11 comments/ 51356 views/ 37 favorites My Slut Wife Life - Given Away By: myslutwifelife So much to tell and so little time to tell it. My Owner suggests that I shorten my reports to you. That those who wish to learn of my adventures already know all they need to know about my motivations, and his as well. And that I'm spending far too much time worried about who believes me and who doesn't. "Forget about not feeding the trolls," he says. "Instead, just don't notice them and they'll eventually go away." He's right, of course. Though I find it kinda funny that trolls are named after an imaginary character, but on Literotica they're most notable for suffering from a lack of imagination. Anyway, you know how I got to this point, whether you believe it or not. And it occurs to me that so many of my adventures involve other people, specifically not my husband, that before I tell you about those events, you'd probably be interested in hearing about my first time with another couple. Even after 6 months I was still pretty new to the Owner/Slut Wife thing. I'd learned and experienced the bliss that can come from completely submitting your body for the use and pleasure of another person - in this instance, my husband, also known as my Owner. And along the way, I'd experienced levels of pleasure I'd never achieved at any point in my marriage - mind-blowing orgasms, quivering anticipation that lasts for hours, being filled and fulfilled in ways never occurred to me. And I'd wrestled with, and usually overcame, the societal obstacles that delineated some choices as wrong and some as being acceptable. Together my Owner and I had begun creating a new moral code for ourselves, one that was less strict and far more malleable than the one we'd operated in for so long. One based on our needs and our absolute trust in each other. One that allowed a great deal of latitude to explore new adventures and make our fantasies come true. It's that last part that leads directly to our next step. During the beginning of our D/s explorations, my Owner had asked, nay, demanded, that I come clean and tell him about all of my fantasies. He quickly realized there were two recurrent themes: 1) to be fucked in a submissive way by dominant men and women, and 2) to have other people watch me be fucked, or to order me around in a sexual setting. We'd already taken the first step on theme number one when Todd, my husband's best friend, fucked me a couple of times while my Owner took pictures of it. Which had left me giddy with excitement and hungry for more. I thought that taking the first step on the second theme, the one where other people watch me fuck and suck and debase myself, would be much harder to begin. Sure, in the fantasy world, there's always someone nearby who's ready to discard their moral compass and participate in a sexually explicit scene. Some guy who's not in a relationship. Or some free-thinking, sexually uninhibited couple wandering through the woods who appear on cue to bring everything to a massive climax. But that's the fantasy world. Here, in real life, most people worry about AIDS, STDs, getting caught, sin, religious values, getting outted, pictures getting posted on the internet, statutory rape and a whole other host of concerns. Single guys who are over 18 and unattached are amazingly hard to find. Couples who are disease-free and trustworthy are even more rare. You might suggest that we could've found some swingers to play with, but even that had its worries. One, my Owner didn't want to start out with anyone who was experienced; he wanted to be able to direct the action himself. And two, we assumed that out where we live it would be very difficult to find real swinging couples. We learned differently, but not until much later. Which left us with people we knew. We had a wide circle of friends. And, in keeping with his personality, my husband had already identified two couples who were good prospects to join our adventures. In my view, the reasons for selecting them were entirely too cynical. But there's no arguing with the results. * * * * * I was naked, kneeling before my Owner, my bare tits resting on his legs, my mouth obediently sucking on his dick, my fingers massaging his thighs, when he declared that he planned to display me to another couple. My heart immediately began pounding and a spark of excitement shot down my spine, causing my already hot pussy to burn with anticipated pleasure. Oddly, I at first imagined that display as being pictures of me appearing on the internet for lonely men and horny couples to masturbate to. But that's not what he meant at all. As I continued to pleasure his cock with my mouth, he tugged on my dangling nipples and explained his plan. "I've given this quite a bit of thought, and though there's lots of couples on the forums that are willing to get together with us, I think we can better trust someone that's close to home. I think I found two couples that might want to help us out. First, there's Jim and Heidi. They seem like they'd be up for something like this. Ya think?" It was a trick question. He wanted me to answer, but he hadn't given me permission to stop sucking his cock. So I just nodded my head up and down, letting the motion talk for me. Jim and Heidi were deeply, passionately, madly in love with each other. At parties