Sherry, Slut & Slave Whore Ch. 1-6

CHAPTER ONE – The Husband

Zack Wazaluski lay on his back nude and sprawled across the bed. His naked wife was on her knees, stooped between his spread legs, her head dipping rhythmically into his crotch. Forearms solidly braced on his thighs lifted and lowered lips wrapped in a tight O around the blood filled male column that stuffed her pretty face. Full breasts dangling from her chest bobbed and swayed with the measured rise and fall of her head and shoulders that were sacrificing her mouth at the alter of her husband’s sex. Zack, however, contemptuous in his hunger for more of her throat, emphasized his displeasure for her loving efforts by spewing out demanding curses punctuated with dirty names.

"Damn you cunt! More! Faster! Suck me faster! Deeper! Take it all you slut bitch! Swallow me, whore!"

Impatient and demanding, Zack refused to wait for more tempo and depth from his wife’s mouth. Instead, seizing a fistful of her long auburn hair in each hand, he jerked her face downward, brutally impaling her throat on the cruel cudgel of his raging hard-on. Momentarily Sherry Wazaluski choked on the tube of male blood and flesh she was so violently forced to swallow. Nevertheless, and despite her struggle for air, her husband refused to release his grip or allow her to breathe. Ten seconds, then twenty, ticked away with Sherry's nose still buried in the dark mat of her husband's pubic hair. Only when the spasms deep in her throat subsided, easing the delicious squeezing of his cock, did Sherry's husband relent and allow her to free her windpipe from the crown of his penis.

Now frantic to please, Sherry's head began to bob furiously raking her lips up and down her husband's sex rod from root to tip, marking its silken skin on every stroke with the cherry red stain of her lipstick. Driven by her quickened pace, the gentle sway of her full breasts gave way into a quickened to-and-fro jerk that testified to the renewed vigor of her devotions. On each rise of her mouth, the seal of her lips would catch on the ridge under the head, and with each abrupt halt, her cheeks would hollow with a sudden suction. Every down stroke sent the bulging end of his cock plunging into previously untouched depths of her throat, and buried her nose in the course pubic hair at the base of that adored penis.

The Wazaluski's had been married for 20 years. From the beginning, Zack had treated his wife as his indentured concubine and love slave. He particularly enjoyed her mouth, and as on this night, he insisted that she suck him with pius homage and servile tribute as if his cock was a phallic shrine. Sherry had adapted to her role as her husband's spousal sex toy without objection. After all, she had brought came to their marriage an ingrained submissive nymphomania of her own, and from the start she had been willing, even eager, to please her husband, orally and otherwise, with all the slutty enthusiasm of a sultan's houri.

So it was that on this night Sherry Wazaluski came to be servicing her husband’s penis as she had been taught, naked and on her knees, her breasts jerking with exertion, and her mouth stretched and aching. Engrossed in her wifely duty, over and over she drew her mouth up his full length, only to reverse direction at its tip, plunging her face downward to once again rape her throat on the male weapon of her devotions. Enflamed by the friction on his hard member, Zack repeatedly and cruelly reminded his wife of what she was.

"Slut!" "Bitch!" "Whore!"

Was that all she was Sherry wondered? "Her husband's slut! His bitch! His whore!"

She was humiliated by the thought, but she knew it must be true. If it were otherwise, why did the abuse from her lover arouse such powerful emotions inside her, emotions that she could never resist? If she was not a slut, a bitch, a whore, a rag of female flesh fit only to pleasure a penis, why did the taste of cum set her on fire? Why did masculine hands on her breasts, on her pussy, anywhere on her body, always send her groveling at her lover’s feet, begging to be fucked?

There could be little doubt about the answer. Abuse, humiliation, and submission were Sherry's aphrodisiacs. Nothing turned her on quite like being forced to perform as her husband's whore. The next day she sometimes suffered terribly with shame and embarrassment at her slutty submission, but while in his bed and gripped by her passion, she enjoyed the sexual hell of her submission every bit as much as did her husband.

Tonight was just that way. As always, her body had betrayed her, and her feminine pride had dissolved into a pool of raw lust. Naked and on her knees with Zack's big Polish sausage in her mouth, her nipples were rock hard, her clit was out at the top of her swollen cunt, and her wet overflowed to run down her legs. More than merely aroused female, Sherry was in an erotic frenzy unable to focus on any thought but the delicious masculine member that was plundering her mouth.

