The Transformation of Betty Ch. 06

Innumerable times Bill and I promised, threatened and, in the heat of passion, excited my wife with the prospect of making her a stripper. When playing with her or fucking her we'd often talk of our intentions. if only to get her admit that the idea turned her on. Of course, pursuing such a promise anywhere near where we lived was an impossibility. One could never know who among our acquaintances or work colleagues might simply on a lark visit such an establishment and cause us unknown grief and the ruination of reputations. It was also the case, insofar as I knew, that the local clubs in the city were seedy places. Seeing my wife perform onstage might have been a delicious fantasy, but I hardly wanted to put her in a situation where she could experience physical abuse or made to fuck any men who'd threaten one disease or another. Nevertheless, the fantasy persisted and I knew that Betty was now sufficiently submissive that if we set her up to do it, she would comply.

Once again, it was Bill who made the critical suggestion. After confirming that I'd allow her to stip provided her safety and anonymity were guaranteed, he recalled a relatively upscale 'Gentleman's Club' about 75 miles from where we lived. He'd brought a sub there several years ago, not to strip but rather as a step to turning her onto other women . Although the club had to abide by the state's laws about not being wholly naked onstage, he also recalled that after it officially closed for the night, there often were 'private showings'. He didn't know the owner or anyone who worked there, but he was willing to make inquiries.

I gave the green light to proceed since that committed me to nothing, and a week or so later Bill reported that he'd spoken to the owner/manager who told him that if we had someone who wanted to strip, we could bring her over anytime. There was no formal audition, but if she met the 'appropriate' physical requirements he'd set aside a slot where she could go onstage. Her first public performance would be an audition after which both sides could determine if there was any interest in pursuing things further.

Of course, there's no sense in fantasizing about such things if I thought my wife would freeze up exhibiting herself that way. This was not, then, the sort of thing that could be sprung on her as a surprise. So Bill and I debated two approaches: Either bring her to the club with no commitment that she dance and have her do so only if the idea turned her at that point, or talk to her beforehand about it and let her prepare herself mentally for doing so. I opted for the second approach but in a way that still made it a command. Thus, after dinner one day I simply told her "Bill and I will be taking you to a strip club soon to have you perform."

"Are you serious?" she asked, but not in a challenging way.

"Yes ... we've found a club where we are unlikely to meet anyone we know."

"Are you sure you want me to do this?"

"Why not," I answered, "after all, you've already shown nearly as much of yourself as you can in the dresses you've worn."

"I suppose so, but still ... I sometimes fantasized about being a stripper, but thought it was only fantasy."

"Well, if you fantasized about it, then it must be the case that the idea makes you wet. And you and I both know that Bill and I have been able to get you off harder talking about making you a stripper when we've fucked you."

"Yes, you have ... but the idea also scares me. I suppose every girl at some point fantasizes about being a stripper but very few actually do it. Anyhow, do you think I can be as sexy onstage as the girls who dance professionally?"

"Honey, once you get into it, I'm positive you can be as sensuous and erotic as anyone."

That, in effect, concluded our conversation. She hadn't said yes but neither did she say no. I took that to be acceptance on her part to do it and I later communicated as much to Bill. Of course, I still hadn't seen the club and had to take his word for it that it was an appropriate venue for removing yet a few more inhibitions from my wife. We did agree, though, that it would be best to pick a weekday night ... Thursday ... when there wouldn't be many customers for fear that a crowded room of leering men might be too intimidating for her.

