My Slut Wife Life Ch. 07

I couldn't help but look at him, shocked at his statement. It was what I had said to him on our wedding night, when I gave him an enthusiastic tit fuck before we started the main activities for the honeymoon. And now he was sharing it with this pig? There was definitely a power play going on here. I had to wonder if he was somehow resentful of how I'd opened myself to and fucked Todd, even though he had been the one to initiate everything. I was just obeying orders and now he was feeling threatened by it?

My retort was, probably thankfully, interrupted by the introduction of Todd's cock back into my mouth. "Get it nice and wet, bitch," he said aggressively, reassured that his best friend didn't object to how he was treating me.

I got him dripping wet with spit, then moved into position, trapping his rigid member between my breasts. It was clear from the beginning that I would be doing all the work, so I pushed my tits together and bobbed up and down, intermittently drooling a bit of spit into the valley to help lubricate our efforts. From the moaning, gasps and wild-eyed looks, it was clear that Todd was in tit-fucking heaven. I wondered briefly how many women he'd had this way, but my wandering mind was brought back to the present when my Owner roughly pushed my head out of the way so he could get a good shot at the action from above. I hated him even more for that.

Finally tiring, for the moment, of having my tits at his disposal, Todd inquired what the next position would be. This time I tried to tune them both out; the negotiations of how to penetrate my body was quickly becoming a source of irritation to me. Finally they agreed on reverse-cowgirl, so Todd could "have a look at that sexy butt in action," and my Owner could "get some close-up shots of a hard cock going into your slutty pussy." I was quickly getting tired of these two bozos.

Unfortunately, they weren't getting tired of me. After making me ride Todd's hard dick for awhile, they flipped me back onto my hands and knees and Todd reamed out my pussy doggystyle. I could tell that he wanted my ass but also feared pressing my Owner too far too fast. So he contented himself with sticking his finger into my anus as he fucked me, wiggling it around and stretching my asshole for the camera to see.

Worse, despite his rough tactics, I was quickly becoming turned-on again. Maybe I was insatiable? Maybe I was indeed a slut? Whatever. After a solid half hour of being physically banged and orally abused, I was dripping wet inside and desperate to be used some more. Even now I can't understand what turns the switch. It's almost like I zone out, but that's not the right way to describe it. It's more like I zone in... I get to a point where nothing but the physical and emotional sensations, the pleasure and pain and trepidation and anticipation and everything else just wash over me, cover me and fill me with nothing but the need to feel it more and again and in triplicate.

That's where I was, fellating Todd once again, urging his dick to expand once more and stiffen to the point where he could violate another of my holes, or get swallowed up again in the valley between my breasts. I didn't care what he did. Hell, he could have my ass over and over again if he wanted. And the men, they both knew that I was ready to fuck anything at that point. Todd's cock. A vibrator. Humping the arm of the couch would've been fine with me. I just wanted, lord help me, to be used forever and ever.

There is, unfortunately, a point at which a man's cock can no longer be coerced to remain rigid. After another half hour of fucking and fluffing (the act of orally stimulating him until he gets hard again), Todd was once again ready to shoot his load. I thought for sure that my Owner would like to see another man's cum dripping from my well-reamed pussy, and had even started to get into position, when the order came to shoot it on my tits.

Todd was more than happy to comply. He knelt over me, tit-fucked me some more, and then jacked himself off the rest of the way, his cum spurting onto my jiggling boobs like water spraying from a hole in a hose. After dribbling the remainder of his load onto each of my nipples, he bent forward and I sucked the salty mess off his angry-looking head, sliding the tip of my tongue into the tiny slit in an effort to get as much jizz out as possible.

I still don't know why I did what came next. A brain fart, maybe. Or maybe it was the silky feel of hot cum on my body. Whatever the reason, I grabbed my tits and slathered his load all over, smoothing it into every pore, as if it was an exotic perfume or massage oil. From the sour look on my Owner's face, I knew immediately that I'd done something wrong. And that I would pay for it, very, very soon.

Things happened quickly from there. My Owner put me into the 'Kneel for Inspection' position, where I need to kneel straight up with my hands clasped behind my head. Before stepping into the study to give Todd his promised pictures and videos, my Owner even set up a motion camera, to capture any times I lost control of my position. It works very simply: if I move enough to make the camera take a picture, then I've moved too much. And the motion sensor is very sensitive.

In the time it took for Todd to receive his copies, and a reassurance from my Owner that he'd be enjoying my body many, many times in the future, the camera had flashed three times. That meant three times the punishment. On top of whatever I would receive for touching that load of cum without permission. I was almost hoping that Todd might stick around some more, if only to put off what would be a lengthy punishment.

He was, however, out the door all too soon, a dreamy and yet voracious look on his face. I didn't turn to watch him go. The camera was still trained on me.

"All right, young lady," my Owner growled, once the front door was shut. "It's a good thing that Todd doesn't know shit about how a slut wife should act. And obey. Because then I'd be even more embarrassed than I am now." He stepped around the camera and checked the pictures. "Plus, three times you moved? I was gone for what, ten minutes?"

There was no point in arguing that the floor was hard, or that my bladder was full, or that I was tired from having been fucked silly for the past few hours. Complaining did no good. That was one lesson this slut wife had learned right from the start. Instead I answered in the ritual form he demanded, "I'm sorry, Master. I should be punished."

"Damn right you should be punished," he said between gritted teeth. He seemed to be barely holding in his anger, though to me it seemed completely out of proportion to what I'd done. He was upset that I'd enjoyed the fucking so much! But pointing out how hypocritical that was would be extremely unwise.

