0 comments/ 200072 views/ 41 favorites Sherry, Slut & Slave Whore Ch. 1-6 By: Jigs CHAPTER ONE – The Husband Zack Wazaluski lay on his back nude and sprawled across the bed. His naked wife was on her knees, stooped between his spread legs, her head dipping rhythmically into his crotch. Forearms solidly braced on his thighs lifted and lowered lips wrapped in a tight O around the blood filled male column that stuffed her pretty face. Full breasts dangling from her chest bobbed and swayed with the measured rise and fall of her head and shoulders that were sacrificing her mouth at the alter of her husband’s sex. Zack, however, contemptuous in his hunger for more of her throat, emphasized his displeasure for her loving efforts by spewing out demanding curses punctuated with dirty names. "Damn you cunt! More! Faster! Suck me faster! Deeper! Take it all you slut bitch! Swallow me, whore!" Impatient and demanding, Zack refused to wait for more tempo and depth from his wife’s mouth. Instead, seizing a fistful of her long auburn hair in each hand, he jerked her face downward, brutally impaling her throat on the cruel cudgel of his raging hard-on. Momentarily Sherry Wazaluski choked on the tube of male blood and flesh she was so violently forced to swallow. Nevertheless, and despite her struggle for air, her husband refused to release his grip or allow her to breathe. Ten seconds, then twenty, ticked away with Sherry's nose still buried in the dark mat of her husband's pubic hair. Only when the spasms deep in her throat subsided, easing the delicious squeezing of his cock, did Sherry's husband relent and allow her to free her windpipe from the crown of his penis. Now frantic to please, Sherry's head began to bob furiously raking her lips up and down her husband's sex rod from root to tip, marking its silken skin on every stroke with the cherry red stain of her lipstick. Driven by her quickened pace, the gentle sway of her full breasts gave way into a quickened to-and-fro jerk that testified to the renewed vigor of her devotions. On each rise of her mouth, the seal of her lips would catch on the ridge under the head, and with each abrupt halt, her cheeks would hollow with a sudden suction. Every down stroke sent the bulging end of his cock plunging into previously untouched depths of her throat, and buried her nose in the course pubic hair at the base of that adored penis. The Wazaluski's had been married for 20 years. From the beginning, Zack had treated his wife as his indentured concubine and love slave. He particularly enjoyed her mouth, and as on this night, he insisted that she suck him with pius homage and servile tribute as if his cock was a phallic shrine. Sherry had adapted to her role as her husband's spousal sex toy without objection. After all, she had brought came to their marriage an ingrained submissive nymphomania of her own, and from the start she had been willing, even eager, to please her husband, orally and otherwise, with all the slutty enthusiasm of a sultan's houri. So it was that on this night Sherry Wazaluski came to be servicing her husband’s penis as she had been taught, naked and on her knees, her breasts jerking with exertion, and her mouth stretched and aching. Engrossed in her wifely duty, over and over she drew her mouth up his full length, only to reverse direction at its tip, plunging her face downward to once again rape her throat on the male weapon of her devotions. Enflamed by the friction on his hard member, Zack repeatedly and cruelly reminded his wife of what she was. "Slut!" "Bitch!" "Whore!" Was that all she was Sherry wondered? "Her husband's slut! His bitch! His whore!" She was humiliated by the thought, but she knew it must be true. If it were otherwise, why did the abuse from her lover arouse such powerful emotions inside her, emotions that she could never resist? If she was not a slut, a bitch, a whore, a rag of female flesh fit only to pleasure a penis, why did the taste of cum set her on fire? Why did masculine hands on her breasts, on her pussy, anywhere on her body, always send her groveling at her lover’s feet, begging to be fucked? There could be little doubt about the answer. Abuse, humiliation, and submission were Sherry's aphrodisiacs. Nothing turned her on quite like being forced to perform as her husband's whore. The next day she sometimes suffered terribly with shame and embarrassment at her slutty submission, but while in his bed and gripped by her passion, she enjoyed the sexual hell of her submission every bit as much as did her husband. Tonight was just that way. As always, her body had betrayed her, and her feminine pride had dissolved into a pool of raw lust. Naked and on her knees with Zack's big Polish sausage in her mouth, her nipples were rock hard, her clit was out at the top of her swollen cunt, and her wet overflowed to run down her legs. More than merely aroused female, Sherry was in an erotic frenzy unable to focus on any thought but the delicious masculine member that was plundering her mouth. "Slut!" "Bitch!" "Whore!" Yes, in truth, Sherry was all those things! She simply could not help herself. "On your back tramp!" Zack commanded. "Spread for me slut! Do you want some of my meat? Do you want to be fucked bitch? Beg me whore! Beg me to fuck you." "Oh my God Yes" Sherry thought, "If only he WOULD fuck her!" She knew from bitter experience, however, that Zack would expect far more than a simple 'please fuck me' before he filled her pussy. NO! He never allowed her to use his penis as quick and easy as that. First, she must swear her devotion to him as her lord and master. Then he would insist that she lick the inside of his thighs, under his balls, and around of the rim of his ass hole, all the while begging and pleading for him to fuck her. Only after she had been thoroughly humiliated degraded would he finally stick her with his cock--IF THEN. It was the 'if then' that worried Sherry the most. There were times when even after she had crawled to him in humble servitude, when even after shamelessly pleading for his cock, he might choose to prove his mastery by refusing to fuck her. Tonight, however, Zack seemed to be especially horny and intense, and that was a good sign. Surely this night he would eventually fill her cunt and spew his wad into her womb. It seemed to be so. Even as Sherry rolled onto her back, Zack crawled into the notch between her raised and spread knees. Suspended above her on one arm, he reached back to where his crotch met hers, and taking his cock in his free hand, he began to slide its head up and down her female slit. Gradually her pussy lips parted lubricating that probing tip with her female wet. Every stroke began and ended the on top of her clitoris that soon emerged from the protective folds of his wife’s vagina as if seeking the source of this delicious stimulation. Slowly, tantalizingly, maliciously, he rubbed the end of that hard cock over the raw nerves of that that exposed and sensitive female pleasure nub. Tormented and teased, Sherry was soon beyond what a poor female in heat could bear, and in her erotic distress she cried out for mercy. "Oh God yes," Sherry pleaded. "Give it to me! I need you! Please fuck me! Oh, please fuck me! For God's sake Zack, if you love me, fuck me! Now please!" A rising orgasm in her belly was threatening to dissolve Sherry into a, puddle of female jelly but she knew that she must not cum. Zack insisted her first cum always be reserved for his special pleasure. If her initial orgasm did escape without his permission, she would be forced to stand and suffer under her husband’s cruel whip. As he often did, tonight Zack was deliberately tempting his wife’s body to betray her, a betrayal that would be his excuse to enjoy disciplining his pretty wife. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * When punished, nothing about her ordeal was ever easy or quick First Zack would make her take 'the position', before him. Naked and at attention with her feet at shoulder width, and her arms raised to interlock her fingers behind her head, Sherry would be forced to offer her vulnerable pussy and lifted breasts to her husband's cruel whip. Before the lash, however, Zack would make her wait and dwell on her sin, and the pain it was about to earn her, while he teased and tormented her body into a frenzy of erotic frustration. Always Sherry would beg for mercy, but of course none was ever forthcoming, and there was no escaping the inevitable price of disobedience. Eventually, when she could stand to wait no more, Sherry would abandon all hope and beg for the whip. Only then would that savage lash begin its work, landing in rhythmic strokes across her breasts and belly, on her pussy, and finally down her back and buttocks to her upper her thighs, marking her with the flaming red stripes of a disobedient slave woman. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * No! Not tonight! Tonight she could not stand even the thought of being so cruelly beaten. Tonight she was determined not to orgasm prematurely, and clenching her teeth, Sherry fought for control over the fire between her legs. Minutes (or was it only seconds) ticked by, seemingly an eternity passing, as Zack rubbed his cock head up and down the length of her pussy, beginning and ending every stroke on top of her clit. It was a maddening even painful torment, but just as she could stand no more, a sudden jab started the end of that delicious male shaft into her feminine crack. Another push and the broad bulb of its crown wedged itself firmly between her pussy lips, spreading the portal to her vagina, splitting her open and ready for his carnal use. That, however, was all! Only the first inch! ONLY THE HEAD! Nothing more! "Oh God!" she thought. "How can I stand this? THE BASTARD!" Still he teased, refusing to give her more. Hanging helpless on the end of that great cock Sherry could only whimper quietly in her panic. Salty tears ran down her cheeks so desperate was she to be filled with the blood engorged woman tamer waiting barely inside her pussy, so tantalizingly near, yet so far from her need. Nevertheless, Zack was merciless. His cock was never his wife's privilege. Always she must earn her pleasure, and part of that price was to repeat her oath of feudal fealty, again acknowledging her acceptance of what she was. “HIS BITCH! HIS SLUT! HIS WHORE!” Nothing was certain, however. In the end he might fuck her, or he might not. Sherry could never be sure which. The uncertainty of being left dangling on a single inch of his prick while pleading for the rest of him was part of her master's method, his way of proving to his slave woman wife what she indeed, "His slut, his bitch, his whore!" Sherry, however, had learned a trick or two of her own about dealing with her husband. "Please Zack, I need to be fucked." she pleaded with him. "I will do anything, anything you ask! Do you want me to fuck your friends? I will do that for you Zack. Bring me a man! While you watch, I will suck him off! I will fuck him too! Do you want me to whore for you? You can be my pimp, and charge him to use my mouth and pussy. Would you like that my darling? Would you like to see me fucked by a man who has paid you for my pussy?" Actually, Sherry knew her husband was very jealous of her. Twenty years ago he had taken her virginity, and to this day his was the only penis that had been in her pussy. Nevertheless, it has long been Zack's fantasy to watch another man fuck his pretty wife, and to demonstrate his dominance, he often threatened to make a whore of her by selling her pussy. Sherry knew that his threat was all bluff, but she never let him know that the vision of another man between her legs with his cock buried in her pussy excited, rather than frightened her. Even more exciting was the thought of selling her favors to strangers. Zack would not have been pleased if he had known his faithful wife fantasized just as he did about ‘Sherry the whore’ offering her mouth and pussy to rich men who could afford her price. It is ironic that neither of them could foresee how soon their mutual fantasy of Sherry as a whore would become a reality. Even though Sherry knew her jealous husband wasn’t serious about sharing her favors with another man, she sometimes used the idea to tempt him into giving her the cock she needed. Tonight she was in heat from his teasing, and in dire need to have her husband fuck her. She knew the thought