The Slut Wrangler Ch. 01

There is a presence that invades the pick-up joint out on the other side of town. It is a joint that is frequently frequented by loving wives out to love others who are not their husbands.

He is tall, 6' 5". He is well built with a tight 6 pack, hard, well defined rippling muscles, broad powerful shoulders, devilishly handsome and most importantly, equipped with a beautiful, monster cock. Yes, he does know how to use it. It is the kind of cock that emasculates straight men and thrills women (even the lesbians, yea it's just that beautiful). He is well spoken, well dressed and clearly has resources (as demonstrated by his $200,000 sports car with just enough room for two and a small overnight bag) sitting out front of the pick-up joint. He has a dismissive "air" about him, a flash of danger in his deep crystal ice blue eyes and a bad boy smile that just gets women into trouble.

This pick-up joint was like a hundred others he had been in. The same country western styling, the same tables (busted) and booths (old). The music was loud and the dancers were getting sweaty. He pretty much smoked all the other men in the club. Thus many eyes followed him as he strolled across the dance floor to the crowded bar. You could feel the sexual tension in the club move up a notch. Many of the women in the club started to scheme.

But he isn't here for "the pussy". No, he is working. He is on the job. Some husband is trying to deal with a slut for a wife and has engaged The Slut Wrangler to that end.

The Slut Wrangler's price is high. Yes, there are many dollars needed. But, The Slut Wrangler's costs are far more than just a lot of money. The Slut Wrangler offers a full service package. He will wrangle the inner slut while roping the outer slut.

He breaks those sluts. He owns those sluts, for life. And that too is part of his fees. So a loving husband should take care before engaging The Slut Wrangler.

He leans into a woman seated at the bar and whispers in her ear. She turns her head and smiles. She almost plays it a little coy. She joyfully slides off her chair and they head to the dance floor. She doesn't even look back, much to the consternation of her lover who had been sitting next to her holding her hand. Everyone's eyes are on them as they hit the dance floor.

Back at the bar, her lover's friends are giving him shit.

A couple of dances later her friend runs a bit of interference. She snatch's the unfaithful wife's purse off the bar. She gives it to her in the restroom and the unfaithful wife heads out the back door.

Another slut wrangled.

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Bob was besides himself. He knew. Not that he could prove all of it mind you, but he knew it was ALL true. It felt like there was a stone buried in the middle of his chest. Breathing was hard, his heart was beating furiously just this side of a monster heart attack.

She was cheating on him. And she had lied to him, to his face, repeatedly. To HIM!

A rage born of the inflicted pain and disrespect fell upon Bob. Bob, normally a pretty mild mannered fellow, flat out fucking lost it. He beat on his metal desk with his hands, feet and forehead until they were battered, bruised and bloody. To say Bob was "pissed" would be a serious understatement.

It took a while for Bob to calm down and to somewhat come to grips with the fact that his wife was a cheating, lying, traitorous cum dump of a slut.

Oh fucking joy.

Alas, her poor behavior was bad. Worse, she is his wife. Which, of course, means she is Bob's problem. While it was clear to Bob that the lying slut had no respect for their vows, Bob, unfortunately, did. He had promised so many things until death they do part. To love, honor and cherish. Well, he hated what she had done, was doing and apparently planned continue to do; but love isn't rational. There was a part, admittedly, a very very very small part of him that still loved her. Honor her? Cherish her? Just hours ago, those were easy vows to keep. Now, Bob was really struggling.

But, at the end of the day, his vows, to him, have meaning. Bob is nothing if not a man who's word meant something. His vows were til death. He sat, thinking and drinking. Death was on the table as far as Bob was concerned.

As Bob sat at his desk, still bleeding, battered and bruised, he asked himself, what do you do with a slut for a wife? Not that he had been getting any benefits from her being a slut, their sex life was, in a word, pathetic.

Bob's wife, Missy, was a lot of things; entitled, selfish, self centered, unaware and not at all empathetic (unless she thought it would get her what she wanted). On the plus side, she was absolutely smoking hot. Where as Bob, on a good hair day might, at a stretch, be a 7.3. Missy was a stone fox and clearly at least a 10.

Bob is no fool, he knew he married up, stratospherically. And it is true that Bob was in love. That tends to happen when a 10 pays attention to a 7. So Bob considered himself the luckiest man on earth. Or at least he did before the "The Truth" about Missy was revealed to him.

