circumcised plum of its head can soak in my saliva. All this is familiar to me. As a part of my slave training on many nights I was chained this way with my head in my husband’s crotch, using my mouth to keep his penis moist and warm while he slept. I am careful that my lips grip him gently. When Tim is soaking his cock on my tongue like this I am forbidden to give him an erection, or otherwise disturb his rest. I hate that. I lay here desperately wanting to draw out his rock hard length, and then to suck his hard-on until I am rewarded with a full load of his creamy cum. That would not be likely tonight, however, even if I dared try. I was there watching as Kathy sucked and fucked him in every way a woman can, and surely she has drained him of his last drop of male virility and seed. The fact is, I am pretty well spent myself. Steve’s huge prick has pried me open, and left my vagina and rectum feeling empty and distended. My Tim is no slouch in the penis department, but Steve is even longer and broader. Although Steve fucked me once before during my slave training, that day Tim’s dick had already dilated my pussy, and I was in heat, far too frantic with need to compare cock sizes. Until this evening I never appreciated how big the woman tamer that hangs between Steve’s legs really is. Tonight, however, my slit was still tight when Steve laid me on the floor, spread my legs wide, and filled me with all his ten inches of hard-on. I thought for sure my poor pussy would split, but somehow I stretched to fit him. After he was all the way in, however, I began to appreciate what a truly big penis can do for a woman. It hurts to take a prick that size, no doubt about it..., but dear God, the way Steve wrenched me apart and stuffed me to the brim with male meat is an experience I will never forget..., or regret. Nor was my poor distended pussy the only hole of my body that Steve Hamilton would ravage this evening. He would take both my mouth and my ass hole too before the night was over. He was soooo big and soooo rough, My God, in both my mouth and ass hole, how could I opened enough to take all that? I have no idea how it was possible, but somehow all that great rod of blood and tissue went down my throat and into my bowel..., all he way, right to my nose in his pubic hair, right to his balls against the cheeks of my ass. How did I do that? Now, however, my jaw aches and my throat is sore. All the tissues of my pelvis, both cunt and rectum, quiver with after shocks from being stretched so. Yet it is all pain sweetened by satisfaction. I decide that on balance, the pleasure was greater than the hurt. Every so often, every woman should have her cunt, and then her anus, stretched to fit a hard male cock too big for her. If our insides were occasionally stressed that way, we girls would be ever so much easier to live with. This was my first taste of my new life as my husband’s love slave. Did I have regrets? After all my spouse and lover had certainly took terrible advantage of me tonight. He swapped me for my best friend, and then stood by and watched while a stranger fucked me as if I was a common whore. Such demeaning abuse should have been painful and ego shattering, but somehow I didn’t find it so. To the contrary, I reveled in the way Steve demanded my total submission as he cruelly fucked me within an inch of my life. God, how I did enjoy it all, so much so that my poor pussy is still leaking its juices even as I lay here. All my life I have been a such a proper spoiled little American bitch. How is it that I was suddenly eager to be taken like some tramp raped in the alley behind a sleazy pool hall? Why would I beg some cruel and demanding stranger to stick his oversized dick in me? The extraordinary size of his cock, perhaps that was the reason. To be filled that way with such monster cock is certainly a tempting experience for a woman, but was that all there was to it? No, I don’t think so. There had to be more ..., something down deep inside me..., a pathetic Freudian desire to submit a man and his penis, perhaps? Was I always this way, starving to be ravaged by a cock..., a closet nymphomaniac without realizing it? Let me think on all this..... I remember Steve and an equally naked Tim seated on the couch. Kathy and I were on our knees between their thighs ready to service the cocks that would soon pleasure us. It was then I first became realized the size of Steve’s cock and wondered how it would ever fit my poor pussy. There was no time to dwell on the thought, however. “Lick us! Suck us! Make us hard,” Steve commanded. With a will, I went right to work on Steve’s big love rod, licking down the length of his long shaft, and Kathy did likewise to Tim. As Steve’s erection grew, so did my concern about his enormous size. Confronted with all that male meat, the best I could do was to kiss and suck just the tip end of his giant plum like head. For the moment, that was enough, however. The pricks of both men quickly became iron hard, and they forced Kathy and I to the floor, flat on our backs, our legs spread wide. A month ago, I would not have willingly spread myself like this for a stranger. I would not have even thought such a thing possible. Tonight, however, it was the most natural thing in the world to be Steve Hamilton’s whore, and I responded to him accordingly. I could see it was the same with Kathy. Each of us was a female in heat, lusting after the penis of our cruel master, begging to be used for his pleasure..., and ours. Tim and Kathy went first. Steve made me watch. Before the evening began wondered if I could handle seeing my husband fuck my best friend, but now overwhelmed by my own submission to this stranger who would soon take my body that I hardly cared what Tim did to Kathy. While Kathy lay with my husband between her legs, babbling and begging Tim to fuck her harder, Steve played with my tits and fingered my clit. I knew Steve was teasing me, turning me on for his own pleasure, but his hands felt good on my breasts, and I was even grateful to him for distracting my jealousy of Kathy. Suddenly Tim rolled away from Kathy, and despite her cry of protest, he stretched out on his back flat on the floor with his pecker standing straight up in the air ready for use. “Mount!” was all he said. Kathy didn’t need to be asked twice to climb onto that pylon of blood and tissue. Her pussy lips were dripping moisture as she squatted astride his hips, and using one hand to guide him into her slit, slowly settled down to take him in. Tim reached up and began to pull playfully on those lovely long nipples. For five minutes or so he made her just sit there quietly, filled to her cervix with his long cock, while he mauled her tits with his hands. I don’t know how she did it, but her hips did not move, not even a twitch. She sat there saying nothing, panting slightly, beads of perspiration breaking out on her forehead, squeezing Tim’s dick as hard she could with the muscles inside her pussy wall..., but nothing more. When Tim could stand it no longer, he commanded her to fuck herself on his cock. Permitted to take her pleasure at last, Kathy’s legs became steel springs, raising and lowering her butt, sliding her clit up and down along Tim’s long hard rod. Even my prim and proper Kathy could not ride a cock like that without getting off on it. No woman could. In a frenzy she shook her head from side to side, and her long dark tresses flew wildly with every shake. Her breasts heaved and bobbed in rhythm with as over and over she raised her hips and then dropped back onto the pole she held captive in her pussy. In her ecstasy she screamed dirty words at Tim, sobbing uncontrollably one minute, laughing hysterically the next. Her orgasms came rat-a-tat-tat like staccato bursts of machine gun fire. When at last Tim’s cum came oozing out from the seal between her pussy lips and his cock, poor Kathy had nothing left. She simply collapsed limp and exhausted on Tim’s chest. After suffering Steve’s teasing fingers, and watching Kathy get hers, I needed to be fucked more intensely than ever before in my life. Steve was ready too. All that man-meat so limp and soft before I began to suck him had become rock hard, standing straight out like a spear. Funny I should think of a spear. A weapon is exactly what Steve had for me..., a spear..., a spear to split me open..., a spear to compel my obedience..., A spear force my submission..., a spear to make me his slave. For weeks now I have known Tim was going to give me to Steve, and I have wondered about this moment. I never told Kathy about the day I rode Steve’s penis to an orgasm while hanging chained in a doorway, but the incident had never been far from my mind lately. Yet, Steve’s cock seemed so much bigger now..., how had my poor pussy ever taken that thing? Yet, how good his cock had been that day. Tonight, with both my husband and my Kathy watching, would it be as good for me again? I would soon find out. “Spread for me, Bitch,” was Steve’s order. I lay down, my legs flying open as if on a spring. Steve lay on top of me, his hips between my thighs. His hard-on was probing at the lips of my pussy. I squeezed him with my knees, and whimpered to him in my need “Oh God, Yes, Yes! Fuck me! Fuck me, please!” “Put it in for me, Bitch,” was his reply. Abruptly he raised his hips over my splayed legs allowing me to reach between us and take his cock in my hand. Eagerly I reached for him and nudged his cock head against my slit. I was still afraid of his size, but my fear was no match for my desire. I gritted my teeth and forced that big plum head between my labia. Suddenly, with my hand still on his shaft, his hips came down, and sliding past my fingers, he buried himself all the way to his balls with his first thrust. For a brief moment my cunt burned with an electric shock, but the fiery hurt lasted only seconds before it drowned under a shattering orgasm that left me crying out for more. “Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!” was all I could say, repeating the words like a mantra over and over. As Tim and Kathy watched, I reverted completely to the cunt slave I must have been in some former life. I answered his every thrust, hunching my hips in eager response to this huge iron rod that pistoned in and out of my cunt. The passion of my submission was no act. At that moment I would have done anything he asked..., anything just to keep on enjoying the give and take of this huge warm slick phallus that was sliding up and down inside me. I was an animal, pumping my hips to meet his thrusts in a rhythm that only I could hear. Steve fucked me three times last night, twice in my cunt, and once in my ass. I sucked him off twice. Never before, not even in Tim’s slave training, has a man thrown me on my back and forced me to take his cock in such a commanding way. Was this rape? No, not likely. I did not consent exactly, but consent is probably implied when a woman is groveling at a man’s feet licking his toes. Does a man enjoy a better right to fuck a woman than to eat her pussy until her juices are running down her leg? I think not..., so..., no..., rape it must not have been. Anyway, what was I but a concubine, brought from the harem all submissive and horny, a pretty thing to be fucked and enjoyed, then whipped and sent back to the seraglio in the morning. This abrupt, harsh, and selfish sex was all that I was entitled to..., and deep down, it was exactly what I wanted. Still, I am ashamed that I enjoyed it all so, but the penis that stretched my pussy and rubbed my clit erased all trace of the spoiled bitch I have always been. I am distressed that the two people who mean the most to me, Kathy and Tim, were watching and listening as I played the common slut, but I simply could not have done otherwise. To be laid and fucked like that stripped my soul as naked as my body. I had been reduced to an open aching cunt, without pride or shame. This night I was born to be, a slave wench, ready and willing to be seized and fucked in every hole. Steve is right. Once A woman surrenders herself to a man and his cock, she can think of nothing else. Her fantasies push all her buttons, she becomes mesmerized, and she loses herself in a sexy dream world all her own. ***************************** And..., Oh..., Yessss... How a woman can dream when she is on her back with her legs up and spread, and her cunt is full of cock. Flat on my back, pinned to the floor by Steve’s huge dick, my imagination overflowed. My situation, my sensations, they seemed so familiar. Surely this could not be my first experience as the slave of a demanding master. Blurred visions flash before my eyes..., women in chains..., women stretched on the rack..., women tied spread-eagle ready for rape and sodomy..., and fleeting glimpses of naked concubines dancing in seraglios. The images all seem so real, so familiar. Could they be memories of some distant and otherwise long forgotten past? Could it be that in earlier incarnations I was a woman bound in sexual service to men who owned my body. Did Steve’s cock somehow lift me from the safety of American suburbia back into the horrors of some dark and foreboding place I know not where? It must be so. Surely, no yuppie housewife living in twentieth century New Jersey could have so vividly recalled such a sexual servitude with having been there Only one thing can be said with certainty, tonight my mind somehow became a fugitive from the present, visiting instead in some far away time and place that was none the less strikingly familiar to me. To where then had I traveled just hours ago, lost in the time warp of an erotic fantasy? I was a female captive certainly. I remember that much, but why and where? A