they were the ones who never separated, who always flitted from conversation to conversation joined at the hip, holding hands, laughing at the other's jokes, and generally pushing everyone into a diabetic coma. They had two wonderful, perfect children, a wonderfully perfect house in a new subdivision, and led what could only be described as a wonderfully perfect life. Why them, then? Both were also flagrant flirts and continuously dared other couples to bare some skin, commit some outrageous act, or to flagrantly break some long-standing taboo. They were instigators, almost always in a sexual way. They were our good friends but not particularly close friends. "But then I thought of someone even better. I'll betcha that Eric and Kristal would love to be part of our little experiment. I mean, it's not like they have anything else to do. And I can tell that they're looking for something, anything, to make things more interesting. That has to be why they're always talking about going to one of those couples resorts. And I don't think either of them cares all that much about what the other one does in their spare time, if you get what I mean. So I think they're our best bet. Right?" Eric and Kristal were staying together for the sake of the children. The love and passion had drained out of their marriage just as soon as their third child took his first breath. Bitter and barely even friends, they were going through the motions of marriage, struggling to find some equilibrium or common interest on which to focus for the next 20 years. My husband and Eric were buddies in passing, brought together by events rather than a real friendship. Kristal, though, was one of my best friends and I was her confidant. But both of them had a mean streak that could come out at any time. And I knew, from many girl-to-girl talks, that Kristal was indeed interested in 'exploring new sexual avenues' as long as Eric was already dipping his wick into another pot. His cheating would make hers acceptable. And cheating that she could document would give her even more leverage. My heart went straight up into my throat as the implications of his suggestion became clear. I'd be exposed, deliberately and intimately, to two relative strangers. They would see me at my most vulnerable. They would, probably, even get the chance to tell me what to do, to be their entertainment, like an interactive porno movie. The idea nearly paralyzed me with fear and trepidation. This would be real life. This would change our friendship forever. From that point on, whenever they looked at me, they would recall my naked body, splayed out in front of them for their erotic enjoyment. No. No, I didn't want that. But then I remembered a fantasy that I'd run through every so often. The one where Eric would catch me on the bed, my panties pulled down to my ankles and my fingers deep inside my cunt. He'd stand in the doorway and watch as I finger-fucked my pussy, thumbing my clit. Writhing on the bed, my hips rolling and my tits quivering, I'd put on a show for him, my eyes never leaving his, daring him to come closer. Sometimes he would and I'd pull my cunt lips apart, showing him my dripping fuck hole, inviting him to memorize the sight of me so horny, wet and vulnerable. A big-breasted, curvaceous whore when compared to his wife's lithe figure and small hard tits. A slut who didn't care who saw her, just as long as he didn't stop her from wantonly pleasuring herself. In my fantasy Eric would stand there, either hovering over me or remaining in the doorway, his eyes raking up and down my body, memorizing every curve, every valley, every gasp and every moan. And I would perform for him, using nothing but my fingers to bring myself to the precipice, remaining there until his cock created a tent in his pants, until his own desire to plunge his shaft deep into my steaming hole was nearly too much to deny, before taking myself over the edge, moaning and mewling as streams of pleasure rushed throughout my body, wave after wave releasing me from the ties that had strictly bound me. And then he would disappear, the memory of my slutty, sweaty body emblazoned on his soul, to be used as fantasy fodder whenever he needed an image to jack off to. I returned to the present, my mouth still mindlessly massaging my owner's dick, lubricating his hardness, lashing his sensitive spots, kissing the mushroom head and slit, where his cum erupts from to mark me over and over as his personal property. Yes. Yes, I would like to have people watch as I debase myself for their pleasure. Yes, I would like to have their eyes on me. The thrill, the anticipation swept through me. I redoubled my efforts to pump my Owner's cum from his bulging balls. I threw myself into it with a desperate passion, grinding my cunt against his shin, rubbing my tits against his leg, pulling him against my face until his cock was deeply rooted in my throat. Yes, I silently moaned, trying to get as much of him inside me as possible. Yes, I'll do it, I pleaded through my actions where words would never do. My Owner read me perfectly. "So, I'll put you down as an emphatic 'yes'." * * * * * * * I stood in the hallway near the living room nearly dancing with anticipation. Although, truth be told, many times the anticipation has more of an effect on me that the actual