The Transformation of Betty

Its been so long ago that I can't remember how soon after we were married that the fantasy of sharing my wife Betty with other men became a constant in my head. Each time we had sex and she assumed her favorite position of straddling and riding me I found it impossible to ignore the vision of my 5' 2" wife doing the same with another man, her 34B tits swaying and bouncing as she fucked herself on him. However, back then at least I was surely not bold or confident enough to assume that this image could become anything but a fantasy. Nevertheless, thinking that perhaps if I made the 'right preparations' it could happen in some unplanned way. The first step in those preparations, then, was encouraging her to share the same fantasy. Hence, whenever we fucked I'd encourage it in her by saying such things as 'wouldn't you love another cock in you now?' or 'it would be fantastic to watch someone make you cum'. I knew it was pretty safe to say such things with her in the heat of passion, even though her responses rarely went further than a nod of the head.

I knew even then that when hot and on the edge of cumming, she'd agree or at least not object to things that in the cold light of day she'd absolutely refuse to consider. So rather than allow her the opportunity to give me a definitive 'No' or 'Are you crazy' I left it at that. Instead, I simply encouraged her to dress increasingly sexier whenever we went out dining or dancing - high heels, tight dresses, plunging necklines. "Who knows," I thought to myself, without a clear vision as to what I was hoping might happen, "when we find ourselves in a situation when she'd allow herself to be seduced." At times I pushed her a little further than she was willing to go, but month by month and over the course of those initial years of marriage she allowed her attire to become increasingly provocative.

It was also around this time that I learned that my petite and seemingly innocent wife loved anal sex, loved having a vibe pushed into her butt when she rode me, and would consent even on occasion to wearing a plug when we went out. Although she claimed that she wore the plug only because I requested it, there was little doubt it kept her wet. In the back of my mind, then, I hoped that the plug in combination with her attire would keep her horny enough throughout an evening out that she'd surrender to that as yet unvisualized opportunity to be shared.

Unfortunately, despite my search for venues whereby my fantasy might be realized - restaurants with bars, hotels with nightclubs -- no such opportunity seemed to present itself. Caution too prevailed: Even then the issues of disease and safety kept me from merely seeking some stranger at a bar, and I was never bold enough to suggest anything like a swing club for fear I'd get an unequivocal NO. So I satisfied myself with essentially becoming a voyeur of sorts ... displaying my wife as much as she would allow herself to be displayed, taking pleasure from the fact that the men who saw her most likely wanted to and imagined fucking her.

It was a few years into the marriage that we had the good fortune of moving into a neighborhood that was quite social ... barbeques in someone's back yard three or four times a year, an annual New Years Eve party across the street, and assorted other random social meetings such as a birthday party for someone's kid (we had none at the time). And it was at the first of these get- togethers, when being introduced to our new neighbors, that we met Bill, an older (by at least 15 years) unmarried gentleman living alone in the Victorian house down the street. Thus, our neighborhood events and chance encounters at the local grocery store put my wife in relatively frequent contact with Bill and when I had the chance to see them together I could tell there was a mutual attraction. Indeed, the flirting at those barbeques became sufficiently obvious that my wife readily made lite of it, sometimes taunting me with the question 'are you jealous?' My wife wasn't hesitant at all to tell me that she found Bill attractive, even sexy ... but she always did this in a offhanded or dispassionate way without revealing any secret desires.

I, on the other hand, saw Bill as the 'golden opportunity'. Now it was no longer 'wouldn't you like another cock in you' but 'wouldn't you like Bill's cock in you' or 'Id love to watch Bill fuck you.' And as before, despite the subsequent frenzied fucking, there was no verbal acknowledgment that any of this turned her on. I was nevertheless certain that the fantasy now existed in my wife's mind, but perhaps to minimize the guilt, I concluded that even if she would allow it, she wanted no role in its planning. For her, it had to be something that 'simply happened' even if she wasn't opposed to it happening.

I no longer recall what the specific occasion was, but in perhaps six or seven months time, I built up the courage to ask her point blank if she ever fantasized about Bill fucking her.

Her answer was initially evasive: "Do you really want me to?"

With a lump in my throat I answered "Yes."

"Are you sure he'd want to have sex with me?"

"I think I can guarantee it" I replied.

"Well, if you really wanted me to I would ... I suppose. He is sexy, I'll admit that. Its up to you."

