The Transformation of Betty A05

My orgasm and the fact that I was so readily being a total slut in bed for him emboldened Alex who then stated, in part a question "I bet you'd love it if I invited my friends to fuck you too?"

In my present state with a cock deep in my ass and still in the heat of an orgasmic passion what else could I say but "oh god yesssssssssssss ... please ... yessssssssssssss let your friends fuck me."

It was surely then that Alex came to fully understand what a total slut he'd found in Vegas and the opportunity for fulfilling a variety of sexual fantasies with me. Most likely at the blackjack table he probably envisioned enjoying little more than a quick illicit fuck with someone's wife. Now he found himself with a married woman who seemed to have no limit to her ability to cum, who craved being fucked in any and all her holes, who begged to be shared with his friends ... and all, apparently, with a husband who wanted his wife used as a slut. He replied directly "I know they'll love fucking you," whereupon he came a second time.

Now I have to tell you that Alex's mentioning of his friends and the prospect if inviting them to fuck me only ignited my passion further if that were possible. I could easily have stayed in his room as long as he wanted me, and would have even have suggested that he invite his friends then and there to fuck me. However, if my husband and I followed any rule when he took me out of town to be a whore, it was that we'd reconnect when we promised to reconnect, and the time was fast approaching when my husband expected me in our room. I wasn't though, about to leave things to chance and asked Alex "Shall we all meet .. you, your friends ... for dinner?"

Wanting to make certain he understood everything perfectly, he asked directly "So you want me to invite my friends to meet you. You realize that if I do it will be so they too can fuck you?"

"Oh god yessssss ... I want to be your slut and their slut for as long as you want me here in Vegas. Feel free to share me with whoever you want."

"OK, then I'll call them while you return to your husband." But then he added "what about your husband and dinner?"

"That's up to you," I replied. "He can either join us or not."

"You don't think it would be strange for him to have dinner with men who plan to spend the night fucking his wife?"

"Well, it might be strange, but it would actually turn him on. Shall we let him decide?"

Alex admitted this was all new to him: "I've never fucked another man's wife with the knowledge and approval of her husband. As a matter of fact, I've never fucked another man's wife, period."

I made some joke about new experiences being good for him, gave him a deep passionate kiss, and told him I'd see him in the casino lobby around 7:00 and I hoped to meet his friends. It occurred to me then that I had no idea how many friends Alex was referring to. Rather than ask, I decided to leave that as a surprise, and headed to the elevator for the ride down to our room. I was, I'll admit, absolutely glowing then. I had Alex's seed in my cunt and ass, and still felt the sensations of his cock in me. This was indeed evolving as our best out-of-town trip ever. In any event, my husband was in the room eagerly awaiting my arrival and a report on what I'd experienced with Alex's. I gave him a brief description, and then told him it was beginning to look as if I'd be spending the rest of the weekend with Alex ... and possibly several of his friends.

My husband, as much as I, was delighted at how things were working out, especially after I told him I was meeting up with Alex and possibly some of his friends for dinner. When I asked if he wanted to join us, he hesitated, then said that since all cards were on the table, why not: "They know you're a slut and that I want you to be a well-fucked one, so it might be fun having them meet and talk to the husband of the wife they'll be spending the weekend with."

We then discussed what I should wear and agreed it needed to be something that let Alex's friends know he wasn't exaggerating when telling them what an eager and wanton bitch in heat I was. Wearing something truly erotic in the company of my husband when being introduced to men he knew were intent on fucking me could only signal to them his acceptance of everything and should put them at ease. The perfect dress, then, was an ultra short red one with a plunging neckline and sheer top. More than even my unbuttoned semi-sheer blouse, it was designed for one thing: To put a woman's tits on display when she's being advertised as a slut. "They'll have a hard time not fucking you then and there in the restaurant," my husband commented ... which, of course, was precisely the desire he and I wanted to generate with Alex and his friends.

