The Transformation of Betty Ch. 13

As erotic as it might be to have one's wife be a whore who you can dress and display as you wish and have returned to you totally used, there are drawbacks. First, as a real whore, she was often called to service clients when I or Bill preferred to use her ourselves. From time to time we'd make her unavailable so she could satisfy us, but I felt obligated to make her as available as possible lest Albert lose interest in being her pimp. A second and self-evident drawback is the fact that the men who fucked her, even her regulars, were often less concerned about the issue of disease than I preferred. More times than I wanted she had a cock fill her with its seed. As much as she was told to insist on protection, she was still not a wholly professional whore ... once hot there were few rules she could follow. She wasn't letting herself be a whore for money ... it wasn't 'strictly business' ... but rather because I told her to be one and because she was turned on being one. Third, sharing her on a regular basis with Bill was in some ways taxing enough ... in all honestly, I felt at times obliged to use and fuck her lest she think I was losing interest ... but soon enough she developed a clientele at the hotel that sought to have her more often than I'd anticipated. Larry in particular, who'd fucked her with his friends seemed to be in town every other weekend asking for her. At first I didn't mind, since he used her in delicious ways. But his fetish, like mine, was to display her at the hotel bar or various restaurants, and I was increasingly concerned that he'd display her at places I didn't want her displayed. The last thing I wanted ... at least then ... was for my colleagues at the university to know my wife was a real life whore: Larry, though, cared little about that issue, and having paid good money for her services, felt it was his right to use and display her as he pleased.

Thus, Bill and I agreed that her time as a whore had to be cut short. Whether she was disappointed is difficult to say, but she had many of the same concerns as I. However, I did have one worry about terminating her 'occupation'; namely, that sex otherwise, as uninhibited as it was, would become routine. She'd been a whore, a stripper, a slut for a lesbian lover, a pain slut, shared by Bill with his friends and taken out of town as his traveling fuck toy. What more was there?

The answer, in fact, was subtle ... to make her more explicitly and more formally a submissive. This might seem a strange thing to those unfamiliar with D/s. But although to this point she had done what she was told to do, neither Bill nor I had set her in a context where she had to act formally as a sub 24/7 ... referring to us as Sir, wearing a collar, butt plug with tail and/or nipple clips and chain unless told to do otherwise, and greeting us (me in particular) at the door with all formalities. I hadn't honestly pushed this since the turn on for me, at least initially, was simply having her be a slut, having her fuck other men, making her submit to a lesbian lover, and displaying her publicly in the sluttiest clothes circumstances would allow. If I wanted to get hard and get off, it was sufficient to imagine her cumming, out of control, with another man's cock in her or to picture her in some public context dressed like a whore. In other words, to satisfy my fantasies, I had made her a slut and used her as a sub, but she was not yet fully trained as such.

Most critically, she fucked and let herself be fucked less because she was told to do so and more because she enjoyed being fucked and used. She loved the feeling of a man's cock being slid up into her ass, relished the sensation of cum warming her cunt, got off with incredible orgasms when pain was combined with pleasure, and craved pushing the limits of legality by being displayed publicly in as revealing a way as possible. Even when we took her up to Bill's bedroom or down to his basement to use her as a pain slut, she consented because she knew beforehand that whatever we did would ultimately result in some incredible orgasms and sessions of erotic pleasure. And I, for my part, simply enjoyed watching her cum. One might say, then, that I had been a careless or sloppy Dom since she didn't submit because her greatest pleasure was to satisfy me.

One of the problems one encounters, however, with a wife who allows everything and anything is, believe it or not, boredom. One needs to constantly search for new and different things, new and different ways to use her, new and different things to require of her. If your pleasure derives from variety, there is, unfortunately, only so much available. This was made all the more difficult, moreover, by the fact that Bill had moved to Europe whereas my teaching schedule made it virtually impossible to travel. Thus, I no longer had a readily available partner with which to share my wife, a man who knew what a slut she could be and who had no reservations about pushing her limits. In response to this and the desire to 'set things right' with respect to her training as a sub, I announced one day before leaving for work"when I return you will greet me wearing only your collar, heels and a plug in your ass with the tail."