At that point I think we were both sufficiently embarrassed by this exchange and its potential implications that we almost immediately changed the subject and didn't mention it again for a long time. In fact, I let one neighborhood get-together pass without doing anything except leaving my wife alone as much as I could to maximize the opportunities she and Bill had to flirt (which they did).

It was the neighborhood party some four or five months later that I decided to act. With a lump in my throat, but with every expectation that Bill would be agreeable, I simply walked up to him when he was alone and said "my wife is attractive, isn't she?"

"Yes ... quite attractive, sexy even."

He stood there, seemingly waiting for me to say something and so I took the bold leap and said "I wouldn't be the least bit opposed if you seduced her." Without giving him a chance to reply I then blurted out "In fact, I've always had the fantasy of sharing her with another man and I've been encouraging her to let you seduce her."

Exhibiting no surprise at my bold offer, he said smoothly "I'd love to fuck her ... I'll leave it up to you to arrange it," at which point he simply walked away to begin a conversation elsewhere.

My head began to spin with ill-formed ideas as to what to do next (while making sure that my suddenly hard cock wasn't visible). But it seemed that I had gone about as far as I could go then. I first had to adjust to the fact that I had just boldly offered my wife to another man as a fuck toy and he had accepted ... and that, aside from my wife's reaction, it was now up to me as to whether or when to realize my fantasy.

We went home that evening without me mentioning my conversation with Bill. But thereafter I was sure to invoke his name in some erotic context whenever possible. Indeed, I led myself to think that after her frank admission of her willingness to fuck Bill if I wanted her to, that my wife knew I was setting her up in some way. I even began to push the envelope when we fucked: Instead of asking questions when we fucked to elicit a `yes' or some other admission of desire, I made simple assertions such as 'you'll go wild with Bill's cock in your ass' or 'Id love watching you cum as Bill fucks you.' Since she never raised an objection or took back her words, I was confident she'd submit to whatever I planned.

The next party, months later, was, appropriately enough, New Years Eve across the street, which provided the excuse to have my wife dress sexier than usual ... surely sexier than for an afternoon barbeque. No bra or panties but a pair of 4" heels (we hadn't yet progressed to a pair of true fuck me heels), button up blouse and an ankle length skirt with a slit up the side to nearly the height of her cunt. I had also in the process made another command decision; namely, to let Bill fuck her without me there to watch. My concern was that she might freeze up out of embarrassment I n my presence, whereas if she were alone with him she'd find it far easier to let herself go.

I was naturally concerned that Bill would come to the party or that he'd show up with some other woman in tow. But sure enough, there he was, having arrived even before us. It didn't take me long, then, to approach him out of earshot of everyone and ask "do you want her tonight?"

"Why do you think I came here by myself tonight?" was his immediate reply.

Deciding that if I was going to have my wife used as a slut, I wanted her used thoroughly, I added "I'll give her to you after midnight. You can take her to your home and keep her overnight if you wish."

Pretty bold on my part, but one does have to take steps sometimes to get what one wants. Convinced, moreover, that my wife was fully primed to surrender to Bill, I spent a good part of my time trying to disguise the bulge that strained at my pants. Other than that the remainder of the evening went pretty much as usual ... some flirting between them and an occasional dance. I cannot say whether Bill related our conversation to her and that he intended to fuck her that night, but aside from seeing how tightly he seemed to hold her on a few of those dances, whatever outward indication there were of our plans were sufficiently discrete that even I couldn't detect them.

At the stroke of midnight I made certain, of course, that I was with my wife for a deep, tongue probing kiss with my hands pulling her by the cheeks of her ass against my harded cock. I know when my wife is wet, and I was certain she knew what I had planned. But there still was one more bold step to be taken. It was after we separated from our kiss that I told her bluntly "now go to Bill and go back with him to his house . I've given you to him for the night."

Maybe it was because I was afraid she'd object or refuse ... after all, I had never explicitly told her I intended to have her loaned out as a virtual whore rather than be there to participate in her sharing. Perhaps it was simply the still lingering embarrassment at so boldly having put plans into effect to have my wife made a slut. My greatest fear of all, of course, was that I had misread all the signals and she would simply walk away from me and return home after calling me a pervert. But rather than allow for any reaction I simply walked away to fix myself another drink leaving her to stand there.

She remained there unmoving for a minute, stunned perhaps at suddenly realizing that I had in fact arranged the thing I had for so long hinted or talked about. But it was at that point, with his obviously appropriate instincts for timing, that Bill reappeared at her side and, taking her by the hand, led her to the closet to retrieve her coat.