"Slut!" "Bitch!" "Whore!" Yes, in truth, Sherry was all those things! She simply could not help herself.

"On your back tramp!" Zack commanded. "Spread for me slut! Do you want some of my meat? Do you want to be fucked bitch? Beg me whore! Beg me to fuck you."

"Oh my God Yes" Sherry thought, "If only he WOULD fuck her!" She knew from bitter experience, however, that Zack would expect far more than a simple 'please fuck me' before he filled her pussy. NO! He never allowed her to use his penis as quick and easy as that. First, she must swear her devotion to him as her lord and master. Then he would insist that she lick the inside of his thighs, under his balls, and around of the rim of his ass hole, all the while begging and pleading for him to fuck her. Only after she had been thoroughly humiliated degraded would he finally stick her with his cock--IF THEN.

It was the 'if then' that worried Sherry the most. There were times when even after she had crawled to him in humble servitude, when even after shamelessly pleading for his cock, he might choose to prove his mastery by refusing to fuck her. Tonight, however, Zack seemed to be especially horny and intense, and that was a good sign. Surely this night he would eventually fill her cunt and spew his wad into her womb.

It seemed to be so. Even as Sherry rolled onto her back, Zack crawled into the notch between her raised and spread knees. Suspended above her on one arm, he reached back to where his crotch met hers, and taking his cock in his free hand, he began to slide its head up and down her female slit. Gradually her pussy lips parted lubricating that probing tip with her female wet.

Every stroke began and ended the on top of her clitoris that soon emerged from the protective folds of his wife’s vagina as if seeking the source of this delicious stimulation. Slowly, tantalizingly, maliciously, he rubbed the end of that hard cock over the raw nerves of that that exposed and sensitive female pleasure nub. Tormented and teased, Sherry was soon beyond what a poor female in heat could bear, and in her erotic distress she cried out for mercy.

"Oh God yes," Sherry pleaded. "Give it to me! I need you! Please fuck me! Oh, please fuck me! For God's sake Zack, if you love me, fuck me! Now please!"

A rising orgasm in her belly was threatening to dissolve Sherry into a, puddle of female jelly but she knew that she must not cum. Zack insisted her first cum always be reserved for his special pleasure. If her initial orgasm did escape without his permission, she would be forced to stand and suffer under her husband’s cruel whip. As he often did, tonight Zack was deliberately tempting his wife’s body to betray her, a betrayal that would be his excuse to enjoy disciplining his pretty wife.

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When punished, nothing about her ordeal was ever easy or quick First Zack would make her take 'the position', before him. Naked and at attention with her feet at shoulder width, and her arms raised to interlock her fingers behind her head, Sherry would be forced to offer her vulnerable pussy and lifted breasts to her husband's cruel whip. Before the lash, however, Zack would make her wait and dwell on her sin, and the pain it was about to earn her, while he teased and tormented her body into a frenzy of erotic frustration.

Always Sherry would beg for mercy, but of course none was ever forthcoming, and there was no escaping the inevitable price of disobedience. Eventually, when she could stand to wait no more, Sherry would abandon all hope and beg for the whip. Only then would that savage lash begin its work, landing in rhythmic strokes across her breasts and belly, on her pussy, and finally down her back and buttocks to her upper her thighs, marking her with the flaming red stripes of a disobedient slave woman.

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No! Not tonight! Tonight she could not stand even the thought of being so cruelly beaten. Tonight she was determined not to orgasm prematurely, and clenching her teeth, Sherry fought for control over the fire between her legs. Minutes (or was it only seconds) ticked by, seemingly an eternity passing, as Zack rubbed his cock head up and down the length of her pussy, beginning and ending every stroke on top of her clit.

It was a maddening even painful torment, but just as she could stand no more, a sudden jab started the end of that delicious male shaft into her feminine crack. Another push and the broad bulb of its crown wedged itself firmly between her pussy lips, spreading the portal to her vagina, splitting her open and ready for his carnal use.

That, however, was all! Only the first inch! ONLY THE HEAD! Nothing more!

"Oh God!" she thought. "How can I stand this? THE BASTARD!"