Leading up to the chosen night I suspected that my wife had privately practiced her dancing ... a guess that was later confirmed. Bill had also given her several private auditions on the nights he had her alone. In fact, we had by then fallen into something of a routine over the course of her first 5 or 6 weeks as our slut: Bill got her alone at least one night a week, we shared her together either Friday or Saturday (usually at Bill's house), and on two occasions Bill came to our house to fuck her. With my consent he came when we were doing not much of anything and announced he was there to fuck her, whereupon he'd take her to our bedroom, use her for a ½ hour or so, and leave. At least two nights a week she was strictly my sub, required to satisfy me in any way I chose. That included having her spend the evening wearing a pair of fuck me heels, collar and sheer babydoll nitie or thong. I often had her fuck herself or plug her own ass in the living room while I watched. Of course, during the day, she was required to wear her plug whenever she went out. When I fucked her she would tell me how much she enjoyed being a slut, that she craved being a stripper and whore (regardless of the truth of those statements), and how Bill had last used her. Aside from spanking or having her wear her nipple clips, her experience with BDSM was pretty much limited to Bill's bedroom. For reasons I can't recall, pee play seemed to have fallen by the wayside and in the interim there was only one other trip to our favorite restaurant. Alas, our 'friend' wasn't there and nothing more happened than displaying as before. She wore her jumpsuit on that occasion and I decided it was too conservative ... appropriate for traveling on a plane perhaps but not when I wanted her displayed as an unashamed slut. And since we couldn't have her going to the same restaurant wearing one of the same two dresses I decided that another trip to our 'favorite' dress shop was in order.

It was also the case that a return to that store was essential, since, if I really was going to follow up on making her a stripper, she needed something more appropriate than what she owned. She and I went alone without Bill on Tuesday ... I even made it a point of coming home a few hours early from work for that purpose. And of course the store manager, with a broad knowing smile, immediately recognized us. I'd already settled in my mind that the most appropriate outfit would be a long gown, but she needed one that was explicitly slutty and easily removable rather than 'merely' revealing. And although I didn't tell Betty that we were going shopping to find her something to stip in ... only that it was time to augment her wardrobe ... after our last conversation she had a pretty good idea why we were there. Indeed, if she didn't, that quickly became apparent by the gowns I asked her to look at, since none were of the type that could be worn at ANY restaurant or nightclub of which I was aware.

It didn't take long to find one I thought was perfect. I'd seen it the first time we visited the shop, but knew then that it wouldn't be appropriate for her until and unless we had made plans to display her in places other that shopping malls and restaurants. Although actually one piece, it was almost nearly two. First there was the skirt that hung provocatively low on the hips to the point of revealing the crack of her ass with a slit up the front to above the height of her cunt. This in turn was connected by a ring to a halter top (much like the top of a slut's one-piece bathing suit) that tied around the neck and didn't quite cover her tits. Or rather, it covered them but only in a strict legal sense. The gown came with a black matching thong sprinkled with small rhinestones, which was absolutely essential since without it my wife's cunt would be plainly (and at any strip club in the state, illegally) in view. In fact, the only part of the thong that was covered in any way by the dress was the back, and there only that part of it that disappeared between the cheeks of her ass.

We explored several other options, but none were to my satisfaction. Indeed, she made several more conservative suggestion, not so much I think to talk me out of making her a stripper, but I think more to test my commitment to the idea. Nevertheless, I let her take one other piece with her into the changing room as a 'back up' option, but she appeared soon thereafter modeling the gown I'd chosen. To be frank, the gown was, to put it mildly, pornographic. If ever there was something designed for a slut and stripper, that had to be it. My wife, moreover, made no pretense in the way she modeled it that it would serve any other purpose. No matter how slowly or carefully she walked, the skirt section of the dress flew open to fully reveal the thong that barely covered her cunt, while what little fabric there was to the top moved enough that her tits bounced into view with only the nipples remaining covered. Then standing before the mirror, after turning to see how it looked from behind, she seemed to adjust the halter top in a way that deliberately, for my benefit and the owner's, displayed each tit in turn totally. Finally, perhaps to excite me or to excite herself, she walked up to the owner to ask his opinion while giving him a closeup unobstructed view. There was no modesty, shame or embarrassment in her demeanor -- she could have been modeling a fur coat fully dressed.

I remember thinking that if she were acting to seduce him, she would have acted no differently than she was. Hence, I wasn't in the least bit surprised when, with her back in the changing room, the owner approached me and asked "would you be interested in having that dress for free?"

