Sexy Sally, My Slut Wife Ch. 3

"With a fat new paycheck every week, I moved out on Sam, filed for divorce, found a nice apartment for my daughter, Mary Anne, and myself, and began a new life. I kept waiting for Bob to hit on me but he made no move. I'll tell you one thing, however, that was the sexiest 'no move' that a woman ever went through."

"Women are always radiating sexual signals. We do so in an attempt to get the message across to you dumb men that we are available, and we want your attention. Its not that we are necessarily that slutty or even all that horny. Sexy signals are simply natural and automatic to us. Often they go out unconsciously when we are only fantasizing. Sometimes they are more bluntly erotic than is good for us. Fortunately for our chastity and our reputations, very few males out there are tuned in to the feminine subliminal network. Most of you men never hear anything we say unless we shout it directly into your ear."

Darla smiled, enjoying her dig at masculine insensitivity.

"There are a few men, however, who do hear our quiet our whining messages. Their eavesdropping tells them that we are frustrated, horny, and eager to spread our legs if the right erect penis should happen our way. They answer us in the same quiet code, assuring us that they have for us the very thing we need so badly. We are so glad to have a suitor, we can't help but signal back, and to keep you around, we hint that we just might be available for sex."

"Boss Bob is one such predatory male who regularly taps into the female party line. Sometime early on I must have sent out the usual passive signal of a lonely female. I don't know if I expected, or even wanted, any response. It makes no difference. Bob heard me. His reply was soft, subtle and reassuring. To a woman alone and horny, the message was unmistakable. He found me beautiful and desirable. He wanted to fuck me."

"You would never known that by anything he overtly said or did, however," Darla continued, still smiling. "To the contrary, for three months or so he was painfully correct and proper. He complemented me often, but he never said anything out of line. He managed to touch me regularly, but always in a way that seemed innocent enough. He would take my hand or arm and assist me at a revolving door, or in and out of a car. Perhaps our legs would brush when we were caught in tight quarters like that. In a crowded elevator he would be firmly crushed against my back from thigh to shoulder. His fingers would linger on my hand or arm when handing me a paper. A favorite was the file on his desk. It was always where I couldn't see what he was pointing at unless I bent over him and pressed my breast against his shoulder and cheek."

"Always he would look directly into my eyes when we were taking. Sometimes I would become lost in the depth of those black eyes, and lose track of what he was saying to me. Other times I would look up and find him staring at me, for no reason. Unlike every other man I've ever known, however, when I caught him at it, he would not drop his gaze. He just kept his eyes locked on mine until I would be the one who looked away, feeling guilty somehow, and blushing a little."

Darla paused for a moment. She had a dreamy look about her as if she was recalling a time she treasured in spite of herself.

"As time went on he began to do things that made me uncomfortable, but at the same time left me all hot and bothered. For example, there was the way he was always smelling me. Oh, I don't mean he would come up and sniff my crotch or anything. He was very subtle and casual about it, but you could see his nostrils flare when he liked my perfume, and he was always finding ways to be up close with his nose in my hair. One of the sexiest things a man can do for a woman is to smell her, and to let her know that he is aroused by her odor. Today, when you said you had been enjoying my smell, my knees trembled a little. Every other mammal on earth attracts its mate by smell, and surely we once did too. When was it men and women forgot that and dropped it out of our courtship?"

"So there I was," Darla continued as she finished her desert, "separated from my husband, living like a nun with my ten year old daughter, while this hunk of handsome virile male was sniffing around me and sending dirty messages on a private line to my imagination. To Bob's eyes, the words 'hot to trot' must have been plainly written across my forehead in big black letters."

"I was hired very late in the spring, and as the leaves turned that fall, Bob changed gears and began to come on to me openly and directly. His complements became bolder, goading me to arousal. At first it was nothing dirty really, only sexy and suggestive. As time went on, tho, the more bawdy he became. He would wink, and ask me if I had gotten laid during a holiday or over the weekend."