He grabbed my hair in his fist and pulled me to my feet, the flash on the monitoring camera going off with a series of bursts. I stumbled along as he dragged me through the house, trying desperately to keep my hands clasped behind my head -- he hadn't given me permission to break position.

Finally we ended up in the bathroom and my heart sank as I realized what my punishment was to be. Seating himself on the toilet, he pulled me over his lap, my ass bare and firm, ready for a spanking to be administered. When he next spoke, it was in that thin, calculating voice that I'd learned to fear the most. "That's 10 strokes for each time you moved out of position. For a total of 30, right?"

"Yes, Master," I answered tremulously, even as his hand descended cruelly onto my ass cheeks. I tried to focus on the sting of the spanking to keep from focusing on what was going to come next. Probably. Or maybe it was a psychological ploy to make me suffer from anticipating something that wouldn't happen? He did that sometimes. I didn't think I would be so lucky. The sight of another man banging me, no matter how much he'd wanted it, had shaken him more than he'd expected. I knew I was not being punished so much for my transgressions, but as a way to assuage whatever turmoil was in his head. He was reasserting his authority over me. And marking his territory again. And how do most males do that? Like a dog.

That last thought hit me just as the thirtieth swat stung my pink and pulsating ass cheeks. I looked fearfully back at him, hoping for some mercy, but he just gestured at the tub.

I'll always remember the first time he did this to me. I'd been shocked and disgusted and humiliated, and that was only at the suggestion of it. Despite my trepidation, though, I hadn't been able to come up with a good reason to use the safe word. Even when I couldn't even come up with a substitute act that would be worse than what he was demanding. (That's how we work it. If I use the safe word to stop something, he gets to pick something else to do in exchange. And I can't object to that.) That stream of urine hitting my breasts, and then making its way up to my face, had been the latest act to make me question my agreement to follow this lifestyle. It was humiliating and degrading. And worse, it turned me on.

Yeah, I know. If you haven't experienced it, you're calling 'bullshit' on me right now. And for most women, it would be just humiliating and degrading. A reason to leave your man. Or at least, something that you want to avoid at all costs. Something you will only do for him after many hours of pleading. And the addition of a couple of carats of diamonds to your collection.

And yet, for some of us... Well, admittedly, for a very few of us, it is a turn-on. I've thought about it. A lot. And when I didn't come up with an answer that way, I talked about it with my therapist. And in talking about it, I remembered dreams and fantasies that I must've subconsciously stored away because of the shame that goes with it. Fantasies of men standing over me. Of being completely at their mercy. Of liquids spraying down on me from the slits in their dicks. Of those liquids sometimes being streams of cum. And sometimes being streams of pee. And damn me, but those fantasies and dreams always ended up with me giving myself a giant orgasm.

Still, the first time my husband, in the guise of my Owner, suggested that I crouch down and take his pee on me, I was still shocked by the thought. We were in this very same bathroom, getting ready to shower together, getting ready for me to attend to him in the shower, when he ordered me into the tub. And ordered me to take the 'Ready for Inspection' position. And then turned and abruptly starting peeing on me.

I was astounded. Couldn't believe it was happening. And didn't make a move to stop it. His pee splashed against my breasts, first the right one, then the left one. The stream moved up my chest, my eyes locked on the head of his cock the entire time. Up my neck. And when it reached my chin, without an order being uttered, I obediently opened my mouth. And he aimed his stream right into that hollow, filling it up, forcing me to taste his urine. Then upwards some more, making me shut my eyes, until the stream of urine was splashing across my forehead and finally soaking my hair.

I knelt there, unmoving, my mouth still filled with a pool of urine. I could feel his piss dribbling down my body, dropping from the tips of my breasts onto the tub floor. Dripping through my pussy patch and into the cleft of my slit. It was my dreams, my fantasies, all over again. Played out in reality. I felt warm and wet and a small orgasm jolting through my body. I looked up into his eyes, my body dripping with his dirty urine, the stink of it filling the bathroom, and closed my mouth and swallowed every drop. I couldn't lean forward fast enough to get his cock into my mouth. I wanted to suck everything out of him, out of his cock tube, out of his pee hole, onto my tongue, down my throat. I sucked him off and swallowed a giant load of gooey sperm, letting it slide down my throat like a raw oyster.

Now he was going to pee on me again, only this time in punishment. Even so, a thrill shot through me. At his orders I stepped into the tub. "You first," he said. At first I didn't know what he meant. Then I got it. He wanted to watch me pee. In the last few weeks, he'd been making me pee in the woods like an animal, squatting down and letting go. This was just another thing like that. So I squatted. I peed. And the warm water arced up onto the sides of the tub, then ran down to pool around my bare feet. It had been a while, and I'd been fucked a lot, so I had a lot of urine in me.

Finally, as it was dribbling to an end, he ordered me onto my knees. I knelt in the urine-soaked tub and obediently opened my mouth. He aimed his piss right at my breasts, right where Todd had unloaded his cum, and sprayed them up and down, back and forth. Only after he'd coated them completely in urine did he fulfill my ultimate wish and aim it into my mouth. After it slowed to a trickle and stopped, I leaned my head back, gargled his piss a few moments, then drank it all down. Despite knowing this was supposed to be a punishment, a wave of bliss swept through me. He put his bare foot on the edge of the tub and I reverently bent to kiss it.

"What else can I do for you, Master?" I asked meekly.

"I'm sure we'll think of something, you slut," he said cruelly, but with a hint of tease in his voice. "Something really nasty," he promised.

As I sucked the remaining drops of pee from his dick, I had a sudden shiver. He would keep that promise. And I would probably get off on it.

** End of Part 7 **