Still he teased, refusing to give her more. Hanging helpless on the end of that great cock Sherry could only whimper quietly in her panic. Salty tears ran down her cheeks so desperate was she to be filled with the blood engorged woman tamer waiting barely inside her pussy, so tantalizingly near, yet so far from her need. Nevertheless, Zack was merciless. His cock was never his wife's privilege. Always she must earn her pleasure, and part of that price was to repeat her oath of feudal fealty, again acknowledging her acceptance of what she was.

“HIS BITCH! HIS SLUT! HIS WHORE!”

Nothing was certain, however. In the end he might fuck her, or he might not. Sherry could never be sure which. The uncertainty of being left dangling on a single inch of his prick while pleading for the rest of him was part of her master's method, his way of proving to his slave woman wife what she indeed, "His slut, his bitch, his whore!"

Sherry, however, had learned a trick or two of her own about dealing with her husband.

"Please Zack, I need to be fucked." she pleaded with him. "I will do anything, anything you ask! Do you want me to fuck your friends? I will do that for you Zack. Bring me a man! While you watch, I will suck him off! I will fuck him too! Do you want me to whore for you? You can be my pimp, and charge him to use my mouth and pussy. Would you like that my darling? Would you like to see me fucked by a man who has paid you for my pussy?"

Actually, Sherry knew her husband was very jealous of her. Twenty years ago he had taken her virginity, and to this day his was the only penis that had been in her pussy. Nevertheless, it has long been Zack's fantasy to watch another man fuck his pretty wife, and to demonstrate his dominance, he often threatened to make a whore of her by selling her pussy.

Sherry knew that his threat was all bluff, but she never let him know that the vision of another man between her legs with his cock buried in her pussy excited, rather than frightened her. Even more exciting was the thought of selling her favors to strangers. Zack would not have been pleased if he had known his faithful wife fantasized just as he did about ‘Sherry the whore’ offering her mouth and pussy to rich men who could afford her price.

It is ironic that neither of them could foresee how soon their mutual fantasy of Sherry as a whore would become a reality.

Even though Sherry knew her jealous husband wasn’t serious about sharing her favors with another man, she sometimes used the idea to tempt him into giving her the cock she needed. Tonight she was in heat from his teasing, and in dire need to have her husband fuck her. She knew the thought of her lovely naked body in the arms of a stranger always made him randy and his dick hard. It was clever trick, and although often used, it worked on this night just as it almost always did. It was, after all, an image too vivid for Zack to resist.

"Yayeee Ahhaaa!" Sherry screamed in painful delight as without warning Zack dropped his hips shoving his penis deep into her female core. His entry was neither loving nor gentle. Angry at even a fantasy of his wife’s infidelity, he was determined to make her suffer for being such a whore even if the idea was only his own imagination. In a single thrust he had buried his shaft to its root, splitting her open the walls of her cunt, pile driving his male member deep into her female chute.

If Zack thought he was punishing his wife with his cock, however, he was sadly mistaken. At last Sherry had what she had been begging for over much of the evening. He felt so good filling her cunt, and in her passion she could take all her husband had to give, and more.

He fucked her delightfully. At first his hips moved slowly and only a bit, barely withdrawing, then thrusting, giving her only a single inch at a time, no more. Gradually, his tempo quickened, and each thrust lengthened, until his cock became a fleshy jack hammer pounding in and out of that warm slippery cunt. Sherry responded in kind, raising her hips, grinding them against the man between her legs, frantic to rub her clit against the iron hard male sex rod that pinned her vagina captive to his bed.

"Please Zack! Oh please! Let me cum! I-I-I can't stand it any longer! I must cum!"

Poor Sherry was on the brink that first orgasm, the one forbidden to her without Zack’s permission. Even her fear of whip could not hold her back much longer, and in such distress, she had all but decided that to have release would be worth the beating that would follow. Tonight, however, it was Sherry's good fortune that her husband was also teetering on the edge. Overwhelmed with the need to breed his wife's pussy, his resolve to continue her suffering by continuing to deny his consent collapsed in the warmth of Sherry’s slippery cunt.

“Yes!” he demanded! “Be my slut! Be my whore! Cum with me! Cum on my cock!"

Zack’s warm seed flooded her pussy triggering a flood of orgasms that washed over Sherry and shook her to the core. Even so, as those wracking sensations receded, and the trembling of her body eased, she asked herself as she so often did, the question she had never been able to either reconcile or understand.

