The Transformation of Betty Ch. 13

"Ohhhhhhhhh .. Y ... yssssssssssssssss"

"And if I want it, we'll let them know that you've been a whore, a real whore, and a stripper, won't we?" .... Crack!

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh goddddddddddddddd ......... ysssssssssssss."

Three additional hard cracks of the crop followed in rapid succession, raising crimson red welts across her tender ass. Tears ran onto the bedsheet, but she made no attempt to (as futile as it would have been anyhow) to escape. The fifth crack of the crop brought an uncontrolled trickle of piss from her cunt as its sting stripped all control from her. Then, with one last crack of the crop, I shoved the handle into her ass and began to fuck her with it until she let out that telltale quivering moan that told me she was cumming. It might seem that my treatment of her then was overly harsh, sadistic even. But with her first cum, I pulled the crop for her ass and replaced it with my cock. And as I thrust hard and deep, she began the ongoing moan and wail "ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh ....ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh ... aieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee" that announced her near continuous orgasm.

Looking down at the spent slut on my bed, a trickle of my cum leaking form her well-used asshole, I knew I was in somewhat dangerous territory by contemplating bringing my work so close to our sex life. If commanded to do so, my wife would fuck whoever I told her to fuck, including my colleagues from work But I found the prospect irresistible, especially since I was certain that if either Charles or Allen fucked her -- two married men with valuable and vulnerable careers -- they'd have every incentive to be discrete. However, I had no strategy on how to arrange such a thing. I certainly wouldn't call either and offer her to them. What if I'd misread the signals and they said no? What if Allen, bored with the reception, had been doing nothing more than engaging in a little vicarious pleasure by flirting with my wife?

In fact, I didn't have to plan anything. Allen called on his own almost exactly one week later. He was hosting a dinner and the local country club (one we certainly couldn't afford to join) for several of his clients the following Saturday, and he invited us to joint him: "There may be some people there who'd be of interest to you in your research" he offered as a rationalization for the invitation. But then he added "my wife can't attend ... she'll be out of town on family business."

I can put 2 and 2 together as well as anyone. The invitation may not have been unusual, but in the context of the special attention he paid my wife at the reception and his pointed remark that his wife couldn't attend, left me with the conclusion that he was far more interested in having my wife attend than me.

By next morning I'd decided what she'd wear. The trick was finding a magical compromise between proper and suggestive. Her attire would begin with the same 5" pumps that attracted Allen's attention in the first place. If he assumed she was a potentially wayward or even a shared housewife on the basis those shoes, far be it for me to correct his assumption. But since I didn't know who else would be at his gathering, some propriety was in order although surely not to the same degree as at a university reception. So although she'd again wear an ankle length skirt, this one would deliciously hug the crack and curve of her ass as it moved down to caress the backs of her thighs ... not quite a hobble skirt, but very nearly so. Then there was her blouse ... feminine and not sheer but one whose buttons up to a sexy-but-not-slutty ruffled neckline could be unbuttoned as circumstances dictated. The final touch was what she'd wear beneath skirt and blouse ... a thong and shelf bra. The thong would be the same color as the skirt, but its outline ... what there was of it that didn't disappear into the crack of her ass ... would be dimly perceived beneath the tight fitting skirt. The same was true of the shelf bra I'd have her wear, except that that little number deliciously pushed her tits up without covering nipples that were sure to be hard at the prospect of having yet a new cock shoved into her. Finally, instead of the little diamond chip earrings she normally wore when being proper, large dangling hoops would be in order. So there she'd be, not explicitly provocative, but with a clear hint of sexuality ... not a faculty wife, but a woman who clearly enjoyed being sexually attractive to men.

During the week leading to the dinner, I made my wife fashion her behavior in a wholly formal D/s way, as she had been before the university reception. Allowed to wear only a collar, heels and plug with a tail when home, she greeted me at the door every day when I returned from the office, making herself available to be fucked as soon as I entered. Thus, on more than one occasion, I'd lead her to the kitchen table, command her 'assume the position' (bent forward over the table, hands gripping the sides, legs spread), I'd fuck her before eating. Throughout the week, moreover, I primed her for seeing Allen again just as I had the night we returned from the university reception: "You're going to be very friendly to all of the men at dinner, won't you?"