I stated this command without explanation and without detailing how I expected her to behave in my presence from then on. She was, though, a quick study, and the directness of my words immediately put her into 'sub mode' so that she replied "Yes Sir" without comment.

Before leaving the office I called her and announced simply "I'm leaving the office. Is the plug in your ass?"

"Yes Sir, it is," she unemotionally replied.

"So your cunt will be wet when I get home?"

"It already is, Sir."

I'm not sure how my wife felt being so coldly treated. Ever since she had first been fucked by Bill I'd not played out fully the D/s lifestyle on anything approaching a 24/7 basis. She assumed the 'role' of sub only when things were explicitly sexual or when she was sent off to be fucked by others. Treating her as a sub even when I had no plan to fuck her or have her fucked was something new - a subtle, yet not inconsequential change. Among other things, I drove home with a stiff cock that needed release.

Upon arriving at home she greeted me at the door 'dressed' as directed. But instead of my usual warm kiss, I commanded, "on your knees slut ... take out my cock and suck it." I can't say whether she expected this, but she immediately did as told, kneeling before me, unzipping my pants and pulling out my already stiff cock.

"Finger fuck your cunt while you suck me" I ordered, and again, with her lips wrapped around my cock, she did as told until I could sense she was ready to cum (as was I, needless to say). "Cum slut ... cum," I commanded and that too she did quickly. Not wanting yet to cum, I pulled my cock from her mouth and commanded "stick your tongue out, slut, as if you were begging for my cock."

I decided it was time to instill in her, with a series of questions, her status as a 24/7 sub slut housewife. "You want my cock back in your mouth, don't you?"

"Yes Sir, I do."

"Because it gives you pleasure to make me cum and swallow my seed?"

"Yes Sir."

"Hold up your tits, slut, and squeeze them around my cock."

With but 34B tits, my wife wasn't endowed in a way that made it easy for her to smother a cock. Nevertheless, she put it between her firm petite globes and massaged my swollen member as best she could with them. But again, not wanting to cum too quickly, I commanded "stand up slut, get your tweezer clips."

Releasing my cock, it took her but a few minutes to retrieve the clips from the bedroom, whereupon, with my swollen cock still throbbing from the control I had over her, I told her to return to her knees and attach the first clip to a nipple. But rather than simply allow her to attach it so it was guaranteed not to fall off, I commanded "tighter slut ... tighter."

I could see the discomfort and then pain register on her face as she edged the bead up the clip. "Now the second tit, slut!"

Despite how painfully she had clamped her nipples, I leaned forward and pushed each bead up a few millimeters further, eliciting a gasping involuntary "owwwwwwwwww".

"When I tell you to tighten the clamps on your tits, slut, you will tighten them as I have just done!"

With something of a pleading look in her eyes, she failed to give any verbal reply ... surprised, perhaps, by my evident insensitivity to her pain.

Admittedly, it still seemed a little strange to treat her as a full sub slut slave and have her submissively respond in kind. But I enjoyed my power over her and it seemed as if she enjoyed granting me that power. Its difficult to fully describe and account for the pleasure I derived from making her a slave for my private pleasure. But I'd felt these feelings before whenever I fucked her and treated her harshly, and they were all the more intense whenever Bill and I used her in his apartment and trained her as a pain slut or when we simply made her beg to be fucked or allowed to cum. A good part of my pleasure derived from the fact that she herself enjoyed such things. She might cry, scream or beg, but her orgasms always seemed far more intense than when she was used in some softer way.

Now however my pleasure came from simply extending my control over her. There she was, on her knees, my dutiful loving wife with her tits painfully clamped, submissive, subservient, yet her cunt dripping in anticipation of what I might have her do next. And therein was the problem ... I wasn't sure what I wanted to have her do. I hadn't really thought things out past this point. 'What does one do with a slave when she has for the most part done just about everything you've told her to do?' She'd allowed herself to be fucked for the sluttiest dresses, and then worn them unashamedly in public. She consented to being a whore. She'd allowed herself to become a stripper and a lesbian lover. And on any number of occasions she willingly went to Bill's apartment, knowing she could be taken to his bedroom or basement, to be used in some deliciously harsh way. Absent, then, any other ideas at the time, I decided that perhaps more subtle acts of surrender were required of her.

