Slavery Begins at Home Pt. 02

***Author's note. I like to explore how the BDSM dynamic can transform conventional relationships. A good marriage is in a constant state of flux. When you suddenly introduce dominance and submission into the mix, it's fun to watch. This story primarily deals with the circumstances that led to Cum Hole becoming s slave to his wife.***

*****

The slave named Cum Hole knelt in silence beside the bed as his neighbor fucked his wife.

She was on her back, her ankles pushed up almost behind her ears as the man pounded her relentlessly, her pussy sloshing loudly with each thrust. The slave felt a familiar twinge of humiliation. His wife's vagina had never lubricated this much back when he had been allowed to make love to her. Now, she was positively gushing, her juices dripping down into her ass crack and coating the entire length of the man's thick nine-inch cock.

The slave's own limp penis was still leaking feebly in its steel enclosure, following his recent ignominious release. He reached back and adjusted the large steel butt plug in his anus. His sphincter was throbbing from the prolonged ass fucking the man had administered earlier that morning.

The slave's wife screamed out again as she was overtaken by yet another orgasm. Cum Hole had counted at least three such paroxysms so far this morning. It was ironic indeed that his wife had never been able to achieve an orgasm from penetration alone during their twenty-year marriage, yet now this was the only way she ever came when she was being fucked by her lover.

Her lover.

The man's name was Michael Conners. For ten years, he and his wife, Chloe, had lived in the big house next door to Cum Hole's former residence. The slave and his wife had been frequent guests in their home. To all outward appearances, the Conners' had seemed like a conventional, happily married monogamous couple.

Nothing could have been further from the truth.

"Oh, god, Mike," screamed the slave's wife. "I'm going to cum again. Oh, god, I can't believe it. Your cock feels so good, baby. I want you to cum inside me now. I want you to fill me."

The man increased the tempo of his thrusts.

The slave's wife cried out as she came, this time actually squirting around the man's cock, some of the warm spray splattering Cum Hole in the right eye as he knelt mutely by the bed, his face just inches away from her quivering sex.

The man groaned, then grunted once. He froze with his cock buried balls deep. The slave watched the man's ass cheeks clench and unclench spasmodically as he ejaculated deep inside his wife.

When it was over, the man collapsed on top of the the slave's wife. They kissed tenderly, her fingers caressing the back of his neck as she pulled him close.

The slave remained kneeling at the bedside and waited in silence. As usual he was hooded, collared and plugged and wore only a black leather corset. His nipples rings gleamed in the slanting morning sunshine. On his feet he worse black patent leather ankle boots with four inch stiletto heels. His flaccid penis was encased in a custom stainless steel chastity cage, which was kept permanently locked.

After a few minutes, the man pushed himself up and slid off the bed. He stood before the kneeling slave, presenting his cock for cleaning.

The slave engulfed the man's softening cock in one gulp, deep-throating its entire length in one soundless swallow. Cum Hole bobbed up and down several times, his tongue methodically cleaning the entire shaft, then sucked the head, groaning when he was rewarded with a final trickle of semen.

The man pulled his cock out of the slave's mouth and absently wiped it dry on the slave's spandex hood. He grabbed the kneeling man by the collar and pulled him toward the woman on the bed.

"Clean-up time," he said gruffly.

The slave climbed on to the bed and crawled between his wife's thighs. She chuckled and opened her legs to accommodate him.

"Come and get it, Cum Hole," she coaxed softly. "This feels like a big one."

The slave eyed his wife's vagina hungrily. Despite himself, he felt his limp penis begin to twitch in its cage as he smelled the scent of their coupling, a tangy, pungent mixture of sweat, semen and her own fragrant effluent.

There was a large dollop of cum, which had already overspilled the vault of her vagina and was running in a thick rivulet down her perineum toward her anus.

Cum Hole leaned in and sucked up the warm, slippery morsel, slurping loudly. He reached up and gently spread his wife's buttocks and ran his tongue up and down the expanse of flesh from anus to vagina several times to lap up any lingering trace of his master's seed.