I cannot say what thoughts go thru a husband's head when his wife wears something that advertises herself as a slut or whore for men she hopes to fuck, but as for this wife ... me ... it's an incredibly intense turn on. Every decision ... which dress to wear, what shade of lipstick to use, what pair of shoes to put on, which pair of earrings to use ... becomes a sexual act. My level of excitement and arousal increases with each choice in anticipation of how men will respond. Not only did I want them to lust for me, I wanted to do all that I could to give them rock hard erections thru dinner in anticipation of making me their fuck toy. I may have been sexually submissive and craved being owned and dominated, but I also truly enjoyed making men fantasize about using me with wild abandon. When I dressed pornographically for Bill, I did so not simply because I was obedient, but also because more often than not I knew he'd introduce me to men he planned on having me fuck. It turned me on to be as desirably erotic for them as possible, all in anticipation of how motivated they'd be to fuck another man's wife who so shamelessly put herself on display for them. The fact that my husband generally saw how I was dressed or, when going out of town, the erotic attire I packed in my suitcase only added to my excitement. He wanted me to be a slut, he talked me into being a slut and so now I wanted him to see how shameless his wife had become.

Now with Alex and his friends, whoever they might be, my arousal was at a peak in anticipation of my husband seeing first-hand the reactions of men for whom I'd be a fuck toy as soon as dinner ended. Dinner was certain to be heavily laced with sexual overtones ... every comment, every spoken word was guaranteed to have sexual meaning ... and I'll admit that adding to my arousal was the fact that my husband would be there to see and hear it all.

I was, then, disappointed to find only Alex waiting for us, but after an innocuous introduction between him and my husband, he said he'd call his friends after dinner. They'd made prior commitments before Alex met me and couldn't break them. Alex assured me, though, that they were eager to join us later that evening at the casino's nightclub. Dinner itself was mildly uneventful but did become sexual when Alex asked how our lifestyle began, revealing an evident curiosity as to my previous status as a collared slut. He was especially curious as to the full meaning of me being not merely a slut, but a sub slut. He said that he had little experience with the kinkier aspects of sex, and my husband appeared to take that as an invitation to provided details about my life with Bill. While having me openly admit that I liked anything but conventional sex, he knew that the more explicit the conversation became the more turned on I'd become.

And he was doing something else: He was offering me to Alex as a BDSM slut. Now again you might ask how I felt sitting there having my husband telling someone with whom I'd soon be spending the night that I could be made to cum while being whipped, that I was accustomed to almost all forms of bondage, that I was often shared by Bill and frequently introduced as a married whore to men, that if Alex shared me with his friends it wouldn't be the first time I'd experienced several cocks at once, and that the dress I was wearing wasn't the most pornographically erotic one I'd been publicly displayed in. Keep in mind, though, that from that first night when I surrendered to the idea of being a hot wife with Bill, Bill set out to have all of my inhibitions stripped from me. Just as my husband was now describing my experiences, Bill had graphically and in my presence recounted to him each step in my training and transformation. Having to forthrightly tell your husband how many men you'd fucked that weekend or week, how they fucked you, how readily and often you came does ultimately strip you of any sense of modesty and shame.

Thus, while I may have experienced an occasional touch of embarrassment as my experiences and sexual tastes were openly and frankly discussed, I sat there primarily wanting dinner to end so I could meet Alex's friends and experience what would follow inevitably thereafter. Their conversation, in other words, made me little more than a super-horny whore wherein it wouldn't take much to make me cum.

Dinner finally did end whereupon Alex excused himself for 15 or 20 minutes so that he could contact his friends after agreeing that we'd all meet at the entrance to the casino's nightclub lounge. In those few minutes as my husband and I walked in the direction of the club, he asked if I was looking forward to the night.

There was, of course, only one possible answer to that: "Oh god yes!"

"And if Alex wants you for the weekend ...?" What could I say to that but "Oh yesssss ...I hope he does."