"Yes Sir, I will."

"And if any of them, by chance, hints at or tries to make an arrangement to fuck you, you will not discourage them, will you?"

"No Sir, I won't."

"You understand, of course, that I want you to fuck as many men as possible, right?"

"Yes Sir, I know that ... its what I want as well."

"And why do you want men to fuck you, slut?"

"Because that's what you want Sir ... and because I enjoy being a slut, your slut, Sir."

With my cock typically at this point pushed deep into her ass, I'd continued: "does it make you wet to think that Allen or his friends might someday do to you what Bill has done?"

"Yes Sir, it does ... I am a slut who needs to be used."

"And if that includes whipping you, clamping your tits, humiliating you, and using you while tied helpless ...?"

"Yes Sir .. I need those things ... to be a good slut, to be the best slut possible for you, Sir."

As one can judge from her answers, my wife readily assumed the role of formal sub slut. Indeed, as strange as her answers might seem to some ... extreme and perhaps even unnatural ... uttering them turned her on. She had come to relish the opportunity to be totally sexually subservient ... to prostrate herself totally before me and for me. Just as a Dom or Domme lives off the power his or her position affords them, a true sub experiences at least an equal degree of pleasure from doing and saying the things that express her status. Indeed, at another time my wife, in frank conversation, acknowledged that not only did my salacious and often humiliating questions excite her, but she relished the opportunity to give wholly subservient answers that portrayed her as a total unashamed slut. The more humiliating my questions and the more submissive and even self-deprecating her responses, the greater was her excitement. "I suppose," she said, "that its all much like foreplay. The more salacious the questions and the more humiliating and submissive my answers have to be, the more turned on I become."

In any event, we arrived at Allen's club a little after 6PM, and found two other couples and one otherwise unattached man already in attendance. The couples were Allen's clients while the other man was a lawyer in his firm. We gathered initially in the lounge, standing about making introductions and sitting for a glass of wine before it was time to move to the dining room. And when it was time to be seated for dinner, and it hardly passed my notice that Allen made certain my wife sat next to him at the round table.

Admittedly, I wondered beforehand whether Allen's little group consisted of people who were all sexually active among themselves and that my wife and I had been invited in the hopes that we'd join them. That thought stayed with me initially when I met the people Allen had invited. All were at least 20 years older than my wife and I, and it wasn't unreasonable to suppose that we'd been invited to bring 'new blood' into their group. However, as the dinner progressed, there wasn't the slightest hint of anything sexual in the conversations ... it was all business, although as at the university reception, Allen made certain he engaged my wife in his conversations.

What I didn't know then, however, was that Allen had, as at the reception, pressed his knee against my wife's leg under the table. And my wife, of course, returned the 'favor', doing as she had been told, by pressing back ever so subtly. So even before our main entre arrived, Allen knew he was going to fuck my wife somehow, someday ... that this prim and proper faculty wife, who came to dinner dressed to seduce, was anything but that. What he didn't know then, though, was that I had directed her to allow herself to be seduced and fucked..

By the time dessert arrived my wife and Allen were subtly playing 'footsie' beneath the table. Well, not exactly footsie since both had their shoes on, but as my wife later recounted, a minute didn't go buy when Allen's leg wasn't pressed firmly against hers, moving ever so subtly as best he could against her.

My greatest fear then was that Allen would assume my wife was simply proposing to cheat on me, that I was just another one of those husbands who strongly disapprove of his young sweet innocent mate fucking another man. The question, then, was how to communicate her unlimited availability. I assumed then that I might have to settle for having him call her some afternoon and propose a laison (he surely had enough signals by then to know she'd accept), but I was horny enough to want something sooner. And once again, fate ... or rather, foresight on Allen's part ... intervened.