What to do? What to do? Bob pondered.

His next thought was just to pack all his shit up and hit the road. But that would mean he walks from all he had built. That didn't appeal to him. And, she was STILL his wife, and he STILL had his vows to contend with.

In good times and bad; well this was a pretty fuckin' bad time. Bob was spinning. He just couldn't stand by as Missy shit all over him. He couldn't dump her, those damned vows. He wouldn't kill her, but he damn sure wanted to. God, what a mess.

That was when Bob recalled tales about a shadowy figure who "reformed" wayward wives. He really hadn't paid much attention to the stories, so the details were a little slippery. But Bob thought he had heard it from Ted. Or was it Tom? Ah, maybe Tony?

IF Bob could figure out how to 'fix' his slut of a wife...

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Missy really loved Reggie's big black cock. She loved to sit up and watch as that beautiful 8 inch black uncut cock slide into and out of her sloppy snowy white and pink shaved pussy. God how she loved it slamming in and out of her sloppy sloppy pussy.

Her husband, Bob, wasn't even a after thought in the back of her mind as she exploded with yet another massive orgasm. Yes, Missy is, was and planned to continue to be, a very unfaithful wife. What Missy didn't know was that her husband, Bob, now knew. She had been getting away with being a cheating slut for a while. Apparently, she had just gotten sloppy.

Yes Missy loved Bob, sorta. Not nearly as much as she loved herself or Reggie's cock...or Sam's cock or, well, you get the idea. Hey, at least Bob made Missy's Honorable Mentioned list. That's something, isn't it?

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Bob looked about the bar. It was the kind of place that daylight wasn't that kind to. It was run down. In the light of day, one could see it was very well worn. But, this is where Theo was.

"Theo"

"Hello Bob! It's been a while, pull up a chair and join me!"

"Thanks Theo...I was looking for you." Bob said as he settled into a chair across the table from Theo.

"Looking for me? "

"Yea, a while back I seem to remember that you were telling me about some guy who could fix things with a wayward wife."

"Fuck Bob, is Missy fucking around on you? That a damned shame man."

"Yea, as far as I can figure, she has been fucking around on me with several assholes."

"Bob, that totally sucks..."

The men paused chatting as Theo drank some beer.

"Bob, yea, I know what you are talking about. The Slut Wrangler".

"The Slut Wrangler?"

"Yea, The Slut Wrangler." Theo poured Bob a glass of beer and pushed it across the table at him.

Theo leaned in, so Bob did too.

"My brother's wife went full slut on him. It was bad. She had no shame and would fuck damned near any dick she could find. My brother wanted to eject her from his life but a divorce would have ruined him. Basically he would end up paying her to be a slut as well as leaving his kids and all his money in her care. I remember seeing him right after he had his first meeting with his lawyers. I've never see him so low. So mad. So trapped like a rat.

Anyway about a month later she just disappeared. No trace, nothing. My brother wasn't upset. Nor did her disappearance seem to be anything he was concerned about. Weird, right? In fact, thinking back on it he was smiling more, anyway, I'd ask where she was, he would say he didn't know. He just carried on. Then about two months later, she was back home. Like nothing happened. That was pretty weird too. And She become totally Susie Homemaker. It was like the slut had been wash right out of her. Like I said, was weird.

That was like 5 years ago. Since then I've never seen my brother so happy, so relaxed. He smiles all the time. The kids are doing well. I guess she will do anything to make him happy. Honestly, it was like a fuckin miracle. But, come to think about it, there is a Stepford Wives thing about her...". Theo' s voice tailed off.

Theo took a gulp of his beer and then continued. "Like I said, my brother never talked about it, except once, after I really got in his face. He said The Slut Wrangler had fixed her and that was all he would ever say."

"Can you give me your brother's number?"

"Sure, let me buy us another pitcher of beer, and we can call him together. And, damn Bob sorry about Missy."

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The Slut Wrangler was relaxing from his last job. The slut had been wrangled, broken, saddled branded and trained then returned to her husband. She wasn't scheduled for maintenance for a year, but the royalties should start rolling in soon. The husband had opened the app. The Slut Wrangle peeked at his bank balance, the $150,000 from the last job pushed his balance way past $25 million.

He sat back with a sigh. He had been wrangling sluts for a living for almost 10 years. It was like any job, it had its pluses and minuses.

There was a "ding" on his computer showing a new email had arrived.

