Sherry, Slut & Slave Whore Ch. 1-6

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Once through the receiving line, the Zack and Sherry gravitated toward the long open bar set up against a far wall. Eventually fifteen to twenty other couples trickled in, but the Wazaluski's had so little in common with the other guests that they continued to stand by themselves, isolated and uncomfortable, each downing two quick highballs. Motivated more by having something to do than from hunger, they were one of the first couples to start through the buffet line. Before they were halfway though, the band began to play, and Big Eddie tapped Sherry on the shoulder.

"Would you like to dance Ms. Wazaluski?" The big man asked her.

Sherry knew she had no option. She handed her plate to Zack as Big Eddie took her by the hand and led her away to the dance floor. He was an excellent dancer, although Sherry thought it unseemly that he should hold her body so tightly against his. Her breasts were crushed against his chest, and the pressure and friction caused her nipples to grow long and hard. His thighs were constantly moving against hers, brushing over her pussy that had begun to moisten.

"Oh my!" she wondered in her panic. "How easily she was stimulated in this man's arms--and was that his soft cock she felt pressing against her belly?"

She could not remember when she had enjoyed dancing with a man so much. Under the decisive control of his strong arms and hard masculine body, she drifted effortlessly across the floor as if in a dream. Sherry knew her euphoria wasn't appropriate for a married woman, but her situation was so delicious she just didn't care. Every feminine instinct told her that she must not look up into his face, that to do so was an invitation to weakness, but she could not help herself. When at last she did raise her head, she found him staring down as her. Sure enough, her instincts had been exactly correct, and she was quickly lost in the depth of those intense black eyes.

When at last she could stand his gaze no more, she dropped her head back against his chest. His nose nestled in her hair, and she sensed that he was quite deliberately inhaling in deep breaths the odor of her female essence. She buried her face into the fabric of this suit, snuggling past the lapels to his shirt, in order that she might smell him as well. His fragrance was delicious, so masculine, so virile. They did not speak. Words seemed so unnecessary, even dangerous to the magic of the moment, and in her hypnotic reverie, Sherry's mind swirled.

“How primitive,” she thought. “How wonderfully simple, was this attraction between a man and a woman. Male and female, swaying in unison to the music, pressing against each other, thigh to thigh, belly to belly, breasts to torso, sharing their odors, communicating in the age old silent language of sexual desire.”

Sherry was overcome with loss and frustration when at last the band finished its number. She thanked her partner politely and had turned to walk back to rejoin her husband at the buffet. Two steps were all she took before Eddie seized her arm and spun her back to him. This time it was her shoulder blades rather than her breasts that he hugged tightly to his chest. This time it was her buttocks that were pressed against his crotch, and this time there could be no doubt about what this man wanted from her. That WAS his cock that she had felt before, only now it was growing larger and harder, a perfect fit in the crease between the cheeks of her ass. However, he had only begun. Of that Sherry was certain! This was a real man, a man of power and confidence who would not hesitate to reach out and take whatever he wanted, by whatever means necessary. Lips nuzzled against Sherry's neck, kissing her just under the ear. One giant hand folded over a breast squeezing it, ever so gently testing the soft resilience of that most feminine of female flesh.

The second hand slid downward over her belly, passing ever so briefly over the now heated core between her legs before coming to rest on the front of her thigh. Fold by fold its fingers began to gather the fabric of her dress into his palm, gradually lifting that already short hemline up her legs.

Sherry stood there, her eyes closed, too stunned, too awed and mesmerized, to pull away or even protest. Seconds ticked by as she remained frozen in the grip of those strong arms. It was only when she realized that her dress had been raised almost level with her pussy that she found the will to open her eyes. The reality of what she saw struck home in a hammer blow. She and Eddie were in the middle of a circle of strangers, and all eyes were on her as this man played with her body, publicly caressing her.

The hand that had been fondling her breast was inside the top of her dress now, rubbing her nipple tenderly between thumb and forefinger. The hand that was lifting her dress had raised its hemline far enough that its fingers could stoke the smooth nylon of her pantyhose along the inside of her thigh. Sherry could not believe this was happening! This stranger, this man whom she had just met, could not be doing this to her before an audience in the middle of the dance floor!