of her lovely naked body in the arms of a stranger always made him randy and his dick hard. It was clever trick, and although often used, it worked on this night just as it almost always did. It was, after all, an image too vivid for Zack to resist. "Yayeee Ahhaaa!" Sherry screamed in painful delight as without warning Zack dropped his hips shoving his penis deep into her female core. His entry was neither loving nor gentle. Angry at even a fantasy of his wife’s infidelity, he was determined to make her suffer for being such a whore even if the idea was only his own imagination. In a single thrust he had buried his shaft to its root, splitting her open the walls of her cunt, pile driving his male member deep into her female chute. If Zack thought he was punishing his wife with his cock, however, he was sadly mistaken. At last Sherry had what she had been begging for over much of the evening. He felt so good filling her cunt, and in her passion she could take all her husband had to give, and more. He fucked her delightfully. At first his hips moved slowly and only a bit, barely withdrawing, then thrusting, giving her only a single inch at a time, no more. Gradually, his tempo quickened, and each thrust lengthened, until his cock became a fleshy jack hammer pounding in and out of that warm slippery cunt. Sherry responded in kind, raising her hips, grinding them against the man between her legs, frantic to rub her clit against the iron hard male sex rod that pinned her vagina captive to his bed. "Please Zack! Oh please! Let me cum! I-I-I can't stand it any longer! I must cum!" Poor Sherry was on the brink that first orgasm, the one forbidden to her without Zack’s permission. Even her fear of whip could not hold her back much longer, and in such distress, she had all but decided that to have release would be worth the beating that would follow. Tonight, however, it was Sherry's good fortune that her husband was also teetering on the edge. Overwhelmed with the need to breed his wife's pussy, his resolve to continue her suffering by continuing to deny his consent collapsed in the warmth of Sherry’s slippery cunt. “Yes!” he demanded! “Be my slut! Be my whore! Cum with me! Cum on my cock!" Zack’s warm seed flooded her pussy triggering a flood of orgasms that washed over Sherry and shook her to the core. Even so, as those wracking sensations receded, and the trembling of her body eased, she asked herself as she so often did, the question she had never been able to either reconcile or understand. “God, why must I submit myself to this humiliation before my husband will fuck me? Why must I beg for his cock? Why must I beg before I am allowed to orgasm? Why am I only his plaything, only a mouth and a pussy for his pleasure?" The answer rang in her ears as Zack knelt across her throat and fed his soiled cock into her mouth to be cleaned. "Bitch!" "Slut!" "Whore!" CHAPTER TWO – The Father Zack was still snoring loudly as Sherry quietly left her bed for a morning shower. Dawn had not yet broken, and Zack was dead to the world. He always slept particularly soundly after he had pleasured his cock with his wife's body, and last night's sex had been particularly intense, although for Sherry her sexing had not come easily. As always, Zack had refused to fuck her until she affirmed his mastery, groveling before him and begging shamelessly in total submission to his penis. For all of that, however, ruefully Sherry had to admit her husband had fucked her just the way she wanted it. First he raped her mouth, then laid her on back and crawled between her spread legs to prick tease her pussy. Helpless and in heat, she had surrendered and begged for it like a slut bitch. Only then did he take her with his delicious cock, finally riding her without mercy, just as a woman’s pussy should be ridden, sliding his love stick in and out of her wet cunt until she was reduced to a quivering mass of orgasmic jelly. As on most mornings after being cruelly used by her husband, Sherry was torn between conflicting and ambiguous emotions. Whenever she was in Zack’s hands, suffering with need and desire, begging to be hung on her husband’s cock, nothing mattered except to be fucked. Yet, the next day she always felt like such a slut. Why was she this way, so horny and submissive, and at the same time so ashamed and uncertain about her passions? WHY? Her mind wandered searching for an answer. * * * * * * * * * * * ** * * * Not that her husband would remember, but today was the 20th anniversary of the day Sherry McGinty, had become Mrs. Zack Wazaluski. Until her wedding, to all appearances Sherry had been a fairly typical teenager, pretty and popular, with her pick of boyfriends. As she turned 18 in her junior year at St. Benedict Catholic High School she chose a boy from the senior class, Zack Wazaluski, to be her 'steady'. Sherry was soon in love, or at least she thought she was. Sherry's father was not at all pleased about his daughter's boyfriend. As Irish as Paddy's pig, a muscled up polish kid was not what Joe McGinty had in mind as a proper boyfriend for his pretty Irish daughter. The very thought of that ‘Dumb Pollock Trash’ kissing his daughter (and he suspected her lips might not be all the kid was enjoying), left him angry and cursing. Nor did he make the slightest attempt to hide his feelings. From their first meeting until this very day, his name for Zack was "Meathead", an epithet for a Polish son he borrowed from his favorite TV character, Archie Bunker “What a screwed up piece of work her father was,” Sherry reminisced. It was bad enough that he was a living caricature of a fictional TV sitcom bigot. That much was embarrassing but tolerable, even forgivable. The reality, however, was neither tolerable nor forgivable. As she passed through puberty Sherry came to the understanding that her father's treatment of her, her sister and their mother was, at the very least, an improper sexual fetish, and less charitably, a perversion. Until the very end of her years under his roof, Sherry could not think of her father any other way but as “That Bastard!” Only at the very last did that judgment erode into an less one sided opinion of her father. Sine then Sherry has been considerably more ambiguous about her father and their relationship. Growing up in her father's house, his word had been law, and any infraction was immediately and severely punished. That in itself was perhaps not unusual in a family with roots in the old country. After all, such was the way both her parents had been raised. Anyway, it was not his punishment but the way it was administered that was decidedly on the perverted outer edge. After all how many husbands, even those from the ‘old sod,’ would strip their wife nude and spank her in front of her daughters? How many fathers, Irish or otherwise, would lay a daughter naked across his knee and spank her bare bottom with her mother and sister watching? The punishment ritual never varied. The family would be assembled in the living room. Sherry, along with her mother and sister, would stand at attention before her solemn and stern father seated in a straight back chair. The one to be punished, whether mother or daughter, would be ordered to step forward and strip off her clothing. Nude, her father’s victim was required to lay face down across his knees. With her head and shoulders dangling on one side, and her legs on the other, her fingers and toes barely gripping the rug, the female to be disciplined would offer her buttocks for a severe open handed spanking. Sherry, Slut & Slave Whore Ch. 1-6 Sherry remembered quite vividly the pain and humiliation of being spanked until her ass cheeks were a burning flaming red. Beforehand she always promised herself that she would not cry, but every time her father would keep whaling away until she was broken and weeping. Without fail before he was done, she would promise through her sobbing to be his obedient daughter in the future. Nor was a cruel spanking ever the end of her ordeal. For the next hour the she would be forced stand with her arms raised straight up over her head, with her face and bare breasts, belly and thighs, pressed firmly against the living room wall. If it was Sherry or her sister being punished, after the humiliating hour against the wall the young victim was given a list of unpleasant household chores to be performed while still naked. If it was Sherry's mother coming off the wall, however, there were no assigned chores. Instead, her husband would seize a handful of her long hair, and drag her behind him, stooped and scrambling, into their bedroom. For the next hour or so the girls could hear their mother moaning, whimpering, and sometimes even crying out as if in pain. As a little girl, Sherry could not imagine what was happening to her mother behind that closed door. Was her father spanking her again? Surely she was being hurt. As Sherry grew older, however, she began to suspect that whatever was going on in the bedroom might not be as unpleasant as it sounded. At least her mother never complained. To the contrary, when she finally emerged, although her eyes might be red from crying, there would also be a glint in her eye, and even a satisfied glow about her. Sherry was entering junior high school when her older sister explained that father took their mother away into the bedroom to have sex with her. Her sister assured Sherry that their mother was a willing participant in this game of 'rough sex' that was as exciting to her as it was to father. As she grew older Sherry could see that her sister was right, but it was only after she married Zack that she began to appreciate how a woman could possibly take her pleasure from being so cruelly abused before being fucked. Even after she became the sex slave of her own husband, Sherry was never able to accept as ‘normal’ the seemingly insatiable desire of her mother and herself to submit to such humiliation and cruelty. Their groveling submission to a hard penis was an aphrodisiac to them both, that much Sherry understood, but why? What was this overwhelming desire to be a man’s to sex toy, and where did it come from? Was her submissive sexuality inherited from her mother, or was it was the result of her father's abusive fetish for 'punishment'? In fairness to her father, he never made any sexual advances towards Sherry other than those cruel spankings. Nevertheless, from the age of about 14 on Sherry continued to worry that some day her father would demand more from her. Her concern increased when at 16 she began to notice what seemed to be cryptic exchanges between her father and older sister. Could it be that her father was already fucking Susan who was by then 18 with a body that every man dreams about having in his bed? If so, however, her sister never mentioned it. Still, Sherry thought it strange that her sister continued to live at home, regularly submitting to her father’s punishment, long after she became an adult and to appearances, free to go her own way. There were other hints as well of her father’s incestuous lust. Laying naked across her father's knees, Sherry could feel his rising erection pressing through his pants against her bare belly, or on occasion poking upward into the crease between her legs. Then there was the way he stared at her as she stripped for her spanking, or as she did her nude penitence against the wall. Afterwards he would lurk somewhere nearby watching as she did her chores, ogling her naked nubile body with a glint of pure lust in his eyes that could not be disguised. As she matured, it became increasingly clear to Sherry that the spankings had little to do with discipline. Her father was simply getting off on his humiliating dominance over his wife and daughters. Was it only a matter of time until after her spanking he would drag his youngest daughter off into his bedroom as he did her mother? Had he already done so with her older sister? Although suspicious, Sherry couldn’t be certain about her sister, but she feared for herself (or thought she did), and the picture of being nude in her father’s bed, with him on top of her became a fixation that grew stronger every day that passed. Thus, by the time Sherry begin to date Zack Wazaluski her father’s penis dominated her imagination driving her to desperation. Perhaps that was the reason she surrendered her virginity so easily to Zack's fumbling seduction on their prom night, and willing gave