helpless woman seized as booty after some long forgotten battle, perhaps? Yes that must be it! No longer Marge Smithers, I must have returned to a former life to suffer again horrors of a thousand years past. A Celtic woman perhaps, stripped and staked out spread eagle on the ground ready for rape by the Roman Legionnaire whose sword has just slain her husband? No, not now. Not this time. In this life I was a medieval princess whose father’s fortress on the Rhine has been burned and pillaged by rampaging Huns. Yes that is it, but the old memories flood back, I realize that with the battle lost I am but a prize of war, no longer a princess but a wench for the pleasure of savages. I am not alone in my distress. The battle for the Castle Keep had barely ended before blood splattered enemy swordsmen began to search out our women and children. One by one they find us, and drive us weeping from the safety of our hiding places. In less than an hour, all our women are gathered against the castle outer wall surrounded by a half circle of the leering enemy. It is a scene from hell, the late twilight lit by the flickering fires from the burning village at the foot of the castle wall. The bodies of our fathers, husbands and lovers litter the ground in silent clumps. The stench of blood and burning flesh fills the air. The children scream out in their terror, but most of the women are frozen in fear, so stunned that they can not even cry. Our captors shout obscenities at us, describing in lewd detail how they intend to use our bodies this night. They are especially explicit about their penises, and the many ways they we will be forced to service them. Until this terrible evening, we have all lived as decent Christian wives and daughters, but no more. Our virtue and chastity are suddenly forfeit to these uncivilized beasts. I watch in horror as the first woman is snatched away from our group. I know her well. We have often laughed together as I bought fruit from her husband. She is pretty and smart, kind and sweet, a good wife and mother. From now on, however, she will the slave concubine and whore of some dirty barbarian. She screams in terror and fright as she is stripped and thrown to the ground. Her sobbing pleas for mercy are to no avail. A naked Hun soldier stands over her, slowly stroking his incredible foot long penis with his hand. His comrades seize the poor woman by her wrists and ankles, subdue her struggles, and spread her on the ground. The cruel rapist kneels before his victim’s defenseless vagina, and with and single thrust, he impales her with his cock. I want to look away, but I can not. It is the first time in my sheltered life I have seen a man fuck a woman. I watch hypnotized as the Hun’s long thin phallus, moist and gleaming in the glow of the burning buildings, slides in and out of my friend’s sex until finally he spends himself. The poor woman lies weeping, the seed of her attacker dripping from her pussy as she waits for the next barbarian to mount her. While the attention of the enemy rabble is turned to the rape of our poor sister, a Hun chieftain has pushed his way through his men. He is a large muscular man in leather armor with a face marred by scars of other battles. While his troops are distracted, his icy gaze is sweeping back and forth across the captive women. We are all afraid of him, and with cause. The enemy are all cruel, but the officers of such a rabble are likely to be especially so. In our fear we cower away, and begin to mill around trying to hide behind one another from his notice. His powerful neck cranes as he scans us over as if choosing a pony from a corral herd. Clearly he is making the selection to which his rank gives him a priority, but which of us will he pick? The Hun soldiers become bored with the rape of only a single woman. They are eager to cast lots for female prizes of their own and begin the night’s orgy, but the Hun chief still has not yet chosen a captive for himself. The rabble is impatient. Altho this man is their superior, their discipline is thin. They do not hesitate to jeer and curse at him for his hesitation. Finally, he strides forward directly into our midst. He has made his decision. May God help me..., he is coming this way..., in the name of Jesus and the virgin mother, no, no..., tell me I am not the woman he has chosen! But I am the one! The small sea of women around me parts as the Hun makes his way to where I stand. His strong arms reach out and I am snatched to his broad chest like a rag doll. In a single sweep of his hand he rips away my night gown. Naked now I am shamed and helpless in the vice like grip of his arms. With one hand he gropes at my breasts, while a finger of the other probes inside my slit testing the hymen he finds still intact there. His men cheer him as he gives my bottom a hard swat and leads me away by a rope around my neck down the road to the Hun camp and his tent. I have never been with a man before, and I am terrified of my captor and how he will use me. I weep and beg him to take pity on me, and to spare the honor of a girl who is innocent and virgin. It is no use. My virginity is doomed. He throws me on my back in a pile furs, where I am forced to service his huge barbarian cock, tonight with my mouth and my cunt, and in the nights to come, with my ass as well. Kathy & Me Ch. 5 When the Hun has exhausted himself on my body he falls asleep in my arms, but my fear keeps me awake. I have heard stories about what happens to females taken captive by the Huns, and I fear what tomorrow will bring. At first light it becomes clear that those stories were true. From now on we will be the chattels and sexual playthings of cruel owners, doomed to hopeless lives of slavery in the service of our master’s penis. With the dawn the Huns prepare to travel, and the castle women are now to be a part of their baggage train. We are all gathered from the beds where our conquerors had raped us during the night. We are forced to stand at attention, still naked and shivering in the early morning chill, as wide leather collars with big iron rings are permanently closed around our necks with brass rivets. We are given sandals for our feet, and animal skin robes for clothing. The robes are small, however, and they only partially hide our nakedness. Mine fully covers only my shoulders, my ass, and a single breast. As I walk my other tit and nipple, and my pubic hair and pussy, are intermittently exposed to whatever barbarian chooses to look. Look they all do, and they taunt me about the whispy blond hair between legs. They shout at me that only a whore would have so little hair on her pussy. The children were separated from their mothers last night. Now they are taken away down the main road toward Gaul. Those old enough to walk do so. The babes and the those too young to walk are carried in a pair of ox carts. Four of our old women, and a woman still lactating from a recent birth, are sent with them as nannies. It will be a long hard journey. Few of the babes, and probably less than half of the others will survive the next few weeks. The ones who die will be the lucky ones. Those who live will be sold to the Franks and raised as slaves. The Frankish nobles and knights have a justified reputation for cruelty, and worse is their perverted preferences for young sex partners. We who remain are women left without hope. Our homes and possessions have been burned. We have been mauled, beaten and raped. Those of us who resisted their rape have been beaten. Our men are all dead, and our children are gone forever. If we live, we will certainly be enslaved far from our homeland, and subjected to the whims of the cruel masters who own us body and soul. There is no time to morn, however, as the Huns quickly prepare us for the trail. Our hands are loosely restrained at our sides by short slack ropes tied to still another rope knotted around our waists. A long chain is put through the rings on our collars, and by midday the Huns lead us away..., partially naked, cold, raped, and terrorized..., a long single file of wailing women on their way to Magyar slave markets along the Danube. Each day we marched like that, chained one behind the other, following the winding foot trail that will take us through dense forests and across the mountains. An hour before nightfall every day the Huns make camp. Each woman is taken off the chain and distributed to the warrior who claimed her from the castle wall that first evening. She is his woman now, and it is he who will use her until when we reach the land of the Magyars. It is also he who will profit when she is sold there. Rarely, a Hun may lend his woman to a comrade who does not have one of his own, or more often, he may trade or rent her out for a night or two. Otherwise, however, we each serve our individual man as cook, washer woman and servant, but most of all, we each service our man’s cock as his whore. Those of us who at first obstinately refused submission to a Hun penis are tied to a post and beaten until they beg their owner to fuck them. That surrender does not take long. By the end of the second night even the most stubborn captive has realized the inevitability of her slavery, and spreads her legs quickly, if not willingly, whenever told to do so. The Huns see to it that we do not forget how terrible that whip is. They make us all watch whenever one of our sisters is flogged for disobedience. Those who are old or sick quickly die. Most of us, however, survive and begin to adapt. Gradually we learn to accept our servitude, and despite this hard harsh life, we even grow stronger with a new understanding of our sexuality. The nights are cold, and the beds and bodies of our Hun captors are warm. They have large cocks and they use them well. What began as rape becomes familiar, then sensuous, and finally addictive. I must have been born to be a concubine. Not only did I never fight against my Hun master, even on that first terrible night, I was among the very first to willingly, even joyfully, acknowledge his right to my body. It was only the second night of my captivity when the first great orgasm of my life washed over me in a huge wave. I had often heard the castle women talk of being pleasured by a man, but I was unprepared for this explosion in my soul. My loins melted to mush, and in my ecstasy I gave myself absolutely to my Hun, even begging him to fuck me again and again with his wonderful cock. Thereafter, I was his devoted cunt slave, submissive always to the long male shaft that hung between his legs. Night after night, I pleasured him..., and myself..., until like a woman dancing the fertility ritual around the May Pole, his erection became the central pivot to my life. Obsessed with the prick of this Hun, I freely and gladly offered him my body. I cared not which of my holes he desired to use, only that he would take me in one of them. As we marched along on our journey I thought only of what he my Hun master would do to me when night came. I begged him so often to fuck me that he called me a nuisance, and threatened to hang me from a tree limb and whip me if I didn’t stop. I knew he was not serious. He sometimes beat me for his pleasure, but he certainly didn’t want me to stop begging for his dick. He enjoyed my body as much as I did his, and he was always pleased by my eager submission to his every desire. Indeed, he was proud of how long and how often fucked me, and his stamina was indeed truly remarkable. I had heard stories of how adept Hunnish men are at pleasing a woman, and certainly mine has proved every one of them true. I am also fortunate that my Hun keeps me for himself, never once sending me to the bed of a stranger. At every dawn I show my gratitude to him by closing my lips tightly around his penis and bobbing my head feverishly until his seed fills my mouth. I am honored to swallow every drop of this daily gift. I have come to dread the day when our journey will end. I know my Hun will sell me in some dirty slave market, and return to the wife who waits for him. How I envy that wife. I can hardly bear to think of the day when I will never again enjoy his great prick, and I am terrified at the thought of the unknown man who will be my new owner..., and of his whip. The weeks pass and we finally arrive at a Magyar town where slaves are traded. On the day of our arrival I am delivered to the slave merchants to displayed nude in the flesh market where captives are bought and sold. The blond hair on my head and between my thighs assures my Hun owner a good price for me, but first the prospective buyers must examine the merchandise. They yank open my mouth and count my teeth. Harsh uncaring hands feel my legs and arms, and squeeze my breasts and pull at my nipples. Their fingers probe my pussy and ass, and test my clit. I know perfectly well the reason for their interest in my private parts, and what services I will be expected to perform for my new owner, whomever he may be. I decide that if my future is to be a female pleasure slave, then I must do whatever I can to improve my prospects. Hoping for the best, I watch for those who I think might be gentle masters with big cocks, and I parade myself and my sex shamelessly before them. At long last, it was my turn to be sold. I standd naked on the block, my arms bound behind my back, my neck in a noose tied snugly to a beam overhead to insure that I can not slouch or cower. The auctioneer whips my legs to make me dance. My young full breasts jiggle and bounce as I jerk my legs away from the lash. The bidders are encouraged by my sexy antics, and my price goes up and up. I hold my breath as the final offer is made. The hammer falls...! it is all over at last..., I have a new owner. Who