"One of the girls in the office was a newlywed. He kidded her that since the wedding she was walking around with a constant smile on her face. I knew he wasn't really talking to her. He was talking to me. When she would go back to her desk, he would leer at me, and tell me that I too needed to find myself a man who would screw me regularly. He assured me I would be less bitchy if I did. Of course, we both understood who the man was who could improve my disposition."

The glassy look in Darla's eyes grew more and more intense as she continued to recalled her experience with Boss Bob.

"As time went on, Bob managed more to find a way to keep me with him almost all the time. More and more often he touched me, or found an excuse to press against me, all very innocently, of course, but I knew better. Every time his leg brushed against mine, an electric shock would hit my clit. My pussy was wet from the time I arrived at work each day. It got so bad I had to wear a Kotex as a regular thing. It was ridiculous. Here was a man I had never even kissed; a man who had never indicated in any direct way that he was attracted to me; a man who had never caressed me, or even touched me in an overtly sexual way; and I'm walking around leaking juices down my leg over him."

Darla shook her head as if trying to clear it, and then went on.

"It was one Friday evening that it finally happened. Bob and I were working late at the office, and we had just finished when he came over to where I was standing by the copy machine, pulled me to him, and kissed me hard on the lips. His tongue jammed past my teeth deep into my mouth. I could feel the growing erection that he was pushing hard against my belly."

"I reacted like a bitch in heat. Whatever he wanted of me, I would do. When he told me to strip for him, I couldn't get my clothes off fast enough. Then he had me undress him. I was in such a frenzy that I could hardly manage the buttons on his shirt. I went to my knees to get his pants off and pull his jockey shorts down; and there it was, all ten inches or so of it, right in front of my face, already partly erect."

"I knew what he wanted, and I wanted the same thing. I wrapped my arms around his thighs and began to suck the head of that huge male thing for all I was worth. After all these months of sparring, having his hardening penis in my mouth released all the tension from my gut. The feeling of relief was incredible."

"It is that release that does it for him, Harry, not his dick," Darla said as she continued. "He picks at us, and picks at us, until we convince ourselves that sex with him would be the greatest any woman ever had. Sure enough, when he finally fucks us, it always is. Our anticipation has never failed him..., or disappointed the woman. Does all this sound familiar, Harry? Isn't this exactly the same as what he did to poor Sally?"

"You really can't blame Sally," Darla told me. "We females become convinced that we'll die without this man's big cock in us. I know because I've been there; on my knees sucking the penis of a man who had kissed me exactly once, and that was only minutes before; on my knees starving to be screwed by a man who did not love me, hadn't said he did, and who wanted my body with nothing offered in exchange but a ride on his cock."

"What makes a woman crumble like that? Who knows? Is Bob the evil Rasputin reincarnated? He must be! Who else could know exactly how to cloud the female mind with such an overwhelming power of suggestion. Over and over he plants dirty thoughts about his big prick in our heads so that when it is finally offered to us, it just has to be the best prick in all the world. Bob has a good one, of course, but it would make no difference if he didn't. For weeks before my big day, I had been fucking myself over and over with his imaginary prick. I was addicted to the damn thing long before I ever even saw it. By the time I had it in my hand, it would have been irresistible to me if it had only been three inches long."

Darla stopped here for quite a long time. It was as if all this was becoming too painful to go on. We sat there, sipping on our coffee, neither of us saying anything, until finally she was ready to go on.

"Anyway, there I was on my knees by the copy machine worshipping the penis I had been lusting after. He grabbed my hair and pulled my head back so that I was staring up into his eyes. 'Do you want me to fuck you,' he asked. I didn't answer. I couldn't see why an answer was necessary. Then it was no longer a question but a demand, 'If you want boss meat, Darla, you must beg for it.' Sound familiar to you, Harry? It should. On the tape from the bug in your bedroom, I heard him work poor Sally in almost the exact same way ."

"Well of course I begged him. To have him fuck me was the only thing in life I did want right then. In those first moments, the nature of our relationship was established forever. Whenever I want his cock, I must beg him for it. If I beg with sufficient passion, he will fuck me. He fucked me twice that first night, and I begged him for it, long and hard, both times. He ate me once, but only after I had begged him to do me, of course. I sucked him off once. Of course I had to beg him to let me do that too."

