The Transformation of Betty Ch. 16

He was goading me into a commitment. Saying I was a slut or wanted to be one in the heat of passion was one thing; saying it now with an affirmative answer was something else. I tried to put the responsibility on him: "Do you want me to stay?"

"No slut, answer my question. Do you want to go home to hubby or be a fuck toy for the night?"

Inserting 'hubby' into the sentence brought home what I was committing to if I said yes. I started to speak, but Bill interrupted me. Rather than slowly work me into it he was going to make me commit to being trained even though I hardly knew what that meant. "If you spend the night slut, you will do what I tell you to do. You will begin to learn what it is to be my obedient fuck toy and whore."

Just as the word 'slut' sent shivers thru me when he first used it to label me, the word 'whore' did the same ... or perhaps is was 'obedient'. Whichever it was, he'd raised the bar on what I was committing to by staying. But it also seemed he had made it all the more erotic. I didn't know what he was going to require of me, how he intended to use me. But I wanted to find out. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but it made me wet. "Yes," I stuttered, "I want to spend the night."

By then I was sitting on the sofa with Bill's seed still in me and I couldn't resist asking "My husband planned on having me spend the night didn't he?"

I probably could have guessed at the answer: "He wants you to be a slut. He wants me to use you as you've never been used before, in ways you might not have consented to in the past so as to strip you of your inhibitions and make you our whore. And yes, he wants you spend the night so that being a slut moves from mere fantasy to reality."

I knew hubby would want me to spend the night, and was unsurprised by this description of his preferences. Once I learned he wanted to share me, I assumed there were few limits to his sexual tastes and if I consented, he'd pursue every feasible extreme. It made perfect sense that he'd want Bill to do more than fuck me and wholly strip me of any inhibition against being a shared wife. He wanted a wife with few limits about sex, and Bill was his instrument for turning me into the wanton uninhibited slut he preferred to be married to. I suppose that when I first consented to fucking Bill, I also decided to give hubby what he wanted. If he got more than he bargained for, then the pleasure would be all mine..

I sat there silent for a moment contemplating this fact when Bill suddenly commanded "spread your legs, slut ... you are no longer allowed to hide your cunt." His training had begun, and I wasn't to be left with any sense of modesty. Indeed, even after I did as told, he commanded "Spread them wider slut, let's see that cum filled cunt."

I opened my legs further. Was I embarrassed? Humiliated? Actually, no. Rather than calm down from my last orgasm, I was becoming more turned on than before. Part of my arousal was hearing Bill's firm commanding voice; but another part came from how erotic it felt to be utterly shameless ... and to be so without any sense of guilt or the need for obeying any social convention. For the first time, moreover, I felt a touch of regret that hubby wasn't there to watch. I had determined, almost as an act of revenge, to cast aside any and all inhibitions, and to let Bill enjoy me as no man ever had. It would serve my husband right to have to watch Bill be the first to enjoy his slut wife.

"Finger your cunt. Do you feel my cum inside you?"

"Y .. yes," I answered, knowing that he was again going to have me make myself cum.

"Deeper slut ... two fingers. I want to see my cum on them."

Again, all I could do is precisely what I was told, closing my eyes, leaning back, and enjoying the sensations. No shame, just an uncontrollable desire to please. My hand began to move faster until I crashed over the edge and came again.

Bill wasn't about to let me recover. He had me where he wanted me -- quivering and fresh from committing to being his slut. As I sat there catching my breath, he walked to the server in the dining room, he retrieved a collar, leash and two pairs of padded leather cuffs. Without saying a word he buckled the collar tightly around my neck and proceeded to attach a cuff to each wrist and ankle.

Hubby and I had played BDSM games in the bedroom. But we both knew they were precisely that ... games. A shiver of apprehension raced thru me now, though, because I knew this was no longer a game. I was being led to the real thing. The collar alone had an electric effect on me. I felt owned -- no longer a wife but a slut being prepared to be trained, with someone other than hubby as my master. And the touch of his hands as he attached each cuff only made me crave total absolute surrender. For perhaps the first time in my life I imagined myself surrendering to all those things I'd only read about, many of which I previously labeled perverted or depraved.

Holding the leash, he commanded "on the floor, slut, on your knees!"