will he be? Will he be kind and rich, and make me the prize of his harem, or will he be the cruel pimp of a whorehouse who expects to rent my poor pussy to a dozen cocks and more every sun down to sun up? ****************************** But no, all of this is just a nightmare. I shudder as I return to the present, and reality allows me to escape from the uncertain fate my imagination created for me. Thank God! In this life at least, I am not the helpless captive of some victorious savage, a slave woman raped and then offered for sale to the highest bidder. Why would I have such a frightful fantasy? Steve Hamilton must be the cause. After all, what is he but Hun in a business suit? Only a barbarian would have demanded that a woman serve his prick in the brutal way Steve brought me to heel this evening. It must be my submission to Hamilton the Hun that has shocked me into imagining myself in such hopeless bondage. Actually, I am safe in bed with my husband who loves me. True, I lay in his bed in a posture of servitude unmatched in the worst of my dreams. Even my Hun did not put his cock in my mouth and then chain my face to his crotch. Still, Tim won’t lead me away and sell me at auction when morning comes. Or, at least I don’t think he will. My world has changed so, how can I be sure? Doubt races across my mind. Perhaps.., perhaps, I should try harder to pleasure my husband so that he will prize my body and keep me as his, even if that means my head sometimes will be chained between his legs. That bit of anxiety brought my attention back to the flaccid penis in my mouth. Kathy’s taste is still on it, and I am reminded once more of my dark complicated friend. How lovely and sexy she was last night. How horny she must have been to have ridden Tim’s penis in such a frenzy. How wet and pungent she must have been that I can still taste her. How she must have pleasured my dear Tim..., but..., another uncomfortable possibility flashes across my mind. Did my Tim enjoy her pussy and tits more than he does mine? Were her lips the sweeter pair when wrapped around his prick? Quickly, I buried that thought under the more pleasant one of Kathy’s flavor on my tongue. Kathy made love to me for the first time last night. I had always known it was inevitable that Steve and Tim would push us to that. I had tried hard to prepare myself, but I had never had a lesbian experience, and before this night, I was apprehensive..., all the more so because it would be Kathy’s tongue on my cunt. I kept telling myself, it will be all right. This is my best friend, and we know each others bodies well. As girls we wrestled in our bathing suits, and I can remember a slumber party when we did so clad only in bra and panties. The feel of her soft body under that scanty nylon remains with me still. We have slept together, bathed together, and once even rouged each others nipples as a high school prank. I have always loved Kathy. Could I now get off on her tongue in my pussy? Would she find me as sweet as I had earlier found her? The night proved that I should not have been concerned. Kathy’s talented tongue brought me to shattering orgasms, and I responded in kind. As we were commanded, we passionately French kissed and rubbed our bodies together, tit to tit, pussy to pussy. We explored each other’s cunt with our fingers, and nibbled at each others clit with our lips. The men wanted to see us in a 69, and Kathy and I were more than happy to oblige. Her pussy did taste so sweet. Perhaps the best of all came when Kathy sat between my spread legs so that we could rub our clits together, and at the same time stroke the other’s breasts and nipples. We were given a double headed dildo, and while we were still pussy to pussy we joyously pumped ourselves to mutual orgasms on that wonderful plastic cock. It was the men who finally ended our play. I think they felt threatened by how much we were enjoying each other. About the time I was first caught up in my fantasy about being the captive of the Huns, however, I began to lose touch with reality generally. My memory of what Steve did to me for the rest of the evening is sketchy at best. I do remember that I was briefly laid across the arm of our big leather couch where Steve whipped the backs my thighs with a thin cane. God, couldn’t forget that, I hurt so. I promised him anything he wanted if only he would stop. I would give him of the best blow job of his life, and after his blow job, I told him he could fuck my ass. I drew explicit verbal pictures of how I would crawl to him on my elbows, dragging my tits on the rug as I came. I described how I would kneel with my butt in the air, my shoulders on the floor, and how I would then reach back with my hands and spread my ass cheeks, holding them open for him while he fucked my butt hole. Knowing Steve as I do, I am sure he made me keep my promises exactly as I had described them, but I have a specific recollection of only disconnected bits and pieces. I can remember how hard it was not to gag as I tried to deep throat his giant penis as I blew him, and out of the haze I can see myself face down on into the rug with my ass in the air. Just as I had promised, my arms are reaching back to open my ass hole in order that Steve might force his giant dick deep into my bowel. And oh yes! I also remember the pain. No woman could forget being butt fucked by a cock that size. Tim is beginning to swell a little in my mouth now. Perhaps when he awakes he will slide his prick into my still wet and hungry pussy for a long delightful morning fuck. I have adjusted some to the discomfort of my position half on and half off the bed, and the thought of Tim’s cock pleasuring me with the dawn warms me and makes me drowsy..., perhaps if I just close my eyes I will drop off to sleep......... ****************************** As I drift off, my sensuous dream of ancient slavery closes over me like a great ocean tide. My fantasy returns, and I wander back through time and space to the medieval town on the Danube where I have just been auctioned off as a cunt slave. Yes, I can see myself clearly..., my Hun come in to collect my purchase price, and he squeezes my breast and feels my pussy one last time before he leaves me. The auctioneer prepares my bill of sale and gives it to a big bearded Magyar dressed in a white Roman style robe that would be worn only by someone rich and important. My new owner says not a word to me as his guards shackle my wrists and ankles in chains. The Magyar takes me over then and leads me like a cow down the street at the end of a light leather leash painfully clipped to my nipples. I am locked away in a prison wagon with another woman the Magyar has bought at the sale. I hear our owner tell the captain of his guards that his business here is finished and that we will all return to his castle manor. For two weeks that hellish cart jolts its way over the ruts and pot holes of a very bad mountain road. At each stop, my sister slave and I are taken from our cage to relieve ourselves, and in the evening we are allowed to bathe in an icy mountain stream if one is near our camp. Otherwise we remain locked in our little mobile prison, still naked and chained hand and foot. Neither our owner nor his guards take their pleasure from us during our journey. I am so horny I could die. After my Hun master, I am accustomed to having a cock in my pussy at least twice every day. For all those days we bounce along on this seemingly endless road, I wonder over and over, who is this new master who ignores my cunt? Why does he ignore me? Surely he will fuck me eventually, or why else did he pay so much gold for me? When then will he fuck me? Will he fuck me often? Does he have a big cock? To Be Continued... Kathy & Me Ch. 6 It was the next afternoon when I saw Kathy again. As we sat in her kitchen enjoying our usual cup of coffee I said to her, "Well girl, the big night came. Our boys swapped us, fucked us royally, and the sky didn't fall. Admit it, you enjoyed every moment, even the part where you got your rocks off on my tongue." "Yeah, maybe so," Kathy grudgingly replied, "but only because Steve has me so addicted to having something in my pussy that I don't care who puts what in there anymore. I wasn't such a tramp before. What has happened to me?" "We are just exploring what we are, uncovering our inner female selves, that's all," I answered her. "Quit struggling so, Kathy. A man's plaything is what nature meant you to be. Me too." "Well, maybe, but I can't keep up anymore. My life is becoming more and more complicated. For one thing, Steve tells me that he and I are going to be married." "God damn, girl," I screamed at her, "Is it a secrete or something? Why didn't you tell me." "I didn't know myself until an hour ago," Kathy replied. "It wasn't at all the loving proposal a girl dreams of. He didn't ask. He pronounced it as a coming event, like tomorrow's weather. 'By the way Kathy, you and I are getting married.' Boom! Case closed! I know that he owns my cunt, but a girl would like to have some say about who and when she marries. Is he marrying me because he loves me and wants me as his wife? I don't think so! I'm just another concubine, a more permanent one perhaps, a slave legally wed and in servitude till death do us part, as the saying goes..., is that really any better than now? Marge, I do love the bastard, and I'm hooked on the way he fucks me, but do I really want to be his sex toy for the rest of my life?" I thought a minute before answering. "Well, you once thought you were going to be Stan's wife forever too, but things didn't turn out that way. You can always divorce Steve, just as you did Stan. Steve himself says that your relationship is entirely consensual, and you can end it any time you wish." "Oh, Marge, all that talk is just more of his bullshit. No way could I walk out on him. He has my head so messed up that I can't think about anything but having his dick in me. I have no free will left, and he knows it damn well. I won't..., I can't..., leave him no matter what he does to me. Anyway, it's a stretch to call what he wants a marriage. He doesn't intend to change anything. He will keep Sheila and Vicky on the side, and he intends to fuck you, or anyone else he chooses, whenever he wants. It's bad enough now. If I'm barely able to share him with other women now, how can I deal with it as his wife?" "Well then," I answered her and closed the subject, "what are you agonizing over? You are going to marry him, and that's that. By your own admission you can't do otherwise. Anyway, being married to your master is not a bad thing. Take it from me, I like being my husband's slave woman. It has changed my life. "Marge," Kathy began frowning, "your servitude is still a new thing. You may have less enthusiasm for it the more you see Tim's cock buried deep inside some other woman's cunt." She was right. That was something that did worry me. We were both quiet for a few moments while I considered how to deal with Tim screwing other women. "Maybe Tim won't do that, at least not very often," was all I could finally say. "Oh but he will," Kathy replied, "and you know that as well as I do. Every man will sniff at a strange pussy if given half a chance, and have given him that chance. Sex slaves have no right object whatever our men do. With his reins off, Tim will take full advantage of whatever strange stuff might come his way. Didn't he fuck me in your living room just last night with your legs rubbing up against mine? Do you think the old Tim would have done that?" I couldn't argue with her. I thought I had better find out a little more about what lay ahead of me. "Well, who else is available for Tim to fuck besides you. To the best of my knowledge, there aren't any women waiting in line for Tim's prick." "You might be surprised, Marge," Kathy answered. "There are a lot of horny lonely women out there, lots of them. Anyway, Steve will want to fuck you from time to time, so Tim can always trade your little twat for Sheila, or Vicky, or me, or maybe for all three of us in a package. And if we aren't enough, Steve's has this little cabal of close friends. They all have women who will jump on Tim's pecker in a heart beat." "You haven't met that rat pack yet. They are a half dozen guys that follow Steve around like he was a guru or something. Among them is his younger brother, and the rest are just guys he picked up along the way. Once or twice a month they play cards, go to a ball game, or just hang out together at a bar or somebody's family room to drink, tell jokes, and watch a ball game on TV. It's one of those male bonding things I guess. "Their wives and/or girlfriends are all either submissive or swingers willing to play along just to get screwed. This isn't a sex club exactly, but all the women are expected to be "good sports" when that is required. We all take turns as serving girls at their little outings, for example. Sometimes the guys may want a little more from us than just beer and sandwiches. Maybe a strip tease during halftime or something, but usually that's about it. When my turn came around, I showed 'em some tit and leg..., and a glimpse of my bare pussy once and a while. Oh, boys will be boys! They grabbed a feel of the merchandise when they could, but that's about all." "Is that all, ever? Do they sometimes swap women like Tim and Steve did last night?" I asked. "Sometimes, according to what I've heard, but I don't think very often. Like I said, the guys are into boy things, and women always come in second to the Super Bowl on that agenda. Not that they aren't ready and willing to enjoy a little strange pussy, but their thing is about being buddies. Nothing screws up a friendship quicker than