My Slut Wife Life Ch. 06

"While I prepare, you have one minute to think of 10 slang words for your breasts. And you can't use breasts. That's not slang. The more you miss, the more 'uncomfortable' it will be for you." The way he said it left no doubt that whatever he had in mind, she'd be uncomfortable no matter what.

She thought furiously. All those hours looking for dirty pictures and movies on the internet should've left her with a cornucopia of words. But her mind froze. The desperateness of her position, combined with the curiosity of what he had planned caused her lose track of anything else. Desperately, as he counted down the last 10 seconds, his hands hidden behind his back, she pulled up what she should.

"Well, bitch? What words do you have for those nasty bags of flesh on your chest?"

She tried to think of more even as she spouted out the ones that immediately came to mind to keep from forgetting even those. "Master, these are my boobs. Tits. Hooters. Knockers. Um, um... funbags! And, um, yes, udders! And, and.. and..." There were so many! How come she couldn't think of them?

"That, bitch, was pathetic," he said, using the palm of his hand to sharply slap her tit. "Maybe you need to spend more time on porn sites, learning what the rest of us already know. That women are good for nothing but fucking. And using as play toys, of course."

He reached around and slapped her ass sharply, the sound cracking through the room. "So, now we're going to play a little game. I clip you, and you beg for more." With that he pulled out his other hand, revealing the wooden objects in his palm. Clothespins? Spring-loaded ones?

Without any other explanation, he stepped forward, opened the jaws of the pin and attached it to the soft flesh of her right tit, just below her nipple. She gasped and tried to writhe away, frustratingly held fast by the ropes at her ankles and wrists. It didn't really hurt, it was more like a stinging sensation. Like when a tooth hurts and you press on it. But it hurt a lot more when she looked down and saw the clothespin dangling from her sensitive breast. He stepped back to admire his work, then came forward with another one, clamping in the same place, but on the other breast.

He worked quickly, not hesitating despite her gasps, yelps or cries of pain. He applied them in a four inch circle around her nipple, each application stretching her skin tighter and tighter, until he had to pinch the flesh between his fingers just to get enough purchase for the clothespin jaws. By this time her tits were afire, as were the muscles in her arms, the ropes attached to the ceiling being the only thing holding her upright.

He stepped back to admire his handiwork and Hans stepped in, taking both pictures and movies to record her torment, the skin of each breast painfully taut, straining against the torture devices that were twisting and torqueing her beautiful udders.

"Spread your legs, bitch!" her Master barked at her, as if repelled by her weakness. She stretched her legs as much as she was able without toppling over, then watched in unveiled horror as he bent to apply additional clothespins to her pussy lips. These hurt more than the ones on her breasts, though they didn't stretch the skin as tautly as the others. She cried out openly now, with real distress, as he amused himself by flicking the pins with his finger, causing them to vibrate painfully against her cunt and clit.

Tiring of that, or perhaps bored, he turned his attention to her ass. Brutally he twisted the butt plug out, and after detaching the tail strands, he forced it into her mouth. Without thought she sucked on it, tasting her own anal juice but unable to get away from it. With the dildo shoved in place in her mouth, he headed out to the kitchen. She strained to see what was in his hands when he returned. Was that... potato chip bag clips? She wanted to protest, wanted to scream "No!" but the dildo was too deeply wedged in her mouth. So all she could do was look on in fright as he prepared to attach one to her body. But where?

When the cold, plastic edges of the clip closed on her erect nipple, the sharp pain rippled through her body. But it subsided quickly, leaving behind a soft throbbing, like the feeling after stubbing your toe. As he prepared to attach the second one to her other nipple, she watched intently, the eroticism of the moment overcoming any trepidation. None of it really hurt, she realized. They were all like sharp stings, which slowly devolved to a soft pain. The biggest shock came when her Master brought a mirror over for her to see herself: Standing naked, tits and pussy pinched with over a dozen clothespins, her engorged nipples held in place with huge plastic clips, and a butt-plug stuffed deep into her mouth.

He let her take in the sight of herself for a few moments, let Hans record her abuse and humiliation for posterity, then shooed the man away and turned back to her. "We're not done. No, far from it. But now you receive your punishment for not being clever enough to come up with more names for these hefty hooters here. You see, there are two ways to release your whore tits from their torment. One way is to squeeze the handles and slowly take them off. Like this." She felt nothing but a rush of blood when he removed the clip, though she could see that it left a red mark behind. "And the other way... well, the other way is to drag them off, slowly, like this." With that, he grabbed one leg of the clip and slowly pulled it away. At first, the prongs refused to release, but then they slowly started sliding off, painfully pulling at her skin and pinching it harder and harder. She whimpered from behind the dildo in her mouth and felt tears come to her eyes as the pinching got more and more acute. Just when she thought that the pain was too much to take, the clip popped off, leaving her tit red, raw and throbbing.