herself to him again and again in the weeks that followed. By the end of June Sherry had missed her period, and after confiding in her mother, the family doctor confirmed Sherry's condition. She was pregnant with Zack's baby. Her father was livid with anger when he heard the news. He immediately called Zack on the phone and demanded that he come to the McGinty home. The young man was barely through the door before an enraged Joe McGinty had him by the throat threatening to kill the 'meathead Pollock' if he did not immediately marry his compromised daughter. With Zack's promise that he would do so, the angry father turned on his daughter. First he made her strip, and then with Zack watching and listening along with her mother and sister, Sherry’s father demanded that she stand at attention and confess her sexual misdeeds. It was the worst humiliation of Sherry's life. Detail by detail she was forced to describe to her parents, boyfriend, and sister, how on their very first date, she had jacked Zack off with her hand. It had not been long afterwards that she was regularly sucking him off and swallowing the inevitable ejaculation. She admitted that not only did she love the taste of his prick and cum, she would orgasm simply from having him in her mouth without Zack even touching either her tits or her pussy. She described how as their petting became heavier, Zack would play with her breasts and pussy with his hands and fingers. Poor Sherry! She was humiliated, but as her father demanded, she described in detail her moaning frenzy from her lover’s delicious tongue on her nipples, and how she would cum even before he dropped his head between her raised knees to eat her pussy. Hesitantly, sobbing in her shame, she made her final damning admission. One spring night in lover's lane after the Junior-Senior prom, it had been she who insisted on the sacrifice of her cherry. She had been so desperate to have him inside her pussy that quite willingly she had spread for him, and like a bitch in heat, begged her boyfriend to take her virgin cunt. After Sherry's confession came her punishment. Chastised, sobbing softly, still blushing with her shame, Sherry crawled across her father's knees for the most severe spanking she had ever suffered. Following her beating, while standing in the required face-to-the-wall pose, she could hear her father again threatening Zack's life if he did not marry her post haste. "Thank God!” She thought. “Something good will come out of this. I will have my baby, and I will be out of this house before my pervert father fucks me.” The truth of her situation, however, was by no means that simple or direct. Without realizing it, for a long time Sherry had been drawn to her father in a very erotic and sensual way. Those perverted spankings had planted sexual desires and fantasies deep in her subconscious where they coalesced around her father’s image until Sherry could not separate parent from lover. In her dreams he would come to her naked with his penis swinging free and tempting until he would feed it into her mouth. Sherry began to spy on her parents as they fucked, listening at their door, hoping to catch a glimpse of ‘him’ buried in her mother’s mouth or hairy cunt. She took to masturbating daily. Invariably she stroked her passion for her finger by imagining herself as her father’s love slave. It was a vision that varied as required. Sometimes she he hung her by her wrists from a ceiling beam, and whipped her across her breasts. In other fantasies she was tied spread eagle across her bed as her father incestuously raped her tight teenage pussy. Her schoolgirl experiment with Zack’s cock gave her a release for her natural young passions, but it did not ease her suppressed obsession to have her father’s penis inside her. Indeed, the confusion in her desires made things worse. Even while Zack was fucking her in some lovers lane, Sherry’s reality was not at all clear about just who it was between her legs—her boyfriend or her father. Of course Sherry refused to give any meaning to this fixation on her father, or even ask herself why she dwelt on the thought that he might one day actually fuck her. Instead, she sluffed off the whole thing as some evil trick her father was putting in her mind. Her father wanted to drag her into his bed and hang her pussy on the end of his penis, and her visions of his cock were only a part of his plan. In Sherry’s mind, it was always her father who lusted after her, never the other way around. She told herself that she loved Zack, and wanted him to take her from her away from her father’s house and the incestuous sex she was sure was inevitable if she stayed. It was on the night she confessed her pregnancy that the truth of her fixation with her father finally flashed across her consciousness. Standing naked and pressed against the wall, Sherry realized something she had never admitted before. She needed to be fucked—not by Zack, but by her father. “Oh my God,” she mumbled under her breath to herself. “I do so need my father to fuck me! Damn him, why hasn’t he long ago snatched me by my hair into his bedroom, spread my legs and used my mouth and cunt? Will he do so at last tonight? If he won't, perhaps Zack will, but it won’t be the same. Please father! Please fuck me!” This was a thought that came as a shock, even an epiphany, denying as it did everything Sherry had always believed. It couldn’t be true, but it was, and had been all along! She could see that so clearly now. She wanted her father to fuck her! He had wanted to as well, of that she was certain, but hadn’t, and she had taken Zack’s cock as his substitute. If she had only realized the truth earlier, she could have let father know she was willing (as she guessed her sister must have done.) Things could have been wonderfully different. As it was, after tonight, for better or worse, she would belong to Zack, too late to satisfy this incestuous carnal lust between father and daughter. “Please father.” She thought. “Please take me off this wall and use me, fuck me please.” It was not to be. Never the less, Sherry was better off than she knew. What she didn't realize was how much Zack was like her father, and how easily he could replace him in this game of sexual musical chairs. He had thoroughly enjoyed the sexy scene of his bride-to-be laid over her father's knees and spanked. Watching her suffer from her father's hard hand, and her humiliation against wall, made Zack's dick so hard he was embarrassed to leave his chair. He knew Sherry pretty well by this time, however, and he could see quite clearly that her arousal was every bit as great as his own. Sherry's reaction to her father's abuse did not come entirely as a surprise to him. He had been suspicious since the night she had gone wild under him when he pinned her to the bed with his cock while holding her hands over her head as if she was his prisoner. Now he knew for certain. The little bitch liked it rough did she? Zack knew he was just a man who could do that for her. Training her as his wife was going to be fun. Those were the circumstances by which Sherry McGinty Wazaluski came to walk down the aisle to the altar of St. Benedict's Church 20 years ago. The baby she carried in her belly that day was now grown with a boyfriend of her own. Sherry could only wonder how he treated Mary Jo. Was her daughter a submissive female like her mother and grandmother? Sherry thought she could see signals that frightened her. Was there no end to this curse that seemed to run so strongly through the women of her family. CHAPTER THREE – the Daughter, Mary Jo Sherry was barely out of her shower still wrapped in a towel when the memories of her father were interrupted by a sound at the front door. Sneaking down the hall was her oldest daughter, Mary Jo. Sherry followed quietly as the girl slipped quickly into her own bedroom. There was something wrong about her daughter's body language, and where had she been all night? Sherry threw open the door to her daughter's room without knocking just as Mary Jo was pulling her dress off over head. She was entirely nude underneath. Cruel flaming red stripes marked her the cheeks of her ass and the back of her thighs. "Mary Jo!" her mother exclaimed. "What in the world has happened to you?" "Oh mother, I didn't want you to know. I'm all right! Really I am! It's not as bad as it looks. It's just that I was a bad girl and refused to do what Jim wanted." "So pray tell, what was it he wanted?" her mother asked. "He...he wanted to fuck me in the ass, and I said no. His penis is so big, and I had never done that before. I was afraid he would hurt me." "Well! He certainly hurt you all right, but those marks aren't from a penis. You have been whipped! Mary Jo! This minute! Tell me what Jim did to you." Sherry's daughter was beginning to cry as her words came with a rush. "He said he was going to fuck my ass anyway, and when I refused to turn over, he turned me over on the bed, and tied me face down with pillows under my hips. He keeps his whipping cane on the wall over his bed ready to use it on me whenever I am naughty. He has whipped me with it before. It isn't so bad, really mother. He only canes me when I deserve it.” Clearly, Mary Jo was determined to excuse and defend her boyfriend. “I shouldn't have told him no. He was going to fuck my ass whether I agreed or not, and I knew he would cane me if I refused. He always does when I am naughty or stubborn. Please don't blame Jim Mother. It was my own fault. I knew better. I guess was being bad on purpose. Sometimes I do that. Why? Why do I do that mother? Do I want him to beat me? Am I only goading him into proving that I am his woman, that I belong to him, that I am his property. Is that the reason mother? I don't really know. Can you tell me?” * * * * * * * * * * * ** * * * Indeed Sherry could have told her daughter a great deal about female submission to a dominant male. Sherry herself had been beaten and/or sexually abused for as far back as she could remember. At the very least, she could have drawn a vivid picture for her daughter of the humiliating and sometimes painful life of a woman in sexual servitude. Yet, for all her experience as a man’s sex toy, she could not answer daughter's question. WHY? Horrified to find her daughter caught in the same trap as herself, Sherry’s urge was to grab her child by the shoulders, and shake some sense into her. Too ashamed of her own humiliating weakness to even speak, however, she could only stand mute and stunned in helpless resignation. It was too late, anyway. There was nothing she could do. As a Sherry knew all too well from her own experience, once a man discovers his woman responds to abuse she is forever and irretrievably lost. Zack had learned of his bride-to-be’s weakness on the night he watched her strip before her father, make her humiliating confession, then submit to a cruel spanking over her father’s knee. Shown the way, Zack wasted no time after their marriage turning his bride into a love slave. On their wedding night Sherry refused to fellate his soft and soiled member that had just cum in her pussy. Her new husband quickly enforced his will by spanking her tits and then her ass. Finished with his discipline he grabbed a fistful of hair, brutally pulled her head between his legs, stuffed her mouth with his penis, and fucked her face with a savage furry. For perhaps 10 minutes he masturbated in her mouth, using her hair to force her throat up and down the length of his cock, until at last he spewed a massive ejaculation into her gullet that he insisted she swallow. Sherry had loved it all. Almost simultaneously with her new husband, she too had orgasmed. * * * * * * * * * * * ** * * * Yes, Sherry could have told her daughter much about female submission to the rampant cock of a dominant male. At the very least she could have warned her daughter of the bottomless pit into which they had both fallen. How could she do that, however, without being a total hypocrite? As late as last night, hadn’t she groveled at Zack's feet begging for his penis, pleading to for him fuck her hot cunt. Intimidated by her own guilt, she could not bring herself to face the truth, and instead of advice she retreated to questioning the beating that her daughter insisted "really wasn't so bad." Mary Jo sobbed at the memory. "Every time he hit me with one stroke I had to ask him for another. If I didn't ask, he would hit