act. This time, I was awash in a wide array of contradictory emotional states. Fear and curiosity. Anticipation and dread. Love and hate. Readiness and delay. Confidence and timidity. Thoughts and fears surged through me as they had for much of the past few days, ever since I learned that my Owner had asked Eric and Kristal to come over for a few drinks. And a surprise, too. I'd spent much of the time since that announcement wondering what their reaction would be. Shock? Most assuredly. Disgust? Maybe. But hopefully not. Curiosity? Probably. Interest? Hopefully. Whichever I landed on, I always changed my mind moments later. I was sure that my Owner had told me so early as a way to torment me. I obsessed over it. Worried about it. Played and replayed every possible scenario in my head. I was so consumed by the whole idea of it, he ended up spanking me as punishment several times during the week because I wasn't paying the correct amount of attention to his needs. The extra sting on my ass only served to heighten my awareness that soon two of our friends would have a clear and unhindered view of that very same ass. Standing in the hallway I checked myself in the mirror yet again. I'd obsessed over my makeup, changing it three times, trying to get the right combination of innocence and decadence. I'd done my hair so it was half cascading over my shoulders and half down my back, letting the dark lines frame my chest so the eye would be naturally led to my cleavage. Not that I normally needed any help in that respect. I have big, firm boobs that men always notice. But I didn't want to appear too aggressive. That might inhibit their first reaction to me. My Owner had selected a white satin blouse for me to wear, accompanied by a short tan skirt. But it underneath it all was the outfit designed to make the biggest impact - a sheer black bodystocking that hooked around my neck, plunged deep between my breasts, left my back bare down to the cleft of my ass, covered my legs and feet, and revealed my precisely shaved pussy, leaving it completely uncovered. Around my neck I wore a black choker, and three-inch stiletto heels completed the ensemble. I was dressed for sex and lots of it. Trying to calm my rebellious mind, I eavesdropped as my Owner "explained" the situation to Eric and Kristal. "Explained" is in quotes because he was really just feeding them a pack of lies. About how the doctor had diagnosed me as a nymphomaniac. About my addiction to exposing myself to strangers. About how, in the midst of trying to cure these debilitating ailments, he and the doctor had discovered my hidden submissive personality. How the only treatment, short of drugging me into a stupor, was to address my failings in a controlled setting. How I'd become a true submissive and how he'd heroically sacrificed his part in our loving marriage to attend to my needs. And how, today, he was coming to them for their help in my treatment. Their part, if they agreed to it, would not only be observing but also participating. I needed to be subservient to as many people as possible. Together, they would help in stripping me down to my most basic emotional levels, down past even the primal urges, stripped bare until only the core of me remained. Only then could he and the psychiatrist begin building me back up. My Owner put it into terms that Eric as a computer programmer could connect to: I had to have all my data dumped, we had to sift through all that data, and only then could my clean hard drive be reprogrammed. What an unbelievable load of crap! I mean, literally unbelievable. I thought that he was laying it on way too thick. That there was no way this educated couple could fall for such a preposterous story. That was before I came to understand one of the fundamental truths of our age: People will believe anything about someone else's sex life. Especially if it seems more exotic, erotic or kinky than your own. To their minor credit, both Kristal and Eric asked a few intelligent questions: Was this just a put-on? Where are the hidden cameras? If all this is true, why hadn't they seen any signs of it earlier? My Owner, of course, had answers prepared for all their questions. And, most believably, admitted to not having answers to questions that no one could possibly know, such as what affect this might have on my psyche, how long it might take for me to be reprogrammable, and whether I had more than one personality living in me. I heard whispers then, as they presumably discussed it amongst themselves and came to a conclusion. "We're ready for you slut," my Owner announced in a demanding voice that seemed to cut clear through my head. Gathering up all the courage I could muster, I walked unsteadily around the corner and into the living room, stopping in front of the sofa which held all three of them. The first thing I noticed was that Kristal was sitting far closer to Eric than she normally did, with her hand resting atop his thigh. The second thing I noticed was the hard-on clearly evident beneath my owner's pants; he'd gotten turned on just by misleading our two friends! And the third thing I noticed was the cool calculation in Kristal's and Eric's eyes. It was very possible they hadn't bought a word of my Owner's explanations yet had decided to go forward anyway. The thought made me tremble. "So, you're