When the area was thoroughly cleaned, Cum Hole repositioned himself between his wife's legs and turned his attention to her freshly fucked pussy. He licked the outside of her vagina in broad strokes, lapping up the thick patina of semen mixed with his wife's juices.

His wife groaned and spread her legs further, her labia lolling open in lewd invitation.

Cum Hole extended his tongue and inserted its full length into his wife's pussy. He felt her rise against him, taking him even deeper. He curled the tip upward and was rewarded with a large gobbet of the man's semen, which he swallowed greedily. He reinserted his tongue and began to wriggle the tip deep inside. A thin streamer of cum began to trickle into his mouth.

His wife placed her hands on the back of her slave's head, pulling his face into her sex.

"Let me push it out for you, dear," she breathed.

She began to contract her pelvic muscles rhythmically. Over the past few months, with the help of her daily Kegel exercises, she had become quite proficient at expelling her lover's bounty into her husband's mouth.

The slave sensed his wife's movement and began to suck and lick in earnest as the flow of semen suddenly began to increase. Within seconds, the full measure of the man's ejaculate began to descend in wave after gooey wave, a thick, molten tide that cascaded down into the slave's eager mouth. He swallowed steadily, accepting the man's offering in loud, liquid gulps.

At last the flow began to diminish. The slave kept his mouth open, his lips firmly pressed up against the vault of his wife's vagina. He maintained the seal, keeping active suction until he had swallowed the last salty dregs of her lover's cum.

When he was done, he pulled away and looked up at his wife, his lips slick with the man's drippings.

"Thank you for feeding me masters's cum, ma'am," the slave said softly.

His wife smiled down at him.

"You're quote welcome, Cum Hole," she said warmly, patting his head. "Now kindly tidy me up. I have a party to plan tonight."

The slave leaned forward once again and began to methodically lick his wife's pussy clean, as he had been trained.

As Cum Hole lapped contentedly at his wife's slick vulva, he pondered the strange intersection of events that had led to the formation of the unconventional household in which he now served.

****

In his former life, Cum Hole's name had been Tim Martin. He and his wife, Natasha, had gotten married right out of college. The Martins had enjoyed a comfortable, vanilla, upper middle class existence as the Tim climbed the ladder of academia at the local university, finally obtaining a tenured position as an economics professor ten years ago.

Natasha did not work outside of the home. Instead, she devoted her attention to raising the couple's twin children, a boy and a girl, who were now away at college.

Over the years, Tim and Natasha had enjoyed a cordial, if somewhat distant relationship with their neighbors, the Conners'. Although they were next door neighbors, it could not quite be said that they were friends. Socially, they ran in completely different circles.

While Tim Martin made a decent living as a professor, Mike Conners was a multimillionaire, having founded and sold several companies in the tech sector before turning forty years old.

The Conners' lived in the largest house on the street. The property was actually a gated estate, with a large pool and meticulously landscaped grounds. Tim and Natasha lived in the much more modest home next door, which had actually served as the gate house to the Conners' estate in days gone by.

The Conners' threw frequent lavish parties for their socialite friends. Tim and Natasha were often invited, not out of friendship, but due to the proximity of their two homes. If the Martins attended the party, they couldn't very well complain to the police about the noise later on.

In other words, the Martins came to the Conners' parties for the same reason that Gatsby invited Nick Carraway to his: because they were there.

Mike Conners usually remained aloof from the Martins at the house parties. He would greet the couple and introduce them around, but did not spend a lot of time interacting with them, preferring to circulate among the other guests. This was perfectly fine with Tim, who found the imposing Mike Conners to be quite an intimidating presence.

His wife, Chloe, on the other hand, always went out of her way to give the Martins special attention.

While Chloe Conners always played the part of the polite and attentive hostess, she never let the Martins forget their station. She was especially petty and cutting toward Natasha, often maligning her taste in jewelry or making patronizing comments about her choice of clothing or shoes, all within earshot of her well-heeled guests.

For the most part, Natasha laughed off Chloe's remarks, but Tim knew that inside she was seething. On one occasion, after one drink too many, he had had to physically restrain Natasha from grabbing Chloe by the throat after she had overheard a comment the hostess had made about the Martin's teenage daughter.