"How dare you," Sherry blurted as she struggled to free herself and turned to face her would-be and insistent lover. "What the hell you think you are doing?” Outraged and embarrassed she shouted at him, “Get your hands off me!” Without even considering the consequences, she drew back her right hand and landed a haymaker with her palm across his mouth.

Anger flared in the big man's eyes, and then was gone, replaced by a frighteningly cold stare. Big Eddie was not accustomed to being refused, and certainly not at being slapped in the face. This bitch needed to be taught a lesson. He liked spirited women, however, and this one was particularly beautiful. Taming her was going to be a pleasure.

"Leo," he said to one of the two bodyguards that had quickly pushed their way through the crowd to stand beside him, as attentive as a pair of well trained German Shepherds. "Bring this little bitch's husband to me. And you Nick," he said to the other, "go to my car. In the backseat is my dog's leash. Bring it to me."

Sherry looked around her. The band had stopped playing, and every guest was gathered in a big circle around their host and this redheaded woman. No one said a word aloud, although Sherry could hear a buzzing undertone of whispers. Here and there she recognized a face in her audience. There was the mayor, over there the police chief, and behind him the district attorney stood beside a local congressman. There were female faces is well, women Sherry recognized from the society pages of the newspaper.

None of them were interfering, however, and it was plainly apparent they didn't intend to. Sherry reflected that probably had been a mistake to slap the face of the city's number one gangster. He was important and politically powerful. She was only the daughter of the Irish immigrant, Joe McGinty, and the wife of Zack Wazaluski, a nobody Polish plumber. This man she had slapped could do anything he wanted to her, apparently even with these big shots as witnesses. For all the help that any of them were offering, she might as well have been facing this angry man in the middle of the Sahara desert.

Leo returned leading Zack by the arm. Eddie turned to him and asked, "Tell me Mr. Wazaluski how much money do you owe me?"

Zack turned white at the question and answered, “I don't know for sure. Maybe twenty, thirty thousand."

"In your dreams you Pollock piece of shit." Eddie sneered at the frightened husband. "You owe me a lot more than that not even counting the interest. In round numbers, fifty grand, 50,000 George Washington's, that's what you owe me, and what do I get for being a good guy and letting you play the ponies on my money? My face slapped by your goddamn wife, that's what! Not the smartest thing to do. Most people would try not to piss off a man they owe $50,000. Well I am pissed, pissed enough to call your loan. Pay me! Your check now! Tonight!"

"Come on Eddie," Zack begged. "You know I don't have that kind of money in the bank. I'm good for it, but I need some time. I've got a big plumbing job..."

Eddie interrupted, "I don't give a damn what your problems are or what 'big jobs' you have. You think I'm going to wait for my money until you put in some goddamn septic tank? You want to talk about more time, you say? You should have said something about that to this bitch of a wife of yours before she slapped my face. Pay up, or I'll turn you over to my collection agency. They are very efficient. Take your pick, the easy way or the hard way, I don't care, but you WILL pay me."

Zack turned white as a sheet! "Please Eddie, can't we work something out. I'll sign over my house, my car, whatever you want. Everything I've got is yours. Anything! Everything!"

Zack was so scared he was almost ready to cry. He had every reason to be afraid. If he couldn't find some way of this, Eddie's 'collection agents' would surely break his arms and legs even if they didn't kill him outright. Just the thought of so much pain was enough to turn Zack's backbone into jelly.

"Now there's an idea,” Eddie countered rather unexpectedly. "No, I don't want your house, or your car. I already have a house, and lots of cars. Nevertheless, you do have something I want. I want the only thing you own that is worth $50,000.

Big Eddie paused for effect. Zack held his breath and the room was deathly quiet, everyone waiting to learn what Eddie might take in trade from this poor slob who didn't seem to have anything to offer. When Eddie finally named his price, a murmur ran through the crowd and the color drained from Zack's face.

"I want this little bitch that just slapped my face. I want to own your wife. I don't often pay $50,000 for a pussy, even for one as pretty as I'm sure this one is. Still, she's a good-looking woman for her age and she will make a great whore. After she has been trained properly I may even be able to get my money out of her. How about it Pollock? I keep your wife, and you go home alone with your debt paid in full."

