Full Rigor Pt. 01

*****

Once the ten-day FINO trial came to an end, I insisted that we wait 48 hours before discussing the subject again. Michelle spent much of the first day sleeping and taking a long, hot bath while I went back to work.

When we sat down to discuss her experience, she was once again my beautiful but unadorned wife and partner. The constant sexual excitement that she had radiated while wearing my collar was gone, but in compensation the sharp focus of intelligence had returned to a face that, over the preceding days, had often been blank with lust.

"Darling," she began. "That was probably the best ten days of my life. I can't thank you enough for playing along with me."

"No thanks are necessary, babe; I'm always happy to play with your body, and what guy ever turned down unlimited sex on demand from a sexy woman who waits on him hand, foot, and cock? However, I can already hear a 'but' coming at the end of your thanks."

She both smiled and sighed at the same time, dropping her eyes from my face. "Yeah, that's about it. You were fantastic, and I'd be happy to be Free In Name Only whenever you want for as long as you want, but I know that still won't fully scratch my itch. Every time you took a precaution to conceal my identity or my nudity, I imagined all the experiences we both could enjoy if you could use me freely in the full glare of public exposure. I feel guilty about this because I know that I'm not satisfying YOUR sensual needs, which should be at least as important as my own." She laughed, "Maybe I should be your slave for a year and then we reverse roles for a second year."

"I may hold you to that offer," I replied with a grin, more than half serious. Slavery was never the blazing focus of my own submissive tendencies, but I had come to envy Michelle the abandon with which she was able to surrender herself, and I even shared some of her fantasies of being used as a sex toy. Of course, if being enslaved was disastrous to a woman's reputation, becoming a "sissy slave" would be ten times worse for a man.

We spent hours discussing her dream, including several attempts to draw up a list of pluses and minuses on paper. At one point, I asked her to list the experiences she wanted as a slave, hoping that the consequences of such adventures would finally deter her, but no such luck. A partial list of what she dreamed of doing included: the traditional stripping and walk of shame when she was indentured at a government office, being processed through a major slave market, including having the slave handlers punish and gangbang her; working as a slave hooker on a street corner or in a brothel; being "forced" to fellate large numbers of men; acting as a slave waitress for an open house at my law firm, being the "demonstrator" for a slave handler teaching slave yoga to free women, being trained as a slave sex worker at the famous Pearson Pussy Ranch, and on and on.

I emphasized two main drawbacks to her self-indenture. First, while I loved her and would do everything I could to protect her, she had to recognize the physical and psychological risks she was running. Because she dreamed of processing through a market as a real slave and then being pimped out as a pleasure slut, free people would almost certainly force themselves upon her sexually and cause her real injury or at least discomfort and disgust. Second, I reminded her that she couldn't just disappear and become a secret slave. People would wonder where she went, and I would end up being interrogated by the police. At the very least, I'd lose all of our mutual friends when they suspected me of enslaving or even murdering her. She had to face the fact that her friends and acquaintances would all learn of her bondage and see her servicing others. In fact, in a vain attempt to deter her from her plan, I threatened to rent my new slave out to people we knew, which would be safer for her if more embarrassing than if I just leased her to some remote slave brothel. Perhaps, I suggested, I would start by lending her to Mistress Shirley, the domme we had come to know through the BDSM club! Or maybe her best friend Hallie needs some oral sex. For a few minutes, the prospect of cleaning a friend's house or kneeling to fellate a woman she knew made her fall silent. But the more she thought of such ignominy, the more she liked the idea! What the heck, she said--if worst came to worst, we could just move to another suburb! Guess you can't threaten a cat with catnip, or in this case a pussy with public penetration.

At the end of the day, we retired to bed and cuddled with each other, but neither of us got much sleep. After our morning runs the next morning, we took a NON-relaxing shower together and sat down to settle the issue.

I took a deep breath. "All right, Babe. You know I can never say no to you, although don't expect me to be soft on you once you're my slave! I insist that we take this whole process carefully and slowly, rather than rush out to enslave you tomorrow only to find a week later that we've ruined your life. Think of this as practice so you learn to obey me--and no topping from below! Agreed?"

"OK, 'Master.'" She said with a lascivious smile. "I'll agree to anything so long as I end up as your slave, preferably naked and at the end of your dick. What do you have in mind?"

"First, the schedule for this: Sooner or later the kids will have to know, but I don't think you want to involve them in the early stages do you?"

"Oh, God, no. You're right, I can't hide this from them forever, but telling them should be the last step after we're both comfortable with my slavery." She replied.

"It's now late September, which means the holidays will soon be upon us. So, since you don't want to be the naked mama serving Thanksgiving dinner for your kids (now THAT would give new meaning to "Thanksgiving stuffing!), we can't actually enslave you until the first week of January, when they'll be gone for the next five months. Don't argue!" I held up my hand because she was clearly unhappy about waiting that long. "Think about it--there's quite a bit to do before we can strip you at the Agriculture Department, anyway."