It didn't take genius to know what he was suggesting, but despite the gown's cost -- nearly $100 -- I was uncertain about having her fuck a complete stranger. Did I want him to fuck her; did the idea of whoring her in that way turn me on? It would be disingenuous of me to deny that the answers to such questions were a definite Yes. But if I had entered the store with any reservations, my wife's provocative modeling made it impossible for anything but my cock to do my thinking for me. Indeed, it seemed even that she was asking to be whored. So rather than a simple 'no' I hesitated and said simply "I'm not sure about that."

The manager had apparently traversed this territory before and, sensing my hesitation, quickly added "I'll use a condom."

With the issue of disease resolved and there being no concerns about discreetness and safety – I wondered only what would happen if someone came into the shop. Throwing all caution to the wind I said "OK".

When my wife reappeared it was evident that my choice was better than this alternative. Nevertheless I let her model it as she had the first while deciding how to tell her she was about to be whored. Not seeing an subtle option, I walked up to her and said "he's going to fuck you for the first dress."

I didn't have the any idea what her reaction would be, but to my surprise it was a simple "I know." And with that and without changing out of the second gown – not that there was much to change out of – she walked up to him and, like an experienced whore, asked "where should we go?"

He immediately led her to a back storage room while I stayed in the shop, imagining the excuses I'd have to invent if anyone came in and heard the sounds coming from the room. My wife, in the meantime, having apparently resigned herself to being whored, exhibited little restraint. I can say this: It was a damned good thing no one did come into the shop for the next fifteen minutes or so. Her moans while he heated her up were clearly audible, and a sudden gasping 'ohhhhhhhhhhhh' told me the instant he pushed his cock into her. She may have even upped her responses for my benefit, groaning such things as 'god yesssssss,' 'fuck me harder'. And it wasn't all show: This first instance of being a whore, once it began, was a total turn on for her as well as for me, and she wasn't more than 5 minutes into it when I heard her scream "aieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee" announcing her first cum.

The manager was clearly making the most of his opportunity and the table he'd laid her over creaked loudly with each thrust. Or at least, that's what I heard when my wife's cries of 'yesssssssssssssss' and grunts didn't drown out all other sounds. For another ten minutes he banged away at her, with her usual moans and cries f passion interrupted occasionally with such things as "yes, bite them harder" obviously in reference to her tits. She wasn't simply being fucked ... she was fucking back. Finally, there was another piercing cry announcing an orgasm, followed by a silence that told me he too had cum.

I don't know how many husbands get hard fantasizing about listening to their wives being fucked by another guy, imagining them thrashing, convulsing and crying out of control as their cunt consumes some stranger's cock My reaction to the reality of the fantasy, despite already having heard and seen Bill fuck her, was a raging hardon ... not that my cock wasn't stiff even before I entered the shop. The manager's interest had been too explicit the first time we visited for me not to be confident that I'd have the opportunity to whore her. But once it began and I could listen to her respond like a totally wanton slut ... once I had the image of his mouth on her tits, her legs wrapped around him humping his cock like a wild bitch in heat ... it took all the self-control I could muster to keep my hand away from my cock and cumming myself at an inopportune time. For me at least, knowing my wife was a whore getting her brains fucked out in room not more than 15 feet away from me was indescribably erotic.

In any event, the manager emerged from the back room first, clearly satisfied with his 'conquest'. My wife emerged a minute or so later, clearly more disheveled than when she had gone in. She immediately returned to the dressing room to change back into her own clothes while the manager, true to his word, slipped the dress into a bag and handed it to me "any time you'd like to come here, please do ... the price for a dress will remain the same."

Exiting the shop I asked my wife "did he use a condom" and she simply nodded yes. "Good, then we'll have to come shopping here again sometime. Was it an enjoyable fuck?"

"It was ok ..." she answered in a seemingly especially noncommittal way.

"Yes, but you came like a hot little bitch, didn't you?"

"Yes, I guess I did."

"Feel like a whore?"

"Yes"

"Well, you are one now" I said, brandishing the bag with the dress in it. I decided, though, to probe further: "When did you know you were going to be whored?"

"When you told me we were going shopping for more dresses."

"Did you model that first dress in a way to make certain it happened? You certainly acted as if you were intent on seduction."

"I think so ... I knew you were going to whore me as long as there was no one else in the store."

"Did you get wet beforehand knowing I was going to have him fuck you?"