"We're going to a university reception tomorrow night, and you, as usual, will go as the prim, proper dutiful faculty housewife."

"Yes, of course" she replied, since doing so was part of our normal routine.

"And you will of course wear your usual butt plug."

"Yes Sir," she replied since there was nothing new in that command.

"There will be one subtle change, however, in what you'll wear ... you'll wear a pair of your 5" slut pumps."

Surprise immediately registered but again she dutifully answered 'yes Sir.' Her pumps were not quite as explicitly slutty as any of her 6" platforms or boots, but they were not the sort of shoe a typical faculty wife wore, where even 4" heels might be considered sexy if not a tad provocative. They were made all the more sexy, moreover, by the ankle strap that buckled in front. I had, nevertheless, always been tempted to see who among those at the university could 'read a subtle signal' and conclude that my wife was something more than a sweet innocent wife.

It was true that she was far less formally educated than many of the wives who attended such receptions. Thus she never engaged in those inane pseudo-intellectual conversations that wives sometimes engaged in. And not having children removed her from any debate over the pros or cons of this pediatrician or another. More often than not, then, her conversations were with other men -- faculty or the husbands of the secretaries and staff in attendance (this, of course, was at a time when the number of female faculty at the university approached zero). It had to be the case, then, that despite her proper appearance, one or more of my colleagues had to have had an 'impure' thought or two about her. I was perhaps time to see who they might be even if they never actually were afforded the pleasure of fucking her.

Her attire for the reception was decidedly conservative -- an ankle length skirt, button up and not-in-any-way-sheer blouse, matching jacket and simple diamond stud earrings. Outwardly, then, all that marked her as something other than a typical faculty wife were her shoes ... black 5" pumps with an ankle strap that, in a different skirt and top, might mark her as a whore.

The reception itself was like any other ... two or three dozen couples (there were few unmarried faulty then) standing about in various clusters, drinking, conversing about who-knows-what. I can't say we knew anyone well ... surely none intimately. But immediately upon entering, I separated from my wife, leaving her to find her own social niche. That niche turned out to consist of Charles, a senior prof from the law school, his wife, and Allen, the husband of one of the older members of our department's staff.

Things, admittedly, seemed wholly uneventful thru most of the evening, except when I cornered my wife alone and asked her how things were going.

"Nothing exciting, but Allen did comment on my shoes ... told me they were very sexy."

Recalling who she had been taking to, I asked if Charles had been there when Allen made that comment.

"Yes, but not his wife. I was talking to just the two men. They seemed especially interested in how we met, when we were married, and so on."

"What did Charles say when Allen made his comment?"

"Nothing, he just smiled."

"And what did you say to Allen after he complimented you on your shoes?"

"I just smiled too, and said thank you."

Devilish thoughts percolated in my head: "Find Allen or Charles again and see if you can't continue talking with either of them." And then I added "How does your ass feel?"

"It feels full Sir," she replied, and I have to admit that I derived some pleasure from hearing, in the context of a university reception, her submissive response. It seemed out of context, and thereby especially erotic.

"Good ... now go see if the men would like to talk again with you. And be as friendly as you dare."

I had no specific plan in mind and wasn't in the least bit sure if either man had carnal interests. I did notice though that Allen's wife hadn't come to the reception. Allen was a man of accomplishment on his own ... a successful lawyer whose wife worked at the university not for the money but for the opportunity to exist in an environment different than her husband's. Nevertheless, he came on his own since he knew so many of the people there, including those from the law school. But directing her to him (and she surely knew that if the opportunity arouse, I would let him fuck her) made an otherwise boring evening a little more exciting, at least for me.

Less than a half hour later I caught sight of my wife sitting on a sofa talking to Allen ... a delicious image since I knew the plug was pushing deep into her ass when she sat. I also noticed, moreover, how Allen's eyes continually drifted down to her feet, to her fuck me heels, and the buckled ankle strap that was now clearly visible when she crossed her legs. Clearly, Allen would only love to slip his cock into my otherwise prim and proper wife. Interestingly, Charles soon joined them on the sofa, sandwiching my wife between them, and I surmised that he was having thoughts that were no less salacious than Allen's, as his eyes too kept moving down to those shoes. More than I had hoped ... perhaps even more than I'd thought likely ... those shoes were telling these two men that my wife had a secret erotic side that both of them could imagine themselves exploring.

