My Boss' Slut Ch. 06

"Yes, sir."

"One other thing. Fuck Trudy in your bed with Becky bound and lying right beside you. Tell Trudy to make a lot of noise when she cums. Last and certainly not least, after you cum in Trudy, have her squat over Becky and make Becky eat your cum from Trudy's pussy. Come to think of it, as much as Becky loves cum, tell Becky that's a reward because you really love her."

"Mr. Williams, I really . . . "

"Got to go, Bob. My sister-in-law just started sucking my cock." He disconnected.

Becky's eyes were big and she seemed hardly to breathe as she watched me.

"What did he say?"

"He left it to me to handle anyway I want to, Becky. You told me a good slut shuts up and does what her man says. I'm your man, Becky."

"Oh, bullshit! You're my wimp husband. Mr. Williams is my man."

Methodically, completely, and, I must say, with a great deal of personal satisfaction, I did just like Mr. Williams said. The two blows of the riding crop across the bottom of her feet caused a great deal of noise and activity on her part. When I explained to Becky if she were unpleasant again, the next time the crop would land across her nipples and pussy, I believe she understood I was serious.

Becky wasn't unbound the entire weekend. She wasn't always attached to the bed, but she was always in bondage. Trudy did the cooking because Becky couldn't stand on her feet. Becky crawled everyplace she went. At first, she bitched and moaned about crawling and the pain in her feet. A solid blow across her ass ended that noise.

Friday night, with Becky bound to the bed, I fucked Trudy as we lay next to Becky. Trudy had been coached so she screamed her orgasm. She also called my name over and over. Does anything sound so sweet?

"Yes, Bob, you stud," Trudy yelled as I fucked her.

"He isn't a stud, you brainless bimbo. He's a weak little wimp," Becky replied.

I didn't tell Trudy to call me stud or to yell out my name, for that matter. She just did it. I hoped she did it because she meant it, but I didn't ask her. I would rather not know for sure than know for sure it was an act.

I didn't respond to Becky's reply to Trudy. But I can tell you I was sick and tired of her calling me a wimp.

Saturday morning, Trudy made breakfast. After we ate, I bound Becky hand and foot while Trudy and I went to the mall. She would have been screaming curses at me, I know, if I hadn't gagged her, too.

When we got back from the mall, Becky was more angry then ever. I kept her gagged. I didn't want or need her abuse. Without Trudy's help, I wrestled Becky until I tied her to the bed. Her legs were spread as wide as I could get them and tied above her head to the headboard. Then, I whipped the inside of her thighs six times on each thigh, leaving a series of beautiful, raised, red parallel welts, each of which brought a scream clearly audible through the gag. The last two swats went on her crotch, one on each side of her pussy. She pissed all over herself.

Trudy made the mistake of saying, "The bitch deserves it." She was tied the same way and received three of each side, but none across her crotch. I considered not even whipping her because she was correct, the bitch did deserve it. However, I didn't want her to think she could get away with anything.

I played with and ate and fucked and caressed Trudy all weekend. I never touched Becky. Becky sucked down every drop of cum I shot, all via Trudy's pussy grinding into her mouth.

It might have been the most important weekend of my life. No. It was the most important.

Trudy went home about six on Sunday night. I unbound Becky for the first time. My heart was in my throat. I'd been very demanding and very rough on Becky all weekend. I'd ignored her, making her watch while I fucked another woman. I'd whipped her feet so hard she still couldn't stand and whipped the inside of her thighs hard enough so the stripes showed after thirty-six hours.

You could say it was a weekend like none other I ever had. You could also say I had a lot more pride in myself at that point.

Becky sat on the edge of the bed, one leg tucked under her. She watched me intently. But it was the way she watched me which was important. She looked shy and submissive. She looked sweet. She still looked like a slut, but with those tits, seven rings in her crotch and a sign hanging from her navel which said "slut," what would you expect her to look like?

"Bobby, do you still love me?" she asked so softly I could barely hear her.

"What do you think?"

"I think you do. But you've been really rough with me this weekend. You whipped me. You had another woman in my bed. That's okay. I mean, you are the man of the house and if you want to fuck another woman, I understand. And I was a bitch. I did deserve the whipping. But, Bobby, well, I want some attention, too."

"Come here, Becky."

As Becky slipped over beside me, I pulled her hair to roll her over on her back. I leaned against her, feeling her breasts against me. I put my hand on the inside of her thigh, feeling the welt. She gasped and put her hands on my wrist to push me away. I grabbed the flesh to squeeze harder.