Once dinner concluded, and after a short period of banal conversation, both other couples excused themselves for the night. They had never intended to stay much longer than they did. I wasn't sure at that point what would be proper, but at about that time, in an adjoining room, we could hear the music of a small band. Unbeknownst to me, Saturday nights at the club included not only dinner but dancing. We continued to sit there in our friendly chit-chat for the next 15 minutes of so, whereupon Allen asked my wife if she'd like to dance? The two of them then disappeared in the adjoining room while I and Allen's partner discussed thing I can no longer recall.

They returned ten minutes of so later, whereupon Allen suggested that we move to the room with the band (it was, in fact, a second lounge). Allen's partner, though, excused himself, saying his wife was expecting him home soon. And so with that, Allen, my wife and I retired to a small round table and a darkened corner of the club's dancing lounge.

As soon as a new round of drinks were ordered, Allen led my wife to a dance floor populated by a dozen or so middle aged couples. I wondered if he knew anyone there, but he gave no indication of that. Slowly he led my wife about the dance floor, and I noticed him slowly lowering his hand at her back until before the dance ended, his hand rested firmly on her ass. However, rather than return to the table when the dance ended, she stood there in his embrace, chatting, smiling face to face, his hand remaining on her ass, until the next song began. Now holding her tight, her head rested on his shoulder, while his other hand, ostensibly holding hers tightly between them, was in fact cupping and subtly massaging her tit. This is not, of course, what one normally does with another man's wife with the husband in attendance. It was obvious, then, that she had told him she had my permission to fuck him ... that she was, minimally, a shared wife whose husband took pleasure in having other men use her. Clearly, Allen was going to fuck her that night!

After that dance, they returned to the table but my wife, doubtlessly sensing that Allen and I had something to talk about, excused herself for the restroom. And immediately Allen proceeded with a bluntness that was part of his craft: "Your wife said you share her with other men and I can see from your reaction to how we danced that she's correct."

"Yes, I do."

"I'll admit, I wanted to fuck her the first time I saw her. I guessed she was a hot little number at the university reception when I saw the shoes she was wearing."

"I knew you wanted to fuck her and that's why we accepted your invitation to dinner ... so you could seduce her. Or rather, so she could seduce you."

"Well, then we're on the same page. And I could tell by how she was dressed tonight that she came to seduce or be seduced."

"Yes, she dressed as I directed her," giving Allen a hint that she more than simply a shared wife.

Allen, picking up on the implication of that, asked "Has she fucked many men for you and does she fuck whoever you tell her to fuck?"

"Yes and yes," I answered. And then opening the door to the fact that she was a sub slut, "I should add that she only fucks when I let her. "

"I have to admit, I knew at the dinner table that she was available to be fucked. And so when I took her to dance that first time while you chatted with my partner, I proposed that she and I meet at some motel later that week. But she assured me there was no need to be secretive ... that you brought her to the dinner for the express purpose of sharing her with me." And then he added, "what are the rules under which you share her?"

"There are very few rules," I replied, sensing that this was the time to more fully reveal how much of a sub and a slut she was. "No drugs, no children of course, nothing that would get her arrested," and then I added, hoping to signal her availability as a BDSM slut, "no permanent physical damage."

"Hmmmmm ... your wife is quite attractive ... erotic even ...I have to be discrete of course ... my wife will know nothing of this."

"That suits us. We have to be discrete as well. I can't let people at the university know of our sexual tastes."

"Yes, same here ... up to a point."

"Up to a point?" I asked, already suspecting the answer.

"Well, I can imagine that one or two of my partners and clients might be interested in your wife as well."

Allen was certainly being bold here, proposing, in effect, to share my wife with others even before he had actually fucked her himself. But I guess I had led him to that and in any event I wasn't about to object to what he was suggesting. "All of that can be arranged. Naturally, being discrete is essential." And then I added, "will those who were here tonight be among those she might be shared with?"

"Possibly. I'm sure the men found her a delicious morsel. I know my partner has been anything but faithful to his wife, and I'll bet he'd hardly refuse a chance to fuck her. But I can't say for certain who or when I'd approach anyone with any such proposition." Then he added, "by the way, I think one of the women at the office is a lesbian. Are there any limits there with respect to your wife?"