All good things, though, must end and soon enough the reception began to break up, wherein Charles left my wife and Allen to escort his own wife out. Allen lingered a bit longer, and although he'd rise from the sofa to say goodby to someone he knew, he would immediately sit back down and forgo the opportunity to disengage himself from his conversation with my wife. Clearly, though, there was nothing to do or that could be done that night ... his wife was home and expected him shortly. She didn't come to the reception only so she could entertain her out-of-town sister, visiting for the weekend.

Our own ride home was brief, but long enough for me to ask "you'd fuck Allen and Charles if I arranged it, wouldn't you?"

"Of course ... you know I would."

"In what way were you especially friendly toward Allen?" I asked out of curiosity since I was never able to hear the content of their conversations.

"Well, when we were on the sofa, he let his leg move against mine, and I didn't pull back."

"And did he keep his leg against yours?"

"Yes he did .. I think he even pressed it a little harder over time and I pressed back against him. It was all very subtle."

"So he wants to fuck you?"

"Yes, I sure he does."

"Good, because if he tries to arrange it or if I can arrange it, you will fuck him."

"Yes Sir," was her automatic reply.

"And what about Charles? Does he want to fuck you?"

"I'm don't know. He surely seemed attentive and friendly. He really didn't have to come over to the sofa when I was talking to Allen, but he did. Of course, he knows Allen well and he may have wanted to talk to him."

"How's you cunt now, slut?"

"Its very wet Sir."

"Talking to Allen and Charles with the plug in your ass keep you wet, slut?"

"Yes Sir, it did."

It was about then that we arrived at our house, but as soon as we entered, I commanded "On your knees, slut."

"Yes Sir."

"Raise your skirt up so I can see your cunt."

"Yes Sir" she replied, struggling a bit to do as told.

"You want Allen and Charles to fuck you?"

"Yes Sir."

"What do you want them to do to you?"

"To fuck me ... to fuck me hard, Sir."

"No slut, be more specific!"

"I ... I ... I want them to shove their cocks into me and to fill me with their seed, Sir."

"Do you want their cocks in your ass so you can be made their bitch?"

"Yes ... yes Sir ... in my ass."

'Did you sit there on the sofa with Allen and imagine that it was his cock and not your plug fucking you?"

"Yes, I did Sir ... I imagined he was fucking me or soon going to fuck me in my ass."

"Show me how much you want to fuck them."

"How Sir, how can I show you?"

"Finger your cunt and make yourself cum ... fast" I commanded.

I don't think it took my wife more than a minute for her first orgasm -- an orgasm that was strong enough that she had to use one hand to stay balanced on her knees while her other hand unashamedly pleasured her cunt.

That night, of course, my wife had to be "punished" for being such a slut. So with her hands tied to her ankles, bare ass in the air, she felt the full force of the riding crop against her delicious ass. I can't say I'm a sadist, but there always was an intrinsic pleasure watching her quiver and convulse uncontrollably each time the crop landed with a crack. And this time I combined that with a bit of training.

"You want to fuck Allen, don't you?" ... Crack!

"Ahhhhhhhhhhh ... yesssssssssssss."

"Fuck him like a whore ...?" .... Crack!

"Ysssssssssssssssssssss"

"You'll milk every seed from his balls, won't you? ... Crack!

"Ysssssssssssssssssss."

"You'll show him that you're a total slut, not some prim and proper faculty wife, won't you?" ... Crack!

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh .... yessssssssssssssssss."

"And how about Charles ... you want to fuck him too?" .... Crack!

"Yssssssssssssssssssssssss ..."

"To be a whore, a whore for both of them?" .... Crack!

"Ysssssssssssssssssssssss ..."

"And if I told you to tell them that you wanted them to piss on you, to piss in you, to whip you, you would ... to let them know what an unashamed uninhibited slut you are, right?" ... Crack!