Sherry couldn't believe her ears. This bastard was offering to buy her for $50,000. Right in front of all these big shot bankers, lawyers, doctors, and politicians he was bidding to own her as if she was a slave woman in chains on an Middle Eastern auction block. She couldn't believe it! Wasn't there some law against slavery in this country? Apparently not! The Mayor, the Chief of Police, and the District Attorney were all standing in the circle around her, but none of them said so much as a single word of protest at a woman being bargained for as if she was a pedigreed cow.

Zack was having his own problem speaking, although he was trying. “But, but, but..." he stammered unable to organize either his thoughts or his tongue.

Eddie persisted. "No buts goddamnit! Are you going to sell me your wife or not? Yes or no."

Zack could see no way out. He couldn't pay what he owed, not tonight, not tomorrow, and perhaps never. Nor would he survive Big Eddie's collection agents. On their first visit they would try to beat the money out of him. Once they were convinced he didn't have it, they would resort to other means. Zack remembered all too well that to get credit at the bookie joint, he had taken out a $100,000 life insurance policy in favor of Big Eddie's 'loan company.'

Dead was the only way Zack was worth $50,000. Dead, Big Eddie would be paid twice over. Zack understood that what he was about to do was cowardly and despicable, but he was equally certain he had no choice. “Poor Sherry!” he thought. “It was going to be unpleasant for her to be this man's whore, but she would at least be alive. That was more could be said for him in the alternative.”

Quietly, almost in a whisper, Zack answered. "Okay, it's a deal."

"You hear that Arnold?” Big Eddie shouted his lawyer standing on the edge of the circle of spectators. "Tomorrow morning first thing I want you to draw up the papers. From right now this bitch is my property, and I want a legal bill sale. Wazaluski here is entitled to have his notes canceled and returned to him."

"No, Zack, I will not do it,” Sherry interrupted. "I'm your wife, and a human being. You can't sell me like some animal. I don't care what deal you make. This man doesn't own me. I will not be some man's bought and paid for plaything."

"Ah but I do own you now bitch," Big Eddie told her. The same ice cold stare that had been in his eyes when she first slapped him was back again, and it planted fear into Sherry's soul. "You haven't considered the alternatives lady. If I don't own you, then your fool husband still owes me $50,000 that I have to collect the best way I can. You don't seem to understand what life will be like as a widow with two daughters and no money."

"Right now I guess you don't care what happens to your fink of a husband. I can't blame you for that, but think a minute. How would you and your daughters make do if hubby here should have a fatal accident? You have no money, and no one to turn to. The mortgage on your home is already two months overdue. I know because I checked. If your husband should have an unfortunate fatal accident you and your daughters won't even have a roof over your heads.

You think you can earn a living? Who's gonna hire you if I tell them not to? Do you think you can go some place and hide where I don't have friends? In Haiti maybe, or perhaps on some sand spit in the middle the Pacific, but certainly no place where you are likely to survive."

"No house, no job, no money, how would the three of you eat? There will only be one way. Within a month, you mama, and both your daughters, will be walking the streets selling grapes from your grape vines. Sure, I will make a whore of you too, but it least you won't be on your back on dirty sheets in some sleazy $10 an hour motel working for a nigger pimp who will steal your money, and use your cunt besides. Better me than him don't you think? The women I own are first-class whores who service clean Johns, and they all support themselves pretty handsomely with what they earn on their backs."

The alternatives he suggested to Sherry weren't a pretty picture. Could he really keep her from getting a job? Sherry believed that he probably could. If Zack was crippled or dead, and she couldn't work, what WOULD become of them? She began to cry, not saying anything, looking up at him, silently pleading for mercy with the tears filled eyes.

She found no mercy there. Big Eddie demanded an answer. "Well what will it be babe? Do I own you or not?"

"Yes Sir, you own me. What choice do I have?" Adding the 'Sir' to her answer seemed so natural to Sherry that she didn't even notice. After all she was this man's female property now.

"Quite right cunt. Your have other choice, not now or ever again. I bought you. You are mine and you'll do whatever I tell you. Do you understand that?"