Her reaction only served to encourage him, as he alternated between quickly removing the clips and pins and slowly teasing them off. Throughout it all, she wasn't in pain so much as ripples of discomfort. And while his actions didn't really turn her on, it didn't turn her off either. What did turn her on was watching the whole process in the mirror, which he'd so conveniently left in place. She was actually getting turned on by watching him torture her! The idea was so twisted as to be almost unbelievable. By the end her breasts and nipples were speckled with bright red spots, testimony to the areas that he'd tortured with the clips.

As I watched myself on the TV, I noticed how much that person resembled the women in many of the pictures she'd found on the internet. Tied in place. Sweat-soaked. Eyes wide with a mixture of fear and desire. Nipples hard despite the abuse. A woman reduced to a plaything for a semi-sadistic man, yet not protesting and, in fact, eager to see what would happen next. Not surprisingly, the rest of the people watching this show were just as enraptured. They'd all known me in a wide variety of sexual ways, but the direct exposure to this kind of treatment had captured their imaginations, priming them with new scenarios they could demand that I comply with.

I watched as the woman on-screen was released from her bonds, collapsing slowly to the floor and then stretching her arms and legs to release the kinks. I looked around at the other people watching the TV show. They watched me like wolves stalking a wounded animal The analogy was apt. Once the video was over, the lights would return and they'd be upon me. And inside me.

She remembered how tight her muscles and joints had been after being released. How quickly the marks on her breasts had started to fade. And how hungrily her husband, her Master, had looked at her as he conjured up yet another torment to put her through. After pulling the plug from her mouth and carelessly tossing it aside, he hooked a leash to her collar and led her to the kitchen. Two minutes later she was securely bound to a kitchen chair, her wrists tied behind, her ankles tied to the chair legs. Under the gleaming kitchen lights, she felt even more vulnerable than she had while strung up in the other room.

Her owner rifled through the kitchen drawers and her imagination took hold. Spatulas might be used as paddles. Would he penetrate her with a rolling pin? A serving spoon? A wine bottle? Would he coat her in cooking oil? In Crisco? In flour? Would he soothe her wounds with ice? Or use it to torment her with cold? Would those candles he was pulling out just set the mood? Or would hot wax soon be dripping on her tits, like she'd seen done on those hardcore sites on the internet? He wouldn't cut her or draw blood, she was sure. Or reasonably sure. But a baster might be just like that milking machine applied to her udders. She shuddered at the thought. Odd that she still thought of them that way.

He pulled out a cherry pitter, glinting like a medieval torture device. A funnel. which made her pussy tremble. A juicer, its conical dome a warning of things to come. That potato masher and meat tenderizer were just for show, weren't they? The camera lovingly caressed their blunt and sharp edges. You could almost feel the cameraman's hot, fetid breath. He found the drawer she'd been dreading, filled with many pointed rollers used for making pasta and pies. He pulled each out dramatically, experimentally rolling them across his palm and then grinning lewdly at her. The kitchen was filled with more implements of brutality than she'd ever realized.

She watched in even greater trepidation as Hans left his spot behind the camera and approached her Master, whispering in his ear and gesturing at her. Her Master looked intrigued, never a good sign where Hans was involved. After several moments of searching, her Master pulled a length of rope out of the depths of a cupboard. She had no idea what he had in mind, but the ominous way he approached her was enough to make her want to flee, naked, into the night.

It soon became clear what he had in mind. Starting from behind her, he wrapped the rope under one of her breasts and over the other, then around her body, then over the first breast and under the other, repeating the pattern until her tits where captured top and bottom by the rough rope. After tying it off, he came around in front to admire his work.

"That, plus a ball gag, will make you a real bondage slut. I can tell you like it, despite your feeble attempts to get free," her Master sneered, pinching and pulling on her erect nipple.

Hans came over, the camera on a tripod behind him. "What this bitch needs is a reminder that her tits are wasted on you," he said harshly. "Bitches need to be punished for showing their tits all over." He grabbed a wooden spoon from the counter and strode behind her. She felt him fiddling with the rope constraining her breasts, then the ropes constricted alarmingly tight. She gasped, heard him laugh cruelly, then the ropes were squeezing her breasts even more strongly, making the flesh pop out. She winced, trying to hold it in, to soldier through, but the pain became too much and she cried out, a shriek that became a wail. In response, Hans twisted again, the rope almost scissoring her tits in half.

"That's enough," her Master said, his tone now low and forbidding.

"That's your problem," Hans sneered. "You're too easy on her. She'll never be a real slave until you stop coddling her. Are you a real man, or are you just pretending to be one?"