"While I'm thinking about that ceremony," I continued, "I also want to insist that we enslave you in two separate stages, with a total of 400 days in the collar. First, as I've said, in early January you will surrender at the Agriculture Department and I'll lead you slave naked out of there, just as you've always dreamed of. However, for the 35 days or so we'll treat this almost as if you were FINO--you'll be my slave, and I will probably lend you out to others for short periods of time, but I'm still going to monitor your safety and mental health. At the end of that first month, you'll have one chance to chicken out, in which case you'll remain my house slave, sort of like what we role-played last week. You'll still be a slave and I'll have the right to give you to others for use, but we won't risk some of the extreme things you dream of. The other alternative is that, starting in early February, I apply the full rigor--have you processed and re-graded at a slave market and auction off a lease of you there, to see if anyone wants to use my pleasure slut for his purposes. Maybe I'll even sell the remaining year or so of your contract, if you're not an obedient bitch."

Michelle's face was flushed with excitement: "Wow! I wish I were going to the slave market tomorrow, but if that's the way my Master wants it, great--I never thought you'd be willing to send me for slave processing. Thanks, sweetie."

Rich: "Turning to the second requirement for this deal: as your prospective master I can't wait to see you collared and on your knees, but as your husband I am worried about your well-being during such a traumatic experience. So, as soon as possible, I want you to consult with Nikki--you know, the blonde girl who's always dressed as a cheerleader at the club in Fort Worth?"

Michelle: "You mean Nikki Sousa, the owner's wife? What's she got to do with this?"

Rich: "Well, Sousa is her married name, but professionally she is Nikki Sheldon--she's a slave psychiatrist. I want you to discuss your motivation with her--what do you think slavery will be like? Why do you want to be a slave anyway? Are you prepared mentally to lose your freedom and even your personal space? What about being slave raped? How will you feel if you see me having sex with someone else? And so on."

Michelle: "It sounds like YOU need to talk to her about YOUR mental state during all this, as well."

I replied: "You may be right, but the first thing is to let her talk you through this. She works in Dallas, which is a long haul from here, but there aren't many qualified slave psychiatrists in the whole state, so I'd rather go with someone we have some acquaintance with." [I had a very clear image of Cheerleader Nikki, her elbows tied to her ankles with her well-spanked butt in the air, slobbering over my penis while her husband Paul pumped frantically into her cunt from behind. Michelle was underneath Nikki in a 69 position, thrilled to worship both Nikki's and Paul's genitals with her mouth. Just before I climaxed myself, I withdrew from Nikki's mouth, gently pushed her head sideways, and rammed into Michelle's gushing pussy. Some of my cum ended on Nikki's cheek. Yeah, we know each other--in the Biblical sense of "know."]

"Anyway, I hope Nikki will take you and perhaps me on as patients, so that you can see her periodically during your indenture. If not, at least she can give us her general impressions about your state of mind and perhaps refer us to someone who works closer to our home. Either way, I want someone to interview you throughout the year in case you're about to have a meltdown."

Michelle: "OK, I would never have thought of this, but it makes sense to talk to a shrink, and Nikki already knows our secrets. How do I contact her?"

"Already done," I replied, handing her an appointment card. "I knew you well enough to predict that our ten-day experiment would not deter you from self-indenture, so I made an appointment with Nikki for next Tuesday at 11:00 a.m. She's on the third floor of the Samson Clinic in Dallas; I'm sure you can google the route. If you don't want to do this, please contact her now so we don't waste her professional time."

Michelle visibly perked up. "Oh! I was afraid I'd have to wait weeks to talk to her, but if you've already arranged this, no problem."

Rich: "I've only told Nikki about your general tendencies, which she already knows from the club--it's up to you to tell her what you want to do and why you want it. Otherwise, somebody might accuse me of brainwashing or blackmailing you into this! Anyway, as I said--you need to talk to her and if possible retain her as an on-going consultant. Once you've done that, the third thing you need to do is TALK TO A LAWYER, preferably one who specializes in slave law. It can't be me or anyone in my law firm because of possible conflict of interest. Heck, if you go through with this, it would have the same legal effect as a temporary divorce--you've leaving all your assets, not to mention your cute little ass, under my control--I could sell you and walk away, or just lock you in a cage for a year and sleep with some other woman instead. I don't intend to abandon you like that but think how suspicious it would look to an outsider when you suddenly become my slave after 21 years of marriage. You need some kind of legal structure to protect your interests, not to mention someone who can advise you on how to apply for your indenture, what criminal punishments apply to slaves, and so on."

Michelle: "Damn. I'm happy that you're taking me so seriously, but I hadn't thought this all the way through. OK, I'll look for an attorney and make an appointment for some time after I see Nikki. Sounds like you've already planned our future, 'Master!'" she smiled.

Rich: "Well, there's one more thing you need to do, and it's the hardest of all--you, not I, need to tell your friends and acquaintances what you plan to do. It won't be a big deal with people like Shirley, who already know about our kinks. But, if you become a genuine slave without any of the precautions we've used in our games, then most or all of your friends are going to know your status and even get to use you. As I already said, I intend to lend or rent you out to them to give you the experiences you desire. So, if you're going to do this, you need to plan how and when you explain yourself. If it were me, I'd probably invite them all to a daytime coffee klatch in October or November and make the announcement there, but how you do it is your business. We can both tell the kids when they come home for the summer, if you like, but your friends are your problem. Don't make me the bad guy who has to tell your BFF Hallie, 'I'm sorry, Michelle can't come to the phone right now; I've rented her out to give lap dances at a strip club!'"

(To be continued)