"Well, she dresses like a trollop. I wouldn't be surprised if she came home from college with one of those multicultural buns in the oven," Chloe had whispered to the wife of a prominent physician, just loud enough for Natasha to hear.

The conversation that ensued between Chloe and Natasha had been a lively one indeed. Eventually the taciturn Mike Conners had had to step in, apologizing profusely for his wife's rudeness.

Despite the ongoing acrimony between the two wives, the Martins continued to attend the Connors' parties simply because they were extravagant and a whole lot of fun. The gatherings were always the highlights of the social season. The guest list read like a who's who of the the town's aristocracy.

For the most part, Chloe and Natasha stayed in their respective corners and Tim did his best to lay low and maintain the uneasy detente between them.

But the Martins were never allowed to stay for the after-party.

It was always the same pattern. The Conners' would welcome the Martins in to their home and ply them with top-shelf liquor and the finest food. There would be small talk and the usual formalities. Perhaps Chloe and Natasha would spar a bit, shooting daggers at each other over cocktails and hors d'oeuvres.

Then, usually at around ten o'clock, the Martins would be ushered out the door, usually by the man of the house. As he escorted them out, Mike Conners always gave the couple the impression that the party was about to break up, but this was never the case.

In fact, after the Martins left, the party always seemed to kick into a higher gear. There would be the sounds of shouting and convivial laughter, along with the occasional scream emanating from the big house for several more hours, with guests often not departing until dawn.

The Martins spent endless hours speculating about what went on at the Conners' parties after they had left. Each theory was more outlandish than the last. Perhaps the Conners' were inveterate gamblers, hosting high stakes poker parties for their upper crust friends. Maybe they were satanists, Mike having sold his soul in return for his earthly wealth.

Finally, after leaving a party one summer night with a few too many vodka tonics consumed between them, curiosity had gotten the better of them and the the Martins had crept up to the high stone wall that separated their two properties.

Tim had helped Natasha climb up on to his shoulders to have a look.

His wife had peered into the gloom for several seconds before gasping in the quiet moonlight. She lost her balance and toppled backward on to her rump on the soft, forgiving lawn of their yard.

"Holy shit!" Natasha had whispered excitedly.

"What is it? What did you see?"

Natasha looked up at her husband.

"I saw a naked lady on all fours being led around on a leash by a man and a woman," she said dazedly.

"Get the fuck out of here!" said Tim.

"No I swear to god. The woman was holding the leash. They were making her pee on a bush, lifting her leg like a dog."

"Get the fuck out of here!"

"Tim, I swear to god. I know what I saw."

"Holy shit," whispered her husband.

"But that's not the strangest part," Natasha added archly, her eyes twinkling with merriment.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm pretty sure the lady on the leash was Chloe."

****

Natasha scrambled back up on to Tim's shoulders and peered over the wall again, but the three figures were gone, the large back yard now deserted.

She dismounted from her husband and sent him back into the house to fix them drinks. For several minutes Natasha lingered by the wall, thinking about what she had just seen.

She pictured the three people she had seen in her mind. The woman on the leash had been Chloe. She was sure of that. The man had had his back to her, so she had no idea who he might have been.

The woman holding the leash had been petit with long hair. Natasha had caught a glimpse of her face when the she threw back her head and laughed as Chloe attempted to relieve herself on the bush. There was something exotic about her features, something vaguely familiar.

Natasha shook her head and crossed her arms. She pondered her next move.

It was obvious now that the Conners' house parties were just a cover for some kind of fancy bondage club for the Conners' and their upscale friends.

Natasha was no prude. She knew all about BDSM. She and Tim had even engaged in a bit of role play themselves from time to time. Natasha had enjoyed the little games they played, but she had always found the scenarios strained and awkward. After all, they were just play-acting. It wasn't real.

What she had seen tonight on the other side of the wall wasn't play-acting. Chloe had lifted her leg and urinated on a bush while some lady held her leash and laughed at her.

This shit was real.

As she stood in the darkness, Natasha kept seeing the image of Chloe naked on her knees. The thought of having her snooty, condescending neighbor groveling at her feet was intoxicating.