me again anyway--twice. He would ask me if I wanted it on my ass or on the back of my thighs. If I didn't choose quickly he would hit me both places. He called me a stuck up bitch and a lousy piece of ass. He said if I didn't do better he would find himself another woman to fuck. That hurt worse than the cane." "When he stopped hitting me he forced his hand between my thighs. His finger slid into my pussy and he stuck his thumb up my ass. Then he closed his hand squeezing me in that vice. He asked me how that felt. I gave him the answer I knew he wanted, but it wasn't altogether a lie because in spite of myself, I was about to cum. Oh Mother, I was afraid and I did hurt so, but to be his prisoner, to have my ass and my pussy squeezed together like that, was more than I could stand. I felt owned! I was his! I was his slut! I was his slave! It was so much better to be his whipped slave, than to be alone, not his at all. Do you understand Mother? Have you ever been beaten by man because you desperately needed him? * * * * * * * * * * * ** * * * Oh yes! Mary Jo's mother was something of an expert in the sensuality of the whip wielded by a demanding master. Whenever her husband's mood was angry and dark, he would force Sherry to strip and stand before him in 'the position' with her fingers locked behind her head, her breasts thrust forward, and her legs spread to expose her pussy. She would wait that way, submissive and vulnerable, while he reached under the bed for his leather whip. Her punishment never came quickly. Always he would make her wait, forcing her to think about the pain to come, as step by measured step, he put her through an elaborate pre-punishment ritual First, she had to ask to be whipped. Then to prove the sincerity of her request, Zack would insist she kiss and suck the end of the whip handle as if it was his cock. Once slick with her saliva, Zack would use the handle between her legs, and while he raped her pussy with his makeshift dildo, she had to beg to be punished. The experience was terrifying, but more often than not, in spite of herself, and always to her shame, Sherry would orgasm on that awful horrible whip handle. By this time her pussy juices would be overflowing onto her thighs, but she would also be weeping and trembling with fear as her thoughts froze on the hateful whip that would soon mark her flesh with cruel welts. Sherry, Slut & Slave Whore Ch. 1-6 Even so, Zack would continue to dally. Nude, whip in hand, he would circle his victim, teasing and taunting, perhaps pinching a nipple, perhaps running a finger up and down her slit, or perhaps finger fucking her while stroking her clit with the ball of his thumb. From behind her back he would press his own warm body against hers from shoulders to thigh. The feel of his hard-on shoved lengthwise down the crack between her buttocks, and the wet of his tongue caressing her ears and neck, never failed to drive her into erotic frustration. Finally, as she teetered between orgasm and terror, her whipping would begin. Again and again, the cruel lash would bite into her tender skin, across her breasts, her belly, her thighs, back, and buttocks. The worst, however, were those strikes on her vulnerable pussy. Her beating would continue until sobbing in pain she begged for mercy, promising over and over to forever be his obedient slave. Sherry hated the pain, but always to her horror, she was somehow drawn to it like a moth to flame. In some frightful, unfair, inexplicable way, to be whipped switched on her female sensuality. Standing naked before her husband, degraded and hurting, her pussy a flowing river of female wet, was an erotic experience like no other. Her pleasure was never so great, nor her orgasms so intense, as when he fucked her after she had been beaten, Zack would stick her with his cock----a redemption in paradise after the cleansing of purgatory. * * * * * * * * * * * ** * * * Had Sherry ever been beaten by her lover? Of course she had. So many times! Too ashamed to answer her daughter's question and admit the truth, however, Sherry decided it was best to move on and asked simply, "What happened then? Did he fuck your ass? "Oh yes!” was Mary Jo's the quick answer. “Jim always does whatever he wants with me, but when I’ve been bad, first I must repent. Last night I had to beg him before he would take me in my butt. After I asked for it, begged him actually, he retied my legs spread wide to the corners of the bed, and knelt behind me to lick my exposed pussy. At the same time, he was stretching my ass hole, making it ready to take his cock. With one finger, then another, then a third, and finally his thumb, individually and collectively, he prodded and probed at my poor rectum. He was hurting me some, but I didn't care. His tongue was on my clit, and then it was stabbing inside me at the walls of my pussy. I was in heat, and I began to orgasm with every stroke of his tongue, and every prod of a finger.” “He asked me, 'Well what about it Mary Jo? Have you changed your mind? If so beg me for it! Ask me to fuck your worthless little ass!'” “I begged him Mother! Oh how I begged him! 'Fuck my ass! Please! Please! Fuck my ass! Give it to me! Stick your cock up my ass and fuck me with it!' It wasn't an act either. I was on fire and ready to take him anywhere, and in any way, he wanted. Am I a slut Mother?” “No my darling, but you are a woman. I'm afraid that your mother has just never realized how much a woman her little girl has become. Go on. Tell me the rest.” “After I had begged to be ass fucked, he crawled up my back, licking my spine as he came. He feel of his tongue and lips made me all mushy. His weight pressed me into the bed and made me feel that I was a cherished slave woman; a female chattlel he was about to honor by using me for his pleasure. I felt so good mother, I mean to have him laying on my back, owned, helpless and vulnerable--my pussy, my ass, both my holes for Jim to use and enjoy. I did love it so!” Mary Jo's eyes were glassy with her memories as she continued. “His tongue caressed the back of my neck and under my ears. He slipped a finger into my mouth and told me to imagine that I was sucking his cock. The finger must have been one he used to play with my ass and pussy because I could taste myself on it. Behind me, between my legs, I could feel him slide his cock into my pussy.” Her recollection of Jim's cock buried inside her brought a smile of pleased satisfaction. “My God, how good he felt in my pussy even though he refused to move and fuck me. I lay there helpless under my man, pinned to that pile of pillows by his great penis soaking in my pussy. Oh my God! What a girl could resist an orgasm knowing that the cock lubricating in her cunt would soon be up her ass. Certainly I couldn't, and I didn't! I was his for whatever he wanted.” Mary Jo's smile disappeared and as she continued the story of the way her lover had it taken her final virginity. “Finally he was ready, the time I both desired and dreaded. His cock slid from my cunt, and pressed insistently between my buttocks. The worst hurt came early as he forced his crown past my sphincter muscle. After that it wasn't so bad as long as I relaxed. Jim was kind, going slow, punching his way into my rectum inch by inch, until at last he whispered into my ear that he was up to his balls inside me. Just knowing that set me off again, and as he began to churn his hips fucking my ass hole, I began to orgasm, and I didn't stop until after he filled my bowel with warm man fluid.” The tension in Mary Jo's face visibly relaxed as her body replayed that feeling of after sex satisfaction and release. “Even then he remained on top of me, pressing me down, his finger still in my mouth, his prick still inside my bowel soaking in his ejaculation, and all the while whispering dirty things in my ear describing what he had just done to me. Inside my ass I could feel him gradually growing hard once more. Wouldn’t his hips soon begin to move to take my ass a second time? Oh God, I hoped so! I could hardly wait! Once more orgasms began to form in my ovaries like thunderstorms on the horizon on a hot summer afternoon.” "But No! Despite my groan of protest he withdrew from my ass. He told me to hush and be patient. He was not done. He untied me and took my place on the bed flat on his back, his wonderful cock free standing tall and erect from his groin. He told me to straddle him on my knees. At first I was too weak to do so, but he pulled me over him and put my hand on his weapon. I tried to stuff it in my pussy at first but he slapped my face and told me to aim into my bottom hole instead.” Mary Jo paused for a moment too overcome by her recollection to continue. “‘Mount me,’ he said, ‘and sit your ass hole down on my cock.’ He intended to butt fuck me a second time, only now it would me up to me to take him on my own.” “Did I dare to impale my bowel on the hard-on waiting under me? Wouldn’t that hurt? Yet, if I refused, what might happen to me? Something terrible I'm sure. Jim has never actually caned my breasts and nipples, but he has sometimes threatened to do so. I can't even bear to think of such pain, and I decided to do as I was told rather than chance a demonstration. Slowly I eased my way down, swallowing him an inch at a time. This time with my anus already stretched and slick with cum, taking him to the root hardly hurt all." “Once my colon was again stuffed to the brim with his man meat, he left no doubt about what I was to do next. ‘All right bitch,’ he told me. ‘Move your ass! Ride me! Get me off again!’” “Those were my orders, and I did as I was told! What else? I was his ass fuck slave, and anyway, I was already about to cum. As I sat there pinned on his erection, he grabbed a breast in each hand and cruelly pinched and rubbed my nipples between his fingers. That did it! My fear and pain were gone! I furiously rocked my hips jacking off the great prick inside my rectum that had so recently been virgin. We came together, and despite all the wonderful orgasms I had already enjoyed, this one was the best of all.” “When Jim was done, he slapped my hanging tits hard with his open hands--left, right, left ,right--three or four times before pitching me off his softening penis and onto the floor. I understood, and yes, I felt used and shamed. He had taken what he wanted of me. No longer needed or useful, I was only a used up rag of female bone and tissue to be thrown away. Yes, but I was also so satisfied, and even better, pleased with myself at having passed my test as Jim’s love slave. He had caned me, raped my ass, and made me his woman.” “Too weak to stand by myself, Jim half-carried and half-drug me to the shower where I scrubbed him clean before giving him a nightcap blowjob under the running water. What a man my Jim is! He had already fucked my ass twice, yet he still had a load for my mouth. I swallowed his cum, dried us off, and crawled behind him all the way to his bed. I slept away the rest of the night cuddled in his strong warm arms. I wanted to stay with him forever, but this morning he ordered me to dress without my underwear and brought me home.” “I know I look like a wreck, but really mother, I don't regret a minute of last night. I know he abuses me, but I don't care. As well fucked as I am, no woman could care. Mother, you can have no idea how exciting it can be to be sexually tortured by a man who owns you. Sherry, however, did know. She knew all too well. She had been abused first by her father and then by her husband. Erotic torment from a dominant male had long ago become an addictive aphrodisiac to her. As late as last night Zack had called her a slut, a bitch, a whore, and she had performed accordingly. Naked and on her knees begging for his cock she had been on fire, and in her frenzy she had forgotten that other darker side to female submission. It was all so confusing, doubly so now that she knew Mary Jo was suffering from the same weakness. CHAPTER FOUR – The new Master This evening Sherry and Zack had been invited to an important social function, an uncommon treat for the financially strapped Wazaluski family. But why had they been included? A Pollock plumber and his wife were not ordinarily among the patrician elite of Big Eddie Ciano's guest list. Why tonight? The question hung in Zack's mind and he was decidedly uneasy about it. Zack had every reason to be concerned. Big Eddie Ciano had been a