I did as told, whereupon he had me take his cock in my hand so I could suck it. I loved sucking hubby and apparently was good at it, so Bill's cock quickly became rock hard. Stepping behind me, he told me to put both hands on the floor. I felt the head of his cock brushing against the entrance to my ass and I knew what was coming next Up to that night I'd never felt more like a slut than when hubby shoved his cock (or anything else) in my ass. However, Bill, perhaps to emphasize my wanton state, made no attempt at being gentle. I winced, probably moaned, maybe even let out a shriek as his cock abruptly forced its way into me. But once he was in I lowered my head, closed my eyes and pushed back as I always did when fucked like a bitch.

Bill gripped my hips to pull me to him. Some of his cum mixed with my juices and dripped out as he pushed deeper. Suddenly he let go, but only so he could reach two pillows on the sofa that he positioned beneath me. Directing me to lay over them with my hands and legs outstretched, my ass in the air, he began to slam-fuck me -- lifting himself up and slamming himself back down. I know I moaned with each thrust, feeling his cock being driven into me like an iron rod. Some women can't cum without clitoral stimulation, but I'm not one of them. I orgasmed, bucking, convulsing and crying out "fuck your bitch ... fuck me ... fuck me ... fuck me." And then he came, filling his whore's ass with her second load of cum for the night!

I lay there when he was done, my ass throbbing from his assault. But if I thought Bill was going to let his newly fucked bitch lay there and recover, I was mistaken. His cock may have been limp, but his mind wasn't. "Stand up, slut."

Weakly I rose as he returned to the dining room sideboard and retrieved a butt plug and dildo. Reaching behind me the plug slid effortlessly into my now well-lubricated and still throbbing ass. But even with his cum still in me, it was designed not to fall out. Leading me over to a closet in the hall, he had me stand with my back to the door, whereupon he pushed the dildo into my cunt. Holding it there, he ran the leash attached to my collar between my legs and up between the cheeks of my ass. Pulling it up behind me, it pressed the dildo and plug almost painfully into me. "Stand on your toes, slut."

Of course I complied, whereupon he hooked the loop of the leash around the doorknob of the closet door. The effect was immediate. If I kept my head and neck straight, and lowered myself off my toes, the leash pulled the dildo and plug painfully into me. Only by lowering my head and neck or staying on my toes could I relieve the pain. But Bill had a solution for that: Grabbing my head by my hair, he pushed my head back against the door and proceeded to give me another deep tongue probing kiss.

The sense of helpless surrender had the intended effect. Pain became pleasure, pleasure became pain. Bill kneaded a tit with his other hand, making no attempt to be gentle. Then, releasing my mouth but still holding my head against the door, he asked "Are you a slut?"

"Yesss," I replied. After all, what else could I answer?

"Are you a slut I can fuck anytime I want, any day I want?"

Hubby and I hadn't talked about me becoming someone's ongoing slut. Everything had focused on the first time without explicitly talking about what would happen after that. Of course, it made perfect sense that once hubby had me fucked the first time, he'd want me fucked again if only so he could watch or participate. Bill, though, phrased his question as if he would decided when and where I'd be used and the only answer that seemed appropriate then was a simple 'Yes'.

'Yes what, slut?"

"Yes, you can fuck me anytime you want." I may have surprised myself when I said that, but that was precisely what I wanted. I might have felt different in the cold light of day, but there and then I wanted Bill to have me whenever he wanted me. Whatever he was doing to me, whatever he was making me I didn't want it to end ... he had, for the moment at least, made me his proverbial bitch in heat.

"And do you think your husband wants you to be my permanent slut?"

"I ... I don't know," which of course was the truth.

"You should know he doesn't just want you fucked this one night, don't you?"

Yes, I knew that. I didn't know how often or whether it would just be with Bill, but certainly tonight wasn't going to be the last time I'd have a cock other than hubby's filling me. But now I was being forced to confront that fact and I didn't know where it would take us ... but it excited me: "Yes, I know."

I was close to cumming, and with Bill now squeezing my tit mercilessly and pinching the nipple he asked "and if I wanted you to be a whore ... a real whore?"

"Oh god" I think I said. But it was an 'oh god' that was neither a 'yes' nor a 'no'. It was an 'oh god' as in 'I'm going to cum'. I'd never imagined myself as a whore, but again, the word, the suggestion and the image excited me.