Natasha was still wearing the little black cocktail dress she had worn earlier to the party.

She reached down and began to rub her pussy through her panties.

Chloe.

On her knees.

Natasha could not explain the sudden surge of strange feelings that coursed through her, even to herself, but they all boiled down to one simple, irresistible imperative.

The next time Chloe was of a mind to crawl around naked in her back yard, Natasha wanted to be the one holding her leash.

She vowed, in the stillness of the night, that she would make it happen.

Natasha continued to absently rub her sex as she thought about how she might gain entrance to the exclusive club next door. She assumed that most of the couples she had met at the gatherings over the years were in on it, with one partner being a dominant and the other a submissive.

A kernel of a plan began to form in her mind. Natasha began to smile in the darkness.

That night, Tim and Natasha made passionate love. She threw him down on the bed and rode on top of him, taking control as never before, spurring him on beneath her.

Tim held on for dear life as his wife bounced up and down on his cock. He had never seen her like this. Although, Natasha had always been more assertive than her husband, this was the first time she had actually taken charge of their lovemaking.

After she felt Tim climax inside her, Natasha made a show of grunting in frustration and climbed off of her husband. She lay flat on her back with her legs spread. Tim began to rise up off of the bed.

Natasha decided to make her move.

"Where do you think you're going," Natasha had asked, a bit of steel in her voice.

"Just to get a towel," he replied sheepishly.

"I haven't cum yet, Tim. In fact it's been a while," she said cooly.

"Oh, okay," he responded meekly and sat back down on the bed.

He reached over and began to rub her clit with his right thumb, which was the usual way he got her off.

Natasha reached down and put her hand over his.

"I'm afraid that's not going to do it tonight, Tim," she said sternly, her eyes alight with malevolent intent. "I want you to eat me."

Tim looked down at his wife's pussy. Even in the dim light of the bedside lamp, he could see that his semen was already beginning to drip out of her and on to the bed.

"But I just came inside you," he said haltingly. "It's all over the place."

"Not my problem, Tim," she responded, her tone implacable.

She spread her legs and looked her husband in the eye.

"Seeing Chloe being led around like a bitch has made me extremely hot, Tim and I intend to have an orgasm right now thinking about it. And to be honest, I'm a little sick and tired of you popping off inside me, then rolling over and going off to sleep."

Tim sat there, speechless. For a moment, he looked like he was about to cry.

Natasha hesitated for a few seconds, seeing Tim's obvious distress, then resolved to plunge on.

This had to be real.

Natasha reached back behind her and propped her head up on her pillow, making herself more comfortable.

"There's going to be some changes around here, Tim. And one of the things that's going to change is that you're going to be eating a lot more pussy, starting right now. As a matter of fact, after seeing Chloe on a leash, I'm starting to think I might enjoy having a pet of my own."

Tim stared down at his Natasha's glazed pussy. He had never heard his wife talk like this before. There was something undeniably sexy about the sudden regality of her bearing, the calm, quiet authority of her voice. Despite his recent orgasm, he realized he was getting aroused again.

On impulse, Tim took a deep breath and decided to go for it.

"Yes, dear," he said softly and bent to his task.

Natasha smiled inwardly as she watched her husband crawl between her legs. This was going even better than she had expected. She knew Tim had always had submissive tendencies, but she had never dreamed he would surrender so easily.

Tim was hesitant at first. He had never tasted his own cum before and there was so much of it smeared on the surface of his wife's pussy. He stuck out his tongue and licked up a few drops. The taste was salty and sweet and not entirely unpleasant. He began to lap up the remaining cum in earnest.

He realized he was rock hard now.

His wife felt Tim's erection poking at her left leg. She looked down and smiled at her husband.

"Oh, my. Looks like you like it, Tim. You like the taste of your cum? You like being my pussy pet?"

"Yes, dear," Tim replied, licking up the last remnants of semen from her vulva.

He leaned in and ran his tongue up his wife's slit. There was still some cum leaking out, but he also noted that she was wetter than she had ever been before. He began to lick up and down in long, broad strokes, swallowing gob after gob of his semen now.

Natasha placed her hands on the back of his head.