Darla looked as if she was ready to cry, but she kept on with her story, talking faster now as if to get it all out and over with.

"I was on my knees, a prisoner between his thighs, when he explained my new life to me. He said he owned me, that every hole in my body was his to use. I said I didn't care! He said he would stick his cock in my mouth, in my cunt, and up my ass whenever he pleased. I said I didn't care! He said he would beat me, degrade me, give me to other men and women as a sex toy. I said I didn't care! We have both kept our word. He has treated me like a common whore. I haven't cared. He has done all of the humiliating degrading things to me he said he would, and I haven't cared. You just can't imagine the things I have let him do to me, Harry! God, he made me stand me naked on a coffee table, showing my wares as he put it, while he auctioned me off to his hoodlum pals for a night of fun and games. I still didn't care. He keeps my pussy stuffed, that is enough. I have become such a whore."

Telling me all this was obviously becoming more and more a trauma to Darla. I tried it interrupt and say that I had heard enough, but Darla wouldn't stop.

"No, Harry, I'm not through. You haven't heard all of it yet. Please let me go on."

Taking a deep breath, she began her story once more.

"He made me call off my divorce, and go back to living with Sam. He said that he couldn't afford to have a mistress from the office who wasn't on record as a happily married woman. Still, he didn't pull any punches when he told Sam all about my infidelity and what a slut I had been. He didn't miss one single dirty detail. Then, just to show off, Bob made me strip buck ass naked right then and there. I was humiliated, but the bastard had something even worse in mind for me. He made me crawl on my hands and knees to between his legs, take his cock out of his fly, and suck him off while my erstwhile husband watched. I had just swallowed his load when Bob first suggested to Sam that to be fair he would 'buy me'."

Darla's face blushed with shame as she went on with her story.

"Bob was in a generous mood. After some sham negotiation, he agreed to pay off Sam's debts to the bookies and the IRS. To sweeten the deal, he agreed that Sam could continue to fuck me whenever Bob didn't have some other use for my pussy. Since then Bob's hoodlum friends have given Sam tips on fixed races sufficient to keep him out of serious debt. The tips are sporadic, tho. The come just often enough to keep Sam only intermittently solvent. That way Sam is always under pressure to be a good boy and not make trouble for Bob."

That was my market value, Harry," Darla said, almost in a whisper. "Seventy five thousand dollars, maybe a little more, and a few insider tips on the races. I refuse to count Sam's occasional use of my mouth or pussy, as part of the payment. That was thrown in as a seller's bonus because it didn't really cost the Bob anything, and he enjoyed shaming me like that. Anyway that was the deal that was made! Sale closed! This red headed slut had a new owner!

It made me mad as hell to listen to them bicker over my price, but I was not angry with Bob. He didn't need to pay Sam anything, and he knew it. It was all a game to Bob, one more humiliation for his new mistress to live with. I understood that. No, it was Sam that angered me. He had never 'owned' me, nor did he have any right to sell me. I'm sure Bob knew that, but the charade of 'buying me' from my husband tickled his fancy somehow."

Tears were just starting to well up to Darla's eyes now.

"Bob wouldn't let the thing end there tho. It wasn't humbling enough that I had to listen to the two of them negotiate a price for my cunt while I knelt naked on the floor with Bob's spent dick in my mouth. Oh, No, Bob just had to put icing on the cake! After the deal was struck, he insisted that Sam give him a bill of sale for me. The bastard even had it framed and hung on the wall of his private den. It made a nice trophy, and it reminds me always that I was purchased like a cow on the cattle market."

Darla's hands were gripping the arms of her chair in frustration as she continued.

"Bob has always kept women around for his amusement. He may not have a bill of sale for the others like he does for me, but since he treats everyone around him as his property, you included Harry, his women could hardly expect anything different. He had his hooks into two other women when he took me over, and he has had three more since. Whenever he becomes bored with a mistress, he sheds her and goes on to the next one. His little digital record of their unsuspecting prostitution insures they never make trouble afterwards. Surprisingly often, one of his thug business partners will want to take over his castoff. Not so surprisingly, after her alternatives are explained, and she is made an offer she can't refuse, the poor woman always agrees to accept a new lover in Bob's place. I heard that one of his ex's was in such demand that Bob auctioned her off. As the story goes, Bob made a kind of party game out of it. After a fine gourmet meal with his criminal associates, Bob made the woman stand nude on the dining room table while the gangsters bid for her services as a slut."