Bill sensed my reaction and pressed on "a whore who fucks whoever I give her to?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't. Deliberately I lowered myself on the leash, trying to drive the plug and dildo in deeper. I wanted the pain, I wanted the pleasure. I wanted to cum, almost as an excuse to not have to answer. But he was relentless: "Answer my question: Do you want to be a whore I share with other men?"

No doubt Bill knew I'd agree to anything then. I raised myself back up on my toes and gave him the answer he wanted, which was far closer to the truth than any other: "Yes."

"Yes what slut?" he asked again, looking directly into my eyes.

"Yes, I want to be a whore you share with other men." And then, to make certain he didn't think I was simply giving him the answer he wanted to hear, I added "Make me a slut who fucks whoever you want me to fuck."

Neither hubby nor I had much of an idea what it meant to be a trained aside from the BDSM stories we'd read together. No doubt he told Bill I liked a cock in any of my holes, and that he hoped this wouldn't be the last night he'd have me. Perhaps Bill even told him all the things he would do to me and the things he would try to get me to accept. Still, given who I was before this night I doubted he could have foreseen me being cuffed and collared or agreeing to be a whore Bill shared with other men. And surely, in the cold light of day I might not have so readily agreed to be Bill's whore. But then, at that moment, I wanted to be one and wanted to have him share me with whomever he pleased. I didn't know whether hubby anticipated that but I doubt he foresaw was about to happen.

With Bill standing aside me, still holding my head against the closet door, he commanded "hump the leash slut ... fuck the dildos in your cunt and ass."

I began to move as best I could, maximizing the sensations from my dildo and plug. I wanted to make myself cum; I wanted to obey. The feeling of being an obedient slut almost by itself made me cum. Bill let me reach down to rub my clit as best I could thru the leash. I was shameless. My hips pushed out from the door as a way of pulling the leash tighter into me. And then I came, bucking, convulsing against the closet door.

I thought I was done, but Bill wasn't about to stop taking me deeper into his world. Squeezing my nipple as hard as he could while continuing to hold my head against the door, he commanded "Piss for me slut ... piss!" I have no idea what I said then ... whether I simply moaned, objected, or what. I had never done anything like that. But now, painfully twisting my nipple, he commanded again: "Piss slut ... now!"

If my husband had ever told me to do something like that I would have left the room and not let him near me for a month. But Bill wasn't hubby and I wasn't the same person I'd been 24 hours earlier. I was Bill's slut. He'd planted in my mind the image of being a whore, and I would have been one that night if that's what he'd arranged. I know people might find it difficult to believe that I could come so far so easily. I have a hard time believing it myself. But if this makes sense, I craved obeying him. I'd crossed a line and now more than anything I was willing to try anything. I stood there, raising myself back up on my toes, back braced against the door until that stream of yellow water began to run over the leash and down my legs. The leash made it difficult to pee, but not impossible and soon enough it became a virtual flood as my body let go. And then, as if to complete my degradation, Bill ordered "make yourself cum again for me, whore."

I did. I don't know how. I don't know why utter exhaustion didn't keep me from being able to cum. But I came again ... hard.

Releasing the leash from the doorknob, he retrieved a towel from the closet and handing it to me, said "clean it up slut ... we can both use a rest when you're done."

Still wearing the collar and cuffs, I did as he said, whereupon I was led, finally, to his bedroom and bed. I thought he might want to fuck me again -- to somehow use the cuffs he put on me -- but instead I think it took me no more than 3 or 4 minutes to fall asleep.

I awoke in the morning, as you might have guessed, with Bill already between my legs and his cock in me. He paid no heed to how alert or aroused I was ... he was determined simply to fuck and cum in me. But to say that it took me long to reach his level of passion would be wrong. Almost immediately, instinctually, I found myself raising my hips up to meet him. Satisfied, though, that I was awake, he pulled out and rolled off me, telling me to mount him and fuck myself on his cock. That was hardly a request that needed to be made twice and quickly I was astride him, humping his cock while he sucked on one tit then the other. "You like being fucked in the morning, don't you slut?"

"Yes" I moaned, pressing myself back down onto him.

"Bet you wish hubby were here to watch me fuck you?"