He clicked on the email. It was from Bob. He had been expecting it. He only worked through referrals from husbands of sluts he had wrangled. That gave him time to research a client before he accepted a job. So he already had Bob's credit checked out before he had ok'ed Theo's brother giving Bob his email address. He knew what Bob could afford.

The Slut Wrangler smiled. Time to get back to work. He typed in a phone number and hit send. Yea, there were lots of pluses in his job. His smile grew bigger.

___________________

Bob was shocked that about 2 minutes after he had sent The Slut Wrangler an e-mail he had mail. It contained only a phone number.

Bob's heart rate went up. His hands got clammy as he reach for his phone.

Ring, click, "Bob?"

Bob's insides were churning. He knew this was one of those lifetime lasting moves. Win, loose or draw this was a step he would never get to walk back from.

"Yeeess."

"Meet me at 1265 SE Penetration Boulevard in 27 minutes."

Click

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It was a clear night, but the moon was only a sliver so the few stars that cut through the city's light pollution didn't illuminate much at 1265 SE Penetration Boulevard. It was an empty lot. There were 3 separate 4 story building on three sides of the lot, none of the buildings had windows facing into the lot.

Bob pulled up and parked. He looked around. It was a rundown section of town. The vacant lot had a large for sale sign facing the street. Bob's phone burped, Bob has a new message. It read, "Come to the back of the lot. Leave the phone."

Bob got out of his car. Looking around, he locked his car and headed across the street towards the dark back of the lot.

"Hello Bob" said a deep, somewhat soothing voice.

Bob stopped, he really couldn't see clearly the man who spoke.

"Hello...ah, Mr. Wrangler?" said Bob.

"Slut Wrangler is a job, not my name, I'm Jake." He said chuckling as he stepped forward extending his hand. They shook.

"Come on Bob" Jake said turning around and heading for a door Bob hadn't noticed. They went through the door and into an office. It had no windows, only the one door. It wasn't plush. Just the overhead light, a walls switch was next to the door, a nondescript desk with two chairs.

Jake walked around his the desk and said, "Care for a drink? I only have Redbreast and I don't have ice."

He opened a drawer and extracted two crystal highball glasses and a bottle of 20 year old Redbreast. He pours a couple of fingers in each glass. Jake handed Bob a glass and sat down. Bob sat in the other chair.

"Bob, do you know what a Slut Wrangler does?"

Bob took a sip. He looked at Jake. His eye were weird, so blue, so intense. Bob took another sip and shook his head no.

"Well Bob, I offer a service. If your wife is a true slut, no matter what she does or says, she will always have the need to be her true self, a slut. No matter what you do, she will alway be a slut. No way to de-slut her. Accept that. It is just what it is." Jake paused for dramatic impact.

"Of course, that makes you The Cuck", he takes a sip, letting Bob marinate. "Sorry, that is just the way of it. You are married to a slut. If you didn't want to be a cuck, you shouldn't have married a slut. Let this be a lesson for you." Jake set down his drink and looked Bob directly in this eyes.

"I wrangle her natural slut. I will corral that slut. Then I will break the slut. Then train that slut. I will brand that slut. Then I will own that slut. She will alway be a slut. No one can change that, but I will give you back a saddle broken and trained slut for a wife." Jake took another sip and looked into Bob's eye.

"But she will carry my brand." Jake's ice cold blue eyes boarded into Bob with intensely.

Bob lifted his glass to his lips and drained it.

Bob set his glass down, reached for the bottle, poured himself a healthily shot, picked up the glass and shot it. Then he looked back at Jake and said, "I can work with that."

Jake stuck out his hand, and they shook in agreement.

Jake pour them another drink.

"Now, would you like the good news?" Jake asked.

Bob, who at this point felt pretty banged up, was up for any upside. He really didn't like the fact he couldn't be uncucked. It bothered him, but it made sense. He took a deep breath.

"Good News??"

"She will only be our slut, well unless you choose for her to fuck someone else. She will crawl across broken glass to have you graze her nipple with your little finger and run screaming from strange cock."

Bob said, "Seriously?"

"Money back guarantee" Jake said sipping his drink.

"How much money?"

"$200,000; $100,000 upfront and $100,000 on delivery."

Jake opened a drawer and pulled out a three ring binder.

Tossing it to Bob Jake said, "This explains everything, read it over, follow the instructions to the letter and I will call you in a week. Be ready, I will only give you this opportunity one time, so if you don't answer my call or don't have your end wired, it's over. No second chances."