Our conversation was cut short, though, when we met up again with Alex, accompanied now by two other men who I found no less attractive than Alex himself. Their eyes immediately scanned me from head to toe, focusing for an instant on my barely disguised tits. With minimal introductions, we immediately entered the casino's somewhat dimly lit club with my husband suggesting a table near the dance floor. Alex ordered a round of drinks then took my hand to lead me out onto the dance floor. It was still early in the evening by Las Vegas standards so the club and the dance floor were sparsely populated. Thus, I remained in full view of my husband and Alex's friends while dancing. Given what Alex must have told his friends, in combination with how I was dressed, I pretty much knew what the conversation would be about at the table in my absence: My husband was sure to give Alex's friends no less an inventoried run down of my sexual history and tastes than he'd given Alex, including assurances that despite being my husband he wanted me to be a well-fucked slut that night.

Eager to be precisely that and to validate whatever description of me he gave them, I danced as salaciously with Alex as circumstances allowed. Letting Alex pull me tightly against him, one of his hands resting on my ass and the other now holding my hand against one of my tits, Alex came directly to the point: "Are you going to be our slut tonight?"

"God yessss ... a slut for all of you ...," I replied, and then added "for as long as you want me" so as to encourage him to keep me as his slut for the duration of his stay in Vegas.

"A slut we can fuck all night?"

"Yessss ... all night ... a slut you can fuck all weekend if you wish ..."

Despite how wet I'd become, I was sufficiently aware of my surroundings to know that Alex was positioning us so his friends could see his hands on my ass and my tit ... could see that I wasn't dancing with him the way a 'normal' wife might dance with another man in front of her husband. But then, to underscore things with me, he whispered into my ear "I plan on making you our slut for the next three days".

I was virtually melting on the dance floor and if it wouldn't have gotten us arrested or thrown out of the casino, I'd have asked him fuck me right there. I wanted Alex's cock in me so badly I had to consciously resist the temptation to reach down and free it from his pants: "Oh god yes, I want you and your friends to fuck me .. fuck me hard and as long as you want me."

Suddenly, one of Alex's friends ... Sal I think ... broke in to replace Alex and lead me around the dance floor. , whereupon he made it immediately apparent that my husband had given him a blank check on using me: "so you love letting other men fuck you ... love being a married slut for your husband."

I repeated the responses and assurances of my desires I'd just given Alex. Sal didn't have me on the dance floor for more than 5 or 10 minutes before Alex's second friend, Ed, broke in, who then let me know directly that in graphic terms my husband had in effect whored me at the table.

By then, of course, my mind was no longer focused on any conversation ... I simply wanted to be taken to a room so the men could fuck my brains out. Nevertheless I responded to Ed by assuring him that we'd come to Vegas for the explicit purpose of getting me fucked, that I'd been a slut and occasional whore for my husband for years, and I'd love it if he, Alex and Sal used me as their personal slut for all the time they were in Vegas.

Before that would happen, Alex cut in one last time and as we danced tightly together he pushed aside the fabric covering my tits so as to totally uncover them: "Your husband offered you to us for the next three days. Are you prepared to be our whore beginning tonight?"

All I felt at that point was unmitigated lust, and with the juices of my cunt seemingly about to run down my legs, what else could I say but "yessss ... pleaseeeee ... make me your whore."

Alex himself had to be getting eager for a repeat of the afternoon, and returning to our table, said simply "shall we go upstairs?"

He may have assumed we'd go to his room, but instead my husband replied: "let's go to my room first. You can take the slut to yours later."

There were several meanings to this invitation. First, with my husband referring to me now as "slut", he'd clearly abandoned viewing me as his wife and and was, in effect, encouraging Alex and his friends to no longer view him as my husband but rather as simply yet a fourth man eager to fuck me. But there was a second and more ominous implication. I knew he'd included a few toys in his suitcase - a riding crop, a leather bondage collar, wrist and ankle cuffs, and some nipple clamps. Thus, his invitation to our room revealed his plan to demonstrate the use of these toys on me for the benefit of the men I'd be serving for the next three days. I wasn't merely going to be their fuck toy ... he intended that I serve as their BDSM slut.

I suppose it goes without saying that I was not only not surprised by this, but excited as well. The next three days were shaping up to be something far more than a mere sequence of ultimately routine fucks with random men.

Heading directly to our room from the lounge, all I recall about that brief trip was Alex uncovering my tits in the elevator and having me walk the length of the hall to our room with my tits displayed for anyone who might suddenly appear. No one did appear, but as soon as we entered the room my husband, again emphasizing my status as a mere slut as opposed to his wife, commanded me "to your knees slut, and suck our cocks."