That question startled me a bit. I'd been awake so briefly, and immersed in sex so totally, that I hadn't reflected fully on having hubby watch. But the question dragged reality back into the picture and the fact that I was now truly a well-fucked married slut and perhaps even more than that eventually. Everything had changed -- me, my views of sex, fidelity in marriage. But there was no time to think and sort thru the myriad questions I'd ask myself later about what I'd done and what I was doing. I simply wanted Bill to explode in me again. "Yes .. yes I do" I answered.

"So he could hear you tell me you wanted to be a whore ...so you could tell him while riding my cock you wanted to be a whore?" he continued.

I know what I had agreed to earlier, but to be a real whore and to tell my husband I wanted to be one ... that was more than I'd bargained for despite the fact that anyone who saw me then might assume I already was one. Bill sensed my hesitation and changed the wording of his question. "We are going to tell him that you want to be a fuck toy for me and my friends, aren't we?" he asked with a tone that left room for only one answer.

I be lying if the idea of submitting to a group of men hadn't appealed to me. I'd fantasized about, and now that I'd crossed the line to being a slut wife, I saw no reason to deny myself that pleasure. At that point at least I relished the idea of being at the disposal of 3 or 4 men. The more difficult line to cross was explicitly telling my husband I'd agreed to be shared by Bill. But at that moment, with Bill's cock ready to fill me again, if I didn't care if it was more than hubby wanted: "Yes, tell him -- tell him I want to fuck your friends. Tell him I'll be their fuck toy anytime they want me."

As I rode Bill's cock, I began to imagine another cock being shoved up my ass while I sucked a third. "Fuck your bitch ... cum in your whore" I repeated over and over as I fucked myself on his throbbing erection.

Bill, on the other hand, kept his composure: "So my little slut has already imagined herself as a whore?" he asked, more as a confirming statement than as a question I needed to answer.

"Yes ... yes she has ... she wants to be a whore," I moaned, leaving all inhibitions behind as to what I thought or said. "Your slut will fuck anyone you want her to."

"And does she want to be trained ... trained to submit and call me Sir and Master?"

"Yes, please, she does" I replied, no longer willing to hide the truth from myself.

"Yes what, slut?"

"Yes, Sir, she does" I cried out as I came.

I probably expected Bill to cum in me then, but to my surprise and with my orgasm still coursing thru me, he pushed me off with the words "Let's see how badly you want that." I continued to shudder and convulse as he positioned me on my hands and knees on his bed. He pulled one hand back so he could attach the cuff on my wrist to the one on my ankle, repeating the process with my other hand and leg. My orgasm had subsided and it was only then that I realized I was helpless. My face was on the bed, turned to one side and with my knees pulled apart, my cunt and ass open and vulnerable. I knew this was going to be different than the bondage games hubby and I had played, but Bill's words -- 'let's see how badly you want this' -- hung ominously in my ears.

Bill's cock had to be throbbing but the next thing I felt wasn't his manhood but his fingers, playing with my clit. He was going to keep me on edge craving his cock, so when I began to moan and push back, he'd stop to tease me. "The little slut wants my cock again, doesn't she ... she wants me to shoot my seed into that married cunt?"

"Yes Sir, please," I begged. "Fuck me, please."

"And you want to be trained to obey and serve me?"

"Yes Sir, I do."

"Lets see if that's true, slut," and with those words he removed his hand so that the next thing I felt was his leather belt, doubled over, sliding across my ass. I felt a twinge of fear, but mixed with my arousal, its difficult to recall the thoughts that raced thru me. Hubby spanked me but never terribly hard. It had all been just play, but it excited me nevertheless. I sensed Bill was capable of much more than that.

"What's in my hand, slut?"

"I ... I don't know Sir," I answered, afraid to say what it was.

Suddenly I felt a sharp painful crack and sting across my ass and I doubtlessly shrieked, as much from surprise as from pain. "You know what it is, slut ... tell me."

"Its your belt, Sir."

"And what am I going to do with my belt?"

"You're going to whip me Sir," I recall saying, making it sound like a plea.

"Yes, that's precisely what I will do with it ... but only if you give me what I judge to be the wrong answers to my questions. And I'll also if I think you're telling me only what I want to hear and not the truth. Now slut, I'll ask again, do you want me to make you a whore? And keep this in mind: If you say yes, then I will in fact make you a whore!"