Jake finished his drink and stood up indicating to Bob it was time to leave.

Bob left, clutching the binder. He hurried to his car. As Bob was unlocking his car he was thinking about how to get $200,000 in cash in a week. As Bob drove home he realized he was just a little freaked out by the whole Slut Wrangler thing. But, he had to admit to himself, it was a way better option than whatever was in second place. As he walked in the door that Tuesday night it was to an empty house. This being Tuesday, it was Missy's cooking class night. She wouldn't be home til late.

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-- Inside the binder --

The cover letter;

Hello Bob,

In this binder there are;

FAQs

Payment information

Contract

NDA

Release/hold harmless agreement

After care instructions

Money Back Guarantee

Personal history forms

Biological sampling equipment with step by step instruction.

Customer experience survey (to be completed after slut return)

Hope you choose my services,

Jake

The Slut Wrangler

Bob open up to FAQs tab.

Q: How long will she be gone? A: 3 to 7 weeks

Q: Will she be safe? A: Everything The Slut Wrangler does will be consensual.

Q: How will I keep my slut in line? A: Each slut accepts 4 permanent piercings (THE BRAND), each hard wired to nerve bundles. Each brand (each nipple (rings), tongue and VCH (barbells)) contains biometric sensors which trigger based on the sensor data to deliver stimulation. There is a remote control feature to manually override/program the automatic responses. Yes, there is an APP for that (in APP purchases required) which include "manual" settings.

And the questions and answers went on for several pages. Bob flipped to the After Care section, he had questions about the annual maintenance and, well a whole slew of other issues. Eventual Bob started reading the contract. It was way over Bob's head. When his eyes glassed over, Bob knew he needed help.

Bob's good buddy, Frank, had been a lawyer. Frank was good at the lawyer part of his job. The part about keeping his grubby mitts off his client's escrow accounts? Alas, Frank was not so good at that part of the job.

After loosing his lawyer privileges, a 3 year stint in minimum security and the occasional beating from unhappy, broke ex-clients he finally settled in and is doing ok tending bar. He works at a dive bar on the shady side of the railroad tracks named "Church". Mac Toad, the owner, loved that his customer alway liked to say, "Honey, I'm headin' to Church!" then slip out for a quick drink or two.

Bob headed to Church.

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"Hey Frank!" Said Bob as he settled in to one of Church's bar stools.

Frank looked like exactly what he was, a washed up, boozed out ex lawyer who tended bar for a living. His eye were blood shot, his nose was bulbous and red.

"Bob! Damn man, long time no see. Whatca wanna drink?"

"Well, whatever you have handy is fine, except no Southern Comfort, please."

Frank pour two beers and gave one to Bob.

"Frank, the reason I am here is I need a lawyer to tell what I am about to sign. Could you take a look at this for me?"

Bob push over the binder across the bar at Frank.

Frank looked around the empty bar.

Bob said, "I'll pay you."

Frank walked to the front door. Locked it and turned off the open sign. Church was closed.

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At 8:19 pm one week to the night after meeting Jake, Bob's phone burped, the text read, "Are you ready to proceed?"

Bob texted "👍"

Bob was then startled by a knocking on his front door. When he answered the front door, there was Jake.

Over the next hour or so Jake and Bob went over the ins and outs of the arraignment in painstaking detail. Jake was insistent that Bob be fully informed. This wasn't Jake first rodeo. Husbands who found themselves dealing with their wife slutting it up were an unpredictable bunch, to say the least. So Jake felt it was important to get their buy in, step by step, throughout the entire process. After all, this would be a life changing arraignment for all of them. Bob, Missy and Jake. It was all legal and above board. Everything would be totally consensual. Jake, after all was a modern woke Slut Wrangler. As such, he was covering his ass legally. Bet your bottom dollar on that.

"Bob, one last time, are you sure about this? You do have other options. If we do this, it is done. No going back." Jake's ice cold blue eyes drove themselves deep into Bob's soul.

"Jake, a lot of this just turns my stomach. The way Missy treats me is totally unacceptable. Honestly, I sometimes feel like putting a bullet right between her beautiful green eyes. But, I know I would go down, and me doing one minute of time because of her? No fucking way. So, while there are parts of this I don't like, this is the best bad option. As such, yes. I am fully committed to seeing this through. So let's get this party started!".