a nymphomaniac slut," Eric said, as coolly as if he was describing my shoes as black. I didn't trust myself to speak, so I simply nodded. "And, if I'm to understand this correctly, what you want to do more than anything is to strip off all your clothes and be our sexual, um, toy, I guess it would be? And that will give you pleasure?" His questions were dry and unemotional, like a scientist interrogating a student. I nodded again, though I could feel my face and ears flush as I thought about the potential meaning of the words 'sexual' and 'toy.' Kristal took over the questioning. "Karen, honey, I'm only going to ask you this once. Because we're friends and I care for you. Is this really what you want? You're not being forced to do this because of some dumb bet or something? Because in all the times we've talked, I've never seen this side of you." I had to give the girl credit for asking. And would've given her more credit if I hadn't seen the slight flush on the side of her neck, or the way her hand was almost imperceptibly inching towards her husband's clearly engorged groin, or that the nubs of her nipples had grown just a little bit more noticeable under her clingy blouse. She was turned on. Turned on by the thought of me being in a subservient position to her. Subservient to all of them. Did I want this? My thoughts skittered away from me. I felt like that kid in that Christmas movie who couldn't remember what he wanted from Santa Claus. What did I want? I remembered sitting naked before Todd, tied to the chair, helpless, vulnerable. And the electric thrills of being his to enjoy. A stranger suddenly in charge of my body. And the differentness of his cock spearing my cunt, his shaft pinning me down, the way he took his pleasure in me with no thought to what I wanted. Domineering. Rough. Carnal. And I remembered all those other things my husband, my Owner, had recently been doing to me. The cruel fuckings. The sadistic spankings. The afternoon in the milking shed where I traded in my humanity for degrading pleasure, where I turned into a cow with teats and udders, grateful for every kinky moment of cruel treatment at the hands of the man I'd married and pledged my life to. And that's when I made my decision. Like those memories, this moment would never come around again. Never would my Owner try this again. Never would he arrange events and put his credibility on the line again. Eric and Kristal would never again hold out the hope that this was real, that they'd have such an intriguing opportunity again, so fraught with the possibility of being new and different and exciting. And I would not have this chance again, to submit to the fantasies in my heart, or to refuse it all and enter a period of stasis. Of spending each day hoping my Owner could come up with something new and different for me. And of having my only other option being Todd, with his leering grin and his probing fingers and his dripping cock. That was what finally decided it. I could broaden my horizons. Or I could settle for being Todd's anytime fuck toy. Because there was no putting that genie back in the bottle. I nodded my answer to her question, then realized that I should say something. Anything. "I want..." I said softly. I cleared my throat, tried again, "I want..." I couldn't finish it. "You want what, slut?" Eric prompted, shifting in his seat so that his wife's hand was near, oh so near, to the bulge in his pants. I flashed on my fantasy, of him standing above me while I played with myself, his cock within reach of my fingers, my digits slick with my juices. And my mouth, just a few inches from his groin... his dick and balls were right there, I could've sucked them and licked them and ground my face into them. Why didn't I fantasize about that? Why was I so obsessed with it right now? What did I want? I wanted to eat his dick and I wanted to suck her pussy and I wanted to be their sex slut and keep him wet while he fucked her and lick her ass while he fucks her and be his fuck toy while she rests and be his cum dump and wear his cum and curl in a naked ball and sleep on the floor next to their bed, their submissive bitch... My Slut Wife Life - Given Away I lick my lips and try again. "I want to do anything you want me to," I said softly, and knew immediately that it's still not enough. So, hands trembling slightly, I unbuttoned all the buttons on my blouse and let it fall open, so they can see the bodystocking below it and how tightly the netting embraces my breasts yet leaves my flesh uncovered deep into my cleavage. This time there's no subtlety as Kristal moved her hand over Eric's bulge and squeezed tightly. "And...?" she prompted, speaking to me with a coldness I remember from our conversations about women she has issues with. She has a habit of de-humanizing them so she can treat them accordingly. I pulled my blouse the rest of the way out of my skirt and then pulled my arms out of it, letting it flutter to the floor. I know what they're seeing now, having worn this very same bodystocking for my Owner several times. And having seen pictures he took shown on our big screen TV, in all their high definition glory. They're seeing how the black mesh is stretched to the limit, cradling the soft flesh even as it tries to keep my breasts from popping out. Through the stretched