sex, and they know it." "Still, sometimes the hormones run strong, and what happens, happens. For example, Sheila told me about an evening when she was the serving girl for a poker party. Steve ran short of money, and he put her in the pot as part of his bet. The men were all pretty oiled, and it was just a big joke until Steve lost the hand. Sheila had to pay off Steve's bet by giving the winner a blow job while everyone watched. That little scene set off the male horny for sure. Steve continued to loose, and every time he did, Sheila was back on her knees with a cock in her mouth. Later on, the betting limits were raised. A blow job wasn't enough to cover the IOU anymore. When Steve lost a big hand, Sheila had to fuck the winner to pay off." Kathy obviously didn't like the thought of being the stakes in a card game. She winced a little, and then continued, "Up to now Steve hasn't included me..., thank goodness..., but Sheila has told me that the men occasionally do hold a preplanned orgy, and their women are invited along to provide the fun. Sheila said that the games at these things vary, but one of their favorites the men call 'slave auction.' Guess what that's about?" "One by one each woman is made to strip and stand on the coffee table with her hands cuffed behind back and her legs spread. The men examine her breasts and pussy, feeling her up as if evaluating her bed value. They make the 'merchandise' tell them whether she would rather be fucked in the mouth, pussy or ass. Then they bid to "own" the woman until noon the next day. Until then, the woman must service the dick of the man who bought her, and for all I know the dicks of all his friends as well. Sheila said that one of the women refused to play along. For her trouble, the men tied her face down over the coffee table and whipped her ass with a cane until she agreed to cooperate." "Sheila told me that the women weren't told about any of this before the party began. A mate swapping orgy is one thing, but it must be quite a jolt to unexpectedly find yourself naked on a coffee table while men bid to own your pussy. I guess its a matter of taste tho. Sheila is a born submissive. She tells me that being sold like that turns her on. Vicky is such a little whore, I doubt that she minds it much either." "I can understand that," I said to Kathy. "Last night while I was trying to go to sleep, I had the most incredible day dream. In my fantasy, in a former life I had been captured after a battle, and marched away to a slave market. It seemed so real that it scared the hell out of me..., but I was every bit as horny as I was scared." "Steve had you going last night didn't he, honey?" Kathy replied. "You don't think you are the only one who has that nightmare do you? To be sold is both fear and turn on to every submissive woman. In mine, I imagine that I'm traveling to the West Indies to be married when my ship is captured by pirates. They rape me, beat me, and when we reach port, they sell me naked at public auction. Why for God's sake do I think about such things? Can it be that my female genes are imprinted with the misery of women down through the ages? Or, are these recollections from some past life of our own? Or, is this all merely our weakness..., a subconscious desire to be dominated? Whatever..., to stand shackled and naked on a flesh market block is just about the worst fear a female can have. Its even worse when you realize that the very horror of the nightmare turns you on." Kathy shuddered at the picture in her head, and paused before going on. "Nor is our fear unjustified. God damn them, who knows how far our men will force us to go. Steve makes me fuck other men. He has used Sheila's body to cover his IOU in a card game. He puts on some horrible mock sales in which he and the other 'buyers' play at the game of real slavery." "All this just play acting, you say. Just a twist on wife mate swapping, you say? A game played out with the consent of a horny woman, you say. Well, if you think that is so, you are mistaken. Consent? Bull Shit! When did I ever 'consent?' 'Consent' implies that I have free will, but in truth, I haven't any of that left. He does whatever he wants with me. If that means I must stand butt naked on a coffee table while my twat is sold, then that is what I will do, but it isn't because I 'consented'. Is being sold any different than the way Tim fucked me last night? You bet it is. I am humiliated when he lets another man use me, but the idea of being auctioned off brings home the terror of it all. A woman sold to the highest bidder knows what she really is, and what she is good for." "Tim wouldn't do that to me," I protested. "Oh yes he will, Marge," Kathy argued. "You are a slave woman, and slave women get sold, and traded, and are otherwise handed from man to man all the time. It goes with the territory, and its going to happen to both of us..., over and over. It happened to you just last night. Get used to it girl, one way or another, Steve's cock is not the only strange meat your husband will arrange for your pussy. You can bet on it!" ************************** Kathy's phone rang then, and while she was taking the call I returned home to think about what Kathy had said. That very evening Tim brought a gentleman I had never met before home for dinner. Mr. Korren was the purchasing agent for an important customer of Tim's employer. He was a very large bald man who reminded me of the professional wrestlers I see on television. He was also as horny as an old tom cat, and as I was to find out, Tim had promised that I would entertain him with my body. Of course I didn't know that when out of the blue after dinner our guest made a smutty remark about my "big tits". I was stunned, and tried to make the remark into a joke. I was brought up short, however, when Tim interrupted and told me to shut up and open my blouse. "Mr. Korren," he said, " wants to see your breasts." At first I refused, but Tim insisted. He reminded me that he owned me now. He said if I didn't do as I was told he would strip me, tie me down across the steps of our stairway, and whip my pussy in front of our guest. Korren was quick to interject that he would certainly like to see that. How awful! I could see myself on my back k with my arms and legs spread across our stair steps, screaming in pain while this stranger enjoyed my hurt and humiliation. Afraid to protest further, I stood and opened my blouse. Tim doesn't let me wear a bra any more so there I was, topless, mortified, and waiting for what I knew would come next. Korren didn't disappoint me. He also stood up, put a hand under each breast and hefted them as if estimating their weight. "Lovely!" was all he said as he stooped and took my left nipple in his mouth and sucked on it. All the time I was looking daggers at Tim, but he just grinned at my humiliation. "Strip off your skirt Marge," Tim ordered me, "and help Mr. Korren off with his clothes. Lay down beside him on the sofa, and press your tits against him. Let him enjoy your body. Play with his pecker and let him feel your pussy." I couldn't believe Tim was doing this to me. I began to cry, but I did as I was told. Tim doesn't allow me to wear panties any more either, so once my skirt was on the floor, I was nude except for stockings and garter belt. Exposed and beet red with shame, I knelt before our guest, took off his shoes and socks, and pulled down his pants and jockey shorts. He stretched out on the couch and I lay down on top of him pressing my bare flesh to his. I couldn't believe all this was really happening when this total stranger put a finger in my pussy. With his other hand he began squeezing one of my breasts. He didn't need any help getting an erection, but Tim ordered me to take his prick in my mouth anyway. Sucking a stranger's cock in front of my husband was the ultimate humiliation, but it set me wild with desire. Fully aroused by my own submission, I was enjoying my role of whore. Pussy juice leaked down my leg. The odor of my sex filled the air. As Korren's fingers stroked my clit I became all slut, a sexy blond harem houri, the natural prey of every man with a penis. God, how I wanted Korren to fuck me. I hated Tim for making me do this with a stranger, but Steve Hamilton was right. A woman is at her erotic best when she is used as a plaything. I began to lust after this new cock even as its owner watched me strip, and the feel of his naked body against mine excited me. He had a big cock and I could feel him harden as he pressed it against my belly. My poor pussy began to ache with need. I rolled off Korren and the sofa onto my knees. Korren sat up, and as he did, his huge hard-on sprung straight out from his crotch. My mouth watered as I thought of what it could do to me. I pulled myself up between his spread thighs, and frantic with desire, I buried my face in this stranger's crotch..., sucking his balls and licking his thighs. From behind be I could hear Tim tell me "Put him in your mouth, damn it. Suck him you horny bitch, suck him!" "God Damn him," I thought, "my loving husband is turning me into a whore. But, shit, right now, I just don't care! Tim wants to watch his wife suck off a stranger, does he? Well shit, that's fine with me. I'll give him a blow job he will never forget!" I swallowed the full length of the stranger's rock hard penis, bobbing my head, sucking hard over the knob at the end, just as Tim and Steve had taught me. The more slutty I became, the hotter my pussy burned. Then I heard Tim's voice again, "On your hands and knees now, Marge, crawl to me" Tim ordered. "Mr. Korren is going dog fuck you from behind while you give me your best trailer tramp blow job." I am self conscious about my breasts and big butt when I am on my hands and knees. On all fours with my fat ass in the air, and my tits dangling and swaying under me, I always feel both vulnerable and ashamed of spectacle I am making of myself. Yet, I never feel more sexy and wanton than when I must crawl for a taste of Tim's cock. Tim knows all this, and he knew damn well what being made to act like this before Korren would do to me. What I a picture I must have been, on my hands and knees, one penis in my mouth and another deep in my cunt. My humiliation was complete. Fucked with two cocks, my imagination reopened last evening's fantasy, and I became lost once more in medieval Europe. A suburban New Jersey housewife no longer, I was once again a Christian princess of a thousand years past, captured by the Huns, raped, and carried off to be sold into slavery.... ******************* Tim and his guest were far behind me now, but even so, nothing changes to the better. In my fantasy, I remain a helpless naked female on my hands and knees at the mercy of a pair of male tormentors. The only difference is the question of who are the men plundering my holes. I no longer suck Tim. Instead I pleasure the shaft of the bearded Magyar in the Roman toga who bought me at the slave auction. The guest probing my pussy from behind is no longer an overweight furniture buyer from Dayton Ohio, but a muscular barbarian, a warrior ally of the Magyar visiting him from the other side of the Danube. It all comes back to me now..., how on the last day of my trip from the slave market, the guards took my sister slave and myself from our prison cart, and made us kneel before the Magyar by the side of the road. There he opened his robe and showed us his cock for the first time. It was, as I had hoped, both long and thick. First the other girl, and then myself, were told to demonstrate our loyalty and obedience to our new owner by sucking his penis while his men watched. We knelt there in abject submission, naked and in chains, alternately tending our new master's cock and balls, while he explained what he expected of us. We were told that in addition to ourselves, there are a dozen or so cunt slaves at the castle manor our Master keeps on hand to entertain himself and his guests. When he is not using us, we may be sent to pleasure his elite troop of soldiers. I did not understand why at the time, but I soon learned that in these uncertain days a comely woman is the bribe most likely to insure the fealty of a praetorian guard. I need not have worried so about having regular sex in my new home. In this manor a slave woman will sometimes be fucked by as many as three different men in a day's time. Still, slave or free, I could be worse off, and I would not dare to try to run away. This manor has high stone walls and it is defended by a well equipped little army of mercenary soldiers. Here I am protected from the bands of thieves and brigands who roam the countryside, stealing slaves and pressing honest serfs into an even more bitter kind of servitude. Security is important to a woman in these troubled times. I have experienced the terror of capture and rape. I have endured a long march across the mountains chained by my neck in a line of half naked women. I have suffered the cruelty of the slave merchants. I know the shame of being paraded nude on the auction block. I remember well the auctioneer lashing at my legs with his whip to make me dance and flop my tits for the bidders to see. I do not want to repeat any of those horrors. I am therefore grateful for the safe refuge of this manor. Our treatment is sometimes harsh, but we are well clothed, housed and fed here, and our other needs attended. We are punished for our misdemeanors, but we are not beaten unfairly. We are required to douche with a herbal wash after sex to protect us against pregnancy. If, however, a cunt slave does begin to swell with child she is excused from all sex duty except blow jobs. After she delivers, a woman serf is permanently assigned as a