"I believe the story. Bob likes to show off like that. Once he made me the merchandise in a similar auction, except that my 'sale' was only for the evening. I didn't know that at the time tho, and I was scared to death. Bob thought it was terribly funny, but for me it was an absolutely horrible experience. I know who the men were who were bidding for me. Some of them operate whore houses, and I suspect that when they buy a cunt, as often as not it is for business rather than personal use. I try not to think about it, but I'm so afraid that one day Bob will get rid of me to a proprietor of whore house. I may be a slut, but I don't want to end up in a crib as a professional prostitute. I'm closing in on forty now Harry. I am surprised that Bob has kept me around as long as he has, but maybe what I do for him at the office is more valuable to him than the few bucks he can get for my cunt, at least I keep hoping so.

Here I again tried to interrupt, but Darla would have none of it.

"No, Harry, you can't imagine how evil and cruel Bob Simpson is. There is more..., may God help me, something a lot worse than spreading my legs for him. Until Sally gave herself to him the other night, Bob's stable of concubines was down to just two women. Those two were myself and my daughter Mary Anne."

Darla tears had begun to come in a flood, and her distress at what she was telling me was clearly both extreme and painful.

"That's right, Harry, to keep Bob Simpson's cock pleasuring my pussy, I have even allowed my daughter to be caught up in his dirt. Mary Anne had just turned eighteen when Bob's antennae began to pick up her signals. No female sends louder sex messages than a teenager, and Bob, as usual, sent all the right answers back.

Mary Anne thought Bob was just the dreamiest man on earth, and I was in no position to warn her otherwise. I couldn't tell my daughter that I was already the man's slut and company whore now could I? As things turned out, I might as well have. Mary Anne eventually found out anyway, and both of us might have been better off if she had known the whole story up front..., but then, knowing Bob, maybe nothing I could have done would have made any difference."

"Anyway, after a leisurely dose of Bob's usual subtle courtship, poor Mary Anne was so hot to trot that she was absolutely beside herself. When Bob was finally ready to make his move he wanted me to give him Mary Anne..., to fuck of course altho he put it differently. He wanted "to date her" he said, but we both knew how that would end up. I refused at first, but he hung me by my wrists from a ceiling beam, and with my toes just barely touching the floor, he whipped me.., hard. When he finished, he took me down and fucked me on the floor. Then he hung me up again and whipped me once more, but that time he refused to fuck me. That did it! I could take the beating, but I couldn't give up that thing between his legs. I gave in. I said He could 'date' her."

"Bob took Mary Anne to the very best night clubs, restaurants, and Broadway shows. He wined her, he dined her, and in less than two weeks he had fucked her. Three weeks later, Bob as usual had to show off. He brought my daughter home half soused in the wee hours of the morning, and while I watched, my sweet little daughter knelt naked between that bastard's legs and jacked him off with her tits. He shot his cum on her face and tits..., and then..., then he made me lick it off her. He finished the evening by fucking me while Mary Anne licked his balls and my clit."

"It was only a couple of nights later when Bob brought over one of his Mafia hoods, and they fucked both Mary Anne and myself on the rug of my living room. There we were, my mouth around a stranger's cock, Mary Anne's tongue in my pussy, and Bob's cock buried in Mary Anne. Then we switched. I have never been so ashamed as I was on that night, but there was nothing that I could do about it. Bob Simpson owned me. It had been years since I first knelt at his feet and begged him to fuck me, and my lust for his penis was as overwhelming as ever. That's the only excuse I have for laying on my back with some gangster's prick in me while I licked my own daughter's cunt. May God help me, how could I be so weak and degraded that I would let him make my darling Mary Anne into another one of his whores?"

"Can we back to your to your place now, Harry? I want you to fuck me, and then spend the night laying against you," Darla asked. And that's where we went.