capo in the Genevese family when the Cosa Nostra was at its peak. Since then the organization had crumbled under government pressure as the Feds took down Genevese's old boss and mentor, Tony Acardo, then Genevese himself, and then his successors. As the old criminal alliances disintegrated, new cells, smaller and more local, filled the vacuum in the vice trade. With seniority and muscle on his side, Ciano inherited his city's rackets he had supervised for so long on behalf of the Godfathers. Locally it was no secret who Eddie Ciano was, or what businesses he was in, but he was careful to keep the unpleasant side of his affairs publicly inconspicuous while emphasizing the value of his friendship when a favor was needed. Was your son in trouble with the police? Big Eddie could help. Did you own real estate that would benefit from a zoning change? He could help with that too. Did you need a contribution to a worthwhile cause, or was your brother running for alderman? Whether the donation was for charity or politics, Big Eddie was always glad to be of assistance. Union troubles? Big Eddie could make them go away. Always, seemingly for any problem, Big Eddie was the man to see. Of course, anyone asking for his help had should not forget that down the road Big Eddie's 'friendship' was always a two-way street. The question tonight, however, was why would Big Eddie Ciano invite the Wazaluski's to mingle with the city's movers and shakers who regularly traded favors with a mob boss? The answer was money, more precisely the money Zack owed Big Eddie. Zack was a regular customer in the back room bookie joints and casinos that were a part of Big Eddie's empire. One of those unfortunate runs of bad luck inevitable to every gambler had left Zack in debt to Big Eddie's organization for something approaching $40,000 not counting the usurious interest that accrued and compounded daily. Big Eddie had a well-deserved reputation of being a tough creditor. He kept a close personal eye on those who owed him money, and it was widely rumored that his collection methods could be dangerous to the debtor's health. Ordinarily, Zack would have been nothing special, only one more sucker on the hook, except that Big Eddie's credit managers had been taken in by Zack's big talk about being an important and highly successful plumbing contractor. Greedy to take this loser for all he had, they had been much too generous in advancing credit to a working stiff who might not be able to pay. That kind of mistake made Big Eddie nervous, and this party was his opportunity to meet this Wazaluski guy eyeball to eyeball. Zack suspected as much. It was a thought that frightened Zack a good deal. A small-time Polish plumber invited it to mingle with all those rich businessmen, bankers, big time lawyers and politicians? No doubt about it, Zack decided. He was being measured, possibly for a funeral shroud. It was mighty important; perhaps even a matter of life and death, that he and Sherry make a good impression. Sherry knew nothing of any of this. Of course she knew her husband was a habitual and unsuccessful gambler. It was his gambling that kept the family teetering on the edge of bankruptcy despite her own full-time job as a check out girl at a local grocery. Still, she had no idea he was so heavily in debt, and she certainly had no appreciation of the mortal danger he was in. In his panic to have his wife at her sexiest, Zack even chose her dress, something he had never even cared about before. His selection was a black silk number that Sherry had purchased but never worn in public because Zack said it made her look like a whore. His point was not entirely without merit. Unquestionably, it was a dress intended to catch the roving eye on every male in sight. Starting with a hemline that barely reached mid thigh, its material clung so tightly to Sherry's curves it might as well have been melted and poured over her. The top was cut low to show maximum cleavage, and was supported by a pair of thin straps that left her arms and shoulders sexily bare. Pantyhose over sheer panties, a half bra, and black pumps with very high heels to set off her long legs completed the outfit. Sherry loved that dress even though it had never been out of her closet. She was stunned that tonight of all nights Zack not only wanted her to show off her considerable feminine assets, he had insisted that she do so. Why this sudden change in attitude? Sherry hadn't considered that she might be bait for Big Eddie who had a lecherous reputation complete with rumors of legendary sexual exploits. Perhaps, Zack hoped, if his dangerous creditor could be distracted by Sherry and her feminine charms, he might be less concerned about the money Zack owed. Surely Big Eddie, well known as a pussy hound, would not ignore a woman as stunning as Sherry. It was a dangerous and despicable game to tease such a man with his wife’s body, but Zack needed to buy some time and Sherry was the only high card in his hand. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Zack plotted out the evening carefully. He and Sherry arrived early in order to avoid the embarrassment of their old beat-up Chevrolet compared to the BMWs, Mercedes, Jaguars, and Cadillac's that would bring the rest of Big Eddie's guests up his driveway. Zack also hoped to slip in without having to confront his host right away. That part of this plan failed. Waiting at the front door receiving line as the Wazaluski's entered was the main man himself, already on hand to personally greet his guests as they arrived Sherry had never laid eyes on this famous gangster before, although she certainly knew him by reputation. She intended to remain proper but aloof as a decent woman should. In person, however, Big Eddie didn't seem so bad. From the 'big' that was usually included as a part of his name, Sherry had always pictured him as fat. Not so! In fact he was very tall, about six foot seven, and his 270 lbs were all muscle so evenly spread under his thousand dollar tailored Italian suit that he actually looked quite trim. He was also handsome and charming. His manners were impeccable. Criminal or not, Sherry was impressed despite herself. As he shook Sherry's hand, he refused to let go, holding on in a way the very near to a caress. Sherry wondered if he was going to raise it to his lips and kiss it continental style. The possibility disconcerted her. She wasn't accustomed to gallantry, or fancy manners, and she had no idea what a proper response should be. Everything the big man did flowed easily and naturally without stress or embarrassment, however, and he quickly put Sherry at ease. Accustomed to taking charge, he radiated authority and confidence. It was easy to understand why he was so much a part of the city's business and politics. As he chatted with her, it occurred to Sherry that in another time and place Eddie Ciano would have been quite at home at the right hand of a Borgia Pope, or perhaps in the court of Louis the 14th. "Why Zack, I had no idea you had such a beautiful wife." The vice lord's voice was a deep baritone, just a little husky, and it simply oozed testosterone. "She is delightful. I shall make sure that I see more of her in the future." There was a certain emphasis on the word 'see'. Was this only an innocent greeting from a polite host, or was there a sinister and more personal message hiding under those words? Could it be he was suggesting that he admired her body, and wanted to see more of it--perhaps without her clothes? Sherry couldn't be sure. For certain, however, something in his tone made her decidedly uneasy. "Beginning tonight," Big Eddie continued. "When I have finished greeting my guests, I will find time for us to become better acquainted. I look forward to it, and I hope that you will also." There was a glint in his eye as he spoke. Sherry mumbled a non-committal answer. Now she was sure this handsome, if notorious, man was coming on to her. She was flattered, but a little fearful, and she wondered what his next move would be. She was certain that there would be one, and she hoped Zack wasn't around when it came. Big Eddie was no one to pick a fight with. Not only was he bigger, and probably stronger than Zack, scattered about the room were hard faced men with suspicious bulges under the coats of their pin-striped double-breasted suits. Sherry knew who they were, Big Eddie's bodyguards, gangster gunmen hired to protect him. Zack's usual jealous tirade at anyone making a pass at his wife could get him killed this time. Sherry needn't have worried. Zack was nervous as a cat, and deathly afraid of his host. No one knew better than he that tonight jealousy was a luxury he couldn't afford. A man who owes money to Big Eddie Ciano has a more serious problem than the honor and virtue of his wife. Anyway, it had been Zack's intention all along that Big Eddie would make a pass at his wife. That sexy dress had been an inspired idea, and Zack not only wasn't jealous, he was relieved at Big Eddie's attraction to Sherry's obvious charms. That Zack would stoop to using use his wife's body to tempt another man said a great deal about just how afraid he was of a Big Eddie Ciano. Ordinarily, he was very proprietary about his wife, and he was damned uncomfortable about what Big Eddie might have in mind for her. Zack was in trouble, however, and if Eddie chose to pick the fruit he offered, then Zack had no choice but to go with the flow. After all, Zack’s very life was at stake here. If Big Eddie Ciano wanted to fuck a Polish plumber’s wife, well then, Zack for sure couldn’t stop him--what had to be, would be. Unscrupulous? Immoral? Cowardly? Certainly, all of those things, but Zack had decided from the beginning it was better for Sherry to spread her legs in Eddie's bed than for his own legs to be spread in pieces, along with his arms and head, across the city dump. Sherry, Slut & Slave Whore Ch. 1-6 * * * * * * * * * * * ** * * * Once through the receiving line, the Zack and Sherry gravitated toward the long open bar set up against a far wall. Eventually fifteen to twenty other couples trickled in, but the Wazaluski's had so little in common with the other guests that they continued to stand by themselves, isolated and uncomfortable, each downing two quick highballs. Motivated more by having something to do than from hunger, they were one of the first couples to start through the buffet line. Before they were halfway though, the band began to play, and Big Eddie tapped Sherry on the shoulder. "Would you like to dance Ms. Wazaluski?" The big man asked her. Sherry knew she had no option. She handed her plate to Zack as Big Eddie took her by the hand and led her away to the dance floor. He was an excellent dancer, although Sherry thought it unseemly that he should hold her body so tightly against his. Her breasts were crushed against his chest, and the pressure and friction caused her nipples to grow long and hard. His thighs were constantly moving against hers, brushing over her pussy that had begun to moisten. "Oh my!" she wondered in her panic. "How easily she was stimulated in this man's arms--and was that his soft cock she felt pressing against her belly?" She could not remember when she had enjoyed dancing with a man so much. Under the decisive control of his strong arms and hard masculine body, she drifted effortlessly across the floor as if in a dream. Sherry knew her euphoria wasn't appropriate for a married woman, but her situation was so delicious she just didn't care. Every feminine instinct told her that she must not look up into his face, that to do so was an invitation to weakness, but she could not help herself. When at last she did raise her head, she found him staring down as her. Sure enough, her instincts had been exactly correct, and she was quickly lost in the depth of those intense black eyes. When at last she could stand his gaze no more, she dropped her head back against his chest. His nose nestled in her hair, and she sensed that he was quite deliberately inhaling in deep breaths the odor of her female essence. She buried her face into the fabric of this suit, snuggling past the lapels to his shirt, in order that she might smell him as well. His fragrance was delicious, so masculine, so virile. They did not speak. Words seemed so unnecessary, even dangerous to the magic of the moment, and in her hypnotic reverie, Sherry's mind swirled. “How primitive,” she thought. “How