"None whatsoever," I assured him. "If it turns you on to watch or use her with another woman, feel free to pursue your desires."

No doubt, Allen couldn't believe his good fortune. He had merely guessed that she might be a seducable wife when he saw her the first time and he surely assumed that assessment was correct when she arrived wearing those same shoes, a skirt that hugged every curve of her hips and ass, and a blouse that did little to disguise her erect aroused nipples. He didn't know at first that I'd selected her attire (was I just another naive unconscious academic?), but her heels and skin tight skirt made it clear she'd come to dinner to be seduced. So he wasted no time pressing his leg against hers at the table to begin the seduction.

Thinking it was time to move directly to my primary objective for the evening, I bluntly asked "when would you like to fuck her?"

"Well, its pretty hard to look at her and dance with her and not want her immediately. And as I told you, my wife is out of town, so frankly, I'd love to have her tonight."

"Then she's yours! Take her home with you, use her as you wish, and return her to me in the morning at your convenience."

If Allen was shocked at how smoothly things had gone for him, he didn't show it. "Then you don't insist on being there to watch or participate?"

"No. There will be times when I'll want to watch or for us to use her together, but tonight she's yours to take home with you."

Allen, though, wasn't done with his questions: "How should I interpret what you mean when you said, as a limit, 'no permanent physical damage'?" he asked, revealing his desire to pursue some BDSM play with her.

No time for niceties now: "If you're asking whether my wife a BDSM slut, she does like to be tied, spanked, whipped, and made to beg for a cock. Feel free to use her in whatever way pleases you. And let me be blunt. My wife responds fully to sex that is anything but gentle."

"I have to admit. It may have been obvious from the start that she liked to flirt and perhaps even have sex outside of her marriage. But I never guessed she was the unashamed wanton housewife you're telling me she is."

It was then that my wife returned from the restroom, and taking her seat I decided to move her directly to sub slut mode for Allen's benefit. If Allen was going to fuck her that night, there was no sense in not letting him know what a slut my wife could be: "Tell Allen, slut, what you wore under your skirt at the university reception the other week when the two of you met."

While she might have been taken aback a bit by openly calling her a slut, she was by then sufficiently trained to respond as I wished. "I had a plug in my ass, Sir."

"And that kept your cunt wet throughout the reception, especially when you chatted with Allen?"

"Yes it did, Sir."

"Tell Allen when you wear a plug in your ass."

"I wear it whenever we go out to dinner ... except tonight as you instructed ... and I wear it during the day when I'm home alone."

"You like being fucked in your ass then, don't you?" I asked, as a way of letting Akllen know that all of my wife's holes would be available to him.

"Yes Sir, I very much enjoy that."

"And what else do you wear at home when alone?"

"Just my collar and heels, Sir. A pair of my high heels that make me look like a whore and my leather bondage collar."

"And what do I do to you if you displease me?"

"You whip me Sir, with a riding crop. Or sometimes you give me a painful enema."

"And even though its punishment, do you nevertheless enjoy such things?"

"Yes Sir, I do. It makes me cum harder."

"You realize that you're going home with Allen tonight?"

"Yes Sir, I assumed I would be."

With Allen simply sitting there, soaking in the 'conversation', I asked "we talked all this past week about how much you wanted him to fuck you, didn't we? And you wanted Allen to fuck you the first time you met him, didn't you?"

"Yes Sir, I did ... and I dressed as you told me, dressed so he'd want to fuck me" she added on her own.

Taking advantage of the fact that our table was somewhat removed from all others and in a darkened corner of the lounge, I then commanded "unbutton the top three buttons of your blouse so Allen can see your bra and nipples."

Immediately my wife complied, so that the blouse opened to a tad below the under-wire support of her bra. But being a 1/4 cup shelf bra, any movement on her part immediately revealed the nipple of one tit or the other. "Do you like Allen looking at your tits?"

"Yes Sir, I do."

"And do you hope he uses them, along with your cunt, your ass and your mouth, fully for his pleasure?"

I know of course that by then her cunt was dripping and throbbing as she replied "Yes Sir," without evincing the slightest hint of embarrassment.