"Becky, put your hands under your ass, and leave them there."

She blinked rapidly, but hurried to comply.

"What has gotten into you?" she whispered.

"I'm not a wimp. I'm a man who loves his wife and wants to see her happy. But, every time you put me down, I'm going to punish you."

"Bobby, you're so changed." It was said was admiration.

"You've changed, too. I like the changes in you. I like you being a slut, but you have two men to please as a slut, Mr. Williams and me. Never forget me, Becky."

It seemed an hour as we just looked at each other. A million times, I almost let go of her tenderized thigh or begged her forgiveness, but I kept saying to myself: be tough, Mr. Williams would be tough. You know, I liked thinking like Mr. Williams.

"I like your changes, too, Bobby. I like you being rough with me. I like you being a man for a change. No!"

That no was in response to the very hard squeeze I made across the welt on her thigh top. I squeezed until tears came to her eyes and she sobbed.

"I'm sorry, Bobby. I didn't mean to put you down," she whimpered.

I moved my hand to stroke up and down the lips of her pussy. The rings felt strange and I wondered what Mr. Williams had in mind. Becky continued to stare at me, as if she were seeing me for the first time.

"Bobby, how long am I going to share you with Trudy?"

"Until Mr. Williams and I decide otherwise."

"Bobby, what if we went back to like we were? I mean, after Mr. Williams gets me pregnant."

"No, Becky. You're a slut. You're his slut and my slut. Trudy is his slut and my slut. But, most importantly, you're my wife."

She was squirming to get under me.

"You really don't mind me being a slut?"

"No. I like it. I'm looking forward to raising our children."

"Bobby, please, would you fuck me?" she murmured.

I slipped between Becky's legs. It was the first time I mounted her since surgery. I could really tell the changes, and I liked them. I thought Mr. Williams sure knows what he is doing. I didn't even think about pleasing Becky, or lasting long enough to make her cum. But I did.

"Bobby. Bobby! Oh, yes! God, yes!" she screamed when she orgasmed.

I was so use to have her calling Mr. Williams name when she came, her calling my name surprised me. It was a very pleasant surprise.

"I came from your cock, Bobby. Your cock! It felt so good. Bobby, just hold me. Please. Let this big titted slut sleep in your arms tonight."

Trudy was with Mr. Williams Monday and Tuesday night. Tuesday night Becky got on her knees and begged me not to keep my relationship with Trudy. She promised she would make me the happiest man in the world if it were just she and I. I told her I'd think about it.

Wednesday when I talked to Mr. Williams, he told me to keep Trudy. The competition was good for Becky. I was doing all right following Mr. Williams orders. I told Becky Trudy was my slut, too, and that's the way it would stay. We fucked long and hard.

As Becky healed, and as she spent more days with the vibrator, it seemed her orgasms increased exponentially. She could orgasm so much more easily now. And she loved to orgasm. By the end of the third week, she orgasmed every time I had sex with her. They were real, positive, strong orgasms.

Mr. Williams and I had talked. He had changed his mind about the whippings every day, but I still whipped her twice a week so she would remember what it felt like. Never once did I have to whip her for demeaning me. That's what pleased me.

Yes. Me. Bobby. I made my wife cum every time I fucked her.

On Tuesday, Mr. Williams called me into his office.

"Well, Bob. Friday's the big day. She'll spend the weekend with the seven of us."

"She's so excited. Mr. Williams, she's a bit hurt you haven't contacted her."

"She's a slut. She is suppose to sit by the phone wondering if I'll call. She'll see plenty of me this weekend. Is she orgasming freely from the vibrator?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. I don't want her to have any more orgasms until she meets with us. Leave out the equipment tomorrow and Friday. But keep her bound all the time, even at night so she cannot masturbate. I'll call her tonight to tell her what to wear. Do you want Trudy for the weekend?"

"Yes, sir. I'd like that."

"So would Trudy. I'll drop her off when I pick up Becky. Thanks, Bob. You may go."

Becky was tired when I got home.

"Migod, Bobby. I must've orgasmed fifty times today," she murmured as I removed the vibrator.

When I didn't fuck her, she asked why.

"Mr. Williams said you don't get another orgasm until you're with him Friday."

She gave me a wicked smile.

"I'll be so horny I'll be a mad woman by then. But he has known best, hasn't he?"

I agreed. Mr. Williams seemed to know best what was right for me and my Becky, my wife and his slut.

To be continued . . .

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