fabric, my areola and nipples are fully visible, swollen and hard and begging to be suckled. They can see into the valley between my boobs, that dark crevice that so quickly becomes slick with sweat, ready to welcome a throbbing shaft for a hot and nasty ride. And below my tits they can see how the netting lies taut against my stomach, hugs my hips and intriguingly continues down, down into regions only temporarily covered by my skirt. "And..." Kristal prompted again, her fingers deftly caressing Eric's thick boner through his pants, the shaft outlined and disarmingly large. I look to my husband, my Owner. So far I've shown them nothing. They've seen me in a bikini. There's no doubt that Eric has caught a glimpse of my boobs as I bent down at some time or another. And Kristal and I have seen each other topless at the gym. Her breasts are small, pert, maybe A-cups. Her nipples always seem to be hard, nuggets that show through anything she wears. I remember her comments about how slutty big breasted women were. Her vehemence. Her venom. I never took her comments personally, but now I wonder: What will she do if her husband shows undue interest in my tits? Is that why Eric seems so eager and turned on? My husband, my Owner, gestured, like throwing away in invisible rag. The meaning is clear: drop the skirt. I gulped, my mouth suddenly dry again. Reaching down, I unhooked the waist and let it drop to the floor. Again the explicit photos come to mind. The black mesh, spanning my hips, framing that oblong gap where the fabric has been removed, leaving nothing to hinder the sight of my trimmed pussy patch and the swollen folds of my cunt lips. And then my legs, fully encased in black mesh, right down to my feet and toes. I stepped out of my skirt and spun slowly of my own volition, letting them see my bare back, the curve of my ass cradled in even more of the mesh, and the remainder of the oblong bare patch, with its promise of sexual pleasures hidden within. Eric shifted in his seat again, the heft of his cock readily apparent inside his pants, his wife kneading him like I do when I want my Owner to get harder and harder and harder. "Come closer," he growled, and I did. One step, then a second, until my legs are touching the edge of the sofa and I'm standing between the two of them and I can gaze down and look inside Kristal's blouse and see the dainty bra she's wearing. Eric took his wife's right hand in his left and together those hands lift up towards the bare patch between my legs. And together they touched the folds of my pussy lips. Their hands separate and Kristal slides a fingernail, long and painted and curved, inside the slit between my lips, while Eric rubs his coarse thumb across the top of my pussy, right where my clit is hidden. I groaned and involuntarily opened my legs, inviting a greater violation. But their tentative, almost tender exploration is interrupted by my Owner clearing his throat. The hands withdraw and we all wait for him to speak. "So, it's probably no surprise that I have to ask you to keep this a secret," my Owner says, addressing our guests. Unsurprisingly, they quickly agreed. "And it's a part of her healing process that I need to take pictures to record our progress. I assume there's no problem with that. No? Good. Then, I think it's important that our little slut here make it official what she's going to do for you. If you'll permit me a minute to administer her oath, we can get back to having some fun with her." For our entire marriage, my husband has liked his rituals. Stopping at the same restaurant on our way to the vacation cabin. Eating the same meal on our wedding anniversary. And keeping any promise that's made, no matter if it was made in jest or under duress or whatever. I learned quickly that I'd be held to any promises I made in the heat of passion, and he'd be genuinely hurt if I didn't pay up. The rituals only intensified when he became my Owner. So I wasn't surprised when he had something ready for this occasion. At his direction, I repeated my oath standing half-naked in front of our friends, "I, slut wife Karen, do solemnly swear, to do anything and everything Eric and Kristal ask of me. I give my body to them, to use and abuse as they wish. My cunt, my ass, my tits and my mouth are all yours to use as you will. I give you my body, my mind and my spirit. I will enthusiastically be your sex slave, for as long as my Owner approves. This I swear. I'm yours." Despite the childishness of the whole oath thing, I feel like I've really sworn to give up my freedom for their pleasure. The thought made me shiver. My Owner broke the solemnity with a bright announcement, "OK! So, now that the formalities are over, I'd suggest you take some time to inspect your prize. In fact, I'll take you on a little tour." He says this last bit like he's inviting them to take a tour of the house, instead of his wife's most intimate parts. "Slut, bring that ottoman over here and hop up on it." I dragged over our newest piece of furniture. It's about 3-foot square, leather-topped and nicely padded. We didn't buy it for all that however. We bought it because when I'm on my hands and knees atop it, my pussy is at exactly the right height to let my Owner fuck me doggystyle without either of us bending or stooping. And because it's wide enough