wonderfully simple, was this attraction between a man and a woman. Male and female, swaying in unison to the music, pressing against each other, thigh to thigh, belly to belly, breasts to torso, sharing their odors, communicating in the age old silent language of sexual desire.” Sherry was overcome with loss and frustration when at last the band finished its number. She thanked her partner politely and had turned to walk back to rejoin her husband at the buffet. Two steps were all she took before Eddie seized her arm and spun her back to him. This time it was her shoulder blades rather than her breasts that he hugged tightly to his chest. This time it was her buttocks that were pressed against his crotch, and this time there could be no doubt about what this man wanted from her. That WAS his cock that she had felt before, only now it was growing larger and harder, a perfect fit in the crease between the cheeks of her ass. However, he had only begun. Of that Sherry was certain! This was a real man, a man of power and confidence who would not hesitate to reach out and take whatever he wanted, by whatever means necessary. Lips nuzzled against Sherry's neck, kissing her just under the ear. One giant hand folded over a breast squeezing it, ever so gently testing the soft resilience of that most feminine of female flesh. The second hand slid downward over her belly, passing ever so briefly over the now heated core between her legs before coming to rest on the front of her thigh. Fold by fold its fingers began to gather the fabric of her dress into his palm, gradually lifting that already short hemline up her legs. Sherry stood there, her eyes closed, too stunned, too awed and mesmerized, to pull away or even protest. Seconds ticked by as she remained frozen in the grip of those strong arms. It was only when she realized that her dress had been raised almost level with her pussy that she found the will to open her eyes. The reality of what she saw struck home in a hammer blow. She and Eddie were in the middle of a circle of strangers, and all eyes were on her as this man played with her body, publicly caressing her. The hand that had been fondling her breast was inside the top of her dress now, rubbing her nipple tenderly between thumb and forefinger. The hand that was lifting her dress had raised its hemline far enough that its fingers could stoke the smooth nylon of her pantyhose along the inside of her thigh. Sherry could not believe this was happening! This stranger, this man whom she had just met, could not be doing this to her before an audience in the middle of the dance floor! "How dare you," Sherry blurted as she struggled to free herself and turned to face her would-be and insistent lover. "What the hell you think you are doing?” Outraged and embarrassed she shouted at him, “Get your hands off me!” Without even considering the consequences, she drew back her right hand and landed a haymaker with her palm across his mouth. Anger flared in the big man's eyes, and then was gone, replaced by a frighteningly cold stare. Big Eddie was not accustomed to being refused, and certainly not at being slapped in the face. This bitch needed to be taught a lesson. He liked spirited women, however, and this one was particularly beautiful. Taming her was going to be a pleasure. "Leo," he said to one of the two bodyguards that had quickly pushed their way through the crowd to stand beside him, as attentive as a pair of well trained German Shepherds. "Bring this little bitch's husband to me. And you Nick," he said to the other, "go to my car. In the backseat is my dog's leash. Bring it to me." Sherry looked around her. The band had stopped playing, and every guest was gathered in a big circle around their host and this redheaded woman. No one said a word aloud, although Sherry could hear a buzzing undertone of whispers. Here and there she recognized a face in her audience. There was the mayor, over there the police chief, and behind him the district attorney stood beside a local congressman. There were female faces is well, women Sherry recognized from the society pages of the newspaper. None of them were interfering, however, and it was plainly apparent they didn't intend to. Sherry reflected that probably had been a mistake to slap the face of the city's number one gangster. He was important and politically powerful. She was only the daughter of the Irish immigrant, Joe McGinty, and the wife of Zack Wazaluski, a nobody Polish plumber. This man she had slapped could do anything he wanted to her, apparently even with these big shots as witnesses. For all the help that any of them were offering, she might as well have been facing this angry man in the middle of the Sahara desert. Leo returned leading Zack by the arm. Eddie turned to him and asked, "Tell me Mr. Wazaluski how much money do you owe me?" Zack turned white at the question and answered, “I don't know for sure. Maybe twenty, thirty thousand." "In your dreams you Pollock piece of shit." Eddie sneered at the frightened husband. "You owe me a lot more than that not even counting the interest. In round numbers, fifty grand, 50,000 George Washington's, that's what you owe me, and what do I get for being a good guy and letting you play the ponies on my money? My face slapped by your goddamn wife, that's what! Not the smartest thing to do. Most people would try not to piss off a man they owe $50,000. Well I am pissed, pissed enough to call your loan. Pay me! Your check now! Tonight!" "Come on Eddie," Zack begged. "You know I don't have that kind of money in the bank. I'm good for it, but I need some time. I've got a big plumbing job..." Eddie interrupted, "I don't give a damn what your problems are or what 'big jobs' you have. You think I'm going to wait for my money until you put in some goddamn septic tank? You want to talk about more time, you say? You should have said something about that to this bitch of a wife of yours before she slapped my face. Pay up, or I'll turn you over to my collection agency. They are very efficient. Take your pick, the easy way or the hard way, I don't care, but you WILL pay me." Zack turned white as a sheet! "Please Eddie, can't we work something out. I'll sign over my house, my car, whatever you want. Everything I've got is yours. Anything! Everything!" Zack was so scared he was almost ready to cry. He had every reason to be afraid. If he couldn't find some way of this, Eddie's 'collection agents' would surely break his arms and legs even if they didn't kill him outright. Just the thought of so much pain was enough to turn Zack's backbone into jelly. "Now there's an idea,” Eddie countered rather unexpectedly. "No, I don't want your house, or your car. I already have a house, and lots of cars. Nevertheless, you do have something I want. I want the only thing you own that is worth $50,000. Big Eddie paused for effect. Zack held his breath and the room was deathly quiet, everyone waiting to learn what Eddie might take in trade from this poor slob who didn't seem to have anything to offer. When Eddie finally named his price, a murmur ran through the crowd and the color drained from Zack's face. "I want this little bitch that just slapped my face. I want to own your wife. I don't often pay $50,000 for a pussy, even for one as pretty as I'm sure this one is. Still, she's a good-looking woman for her age and she will make a great whore. After she has been trained properly I may even be able to get my money out of her. How about it Pollock? I keep your wife, and you go home alone with your debt paid in full." Sherry couldn't believe her ears. This bastard was offering to buy her for $50,000. Right in front of all these big shot bankers, lawyers, doctors, and politicians he was bidding to own her as if she was a slave woman in chains on an Middle Eastern auction block. She couldn't believe it! Wasn't there some law against slavery in this country? Apparently not! The Mayor, the Chief of Police, and the District Attorney were all standing in the circle around her, but none of them said so much as a single word of protest at a woman being bargained for as if she was a pedigreed cow. Zack was having his own problem speaking, although he was trying. “But, but, but..." he stammered unable to organize either his thoughts or his tongue. Eddie persisted. "No buts goddamnit! Are you going to sell me your wife or not? Yes or no." Zack could see no way out. He couldn't pay what he owed, not tonight, not tomorrow, and perhaps never. Nor would he survive Big Eddie's collection agents. On their first visit they would try to beat the money out of him. Once they were convinced he didn't have it, they would resort to other means. Zack remembered all too well that to get credit at the bookie joint, he had taken out a $100,000 life insurance policy in favor of Big Eddie's 'loan company.' Dead was the only way Zack was worth $50,000. Dead, Big Eddie would be paid twice over. Zack understood that what he was about to do was cowardly and despicable, but he was equally certain he had no choice. “Poor Sherry!” he thought. “It was going to be unpleasant for her to be this man's whore, but she would at least be alive. That was more could be said for him in the alternative.” Quietly, almost in a whisper, Zack answered. "Okay, it's a deal." "You hear that Arnold?” Big Eddie shouted his lawyer standing on the edge of the circle of spectators. "Tomorrow morning first thing I want you to draw up the papers. From right now this bitch is my property, and I want a legal bill sale. Wazaluski here is entitled to have his notes canceled and returned to him." "No, Zack, I will not do it,” Sherry interrupted. "I'm your wife, and a human being. You can't sell me like some animal. I don't care what deal you make. This man doesn't own me. I will not be some man's bought and paid for plaything." "Ah but I do own you now bitch," Big Eddie told her. The same ice cold stare that had been in his eyes when she first slapped him was back again, and it planted fear into Sherry's soul. "You haven't considered the alternatives lady. If I don't own you, then your fool husband still owes me $50,000 that I have to collect the best way I can. You don't seem to understand what life will be like as a widow with two daughters and no money." "Right now I guess you don't care what happens to your fink of a husband. I can't blame you for that, but think a minute. How would you and your daughters make do if hubby here should have a fatal accident? You have no money, and no one to turn to. The mortgage on your home is already two months overdue. I know because I checked. If your husband should have an unfortunate fatal accident you and your daughters won't even have a roof over your heads. You think you can earn a living? Who's gonna hire you if I tell them not to? Do you think you can go some place and hide where I don't have friends? In Haiti maybe, or perhaps on some sand spit in the middle the Pacific, but certainly no place where you are likely to survive." "No house, no job, no money, how would the three of you eat? There will only be one way. Within a month, you mama, and both your daughters, will be walking the streets selling grapes from your grape vines. Sure, I will make a whore of you too, but it least you won't be on your back on dirty sheets in some sleazy $10 an hour motel working for a nigger pimp who will steal your money, and use your cunt besides. Better me than him don't you think? The women I own are first-class whores who service clean Johns, and they all support themselves pretty handsomely with what they earn on their backs." The alternatives he suggested to Sherry weren't a pretty picture. Could he really keep her from getting a job? Sherry believed that he probably could. If Zack was crippled or dead, and she couldn't work, what WOULD become of them? She began to cry, not saying anything, looking up at him, silently pleading for mercy with the tears filled eyes. She found no mercy there. Big Eddie demanded an answer. "Well what will it be babe? Do I own you or not?" "Yes Sir, you own me. What choice do I have?" Adding the 'Sir' to her answer seemed so natural to Sherry that she didn't even notice. After all she was this man's female property now. "Quite right cunt. Your have other choice, not now or ever again. I bought you. You are mine and you'll do whatever I tell you. Do you understand that?" "Yes sir!" There was that automatic SIR again. "I