nanny to help raise her baby. Kathy & Me Ch. 6 Finally, but certainly not least, our master and his guards are virile, horny, and well endowed with the kind of tool between their legs that does a woman best. Slut that I have become, I now look forward to having a big hard cock in my pussy every day. I no longer regret my servitude..., not even now, on my knees with one man fucking my mouth while a second plunders my pussy from behind. In this cruel world, what else can a woman expect? **************************** My reverie is interrupted by a flood of male sperm in my mouth. Is this the salty ejaculation of my Magyar owner, or that of my sweet Tim? There is no time to find the answer. The cock that has been probing my pussy from back of my hips is cumming now also. Is that Korren, or is it the barbarian? Whomever..., it makes no difference. Two men have just taken me for their pleasure, and cum oozes from me at both ends. I quickly swallow the milky seed in my mouth, and spin around to lick clean the still slick penis behind me. A slave woman's duty is to service every cock given her. Whether I am in some far away imaginary castle, or in my own living room of New Jersey suburbia, what matters is to please my masters with my mouth and cunt. My voice sounds strange and foreign to me as I hear myself plead, "Please Master..., Please do not give me to the guards tonight. Their barracks are cold, and there are too many cocks there for one poor pussy. Let me stay here where it is warm. Use me as you will for your pleasure. I will worship your penis. My mouth is soft. My pussy is wet. My ass is tight. Yes, my ass..., master, please take my ass!. You have not fucked me there for a long time now. Perhaps your guest would like to butt fuck me. Give him my bottom hole perhaps, and for your pleasure, sandwich me! Stick your mighty rod in my cunt while your guest plunders my bowel. But, please, please, don't send me to the guards tonight." My babbling about the guards must have puzzled Tim, but there was no time for him to find out what my craziness was about. Mr. Korren did indeed want to fuck me in my ass, and said so. After I had sucked them both hard again, Tim lay on his back and I mounted his cock. Once he was all the way in me, I lay down flat on his chest, and spread my legs as far outward as I could make them reach. With my own hands I pried my ass cheeks apart, offering my most private hole to our guest. The head of his big prick drove past my sphincter with his second lunge, and for the first time in my life, my hips were pinned between two rock hard male members. A woman can not be more submissive than to hold herself open to be butt fucked by a stranger, but to take her master's cock in her pussy at the same time makes her subrogation complete. The cocks in my ass and pussy reopened the gates to my imagination, and drove me once again from the reality of my living room back into the middle ages. Tim and his Mr. Korren faded from my sight once more, and in their stead returned the two hard muscled semi-civilized Europeans of a thousand years past. ****************** This could not be only a dream! I could see the Magyar and his visiting friend as clear as day. It was they who held me captive, impaled between their penises. Strong men, they bounced my body back and forth on the ends of their dicks as if I were a rag doll. Never have I been so filled..., so stretched..., so satisfied..., or so hard used. My orgasms came in shattering waves until finally one, and then the other, male shaft spurted its seed into me. The two men had no sooner set me free from their cocks, however, before my Magyar master announced that I must be punished for earlier refusing to show his guest my breasts. I could not believe that I had done such a thing, but my master says that it is so. I accept that I must be punished severely for my disobedience, but I am afraid. I have been seldom beaten since I was take from my father's castle, and the cane and the whip terrify me. Fortunately, my master did not give me time to dwell on my fear. It was scarcely a moment before I was suspended by my wrists from a beam in the ceiling, my toes barely touching the floor. I hang helplessly, male cum still oozing down my thighs from my gaping cunt and ass. Who will beat me..., my master or his guest? Mr. Korren, I thought. Korren will whip me. No, it can't be Korren. The man with the cane is certainly no Midwestern Rotarian. No, his arms and chest bulge with muscles that are slick and shinny with oil and sweat. It is the barbarian! He is the one who will cane me! He is naked except for a small armless leather vest open across his chest. His long cock hangs limp and empty, but it is on the rise. I can see a great purple head just beginning to peek out from under the uncircumcised foreskin. My tormentor rubs himself against my nakedness. He is stirred by my warmth, and his great semi-erect member starts to swell faster. Filling with blood now, it lengthens and slowly lifts itself away from his balls ..., and altho it remains half soft, it rises enough to bob up and down as he circles around me. This is no man. This is a magnificent satyr beast preparing to beat his woman for her misdeeds. I hold my breath, but the blows do not come. He waits, looking into my eyes. After he has whipped me, he will take his pleasure from my body, and he wants me to dwell upon how he plans to use and abuse me. He need not worry. Through the fog of my fear I can hardly think about anything else. Finally, he strikes. The slash of the cane lands savagely across my buttocks. The next one falls across my belly, a hand's width below my navel. The third stripes my nipples with a red whelt. Again and again, pain knifes through my body. I can not help my screams, and I beg him to stop, but he does not. There is no mercy for a slave woman in this uncivilized world. But, oh..., oh, his cock..., his cock. How that enormous member grows and hardens as it sucks excitement from my pain. My eyes lock themselves upon its angry head. Fully erect now, it has become an awesome weapon..., engorged..., long and thick..., smooth and stiff..., a proud masculine staff to be flaunted before the poor female who will soon serve it with her mouth and cunt. Suddenly my lust is touched with uncertainty. How can my pussy possibly stretch to take him inside me? He is soooo big. Will he split me as I take him inside me? Desperately, I focus my eyes to measure its girth and length. It is no use..., the torchlight shadows magnify and distort his length and girth. Such a phallus tho. Has any woman ever been fucked by its like before? The stiffer his erection becomes, the more freely it swings back and forth..., jerking itself from side to side like the unteathered boom of a sail ship at sea..., bobbing..., swaying..., threatening..., promising..., teasing.... My mouth waters for a taste of the pre-cum that oozes from its tip, and then hangs there like a drop of nectar. It is all too much. I no longer feel the lash of his cane. I recede into a bewitched stupor where pain and fear are forgotten. I am conscious of nothing now but my overwhelming need to have this barbarian split me open with that massive erection. My riveted gaze, and the hunger written on my face, are not lost on my tormentor. He knows that I lust for his prick. He parades himself in front of me now..., waving his hard shaft at me..., jacking the foreskin up and down over the head..., taunting me..., talking to me..., shaming me..., pausing now and then to rub my clit with his finger..., promising how good his cock will taste when it is down my throat. He calls me his whore and demands that I describe what I will do to please him. I respond shamelessly, begging him to fuck me..., reciting for him all the Karma Sutra of the ways he can use and abuse my body for his pleasure. He walks behind me now and the lash of his cane pauses. Oh, God, what is he doing back there? I can feel him rubbing that mighty horse cock up and down the crack of my ass. With one hand he reaches around to squeeze my breasts. With the other he spreads my legs and forces a finger into my cunt. Once, twice, then a third time, he pokes his erection at my anus, not strong enough to penetrate that still stretched and sensitive hole, but hard enough to tease me with the swollen head. Each jab sends a jolt through my clit that is worse than being hit with his cane. I can plainly see, however, that I am not alone in this purgatory. With every whelt he raises on my body, my handsome barbarian's cock becomes even harder, longer, and more rigid. His erection is total now, and it gives his passion away. He lusts for my body as much as I do his. When he is finished beating me, he is sure to take me again. Will it be my mouth or my cunt this time? Despite my pain, or perhaps because of it, my anticipation causes me to orgasm over and over even as he strikes me with his cane. I no longer beg him to stop beating me. I no longer care. Now I beg him only to fuck me with that great cock..., fuck my cunt..., fuck my tits..., fuck my mouth..., fuck my ass........ My beating is over now, and I am on the floor again. I squat on my haunches looking up at the huge penis of the man who has just caned me. Hard as forged iron, it juts toward my mouth in an upward curl. Is this really the medieval barbarian, or is it Korren the furniture salesman? It makes no difference. It is a cock, and that is enough. I take it lovingly into my mouth. It has the acrid taste of a recent ejaculation. I open my throat the way my Hun master taught me during our trip over the mountains, and I swallow my prize whole. Strong hands entwined in my hair anchor my head solidly at my tormentor's crotch. Powerful hips drive that imposing prick in and out, fucking my mouth as if it were a vagina. With each inward thrust, my nose buries itself in his pubic hair. With each outward pull my lips suck at the ridge that marks its bulging crown. All too soon, the reward for my submission comes in great gushes of creamy cum. I swallow all that I can, but too much comes too quickly, and my mouth leaks the overflow. Cum drips down my chin onto my tits, and from there onto my belly. The barbarian must have drained a pint of his manhood into my mouth before he drops to his knees groaning from the ache in his emptied balls. On the way down his shrinking cock slips from my lips tailing a long sticky sting of cum across my breasts. His once proud penis is now limp and shrunken. In the end I have won. My mouth has left this mighty warrior exhausted and defeated on the floor, his weapon soft between his legs. My master's penis, however, is still alive, still erect and demanding. He turns me over and onto my back. I spread my legs for him, and he fucks me one last time. Who is this master who pleasures my pussy before I sleep, Tim or the Magyar? It is the Magyar I am certain. * * * * * But, perhaps I was mistaken. When I awaken the next morning I am alone on my own living room floor. Was it really all a dream? I can't tell. They are all gone, the Magyar, the barbarian, Tim, Mr. Korren, but the smell of sex still hang heavy in the air. On my breasts, on my face, and in the hair of my head and pussy, a crust of dried semen. Still more cum, this mixed with my own female juices has run down my legs and on my inner thighs. Across my body are welts from my beating. My poor pussy and anus are stretched and tender. Where was I last night? Who fucked me so? Could it be that this was all Tim and Korren... that the Magyar and the barbarian existed only my imagination? To Be Continued... Kathy & Me Ch. 7 The days flew by quickly now as Tim and I found ourselves more and more ensnared in Steve Hamilton's lifestyle. Tim joined Steve's little fun cabal for cards and ball games, and it wasn't long thereafter that the boys brought their bi-monthly floating poker game to our house. As the hostess for the night I was expected to serve the beer and sandwiches..., and to provide the evening's 'entertainment'. Tim dressed me in an absurd French maid's costume he rented for the occasion. At the appointed hour, there I was, standing by our front door in black net stockings, my breasts spilling out of a bra that was much too small, and wearing no panties under a skirt so short it barely covered my naked pussy. Tim carefully instructed me on how we would greet our "gentleman guests". As each man arrived, Tim would introduce me at the door. He emphasized that I should be sure to remember each man's name. When Tim said "...and this is my wife Marge," that was my cue to wrap my arms around the visitor, press my body hard up against him from thigh to breast, and give him a sloppy French kiss of welcome. Tim reminded me that as the hostess I had to be 'friendly' and 'entertain' the guys. I already knew what that meant. I was to allow these men I had never met before to grope my private parts whenever they chose. What will my 'guests' think of a woman who wears no panties, and permits them to squeeze her tits and run their hands up between her legs? I knew the answer to that. SLUT! They will think I am a slut! Dressed like this, and playing the whore, what else could they think? Still, I had no choice. I have been cunt slave long enough by this time to know that to protest anything Tim wants only gets me tied to a stair post and whipped. Anyway, as ashamed as I am of the way I must prostitute myself this evening, I must admit the thought of giving hard-ons to a dozen strange men made my pussy all moist and tingly. Lately I am soooo horny. I can't help but wonder..., when Tim's new friends see how sexed up I am, will one of them insist that I actually fuck him? And, what would Tim say to that? What would it be