for me to lay back on it, spread my legs, and still have room for his knees when he fucks me. It's handy but heavy as hell. I got on my hands and knees so my ass is facing them. I know how the black mesh frames my ass and pussy, drawing your attention to the globes of my butt and the deep crack splitting them. I know from my Owner's pictures that you can see my pussy lips peeking out, the slit between those mimicking the slit in my butt. And, if my legs are just a little separated, you can see my boobs dangling down. In all, the perfect view for a horny man. My Owner pried open my pussy lips. "Here is her main fuck hole. As you can see, it's already wet and swollen. The slut is already prepared for someone or something to penetrate her. And, trust me, it doesn't matter to her who or what it is." The way he talks about me is humiliating in the extreme. My face gets heated and I was this close to putting an end to all of this. I know he's doing it on purpose, pushing my limits, forcing me to get deeper into the submissive role. But knowing that doesn't make it any less traumatic. "What you'll find most interesting about this view is, of course, her asshole." He sounded just like a tour guide in a museum. I swallowed hard as he wiggled a finger inside my anus. He'd put it in dry, not even bothering to lick his finger to lubricate it. I could feel it wiggling around inside of me like a blind worm. "I think that you, Eric, will find her pleasingly tight any time you decide to fuck her this way. Assuming, of course, that you decide to go this way. And Kristal, we have plenty of toys to help you get some pleasure from her tight hole, too." I looked back, expecting to see shock on Kristal's face at the presumption that her husband might soon be ass-fucking another woman, but found her look to be disconcertingly speculative. Would she give her husband free rein to fuck me just so she wouldn't have to spread for him? She was still playing with his cock through his pants. Was that only because she saw the possibilities before them? Smack! I yelped and almost fell off the ottoman as my Owner's hand cracked against the meaty part of my ass. Smack! The palm of his hand caught me again, the sting emanating sharply down through my thighs. "Flip over, bitch, and show everyone your dirty fuckhole!" he ordered. Once I was on my back with my legs spread wide, he ordered me to spread open my pussy so they could get 'a good look inside.' He continued with his demeaning tour, pointing out the wetness of my hole, the meatiness of my pussy lips, and the flexibility of my legs, which would allow them to fuck either hole with little trouble. He then moved onto my mouth, telling them about how long my cocksucking training has been, how much I love to eat cum, and promising that I could deepthroat dicks of any size. "I've got a few things to get from the bedroom," my Owner announced after ordering me back to my feet. "Why don't you two get acquainted with your new toy, and when I come back she'll put on a little show for you." With that, he left the room. Eric was the first to rise, with Kristal joining him moments later. Tentatively, with just a second's glance at his wife, he reached out and caressed my breast through the taut fabric. I let out just a whisper of a moan but it was enough to encourage him. Acting with more confidence, he ran his palms across my boobs, causing the nipples to harden and the flesh to quiver within its mesh enclosure. "Just a sec," Kristal said, before reaching back and downing her full glass of wine. Fortified by the glow that she knew was coming, she returned to her husband's side. "Help me with this," he murmured, and together they untied the bodystocking from the back of my neck. Each working on one side, they pulled it down, off my shoulders and then, almost reverently, down over my boobs. Eric bent immediately to suck one of my nipples into his mouth, lashing it urgently with his tongue. I felt myself begin to fall into that familiar spell, where fantasy and reality began to blur and I felt I could let loose of all my inhibitions and give in to the decadent situation. Finally releasing my erect nubs from his eager mouth, Eric took his wife's hand and guided along the curves of each of my breasts, reveling in his power over me; indeed, over both of us. Her hand was cold and tentative at first, then seemingly warmed to the task, roughly grasping me, her fingernails leaving red indentations that thankfully faded quickly. I tried not to look her in the eye, tried not to think of her as a friend and confidant. Instead, I watched her hands as they groped my tits, watched her fingers squeeze and knead me, imitating the actions of her husband. The only sound in the room was the rasping of my breath and the skidding of skin on skin. My fears began to be rubbed away. Eric, of course, would be a man, taking whatever holes he was given, doing whatever he could get away with. But Kristal, I began to believe, might be gentler, more willing to let an experiment stay an experiment, without the physical submission expected of me. Then, in an instant, it all changed. "Aren't they magnificent?" Eric marveled, wrapping his hands around the base of one boob as if choking it. "Just incredible," he said adoringly. He was too busy munching on my tautly held tit to notice