understand, but what about my daughters. They need their mother. I need them. Please let me stay with my children. " "No problem," Big Eddie answered. "I am a sharing man. You can play momma to your heart's content. In fact you will have more time for that than ever before. Tomorrow you will quit your job at that grocery. You will be keeping late hours now, and I want you well rested and ready to fuck the night away on short notice. Occasionally you may spend a couple of days out-of-town. Otherwise, usually it will be in the evenings when I put your lovely body to its best use. During the day you will be pretty much free to live your life as you choose. I am generous to my whores. I pay them well, and not only are they permitted a life at home with their families, I insist upon it. And, as I said, I'm a sharing man. We can't leave Zack out entirely now can we? Your husband will have, what do they call it...'conjugal rights', I believe. Anyway, whatever it's called, Zack here will have the use of your pussy anytime I don't need it. Fair enough?” "Yes sir! I guess so," was Sherry's somewhat hesitant reply. Big Eddie wasn't pleased. “What kind of answer is that? You 'guess so’? Lady I don't guess about anything. You're going to be well paid and living comfortably at home. You'll have a better wardrobe than you have ever owned in your life. You will be well fucked by your husband, by me, and by my friends and clients. What is this 'guess' shit? Tell me woman! Do I own you or not?” "Yes sir! You own me. I am your whore.” Sherry's voice was almost a whisper. She hot felt ready to cry "We are all agreed then? You are my whore and I am your pimp. You will obey me no matter what I demand of you?" "Yes sir, we are agreed." A murmur went through the encircling crowd as in a quiet voice, almost a whisper, Sherry surrendered. “I am now a whore! Your whore! You are my pimp. I will do whatever you say." Big Eddie’s voice carried a hard edge of authority as he gave his new woman her first command. "The deal is done then. Strip bitch! I want to see what my $50,000 has bought." Sherry was stunned. He wanted her naked in front of all these people. What an awful thought! Sherry had known when he greeted her at the door that he wanted to see her nude, and he certainly wasn’t wasting any time about it. Sherry shrugged as the shock of what she must do wore off. She had just promised to be this man’s whore. Surely, worse things than this were in a whore’s future. Anyway, what else could she do? She was only property now, a piece of pretty furniture, and the owner of furniture could show it off to whomever, and whenever, he pleased. Anyway Sherry suspected this man who-would-be-her-master had motives beyond merely enjoying her nude body, "The bastard," she thought. "He is toying with me, playing with my head by shaming me front of Zack and his high society guests." Sherry was quite right. Eddie was watching her reaction closely. This was the first hurdle in her training, and probably the biggest of all. If she did as she was told now, everything afterward would come in time. Would she obey? Would she strip and display herself naked before a room full of strangers? For a moment or two the question hung in the air unanswered, but there was never any real doubt. Sherry's long background of submission had prepared her well for this critical moment of shameful obedience to her latest master. Indeed, Sherry’s past was always with her as along with her humiliation came a fleeting image of her father dragging her mother off to the bedroom by the hair of her head. Why would she think of that now? Was she that much like her mother, or like her mother, had she simply been chosen at random as a man’s sex toy in fate's great lottery? Defeated, Sherry slid the straps of her dress off her shoulders and down her arms. With a tug and a shake, the top half of the dress fell to her waist to hang there caught on the swell of her hips. She stood stiffly in her black half bra, solemn, proud, almost defiant, waiting. 'Strip' her new owner had commanded, but Sherry instinctively knew he would enjoy her humiliation even more if she played the reluctant virgin forced to submit to his authority. The evil smile on his lips told her she was quite right. "Well bitch," he ordered with a snarl, "Get on with it. Now the bra! I want to see your tits." With that most feminine of movements, Sherry reached back between her shoulder blades with both hands to unhook the bra that barely covered her nipples. Undone the bra fluttered uselessly to the floor releasing her lovely breasts, full and inviting, to be enjoyed by all those staring eyes. Sherry had always been proud of breasts, and she could see in the eyes of her new owner that he was impressed. Eddie was not the only one. A murmur of approval came from the circle onlookers. Sherry, Slut & Slave Whore Ch. 1-6 "The rest of it, woman. Show us your pussy. My guests and I want to see what I have bought for my $50,000?" With a hard pull at the fabric gathered around her hips, the sexy black silk dress fluttered to the floor. This time Sherry did not wait for further orders. With a shuffle of each foot, off came her black pumps. Her thumbs hooked under the elastic waistbands of both her pantyhose and panties, and as her elbows straightened both garments were shoved downward to top of her thighs exposing the neatly trimmed V of her red pubic hair. In a daintily stoop, she pushed the panties and pantyhose down her legs to her feet, then stepped free from the pile of garments at her ankles. She had passed Eddie's test. She had obeyed! She stood nude before him and a roomful of strangers, embarrassed and blushing but also somehow proud and defiant. Out of the corner of her eyes she could see Zack gaping at her. The lust in his eyes was the same that in the Big Eddie's and all the rest of the leering crowd the circle around her. "Wow, you are a prize. You may even be worth the money," her new owner said proudly. Then he turned away to search for the bodyguard he had sent to his car. "Come here Nick. Did you bring the dog leash I sent you after?" The hard looking gunman said nothing as he stepped forward from the crowd and handed his boss the leather leash he had been sent to retrieve. At the end of the leash dangled a steel chain about 18 inches long with a large ring at each end. One ring was clipped to the leash. Through the other ring at the free end, Eddie pulled a loop of the chain creating a slip noose at the business end of the leash. Sherry knew immediately what this was, and what it was for! This was a choke collar used to obedience train a dog to the leash. To her horror, Sherry also knew her new master intended to use it on her. To him, a bitch is a bitch whether human or canine. This woman he now owned must learn to obey, and he would teach her to do so as he would any bitch, on the end of a leash with a chain noose around her neck. "On your knees woman," Eddie commanded. "You have lessons to learn, and we might as well start now." Sherry knelt in surrender at the feet of her new owner and master. Over her head dropped that awful terrifying chain noose, shuddering a bit as the cold steel links slipped past her ears to rest loosely on her bare shoulders. “ My God!” she thought, “This is a collar, the mark of a slave! She was naked and on her knees wearing a dog’ slip collar!” Her heart sank with the understanding. She was now officially his property, his bitch, and as any other bitch in his kennel, she was about to be broken to the leash. Her training began with a sudden jerk that cruelly tightened the chain around her neck, momentarily choking her. Her trainer, her pimp, her hash master, on the end of that leather lead, was reminding her who was in command here. The grip of that awful steel loop around her throat shook Sherry into questioning the reality of her nightmare. Was it possible in the 21st century for a husband to sell his wife to a stranger? Was she now actually owned by this gangster, indentured to the service of his cock? And what of his intention to make a whore of her? Surely there were laws against all this, yet the chief of police, and the District Attorney were watching and they did nothing to protest. It was at that moment when, incredibly, unbelievably, irrationally, the hateful coke chain around her neck brought Sherry to an unexpected epiphany. Her submission to her father, and then to her husband, been only a preamble. Compared to Big Eddie, her father and Zack had been only clumsy amateurs merely posturing at the role of dominant males. This man, he was the true master she had always wanted. Already he was teaching her a lesion in erotic humiliation by publicly displaying her naked on a leash. She was learning her lesson well too because despite her shame, her nipples were hard and erect, her pussy was swollen and wet, and deep in her ovaries an orgasm was building. Sherry’s heart leapt at her new found understanding. This was the man she had needed all her life. She shuddered with the thought what that meant, and what he was likely to eventually demand of her, yet strangely, unaccountably, she not only was not afraid of her future, she was eager to begin. Whatever this wonderful new master wanted of her was his for the asking. After all, she was his property, his bitch, his whore. If only he would fuck her--and soon. God, how she did need to have his cock inside her, sliding in and out of her warm slick pussy. Yet, she was merely his slave woman and she understood that such a choice was entirely his. Whatever her new master wanted, she was now eager to give him. What would he demand of her next? She wasn’t long finding out. "HEEL!" Came his single command. A quick hard yank on her leash jerked Sherry forward onto her hands as well as her knees. Treating her as he would any kennel bitch in training, Sherry’s master began to walk away without further orders. Half crawling, half pulled along by her neck, Sherry scrambled along behind her man like a frantic crab across the dance floor. Every time she lagged, the links in the chain noose bit into her flesh and closed off her windpipe. Her breasts swayed and jerked sexily under her as she crawled, desperate to keep pace, gasping for air. Urged on by the pain in her throat, Sherry had finally reached her master's side when a sudden jerk on the leash brought her to an abrupt halt, simultaneously lifting her off her hands into an upright kneel. "Sit!" he demanded. "Get it right bitch. First you learn to heel, then to sit, and after that perhaps we will try something more difficult." Poor Sherry! Helpless, she knelt at her master's feet on a leash so taut that she was forced to stretch upward to relieve the pressure on her throat. She knew how she must look, and she was deeply embarrassed. Could anything be more humiliating then to be made to crawl naked on the end of leash like an unschooled puppy for the entertainment of a roomful of strangers? Perhaps not, yet her personal shame was no longer of prime concern to her. What mattered was her pitiful attempt to obey her master. Was he displeased with her? Desperate for some acknowledgement from this man who now so completely owned her, Sherry dared to raise her head and look into his eyes. It was no use, they were cold and indifferent to her distress--and her need. Her own eyes filled with tears silently pleading for him to take her off somewhere and make her his, sink his great cock in her swollen pussy. God! How she did need to be fucked! Perhaps that time was not far away. "Unzip my fly bitch," Eddie demanded. "Take out my cock! Kiss it! Fondle me! Lick me! Suck me! Show my guests how a new whore worships the penis of her pimp." Sherry was willing. Perhaps if she sucked him particularly well he would fuck her. With both hands she clawed at the zipper of his fly. Her fumbling fingers worked their way through the folds of cloth until they were rewarded with the delicious tube of male meat she sought so feverishly. Carefully, almost reverently, she drew his manhood out of his fly. Rocking back on her haunches she paused, allowing that as yet sagging penis to hang at eye level for her admiration. Only partially erect, but a majestic male weapon nonetheless, it was just beginning to swell with blood, taunting her with a promise of possible pleasures to come. This was a challenge Sherry could not resist. Gently she reached up to fondle and caress her prize with her