like, anyway? I mean to be fucked by some strange man in my own living room with my husband and all his friends looking on? My imagination overflows with images of how I would look laid out on the rug in my little maid's costume, all hot and horny, so turned on that I can hardly wait until someone sticks me with his big cock. I close my eyes. In my mind I can see myself on the floor. I am on my back sweating a little and the sweat makes my body shine in the bright light. A pillow is under my butt. My knees are raised and spread. My bra is pulled down. My soft boobs are flopped back against my chest, and the pale flesh inside my bra tan line glows milky white. My nipples are hard and erect, begging for the attention of a male mouth. My tiny skirt is rolled up around my waist allowing everyone to see my bare pussy and how wet I am. Tim's buddies surround me laughing and jeering as I squirm and beg for someone, anyone, to please come fuck me. I whimper a little when a dark naked man I first met only hours ago crawls on top of me. As his hips reach the cradle of my thighs, I reach between us and guide his short but very fat cock into my waiting cunt. The huge purple plum of its head is barely wedged between the lips of my slit before an orgasm begins to build deep in my ovaries. I hear myself groan, "Please..., please." My unknown lover has no sympathy for my plight. He snarls at me, "Please what, SLUT?" He does not wait for an answer. With a single thrust of his hips he buries himself inside me. His sudden entry catches me unawares, and I gasp, grabbing for a deep breath. My vagina walls are suddenly stressed to their limit, so widely are they wrenched apart. The penis inside me may not be as long as I would like, but it is bigger around than my fist. Only in child birth have my insides been split so open. I lift my hips, spreading my thighs, stretching myself to accommodate the extraordinary width of the swollen meat that dilates my cunt. My initial disappointment at the short pecker of my anonymous lover fades as my first orgasm begins to build from the delicious pressure against my clit. The dark man hesitates for a long moment as if to enjoy the elastic grip of my pussy tight around his cock. The opening to my slit is soooo full. I know Tim is watching and listening, but I am overwhelmed by my need for the prick that fills me. Despite my shame, I can not hold my tongue. For my husband and all his friends to hear, I tell my unknown lover how he has wrenched me open, and how desperately I want him to fuck me with his fat prick. The hard-on that has stuffed my pussy responds to my pleading. The hips between my legs are beginning to move now, ever so slowly at first and then faster and faster, driving that broad piston in and out of my aching cunt. I raise my ass and hunch my pelvis back and forth rubbing my clit hard against this plundering penis. That great orgasm that has been in waiting finally comes crashing over me and I scream how good it all is into my husband's ears. Whoa Marge! What are you doing to yourself? I shake my head, trying desperately to clear my mind of dirty pictures. Why do I think of such things? My dear Tim has a prick that should be enough for any woman. I do love him so, but lately he has made me into such an over sexed little tramp. I am truly humiliated by the way I must behave tonight in front of men I have never laid eyes on before. But..., if I am really ashamed at playing the whore, why am I fantasizing about being publicly fucked by a total stranger? I ask myself, "Good God, do I really want one of Tim's new buddies to lay me on my back and use me like that this evening?" The answer rings silently in my head, "Yes, damn it, I guess I do!" I blush beet red at the thought. Too late to worry about all that now, however. The guests are beginning to arrive. The very first one was Sam, Steve's old buddy from the Marine Corps. Sam was a big strong man, not really handsome, but virile and very masculine. On cue I pressed my body against his, and gave him my best tongue kiss. He responds to my passion by squeezing me hard in arms as hard as iron, returning my kiss, overpowering my tongue with his own. Shocked by the passion of his response, I panicked and tried to pull away, but Sam was not yet finished with me. One hand held my waist in a steel vice. With the other he reached into my bra and brought out a tit. For a long moment I remain his captive as he squeezes my boob, all the while rubbing the nipple with his thumb. Then smiling at the way I was gaping at him in my surprise, he stooped over to suckle on that abused nipple. Just as the next man walked up, Sam bit down..., hard. That did it! Tramp that I am, I cried out..., more from the ache in my cunt than from the pain in my nipple. As he raised his head from my tit Sam smiled again, wider this time. I could tell he saw the 'fuck me' look in my eyes..., and I just didn't care. It went on pretty much like that as each guest came to the door. One by one, I passionately hugged and kissed each guest as he arrived. In return they fondled my tits, my ass, and my pussy. By the time I came to the last one, both my breasts were out of my bra, my nipples were standing up like little rubber erasers, my stockings were down around my ankles, and I was sweating like a stevedore. My pussy was sopping wet too, but it wasn't with sweat. The last guy to arrive was Rosy, a young black boxer Steve had first met in the gym. A 175 pound light heavy weight, I could see his chiseled arm and chest muscles rippling under his skin tight T shirt. Another bulge was just beginning to rise down one leg of his taut jeans hinting at the oversized love muscle hidden there for some lucky girl to enjoy. I almost peed my pants when it occurred to me that if Tim was willing, tonight I might be that girl. I greeted this young Negro with some extra tongue and worked my crotch as hard as I could against that delicious and growing erection. I did soooo want him to fuck me right then and there. Everybody could see what a state I was in. From all sides I could hear teasing taunts and laughter. It was obvious I was enjoying my initiation as a serving girl..., but Rosy wasn't through yet. He bear hugged me in those muscled arms, and returned my kiss with the longest most muscular tongue I have ever had shoved into my mouth. Damn, what could he do to a girl's pussy with that thing? Before I could get my breath back, I began to find out. Smoothly Rosy slid out from under my embrace and on to his knees. He raised his head between my thighs, and began to run his tongue up and down my exposed slit. When he hit my clit, I thought I would die. I just stood there, my head thrown back, my legs spread, my fingers gripping his mat of kinky hair, whimpering with desire. Someone else, I think it was Sam, squeezed my left breast and fed his index finger into my mouth. It wasn't the long Arkansas black snake of Afro-American cock I wanted, but I made do, sucking on it as if it was a tiny penis. Orgasm after orgasm ran through my poor pussy. With the introductions over, I was given a chance to retreat to the kitchen for a few minutes before bringing out the refreshments. I stuffed both my tits back into my bra, re-hooked my stocking to my garter belt, and wiped the pussy juice off my thighs. When I brought the first round of beers back to the living room, however, the men weren't yet playing cards. Breaking in new serving girl is the favorite sport of this bunch, and I had proved to be an especially responsive victim. You remember how Tim had cautioned me to remember each man's name? Well, now I found out why. Our 'guests' were seated around the room now, and each one had unzipped his fly and pulled out his penis. Tim made me crawl to each man on my hands and knees, and after kissing the head of his cock, call him by his full name. After what I had been through at the door, there was no way could do that. Every time I missed a name, I had to lay across that man's lap, and repeat his name after each swat of his hand across my bare buttocks. To be spanked like that over and over, my bare ass up and burning, both my tits again hanging out of my bra, my legs in sheer black stockings kicking with every strike, is humiliating..., and pretty damned erotic. Along with the fire in my ass I could feel each man's erection swelling under my squirming belly. Between swats, hands seemed to come from everywhere, fingering my pussy and playing with my dangling tits. The redder my ass became, the more I wanted to be fucked, and the harder it was to remember who went with what name. All my brains had gone to my pussy, and I could hardly identify my own husband. Thank goodness they finally gave up. Thirsty by then from whacking my fiery bottom, they took pity on me, but only because they needed me to bring them more beer. The rest of the evening the men turned their attention to cards in serious way. Still, my situation hardly became any easier. With every sandwich or beer I delivered, wandering hands caressed me from thigh to breast. Strong fingers probed between my legs, and sometimes one of my 'guests' would hook me between his index finger buried in my cunt and his harsh thumb pressing against my clit. Held captive that way, I would be lifted upwards onto my toes where I could only teeter helplessly as I struggled to maintain my balance. Often I would not be returned to the solid floor until, to the delight of my tormentor, an orgasm would come washing over me. After the way I had been fondled at the door, and then spanked, to be toyed with over and over like this without having a cock in my cunt was almost unbearable. For sure, I was in no condition to protest when around midnight the men stripped me of my costume. Buck naked and in heat, I continued to serve them, consumed with a single thought. Would one or more of them fuck me? It didn't happen tho. The poker game closed down in the small hours of the morning, and soon thereafter only Tim and I were left in our living room. I pulled his pants and shorts down to free his cock, and knelt between his legs to play with his growing erection. After I had sucked him off and swallowed his cum, he asked me if I enjoyed what had happened to me. I was honest about it. I admitted how aroused I had been.., and how much I wanted one of them to fuck me.., especially the black man, Rosy. Tim told me that a white woman who would lust after black cock was nothing but a whore, and that he wouldn't share his bed with such trash. Instead, he hung me from a ceiling hook and whipped me. It didn't help. Even as I hung there all I could think about was having Rosy's long black dick in my pussy, and the more Tim whipped me, the more I wanted Rosy to dick me. After I had been punished, my dearest husband laid me spread eagle on the floor at the foot of our bed. He tied each arm out to the nearest leg of the bedstead, and cuffed a bar spreader between my ankles. A big plastic dildo was up my ass, and our largest vibrator was strapped into my poor pussy..., running of course. I lay there on my back all night, cumming at intervals on that damned vibrator, but never satisfying my need for a real cock. The life of a female slave, I have found, is not always a bowl of cherries. Still, it wasn't all bad either. I love Tim's dick and I get to enjoy it much more often now that I am his cunt slave. Every morning I suck him off before he goes to work. Around the house he keeps me naked with a leash hanging down between my tits, bumping them every time I move, reminding me of my servitude. When I am submissive and obedient, my pussy is rewarded. When I forget what I am and cop an attitude, Tim hangs me in a doorway, where I am first whipped, and then abused with a huge dildo up my ass. When I am particularly naughty, I am whipped and then Tim sends me scurrying still naked next door to service Steve Hamilton's prick. This is supposed to be part of my punishment for being a bitch, but I have lost my fear of Steve's massive prick, and I am no longer apprehensive about taking him in whichever of my holes he chooses. Indeed, the truth of the matter is, I love it. I have never been so well fucked as when Steve is finished with me. I wouldn't let Tim know, but sometimes I misbehave just so I can enjoy our neighbor's monster member. You see, altho I am Tim's property and cunt slave, we both know that underneath my servitude all this is only a game between lovers. Secure in that knowledge, I am never really apprehensive about how far Tim might go in abusing me. With Steve, however, the game is different. When he has me on my knees, I am truly a slave woman. With Steve there are no limits, and no safety valves. Whether I am in his bed alone, or with Kathy, or with some other woman, I am only another concubine for him to abuse. When Steve is astride of my face, feeding his huge cock down my throat, it makes no difference that I can not breathe. I am the same helpless female flesh as the nameless medieval manor slave I fantasize about. Steve's cock, and that of my imaginary Magyar along the Danube, are one and the same to me, and somehow they touch the very core of my erotic being in a way my loving husband can never reach. With all this constant sex, especially the way Steve humbles me, my fantasy life has blossomed. In my imagination I regularly return to my fantasy castle manor north of the Danube. At first I was periodically sent to the castle barracks to service the Magyar's praetorian guards like all his other female slaves. I greatly enjoyed all those rock hard young cocks, but soon the pleasure I gave my owner convinced him to reserve me for use only in his apartments. Now I am fucked only by him and his most honored guests, or I am given as a