the murderous look in his wife's eyes. But I did. And I trembled at the thought of what that might mean. "I'm going to go see what's in store for the rest of the night," Eric announced, giving my rack one last slap, then heading for the other room. Kristal watched intently as her husband left, staring daggers into his back. Turning to me she painfully pinched each of my nipples between her long fingernails, roughly jerking them towards her. As I fought not to stagger against her, she pulled them sharply upwards and then downwards. "I knew he was going to do that," she spat out at me. "I just knew it! You with your big tits. You're just like all those other big-titted sluts, parading it around and then pretending to not notice when guys come running after you, their tongues dragging on the ground. Fuck! All it takes is a big rack and a little smile and you've got the attention of every guy in the room. I've seen you! Don't deny it! Well, sister, now it's payback time! Now it's time to get even, for me and for everyone like me, and give you what you really deserve." She grabbed my tit and really dug her fingernails in, causing tears to come to my eyes. "If you think those guys are going to be rough on you, you ain't seen nothing yet!" With that she released my boob and stuck her hand down between my legs, shoving her sharp fingers deep up into my hole and causing me to wince again in sudden pain. I staggered, shocked at the sudden violence of her outburst, worried that she might scratch the insides of my vagina and do me permanent damage. Just then, Eric returned with my Owner, laughing as they saw Kristal's fingers stuffed so far inside my pussy. She pulled me close and hissed in my ear, "You and I have only begun. And my hand is only the first thing I'm going to stuff inside your stinking cunt hole!" With that, she pulled it out and stuffed it into my mouth, making me suck my slick pussy juices off every finger. "I see you two have gotten better acquainted," my Owner chortled. "I thought tonight we'd let her perform for us and show us what a slut she really is. And then we'll just see where that takes us." That sounded ominous. The reality was just as bad. In no time I was back on the ottoman, laying face up with my legs spread wide. My job, if you could call it that, was to masturbate for my audience using a wide variety of toys that my Owner and Eric had dug out of our treasure chest of kink. The point was to show them how obedient and slutty I was. If you think it's easy to get yourself off in front of an audience, you're wrong. Especially if the audience is making lewd suggestions every minute. Normally I would just lie back, close my eyes and pretend to be alone. But the constant interruptions were more than just annoying. They were mood breakers. Eventually, though, I noticed that for Eric and Kristal, it didn't matter what my reactions were. They didn't care if I was actually getting off. They only cared about what it looked like. After just a minute of my performance, Kristal had released Eric's cock from inside his pants. Thick, brown and slightly hooked to the side, It was a little longer than I had imagined, with part of the shaft and the helmet peeking out when Kristal grasped it at the base. Long enough, I supposed, to make a distinct impression when shoved in some poor woman's ass. Like mine. Rubbing my pussy with my fingers I inserted and withdrew object after object as they shouted them out to me. A big black dildo. A cucumber. A double-shafted vibrator. A wine bottle. A screwdriver handle. My hand. It was as if we were doing a scientific experiment on what would fit in my pussy and what wouldn't. And so far, we hadn't found anything that wouldn't. Kristal continued stroking Eric's cock while drinking glass after glass of wine, her cup never empty thanks to the efforts of my dear Owner. And she appeared to be getting angrier and angrier at me, though I was only doing as I was told. Sweating from her efforts and the effects of the wine, she'd become disheveled, her blouse hanging out and her hair astray. Which evidently gave my Owner a new idea. "Say... I have an idea," he announced in his 'aren't I clever' voice. "Since the slut is all worked up, and Kristal looks like she could use a break, I think there's something Eric and I would love to see. I have the oil. The slut has the tits. And Eric has the hard-on. Does anybody have an idea what we could do with all that?" Oh. Shit. I knew exactly where he was leading. This was a bad idea. A very bad idea. And I knew exactly how my 'friend' would take it. In just moments Eric had his pants and underwear around his ankles, and he perched on the edge of the sofa so his stiff, swollen cock would be easily accessible. He didn't even notice how disdainfully his wife was looking at him. But I definitely noticed the murderous intent when she looked at me. I couldn't signal my Owner as to how very bad this idea was. And I was pretty sure he wouldn't care, anyway. He and Eric were men. And men did whatever they wanted. "Slut, if you would be so kind," he said, sarcastic in his graciousness. I slid off the ottoman and knelt in front of Eric. The baby oil was cold and thick as it streamed out of the bottle and across my cleavage, like a giant cumshot from a particularly pent-up guy. My Owner sprayed it liberally