fingertips before raising it to lips. As she had been instructed Sherry began her homage with a kiss before circling the tip with her tongue. Next her tongue explored behind the ridge where the bulge of the crown ended, and the length of the shaft began. Opening her mouth wide, she stretched her lips into a seal around that magnificent bulbous beginning. From over her head came a moan and then more instructions. "A good whore doesn't need her hands to suck a cock. Put yours behind your back and keep them there! With your mouth alone, bitch! Use your lips and tongue! Make love to my penis! Bob your head and drive me into your throat. Swallow me whore!" Sherry straightened her back and crossed her wrists behind her, controlling his cock now only with her head and mouth. Now she was a bound slave girl from her master’s harem paying tribute to his male appendage. Almost immediately she was in heat, blinded by her own arousal, and not at all conscious that her husband and a roomful of strangers were watching her slutty performance. She cared not at all that she was naked, dog collared, and on her knees on the end a controlling leash, sucking the cock of a man she had only met an hour earlier. Sherry was desperate to prove to this man that she was his woman, and she cared about nothing else. Sherry's cheeks hollowed as she sucked hard on the maleness that filled her mouth. Gradually her head began to bob as she drove Eddie's long broad penis ever further into her throat. Stroke by stroke the penetration became easier and deeper. At first she could swallow only half his length, then two-thirds, then three-quarters. As her nose neared the opening in his pants fly, Eddie seized a handful of hair on each side of her head and began to yank her on and off his jutting erection, faster and faster, passionately fucking her mouth. Sherry choked at first, but she quickly adapted to breathing between strokes. She could taste his pre-cum now, and she knew he was ready to spend. His control was magnificent, but his balls had begun to clinch, readying the ejaculation Sherry knew would soon come in powerful spurts She was right, and he began to babble of his pleasure as he teetered on the edge of climax. "Oh you bitch! You cocksucking whore! God but you're good!" Sherry was looking forward to swallowing his cum, but Eddie had another idea in mind, and perversely he denied her his tasty load. Instead he yanked her head back off his pulsing prick with a sudden order. "Finish me with your hand bitch. Jack me off into your face." Three long strokes in the grip of her fingers were all that it took for jet after jet of male seed to spurt into her face. Gobs of the white goo landed on her forehead, her nose, her lips, her eyes and throat. Sherry could only guess how she must look, a naked female on her knees before her master drowning in the flood of his sperm. The murmuring whispers all around her answered her question. None of this was for Big Eddie’s pleasure of course. Eddie was training her by deliberately shaming her before Zack and his fancy guests. He was proving to them, and to her as well, that she was now a whore, his whore. He had been successful. In only these few minutes experience on the end of his leash Sherry had accepted him as her owner. He had marked her face with his seed and she was indeed now his to do with as he pleased. Sherry cared not a bit that she was accepting a servile service. God no, but how she did need this man to take her hot pussy with the great masculine woman pleaser Mother Nature had hung between his legs. "Well Done Bitch! You have great promise," Big Eddie told the abject woman at his feet even as he turned to walk away, again with only that single cold cruel command, "HEEL BITCH!" The order took Sherry by surprise, but a sudden yank of that hateful leash quickly sent her crawling on hands and knees once more, again frantic to ease the pressure of the chain choking her throat. Eddie led her toward the great spiral staircase. Sherry's first thought was that he was taking her upstairs to his bed where he would at last fuck her. It was not be. When they reached the first step, Eddie yanked her to a halt, and lifting upward on his leash, he drug his struggling but obedient slave woman to her feet. "Here Bitch! Stand here!" Eddie ordered as he shoved her up against the terminal newel of the staircase. Addressing his bodyguard he readied Sherry for her fate. "Leo, take off your tie and use it to tie her arms behind her around the stair post." Turning back to his guests with a gracious smile he offered them his new whore to enjoy. "Feel free every one. I am making my $50,000 whore available for your entertainment. All who would like to may tease her at your leisure. I'm sure you'll find her a hot number." CHAPTER FIVE - The Master’s Guests Tied to the end of the staircase with Eddie’s semen still drying on her face, Sherry waited to be to be fondled and teased as a living ‘party favor’. Big Eddie Ciano was famous for outrageous gestures at his parties, but not even he had ever before offered his guests the nude body of a lovely woman. For poor Sherry, the thought of strange hands between her legs and on her breasts was degrading, yet at the same time exciting. Ruefully she considered Eddie’s intention to make a whore of her. He certainly hadn’t wasted any time about it. Although continuing to gawk, at the beginning there was no rush by the party guests to play with the feminine assets of this pretty slave woman. Finally, from out of the crowd stepped a tall man with graying hair, a mustache, and ink black eyes. He brought with him bleached blond woman, fiftyish, still attractive, but showing signs of hard wear. The man reached a hand between Sherry's legs and began to explore her slit with his forefinger. Sherry's body straightened rigid as a ship's mast, and her breath caught in a gasp at the unexpected invasion of her private core. “Is she wet Sam?" the blond woman asked her escort. "Oh yes," he answered, "Like a swamp." Then addressing Sherry he asked, "You like my finger in your cunt, don't you? "Yes Sir," Sherry answered. What else could she say? Her owner had tied her here for this man's entertainment, and she was afraid she might be punished her if she protested. Besides, it was true. She was sopping wet, and that teasing finger did feel so very good exploring the sensitive walls of her horny pussy. More was to come. His finger crooked inside her, and as his arm lifted she was raised onto her toes, caught like a fish on a hook. As teetered there struggling to keep her balance, the butt of his palm pressed hard over the folds of flesh that guarded her clit. Sherry's jaw dropped open, her eyes fluttered closed, and despite herself, her hips responded by pushing back against the hand that was squeezing her clit so exquisitely. "Tell me the truth slut! You are about to cum aren't you?" The tone of his question dripped with an arrogant superiority as if to say, “Of course you are. What else could one expect from a pretty little redheaded Irish whore?" His blond companion put his silent thought into words. "Jesus Sam, what a slut she is. Make her cum Sam. We all want to see her cum." "Hear that slut? My wife wants to see you cum. Cum for her Slut!" Sherry gritted her teeth, hiding behind closed eyes, unwilling to give this awful man the degrading spectacle he was demanding, but--oh God--how could she do otherwise? There was no escape from the finger that was by now plundering her slit like a small cock. Her body had turned traitor, and was betraying her with an orgasm that bubbled out of her ovaries ready to explode on any excuse. “So what!” Sherry asked herself. “Would an orgasm make her any more a proven whore than she already was? Wasn’t the reason she was tied to this stair post to entertain these people with her body? Wouldn’t she be whipped if she didn’t give this man and his wife the orgasm they demanded of her?” Impatient, 'Sam' viciously he slapped her across the face. "Open your eyes slut! Look at these people! They're waiting for you to cum like the slut you are. We wouldn't want to disappoint them now would we?" Sherry's eyes fluttered open, but quickly closed once more. Once again that hard palm struck her across her face. "No slut! Look into my eyes as you cum on my finger. You know you want to. You need it! You know you do! Now bitch! Now! Cum slut! Cum on my finger!" Sherry was still staring into his eyes when the tidal wave of orgasm buckled her at the knees. Reduced to half woman and half rag doll, for the next 30 seconds she hung limply from the staircase post without the strength in her legs to stand on her own. As life returned, her eyes wandered to the sea of faces that surrounded her, all of them staring with varying degrees of shocked awe, disbelief, and lust. "Oh God!" Sherry thought. "What have I done? How did I become such a whore so quickly." Her tormentor was grinning like the Cheshire cat. "That wasn't so bad was it? In fact it felt good didn't it?" he asked as he fed his soiled fingers into her mouth to be cleaned. Sherry nodded, bobbing her head in reluctant agreement as she sucked her feminine wet from the fingers that had pleasured her. It HAD felt sooo good. No more than that, her orgasm had been wonderful, one of the best ever if only it had not been so humiliating. Then it struck her. Was it wonderful for that very reason? Did she get off so powerfully because the circumstances were so shameful and degrading? Was she really Big Eddie's slave, or was she the slave of her own submissive nature? Was she now this man's whore because her husband had sold her to him, or because Eddie was the truly dominant male her father had prepared her for? The ice broken, there were many more who took advantage of Big Eddie's open offer to enjoy the naked body of his new whore. With her hands tied behind her, Sherry hung helpless on the stair post while hands of strangers felt between her legs, probed her pussy, squeezed her breasts, tweaked her nipples, and explored the crack of her ass. More often than not, her tormentors would force her to suck clean the fingers they soiled in her pussy and ass. The women were even more heartless then the men. They called her names, and were never satisfied to merely feel her privates. They wanted her in pain as they humiliated their victim. Typical was the blond wife of the man who first fingered her pussy. She used her tongue well as her hands on Sherry's breasts to draw a nipple out long enough for her to catch between her front teeth. The cruel bitch bit down that sensitive erect nub, and then taunted Sherry. "Did that hurt slut?" she asked. She knew it had. Sherry had screamed, and tears were rolling down her cheeks. Still, the woman persisted, "you like to be hurt though don't you, you little whore? Tell us about it. Admit that you are a pain slut who gets off on having your nipple bitten." "Yes ma'am, I'm a pain slut. Please bite my nipples again. I get off when you bite them." Sherry had learned must tell these people whatever they wanted to hear. To do otherwise only made her situation worse. "And when my husband had his finger deep in your pussy, you wanted him to fuck you didn't you? "Yes ma'am, I did. I wanted his cock in my pussy in the worst way." "What are you then? What is a woman who wants someone else's husband to fuck her? " "She is a whore. I am a whore! I am trash, a slut with a hot pussy who lusts to have another woman's husband to fuck me." "Tell me Bitch, should you be punished for that? "Oh yes ma'am! I should be punished for being a whore. Punish me. Make me hurt. I deserve it." With that the blond woman turned to her husband, stripped his belt from his pants, and used it to lash poor Sherry with measured strokes across her thighs, belly, and breasts. Sherry screamed in pain, but caught up in her own very personal orgy of masochistic submission, her pussy nevertheless overflowed and her wet ran down the inside of her thighs. CHAPTER SIX – Her First ‘John’ That was when a huge black man stepped in to interrupt. Sherry recognized him immediately. Roosevelt Brown’s picture was in the newspaper often, and there was no mistaking the 350 pound coal black president of the Municipal Employees Union, Local 457. Despite her erotic response, Sherry was grateful to be rescued from that savage belt--but what did this huge ebony man want of her. Had she just been pitched from the frying pan into the fire?