reward to an especially deserving Officer of the Guard. As much as I hated being suddenly denied the pricks of all those virile young soldiers, I am proud that the man who owns me finds my charms to be so special. I may be a little chunky around the hips, but I am blond and fair with a pretty face and full tits. My Hun master trained me well in the art of servile cocksucking, and as it happens, my Magyar's favorite thing is a blow job by a kneeling naked slave woman. He particularly likes the way I suck his prick because not only is my mouth soft and warm, I look particularly sexy the way my full soft tits dangle and sway in rhythm with my blond head bobbing up and down on his fleshy rod. By no means, however, do I have an exclusive claim on my Magyar's prick. In addition to a dozen or so lovely concubines that he also uses from time to time, he has a pretty young wife with an olive complexion, and hair as black as a raven's wing. The Magyar, like Steve Hamilton, often insists that I join he and his beautiful wife in his bed. I hate that, and the Magyar's wife hates it even more than I do. Still, if I must share my master with another woman, I could not ask for a more sexier partner than this dark beauty so much like my Kathy. Tonight the harem eunuchs have brought me to the Magyar's quarters stripped to the buff as always. The Magyar already has his pretty wife naked, blindfolded, and hung by her wrists from a rafter with just her toes touching the floor. He is nude also, sitting on a couch close by his helpless wife where he can torment her at his leisure. I know what I must do. Head and eyes down, I crawl to him on hands and knees until I am between his splayed legs. Submissively I kiss the uncircumcised head of his penis and then drop my shoulders to the floor, offering him my arms behind my back. He winds a strong cord around my forearms from wrist to elbow, binding them snugly together so that my shoulders are forced back, and my breasts are thrust erotically forward. He bids me to raise my head, and I pull myself upright to rest on my knees, offering my out thrust breasts for his pleasure. For long minutes he holds me there, squeezing me between his bare thighs as plays with my tits. He pinches my nipples with his strong fingers, and then uses them to probe my cunt. Wet with my juices, he feeds one finger at a time into my mouth. I suck on them as if they were tiny cocks, locking up into his eyes, silently pleading with my eyes for him to fuck me. Finally he releases the pressure of his knees and begins to spank my breasts, slapping them right and left with open hands. The slaps sting terribly, but the pain is erotic, and the more my poor tits burn, the more aroused I become. As suddenly as they began, his blows stop, and the pressure of a hand on the back of my head tells me to begin the blow job he so enjoys. I drop my head and begin to service my owner's great cock. I lovingly lick and suck his balls before taking his prick into my mouth just as I was taught to do so long ago by the Hun chieftain. While I serve his hard penis, my Magyar flicks his whip repeatedly across the thighs and pert tits of his poor helpless wife who is still hanging within his easy reach. I can hear the 'splat' of the leather whip thongs as they strike bare female flesh. His wife is very brave, but when the whip cuts particularly deep she cries out over the sound of her soft sobs. I try not to think about how it hurts to be whipped like that, but I know my time will come soon enough. Before this night is over, our master is sure to beat me also for no reason except to hear me scream and beg for his mercy. I was right! My turn to be punished comes early on this night. I stand obediently with my legs spread. My wrists and elbows are still tied behind my back, offering my defenseless breasts in sacrifice to my master's cruelty. Tonight he is without pity as he swipes his cane across my poor tits and belly. Breasts to thigh, and then across my back, shoulders and buttocks, then down the back of my legs, each lash of master's cane leaves a new mark on my naked flesh. Kathy & Me Ch. 7 I am weeping hard by the time the blows stop, but my redemption is not far behind. The Magyar gives a command in a language I do not understand. His wife quickly crawls between my spread legs, and stretches her neck upward to reach my pussy slit with her tongue. Even as my body burns from the sting of the cane, orgasm after orgasm racks my body. Pain and pleasure! Pleasure and pain! I can no longer tell where one ends and the other begins. The whip and the cane have once again convinced the Czech and I of our place in life. Beaten into total submission, we grovel before our master, suck his fingers and toes, begging him to fuck us. Tonight I am first. I lay on my back, a pillow under my hips as my Magyar kneels between my legs and fills my pussy. His wife straddles my face and twists my nipples urging me to suck harder on her cunt. Once I have orgasmed, the Czech and I switch places. Now it is she who spreads herself to take our master's mighty prick, and now it is my pussy that enjoys a female tongue. As she did to me, I encourage her to eat me by twisting and pinching the tender flesh of her nipples. My orgasm comes in unison with hers just before our master ejaculates into his wife's cunt. In my passion I drop my full weight down upon the face of the woman under me, smothering her cries of pleasure. Sometimes our Magyar will fuck one of us, or both, in our ass before he calls it a night. This evening, however, he has us lick and suck him until we have emptied his balls and swallowed his cum. When he has had enough, we give him a warm bath, and there in the swirling waters, we amuse him, and ourselves, with a session of lesbian sex before we all turn in. Snuggled under our blankets, we drop off to dreamland with his soft cock in my mouth, and his lips around his wife's nipple. This Czech woman and I talk often. I have come to know her almost as well as I know Kathy in my other life. The story she told me was much like my own. The Captain of an invading Roman Legion seized her as his personal booty as his army raped and pillaged all across her homeland. Unlike myself, however, she tried to fight against becoming sexual slave. On the first night of her captivity, she had to be brought to her Captain's tent in the iron grip of his two Guards. Helpless, but still struggling and cursing her captors, she was tied to four stakes, spread eagled and face down, across her new owner's pallet. First the Captain, and then one of the soldiers, soundly whipped her from shoulders to ankles . Even now, faint scars across her backside testify to the severity of those cruel cuts. When her beating was over, they turned her over, and retied her, still eagle spread but now face up in order that the Roman Captain could use her cunt to satisfy his lust. Once sated, he invited the two guards to repeatedly rape the pretty Czech while he watched. On the second night after she was again soundly whipped, the Captain and his guards left her tied face down and sodomized her mouth and ass. When she was brought to her Captain on the third night, she gave in, and just as we women always must do in the end, she submitted to her fate of sexual servitude as a cunt slave. Once tamed, his beautiful Czech prize was too valuable for the Roman to keep for himself, and he soon sold her to our Magyar master. It was a private sale, however, and at least she was spared my humiliating experience on the auction block. More comfortable with her slavery at our manor, she soon learned how erotic submission to a male master can be. Begging to be fucked is addictive to a woman who has nothing else to think about, and in her servitude, this prim and pretty Czech discovered a sensuality and sexual enthusiasm she had never known before. The Magyar in turn found her transformation so irresistible that he married her despite her lowly status and well used pussy. God, I guess so! This was a woman born for sex. Her breasts are on the small side, but perfectly shaped with nipples like bullets. Her legs are as long and as shapely as any I have ever seen. Her ass is high and plump. Her tongue is magic as my pussy can tell you. And her cunt..., her cunt is just amazing. I have seen her seat herself on her husband's cock, and without moving her hips bring him off using nothing but the muscles inside her pussy Kept naked almost all the time in the Magyar's quarters, the Czech woman is constantly in heat, and when her husband is not dicking her, she is masturbating with a huge wooden dildo. I know that she often cheats on her husband with one or more of his well hung soldiers. She once suggested that I really wanted a good time, I should slip away from the harem and join her and her lovers, but I am too afraid of my master's whip for anything like that. True he occasionally allows one of his officers or some other stranger to fuck us both, sometimes with his participation, sometimes while he just watches. Still, I don't think he will stand for playing the cuckold for a whom he has made his wife. What will happen to my new friend if she is discovered playing with strange cocks on her own? I hate to think about it But enough of my dream world. The big news of our real lives is about Kathy's wedding. It was about two months after Tim's poker party that Steve and Kathy tied the knot (an ironic term considering their relationship). The official ceremony was held at their home in front of a local Justice of the Peace. Family members, employers, casual friends, all the usual respectable guests, were there to watch and drink to the health of the happy couple. The ceremonial send off to the honeymoon was a sham, however. Actually the bride and groom circled back and rejoined the real wedding party of Steve's pals and their women at the country estate of Malcolm Porter III. More about the wedding next time. Kathy & Me Ch. 8 When last heard from, Marge and her husband Tim had attended the wedding and of Kathy and Steve. As we join them once more they have arrived at the Porter Mansion for the special celebration Malcolm Porter and his wife Silvia have arranged for Steve and his new bride. * * * * * The theme for the weekend wedding party was a Roman orgy. The huge marble tiled living room of the Porter home was emptied of its furniture and refurnished with nothing but a plush shag rug, low tables, and stacks of pillows that covered the floor. Numerous, servants, both male and female, sparsely dressed as Roman slaves served the guests with food and drink.., and any sexual service a guest might request of them. I later learned that a few of the servants were rich friends of the Porter's who enjoyed the kinky life, but the rest were regulars of the Porter staff, experienced in this kind of party and totally trustworthy. I could not take my eyes off the Porter's senior man servant, a big black buck dressed in the short kilt skirt of Roman tradition. Peeking out from under its hem was the object of my fascination..., the head of a huge ebony cock that even soft must have been a good fifteen or sixteen inches long. God, what would it be like to be impaled on such a monster dick? The guests disrobed upon arrival, and all were given loose silken togas to wear, but without buttons or a sash to keep them closed. The women's garments were almost transparent, and with the way they were always falling open, we might as well have flaunted ourselves naked. I could see that my pussy would be well used his weekend. Our hosts, Malcolm Porter and his wife Silvia greeted us as a pair of Caesar's royal prisoners from Gaul, naked except for gold collars and sterling silver chain shackles at writs and ankle. The rings through Sheila's nipples were connected to her pussy ring by a gold Y shaped chain intended to insure that she would obediently follow wherever the slightest tug might lead her. A leather thong was tightly tied around the base of Malcolm's cock and balls. Somehow, despite its restraint, or perhaps because of it, Malcolm's cock was rock hard and standing straight out from his crotch like the jib on a sailing ship. Our hosts were playing the role of Roman prisoner slaves as a signal to their guests that they were fair game for the abuse one would expect such slaves to receive. There would be no shortage of those ready and willing to take cruel advantage of the rich masochistic couple. The first of these was a weightlifter from Steve's gym, Big Joe, and his slut for the weekend, a hard looking red headed whore with enormous tits that were clearly the work of a talented plastic surgeon. Big Joe and his trashy red head stood Malcolm at attention with his arms straight up over his head, and took turns beating his erect penis with a small multi-thonged whip. Tiring of that sport, Big Joe then turned Malcolm around and made him spread his legs and lean on his hands face forward against the wall like a police prisoner about to be searched. Joe grabbed Sheila by her nipple and pussy chain, and forced her to her knees where he stuck his prick in her mouth to lubricate it with her saliva. Once his prick was wet and slick, Joe slapped the poor Sheila twice hard across her face, and then twice more across her heavy tits, before forcing her to crawl between her husband's legs to sit with her back against the wall, her own legs spread wide. As dutiful as the Roman slave she was supposed to be, Sheila reached up and yanked Malcolm's hips toward her face, forcing his still hard but abused and flaming red cock down her throat. At the same time, the strong tug of her hands on her husbands ass pried open his cheeks and exposed the puckered hole of his anus. Malcolm's eyes became as big as saucers