across the globes of my breasts, not stopping until every bit of them was covered with a glistening sheen. Avoiding Kristal's gaze and focusing only on the cock before me, I leaned forward and captured his shaft between my oily tits. He sighed as my heated flesh touched his, then growled when I pushed my breasts together, completely enfolding his dick in my cleavage. Doing all the work myself, I bobbed up and down on him, making it feel, hopefully, like he was deep inside my slick pussy. I frequently changed the rhythm, tempo and feel of his tit job, helping make the sensations as pleasurable as possible. From his groans and the twisted expressions on his face, I was being successful. From what I could see of Kristal's legs as she sat next to us, I could see the tension and dissatisfaction she was feeling. I'd pay for that later. I was sure of it. I looked down to see the greasy head of Eric's cock appearing and disappearing from between my boobs. Despite the liberally applied oil, the friction was building up, making my skin feel hot and uncomfortable. To keep from getting rubbed raw, I was forced to pull away and let some of the oil trapped under my breasts re-lubricate his stiff manhood. Then I'd take him back between my breasts and get back to the task of pleasuring his cock with my titties. Soon his breathing became shorter and more tortured. At this point, some men like to pull out and stroke themselves off, blessing the woman with an abundant stream of cum all over her face, neck and tits. But, after spending so much effort, I wanted him to cum while still trapped between my tits, his seed squeezed out by the body parts he so admired. Squeezing my tits together harder than ever, I slid up and down his dick, playing to the same visual and audible cues that I'd learned from my Owner while giving him all those blowjobs during the past few months. When I could tell he was on the edge, I increased the tempo and then doubled it again, my back and arms aching from the effort. He gasped loudly, then groaned dramatically, as a large splurt of creamy jizz shot up into my face, draping itself across my nose, cheek and chin. Moments later another joined its brother, anointing yet another portion of my face and chin. Three more spurts, less powerful, shot only as far as my neck and upper chest, covering me with a creamy, musk-scented sperm dressing. As he leaned back, I waited on my knees, the globs of sperm heavy on my face and chest. Fortunately, none of it hit my eyes, so I could leave them open and witness the reactions to this massive cumshot. Eric, of course, sat panting, his clothes still down around his ankles, his erection slowly deflating. My Owner was beaming with delight even as he snapped a few pictures of my cum covered body. Kristal, however, looked angry, like a thundercloud ready to explode. Her eyes said that I had betrayed her somehow, though I was at a loss to understand how I could've avoided it. What did she think that being a piece of property really meant? Does a shovel tell it's owner that it doesn't want to be used? My Slut Wife Life - Given Away "Scoop it up and eat it," my Owner ordered as I swayed from exhaustion. He informed the others, "She has learned that all sperm is sacred and none shall be wasted. So, if it's not deposited deep in her pussy or ass, she's to take it into her body with her mouth. She is, after all, nothing more than a cum dump. And you don't want your cum getting all over the house." I dutifully scooped up all that I could, slurping it off my fingers and swallowing every drop. Eric's cum tasted slightly of garlic, and based on how thick and ropy it was, I could tell that he hadn't cum in quite some time. Kristal, apparently, was not as sexually available as I was. Soon I was relatively free of sperm drippings and my Owner put me in the Stand for Inspection position, my legs spread slightly and my hands clasped behind my head. Truthfully, the tit fuck had made me very horny and I was hoping someone, anyone at this point, would stick their cock in me and give me a good fucking. But Eric and Kristal just started preparing to leave. "You'll keep this a secret, right?" my Owner prompted. "As you can see, the benefits of keeping it secret are well worth it." Eric looked at me as I stood obediently in the middle of the room, remnants of his cum still clinging to my skin. "Hell, yeah, we'll keep it a secret! In fact, I've got some ideas on how to get Kristal involved that we're all gonna love. But we're gonna have to leave that to next time. I still gotta take the sitter home." He leaned in toward me and gave me a deep and insistent French kiss, which I returned obediently. "I've got some ideas too," Kristal stated ominously, her eyes flicking over my oil- and cum-stained breasts like a snapping whip. "I'm not sure she's going to like them so well," she promised. "Excellent!" my Owner replied. "I'll give you a call so we can set up our next session. Slut, show our guests out." Not having been released from my position, I awkwardly led them to the front door. Before leaving, Eric squeezed both my tits and fingered my pussy slit. The thumb Kristal pressed against my chin chilled me to the bone, staggering me with its implicit violence. And that's how my first session with my current tormentors ended. To be continued...