"That's enough," her Master repeated, this time menacingly, stepping between her and Hans. "You go too far. And now it's time for you to go for good."

Her Master strode into the living room, Hans heatedly following. She could hear only snatches of the conversation. "...had a deal." "Not wanted anymore..."Your word..." "Lots of friends in the community." And, most ominously from Hans, "I have pictures."

When they returned to the room, Hans began packing up all his equipment, save for the camera on the tripod. Her Master bent to untie the ropes around her torso, ankles and wrist, the knots coming free surprisingly quickly. He always was handy with that kind of thing. She was gratefully massaging the undersides of her breasts when his next words, whispered in her ear, stopped her cold.

"You need to get this old man off. And then we're done with him."

She looked at him in shock. It had been one thing to fantasize about doing another man. To make it part of their role-playing. And entirely something else to actually do it, even if it was at her husband's orders. They were at the precipice, she realized. The tipping point. The proverbial point of no return. A point that she made with him.

"Are you sure?" she whispered urgently. "There's no going back from this. If you make me do this, it changes everything." Including the fact that if they stopped this experimental lifestyle, what they did now would stay with them forever. And the fact that starting it all off with Hans literally made her stomach turn.

"Just get him off," he replied through gritted teeth. "You know what he has to hold over us. And," he gave her ass a squeeze, "despite the fact that he's a pig, I think we can trust that once he's 'paid,' he'll honor the agreement to leave us alone. Plus, all he wants is to jack off on you while he watches you rub yourself."

She didn't believe that for a second. But maybe the old man was so horny, he wouldn't be able to hold back after just a little visual stimulation. She could always hope.

Hope proved fleeting as Hans knelt between her spread legs, eagerly eyeing her open hole as she rubbed herself, trying to provide as graphic a sight as possible. But no matter how hard he stroked himself, his cock wouldn't achieve full staff.

She looked imploringly at her Master, who only cocked his head to one side and grinned. If it wouldn't get done the easy way, he seemed to say, then she'd have to do it the hard way. After a bit of repositioning, Hans knelt above her nude body, his cock dangling just above her lips. With a sigh of resignation, she took him in her mouth. He tasted as nasty as she had imagined, salty with sweat and wet with pre-cum. He must've been spunking steadily in his shorts the entire time he'd been filming them.

It didn't take long for his short cock to get firm, and as he reached back to paw at her wet pussy, she knew she had to redirect his attention somewhere else. She definitely didn't want him humping away at her pussy. Keeping him trapped in her mouth, massaging the length of his cock with her tongue, she quickly oiled up her cleavage and hoarsely begged him to fuck her tits.

In no time he was gleefully thrusting into the valley she'd created for him, a wash of bitter and ugly words spilling from his mouth the whole time. Some woman must've caused him great heartache at some time, she thought. Or maybe he was just one of those men who blamed women for whatever ill they suffered from. Either way, it was better to have him fucking her tits than fucking her cunt.

It was over almost before it began. He grabbed his cock and jacked away at it, until a stream of milky cum dribbled from the tip onto her oiled udders. At his orders she dutifully rubbed it into her skin, smearing it across her nipples and around her breast meat. He bent forward and she sucked the remnants from his cock hole, licking his rod until it contracted back into its tiny ball of wrinkled flesh, nearly indistinguishable from the saggy, hairy balls on either side of it.

Her Master nodded in approval as she stayed on the sofa, continuing to lightly rub her dripping cunt. Despite the revulsion she felt about the situation, her body had still responded with the wetness necessary to ease the penetration of her pussy. Without another word, but smirking victoriously, Hans got dressed, packed his equipment and left, slamming the door behind him. All save for the camera on the tripod, which appeared to be still filming her.

"I bought this one," her Master noted, coming over to sit between her legs. "This evening didn't quite go as planned." He ran his hand gently over her sticky breast. "I'm not unhappy with the way you performed. Hans got all that he deserved." His hand traveled down to caress her pussy mound. "But the time will come, very soon, when your loyalty will be tested, and I'll expect you to welcome another man's cock between your legs." He pressed one, then two, then three fingers inside her cunt, making it clear with a single gesture who controlled the use of that area. "I think we're done for tonight. Take a shower. Get some rest. Tomorrow's going to be a long day."

+++++++++

The video ended. In the faded light coming from the TV, I could see shapes moving toward me, eyes gleaming like wolves in the darkness. The hunters were prowling. I would be their prey. I braced myself for the coming assault, knowing from experience that the best way to enjoy it was to drown myself in the pure hedonism of the moment. They would demand that I pleasure them. But I would steal moments of pleasure for myself. And maybe, just maybe, earn a modicum of respect from my erstwhile friends.

To be continued...