“God, why must I submit myself to this humiliation before my husband will fuck me? Why must I beg for his cock? Why must I beg before I am allowed to orgasm? Why am I only his plaything, only a mouth and a pussy for his pleasure?"

The answer rang in her ears as Zack knelt across her throat and fed his soiled cock into her mouth to be cleaned. "Bitch!" "Slut!" "Whore!"

CHAPTER TWO – The Father

Zack was still snoring loudly as Sherry quietly left her bed for a morning shower. Dawn had not yet broken, and Zack was dead to the world. He always slept particularly soundly after he had pleasured his cock with his wife's body, and last night's sex had been particularly intense, although for Sherry her sexing had not come easily. As always, Zack had refused to fuck her until she affirmed his mastery, groveling before him and begging shamelessly in total submission to his penis.

For all of that, however, ruefully Sherry had to admit her husband had fucked her just the way she wanted it. First he raped her mouth, then laid her on back and crawled between her spread legs to prick tease her pussy. Helpless and in heat, she had surrendered and begged for it like a slut bitch. Only then did he take her with his delicious cock, finally riding her without mercy, just as a woman’s pussy should be ridden, sliding his love stick in and out of her wet cunt until she was reduced to a quivering mass of orgasmic jelly.

As on most mornings after being cruelly used by her husband, Sherry was torn between conflicting and ambiguous emotions. Whenever she was in Zack’s hands, suffering with need and desire, begging to be hung on her husband’s cock, nothing mattered except to be fucked. Yet, the next day she always felt like such a slut. Why was she this way, so horny and submissive, and at the same time so ashamed and uncertain about her passions? WHY? Her mind wandered searching for an answer.

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Not that her husband would remember, but today was the 20th anniversary of the day Sherry McGinty, had become Mrs. Zack Wazaluski. Until her wedding, to all appearances Sherry had been a fairly typical teenager, pretty and popular, with her pick of boyfriends. As she turned 18 in her junior year at St. Benedict Catholic High School she chose a boy from the senior class, Zack Wazaluski, to be her 'steady'. Sherry was soon in love, or at least she thought she was.

Sherry's father was not at all pleased about his daughter's boyfriend. As Irish as Paddy's pig, a muscled up polish kid was not what Joe McGinty had in mind as a proper boyfriend for his pretty Irish daughter. The very thought of that ‘Dumb Pollock Trash’ kissing his daughter (and he suspected her lips might not be all the kid was enjoying), left him angry and cursing. Nor did he make the slightest attempt to hide his feelings. From their first meeting until this very day, his name for Zack was "Meathead", an epithet for a Polish son-in-law he borrowed from his favorite TV character, Archie Bunker

“What a screwed up piece of work her father was,” Sherry reminisced. It was bad enough that he was a living caricature of a fictional TV sitcom bigot. That much was embarrassing but tolerable, even forgivable. The reality, however, was neither tolerable nor forgivable. As she passed through puberty Sherry came to the understanding that her father's treatment of her, her sister and their mother was, at the very least, an improper sexual fetish, and less charitably, a perversion. Until the very end of her years under his roof, Sherry could not think of her father any other way but as “That Bastard!” Only at the very last did that judgment erode into an less one sided opinion of her father. Sine then Sherry has been considerably more ambiguous about her father and their relationship.

Growing up in her father's house, his word had been law, and any infraction was immediately and severely punished. That in itself was perhaps not unusual in a family with roots in the old country. After all, such was the way both her parents had been raised. Anyway, it was not his punishment but the way it was administered that was decidedly on the perverted outer edge. After all how many husbands, even those from the ‘old sod,’ would strip their wife nude and spank her in front of her daughters? How many fathers, Irish or otherwise, would lay a daughter naked across his knee and spank her bare bottom with her mother and sister watching?

The punishment ritual never varied. The family would be assembled in the living room. Sherry, along with her mother and sister, would stand at attention before her solemn and stern father seated in a straight back chair. The one to be punished, whether mother or daughter, would be ordered to step forward and strip off her clothing. Nude, her father’s victim was required to lay face down across his knees. With her head and shoulders dangling on one side, and her legs on the other, her fingers and toes barely gripping the rug, the female to be disciplined would offer her buttocks for a severe open handed spanking.