"Yes sir!" There was that automatic SIR again. "I understand, but what about my daughters. They need their mother. I need them. Please let me stay with my children. "

"No problem," Big Eddie answered. "I am a sharing man. You can play momma to your heart's content. In fact you will have more time for that than ever before. Tomorrow you will quit your job at that grocery. You will be keeping late hours now, and I want you well rested and ready to fuck the night away on short notice. Occasionally you may spend a couple of days out-of-town. Otherwise, usually it will be in the evenings when I put your lovely body to its best use.

During the day you will be pretty much free to live your life as you choose. I am generous to my whores. I pay them well, and not only are they permitted a life at home with their families, I insist upon it. And, as I said, I'm a sharing man. We can't leave Zack out entirely now can we? Your husband will have, what do they call it...'conjugal rights', I believe. Anyway, whatever it's called, Zack here will have the use of your pussy anytime I don't need it. Fair enough?”

"Yes sir! I guess so," was Sherry's somewhat hesitant reply.

Big Eddie wasn't pleased. “What kind of answer is that? You 'guess so’? Lady I don't guess about anything. You're going to be well paid and living comfortably at home. You'll have a better wardrobe than you have ever owned in your life. You will be well fucked by your husband, by me, and by my friends and clients. What is this 'guess' shit? Tell me woman! Do I own you or not?”

"Yes sir! You own me. I am your whore.” Sherry's voice was almost a whisper. She hot felt ready to cry

"We are all agreed then? You are my whore and I am your pimp. You will obey me no matter what I demand of you?"

"Yes sir, we are agreed." A murmur went through the encircling crowd as in a quiet voice, almost a whisper, Sherry surrendered. “I am now a whore! Your whore! You are my pimp. I will do whatever you say."

Big Eddie’s voice carried a hard edge of authority as he gave his new woman her first command. "The deal is done then. Strip bitch! I want to see what my $50,000 has bought."

Sherry was stunned. He wanted her naked in front of all these people. What an awful thought! Sherry had known when he greeted her at the door that he wanted to see her nude, and he certainly wasn’t wasting any time about it. Sherry shrugged as the shock of what she must do wore off. She had just promised to be this man’s whore. Surely, worse things than this were in a whore’s future. Anyway, what else could she do? She was only property now, a piece of pretty furniture, and the owner of furniture could show it off to whomever, and whenever, he pleased.

Anyway Sherry suspected this man who-would-be-her-master had motives beyond merely enjoying her nude body, "The bastard," she thought. "He is toying with me, playing with my head by shaming me front of Zack and his high society guests."

Sherry was quite right. Eddie was watching her reaction closely. This was the first hurdle in her training, and probably the biggest of all. If she did as she was told now, everything afterward would come in time. Would she obey? Would she strip and display herself naked before a room full of strangers?

For a moment or two the question hung in the air unanswered, but there was never any real doubt. Sherry's long background of submission had prepared her well for this critical moment of shameful obedience to her latest master. Indeed, Sherry’s past was always with her as along with her humiliation came a fleeting image of her father dragging her mother off to the bedroom by the hair of her head. Why would she think of that now? Was she that much like her mother, or like her mother, had she simply been chosen at random as a man’s sex toy in fate's great lottery?

Defeated, Sherry slid the straps of her dress off her shoulders and down her arms. With a tug and a shake, the top half of the dress fell to her waist to hang there caught on the swell of her hips. She stood stiffly in her black half bra, solemn, proud, almost defiant, waiting. 'Strip' her new owner had commanded, but Sherry instinctively knew he would enjoy her humiliation even more if she played the reluctant virgin forced to submit to his authority.

The evil smile on his lips told her she was quite right. "Well bitch," he ordered with a snarl, "Get on with it. Now the bra! I want to see your tits."

With that most feminine of movements, Sherry reached back between her shoulder blades with both hands to unhook the bra that barely covered her nipples. Undone the bra fluttered uselessly to the floor releasing her lovely breasts, full and inviting, to be enjoyed by all those staring eyes. Sherry had always been proud of breasts, and she could see in the eyes of her new owner that he was impressed. Eddie was not the only one. A murmur of approval came from the circle onlookers.