"Yes"

"And you'll fuck him again if I take you back there?"

"Yes"

"So you're not sorry we did it?"

"Peter, I'll be honest. I really wanted it to happen. I don't know why and I don't know what its going to lead to. But I really wanted you to have him fuck me and to treat me like a whore when you did. Everything so far .. With you, with Bill, at the restaurant, here in the dress shop ... its all been so bizarre, so extreme ... but also such an incredible turn on. I can't seem to get enough. I don't know if there's something wrong with me ... I think I told you that before. And I don't know how far I can go with all of this. But if you want me to be a slut, a stripper or a whore, I will try to be one."

I had to admit that that was quite an admission. And to be frank, after having spent the last fifteen minutes listening to her fucking and getting fucked I needed some relief of my own. So despite the fact it was not quite nighttime, I had the sense that there were now few if any constraints and when we got to the car and drove away I ordered "suck me slut ... suck me untill you swallow all that's in me." Which of course she did.

It had, in fact, been a momentous day ... making my wife a true whore for the first time. Our friend from the dress store might have done nothing more than lay her over a table, slip on a condom and shove his cock up into her. As my wife said, there was nothing special about how he fucked her – but the fact that he fucked her for the price of a dress was special enough. Add to that the admission of her own seemingly unquenchable lust and I knew that she'd not only fuck anyone we told her to but that our sexual journey had only begun. Minimally, though, if New Year's Eve marked her transformation into the shared slut wife, that day marked her transformation into a housewife whore. Perhaps that why I bought only one dress that day -- even though I knew there would be a need for a more extensive wardrobe I also knew there would be a need and opportunity to whore her again.

My thoughts thereafter focused on our plans to make her a stripper, and as with every other planned 'event' Thursday evening couldn't arrive soon enough. However, this time I told my wife in the morning that she was being taken to a strip club that evening. 'Might as well give the slut a chance to practice her dancing during the day' I thought to myself.

I told my wife to eat a late lunch since we wouldn't have time for dinner. Since Bill wasn't about to miss her performance, he arrived at our house shortly after I got home. With that I told her to go upstairs and change, which, by some miracle, actually took her no more than 20 minutes. Bill's only comment when she came down the stairs was "Wow!" and I had to agree. My wife hadn't worn any special shoes when we went shopping for the dress, nor any earrings for that matter. But in her 6" platform heels and a pair of long dangling earrings it was, I'll admit, difficult to resist the temptation to forgo the trip to the club and to simply fuck her there and then.

I wasn't sure, however, as to whether she should be brought directly into the club in that dress or whether it would have been more appropriate for her to change there. After raising that concern I suggested a convenient compromise ... that she also put on her crouched sweater coat which was worn much like a robe with a simple cloth belt around the waist to keep it closed.

The drive to the club, which took nearly an hour and a half, was wholly uneventful and nearly devoid of conversation. Whether my wife was silent out nervous anticipation or whatever I cannot say, but that was certainly my excuse. I knew she could dance sensuously, but whether she could perform as a stripper on-stage was still unclear. Nor did I know how she'd react to lewd comments from the audience or off-stage proposals to fuck her. And needless to say, at that point I had no intention of whoring her. Sending her into the backroom of a dress shop with the owner was something I could control. But doing so in a strip club after hours ... I had no idea what that might entail although I was capable of imagining some unsavory scenarios.

In any event, once we arrived and entered as mere patrons of the place, Bill immediately sought out the manager to clue him in on who we were. At that point there probably were more employees in the club than patrons, no counting ourselves – a few girls taking drink orders, a guy at the bar and one at the door, the manager himself, a rather lackluster girl on stage and the hint of maybe 2-3 other women backstage coming and going as if they knew everyone there. The girl on-stage seemed to be performing mindlessly as if she had done this 1000 times before (which was probably true). If one were to deem her performance erotic it would only be because one's libido had been turned up high by something else. The audience itself consisted of perhaps 7 or 8 guys scattered about the room, and I guessed that several were regulars (if not husbands or boyfriends of the strippers themselves) since they seemed to know everyone there on a first name basis.