as it dawned on him what was about to happen behind him, and he screamed in agony and humiliation as Big Joe's cock first slid up his rectum. The stimulation across his prostrate quickly overwhelmed him. The rich masochist ejaculated almost immediately, and then once more, in his wife's mouth as Joe fucked his bowel. While he was buggering Malcolm, Big Joe's red headed bitch crawled between Sheila's legs, and began to fuck her cunt with a huge plastic vibrator shaped like a cock, while her fingers and tongue she worked over Sheila's cunt, and by now, fully exposed clit. Her mouth full of cock and cum, Sheila moans told of her orgasm, but thus distracted, she allowed her husband's jism to escape from the corners of her mouth, and then to dribble down onto her tits. Except for Kathy who had a special role as the bride, all the men with wives or regular girl friends had agreed beforehand to swap their women during the wedding feast. Since I was Kathy's Bride's Maid, I was given to Steve's eighteen year old brother, Jack, who had been his Best Man. Lately, with more pussy available than he could handle, Steve had pretty much permanently turned Vicky over to his brother. Vickie, the whining and pouty teen aged tramp that she is, hadn't been happy with the exchange of Jack in place of Steve. She didn't mind in the least being assigned to Steve's buddy Sam for this weekend. As Sam was leading her away on a leash, Vicky could hardly hide her glee to again have a mature cock to play with. Tim in turn had chosen Sam's wife, a tall trashy looking brunet with big surgically enhanced tits to be his weekend concubine. I was a little jealous over how eager Tim was put his leash on this whore. We were barely in the door before he started to look around for her, and even before we had our first drink he handed me over to Jack and told him to "enjoy! Have a fun time." He didn't say, "and good riddance" as he left me, but he might as well have. Damn him anyway! I decided I didn't care! I knew Jack would use every hole in my body to pleasure his cock, so who needed Tim Simthers. I had never been fucked by teen age meat even when I was that age, and I was curious about what a younger man would be like. It wouldn't be long before Jack would show me. When Tim and I found him, Jack was laying on a pile of pillows, his robe open, legs splayed, idly stroking himself. I could see that his cock was every bit the equal of his brother's in size if not experience. Steve must have told him how horny it made me to be humiliated because right away Jack took my leash and led me over to the Porter's Negro man servant, you know, the one with the unbelievable dick. Jack made me get on my knees and beg for permission to suck that incredible coal black fifteen inch cock. The big black buck said not a word, but nodded 'yes' as if he understood completely. Clearly, I was not the first middle class white yuppie slut to ask him for a taste of that thing. Without a word he pulled his kilt up and fed the huge bulb end into my mouth. I pulled the foreskin pulled back, and ran my tongue around the ridge behind it, but he was too big for me. I couldn't stuff much more than the glans in my mouth. As I struggled with more prick than any woman could possibly take, Jack knelt behind me, playing with my tits and talking dirty to me in my ear. With that encouragement, I worked my mouth and tongue for all I was worth over as much of that black root as I could take. It was enough. That big black tube swelled with blood, and surpassingly soon I had him ready to shoot. I could feel him throbbing on my tongue, but just as he started to ejaculate, Jack yanked me way from my prize, and made me finish him off by jacking his cum into my face. Jizm splattered my forehead, nose, and cheeks, with just enough in my open mouth to give me a taste to remember him by..., as if I will ever forget the biggest cock I have ever sucked. On Jack's orders I licked the black servant clean, and thanked him for the cum load he had given me. Sucking an oversize black prick was only the beginning of my weekend of sex. God, I can't imagine what Vickie had to complain about. Jack may have been just a kid, but could that kid ever fuck! I had not anticipated how incredible the stamina of a teenager can be. That first evening that 'kid' must have taken my cunt or my ass hole, four times, and when he wasn't using me he kept me busy sucking his or someone else's cock. Of course tradition had to be observed, even at an orgy. A reception line formed to greet Steve and the new Mrs. Hamilton. The congratulations were a little unusual here, however. At the end of the reception line Kathy was on her knees naked except for bridal train and vail, and Steve was lying nude on a low couch. As the well wishers went by, Kathy gave each man's penis a thank you kiss and suck, and each woman sat on Steve's face to have her pussy licked as she congratulated him. The men were all pleased as punch with the prospect of having Kathy's lips around their dicks, but with their husbands and boyfriends watching and making lewd remarks, some of the women were embarrassed about being eaten in public. However, even those who were reluctant relented when they were told that the alternative being eaten was to be hung by the great fireplace and whipped. Knowing Steve's talented tongue as I do, I am certain that none of them were disappointed with what Steve did to their pussies. One woman who had said at first she wouldn't let a stranger lick her cunt in public certainly changed her mind. She was so pleased wirth Steve's tongue that she refused to leave him, and while Steve did his thing, she bent forward for a reciprocal suck on his exposed cock. Nor would she quit her 69 either until Steve had gotten her off and he had cum in her mouth. It was a party I will never forget for many reasons, not the least of which was the way I was fucked by Rosy, the black prize fighter. Jack had just finished making me give him a particularly slutty blow job when he called Rosy over and handed him my leash. I had been aching for his long black dong ever since he ate me on the night of Tim's poker party, and Rosy remembered me too. He said I was a prick teasing tramp and that he meant to make me pay for not letting him fuck me on the night of the card party I told him I would have gladly fucked him if only Tim had allowed me to. Rosy said that was no excuse, and without any further debate he stripped me of my robe, and tied my forearms tightly together behind me. With my shoulders pulled back like that, my breasts were pushed forward for his pleasure. It was all so like my fantasy when my Magyar tied my arms back and tortured my tits for no reasy other than to see me in pain. For long minutes I just stood there facing Rosy while he punished and teased my poor defenseless boobs. First he spanked them, slapping them hard, asking me if his blows hurt me. The memory of my imaginary Magyar seemed so real, so erotic, and now this black man was repeating what I had only dreamed about. Each time Rosy would slap a breast, he would ask if he had hurt me. Of course he hurt me, but the pain was so mixed with my fantasy so that I could not find words to answer. Tears rolled down my face, but I could only grit my teeth and whimper in response. Next, Rosy played with first one aching flame red tit, and then the other, squeezing them hard between strong black fingers and palms. My legs were trembling so that I was afraid they would give way and let me fall. That was when he opened his mouth wide and tried to swallow an entire breast. A sharp pain shot thru one of my blood engorged teats. He had bitten down on it..., hard. "Oh God," I thought, "don't let me fall now. His teath will tear off my nipple." I was truly grateful when at long last the pressure of his hands on my shoulders told me the time had come for me to pay my homage to his black dick. Dropping to my knees, I opened wide and sealed his long love rod between my tight lips. I pulled my head back and then drove it back forward, repeatedly raking his hard-on with tongue and lips, and taking it as far down my throat as I could manage. The sound of him beating my breasts, and my whimpered response, must have attracted a lot of attention because even with my head between his thighs I could hear people all around me talking about us. I knew how it must look..., a blonde woman on her knees, her arms tightly bound behind her back, sucking a black man's cock while her abused tits jiggled and bounced with every bob of her head. Not everyone approved. I heard one woman say it was a disgraceful that a white woman would give a blow job to a nigger. As I sucked his black root, Rosy told me the woman was right. I must be white trash, because only white trash would suck 'nigger cock.' 'Nigger,' that was the word he used, stressing it with a bitter irony in his tone. There had been a time when the white mistress of the plantation could tease her black slaves and make them beg to pleasure her with tongue and black cock. How the tables had turned! Now it was the sex crazed white suburban housewife who was on her knees begging to for black meat. Rosy, the descendant of African slaves, was taking revenge, and he wanted me to know it. He meant to humble me and make me pay before he would give me the ebony phallus I wanted so badly. Would I degrade myself, suck him off, swallow his jism, and then beg him to fuck me? Of course I would! Was there ever any doubt? It was then, at the peak of my submission, that his cum filled my mouth. I swallowed all that I could, allowing only a little to drip down my chin. I leaned back, letting his member slip from my mouth. He said that now I must beg him to fuck me. What is a white woman who sucks a black man's cock and then begs him to fuck her with it? Whatever she is, I am. Openly and loudly, in order that all those watching us could hear, my husband included, I begged Rosy to stick me with his great dick. He did not answer but he untied my arms as he stood looming over me like a great lord of the jungle. He told me to return his meaty black root to my mouth. He was soft after his ejaculation, and he demanded that I suck him hard again. I squatted before him on my haunches, my knees spread, and as I sucked him, my right hand was in my crotch masturbating my clit. Unable to speak with my mouth full of his cock, I looked up at him adoringly, pleading silently with my eyes for him to fuck me. "Lick my balls you white honky whore," he ordered. Reluctantly, I let his still flaccid prick slip from my lips, and used its long foreskin to lift it out of the way of my mouth. I lovingly licked the coal black rod all along its underside before turning my attentions to licking a huge gonad. I took each of his orbs into my mouth and gently sucked. The minutes flew by while I serviced the crotch my black Adonis with tongue and lips, licking him, kissing him, caressing him from thigh to ass hole. "Suck my dick again now bitch," he snarls at me. "Make me hard again and I may fuck you..., or I may not." "God yes, please, please," I silently prayed, "let me make him hard..., and please God, let him fuck me." I sucked with all my might on the ink colored tube that filled my mouth. My tongue worked feverishly around the ridge of the glans. My head bobbed with vigor as my lips worked his long foreskin back and forth over the cock head. Thank God! My prize began to stiffen once more. I knew I had won. The iron in his erection gave him away. He was every bit as hot and horny as I was, and he needed my cunt and badly as I needed his wonderful prick. "Turn around, whore," is his order. "On your hands and knees, like the bitch your are." He is going to dog fuck me. Somehow I knew that would be his way. Of course, He wants the white slut to take his black meat like a dog bitch in heat. It shames me that I am so desperate for black cock..., something I have always been taught was forbidden to a white woman. Damn it, I just don't care. For days and weeks I have dreamed of having Rosy fuck me, and now finally, from behind me his hard-on slips smoothly into my cunt. He is pounding me now, and my arms have collapsed under the force of his thrusts dropping my head and shoulders to the floor. With every forward stroke, he drives my face forward along the carpet, burning my cheek. Every time his long piston buries itself to the hilt inside me, I can feel his balls bounce against the cheeks of my ass. With every sudden jolt of my cunt the breasts dangling under me jerk back and forth. I was cuming for the third time when without warning he withdrew from my pussy and jammed his black meat into my ass hole instead. I screamed from the unexpected fire in my rectum, and then I heard myself scream out for all in the room to hear, "More..., please more! Fuck my ass! Please fuck my ass!" Butt fucked by the forbidden black penis..., coming with every thrust..., and pleading with my ebony to give me more! What has Steve Hamilton done to me? (To be continued???? -- There have been so few readers who chose to vote on Chapters 6 and 7 of KATHY & ME that I had about decided that there wasn't enough interest to be worth continuing the story. Lately, however I have had e-mail requests for more, and I decided I owed it to those folks to give them at least one more chapter. Whether the adventures of Kathy and Marge continue beyond Ch 8, however, will depend on the reaction of you the readers. Please, not only for myself, but for all the authors on this site, vote on the stories you read, and let the author hear from you, especially if you like his or her story. It is the only way we can know. Your vote and e-mail is our "pay" and it is what keeps us writing for your enjoyment.)