Doing as told, I released each man's already rock hard cock in sequence and sucked by letting them slide into my throat. However, when I approached Alex, he instead tossed me onto the bed after stripping me of my dress, moved between my legs and after announcing "this is what the slut enjoyed this afternoon," shoved his cock up into my cunt.

Given the state I was in, I doubt it took more than 2 or 3 thrusts of his cock to make me cum.

With Alex still between my legs and his cock in me, my husband interrupted things somewhat by retrieving the wrist and ankle cuffs from his suitcase and had Ed and Sal attach them to me while Alex continued to slowly fuck me. I have to tell you ... the sensation of Alex's engorged cock inside me while other men's hands buckled the cuffs to my wrists and ankles was utterly intensely erotic. I was at that point prepared for anything and everything and wanted to be used in any and every way a slut could be used.

Without suggestion from anyone, once the cuffs were firmly attached, Alex pulled out of me, turned me over onto my stomach, and had each wrist attach to my corresponding ankle. However, with my ass now in the air but before Alex could remount me and fuck me like the bitch in heat I now was, my husband retrieved the riding crop and, handing it to Alex, told him to use it on me.

The two cracks Alex administered were stinging, but not nearly as hard as my husband knew I'd experienced with Bill. "No, let me show you what this bitch likes," he said, taking the crop from Alex. Two brutal and searing cracks across my ass caused me to gasp in pain, whereupon he shoved the crop's handle into my cunt and began fucking me with it.

It was at this point that I began loosing all coherent thought. My ability to account for things thereafter was wholly eliminated when I was turned over onto my back and, with the crop still in my cunt, someone ... my husband presumably ... attached the nipple clamps to my swollen nipples. I'd by then lost all coherent thought and memory of what precisely occurred. With the clamps being tightened and my cunt and/or ass being fucked in one way or another, I can't recall when I came, how many times I came, how long I was fucked or even who or what fucked me. As Bill and the men he whored me to had done countless times, I was now little more than a pure creature of unrestrained erotic pleasure who could be made to cum almost at will by the men using me. The mind-numbing sensations that were now raging thru me were the reasons I had so easily let Bill transform me into his slut, the reasons I abandoned my marriage vows and let myself become a whore. Experiencing what I was then experiencing was why I'd come to Vegas, while the chance of seeing me in such a state was why my husband brought me here and so readily gave me to Alex and his friends.

One thing, though, about that evening was clear: My husband quite clearly sought to demonstrate to Alex and his friends what an insatiable and unrestrained slut he had for a wife. I not only resisted nothing, I'm sure I cried out at times to be fucked and used harder. More than that, I responded shamelessly to everything by cumming, moaning and screaming in pleasure, and then cumming again in what at times seemed a continuous orgasm.

All good things, though, must end, especially after the men had all shot their loads of cum into or onto me. As I lay there on the bed, recovering, my wrists were disconnected from my ankles. I then heard my husband tell them "the slut is yours now ... take her to your room and enjoy her."

I was stood up, had my dress put back on by someone, and then felt the bondage collar my husband had packed being buckled tightly around my neck. Despite all that I'd just experienced, the sensation of the collar tightening around my neck sent a shiver of erotic anticipation through me. Now there may be those of you who might wonder why this was the case - and why in general a woman would consent to wearing a collar that openly advertises her as a BDSM slut. In this specific instance I felt as if my husband was once again giving me away as he had done with Bill. For me at least at that moment it meant he was doing something subtly more than whoring me to Alex; he was inviting him to make me his sub slut and he was inviting Ed and Sid to use me as such under Alex's direction.

My husband didn't merely want me fucked ... he wanted Alex to make me his utterly compliant and obedient sex slave. It came as no surprise to me, then, when my husband handed Alex the riding crop and told him "here, make good use of this," then adding "If it's convenient, have her returned to me for breakfast, say around 9AM, so that she can tell me how you, Sid and Ed used her thru the night". Thus he let everyone, including me, know that I now belonged to Alex.