I have no idea what words if any they exchanged as he helped her on with her coat, but quickly they slipped out the front door while trying to avoid the notice of anyone there. Not wanting people to come up to me to ask 'where is Betty?' I soon left myself to cross the street to my own now empty house.

Needless to say, once home my imagination roamed wildly. Would she chicken out; would she fuck him once and then hurry home, embarrassed by what she had done? Was she already in the throes of passion, taking his swollen cock in each and every hole, one orgasm after another rocking her senseless? I'll admit now that I came 3 or 4 times that night imagining her in his bed, knowing what she looked like when she came ... her moans and cries of passion, the expressions on her face, her orgasmic convulsions.

Sometime that morning I fell asleep and didn't awake until 10AM or so, and still she hadn't returned. It was only then that I felt any anxiety and so it was with a sense of relief that I greeted her when she finally came home a hour later.

She offered no commentary on what had transpired that night, except to say she was exhausted and sore. She seemed neither angry nor excited, but simply drawn out. Of course I wanted to learn every detail of what had happened, but once again I felt too inhibited to ask any blunt questions.

In fact, to say that she had been fucked and fucked hard is an understatement. Unbeknownst to me or her, Bill was an experienced Dom who had decided that if I was going to loan my wife to him and if she was going to accept being shared, then he was going to make her a sub slut. At the time, D/s only meant whips and chains to me and I was unaware of any of the sophistication of a true D/s relationship. Bill, though, began that very first night with his training. Instead of simply fucking her, resting, and then doing it again after he had recharged (which is what I had naively assumed would happen with a seemingly `horny divorced bachelor') he spent the night playing with her, bringing her to the edge of one orgasm after another, but only occasionally allowing her over that edge, and then only after she said what he wanted her to say. And what she had to say was intended to strip her of her inhibitions - unashamedly begging to have Bill fuck her ass, to spank her harder, to bite her tits, or simply to fuck her and fill her so she could cum again.

My questions then were general and less than explicit: 'Did you enjoy yourself?' 'Did he fuck you hard?', etc.

My wife had a difficult time describing what she had experienced or answering forthrightly. Embarrassment still pervaded her replies and evenb after a night of being shared, she still had a difficult time uttering such words as 'fuck'. But what minimal answers she gave ('he played with me and used me all night') were suggestive enough to keep my cock throbbing. Those answers, though, were not nearly as comprehensive as what Bill required, for he had given her instructions to describe in minute detail how he had used her through the night. If I had know Bill's full intent when loaning my wife to him, I would never have been surprised at what happened next. Even before I could relieve my own pent up horny frustrations by pushing my wife down on the living room carpet to fuck her Bill called and asked if he could come over to see if she had followed his instructions. Not knowing precisely what he meant by this, I was nevertheless not about to forego the opportunity to learn more and to continue with the 'fantasy' of making my wife a slut.

My wife's response to learning that Bill was on his way over was simply "Oh god, he's going to make me tell you precisely how he fucked me." If my hand had been at my cock I would have exploded in my pants then. Fortunately it took Bill only minutes to walk the half block between our house and his.

I could tell my wife was more than a little embarrassed to have Bill there ... the man to whom she had just surrendered to like a common whore. More than likely, she still had some of his cum in her. Entering the house, Bill immediately suggested that my wife take a seat on the living room sofa and that he and I sit in chairs facing her. Assuming command of the situation in a wholly natural unobjectionable way, he ordered "Betty, tell your husband what happened as soon as you got to my house."

With a quiver of embarrassment she replied "Bill made me take off my skirt and blouse."

"You weren't wearing any panties or bra then were you because you came to the party expecting to get fucked by me, isn't that right?"

"Yes, that's right" she replied, lowering her eyes.

"Tell your husband happened next at my house?"

"He got some cuffs from a desk in the living room and attached them to my ankles and wrists."

I didn't at that moment think my cock could get harder, but it was only with a supreme act of will that I was able to keep from rubbing my crotch when she answered his next question: "And what did I do after each cuff was attached? Look at your husband when you answer!"

"He fingered me."

"No slut ... what specifically did I finger?"

"You fingered my ... my cunt and my ass"

"Pull up your skirt to your waist ... pull it up so we can see your cunt while you sit there."

Never had I imagined my wife following such an instruction, even if given by me in the privacy of our bedroom. Maybe it was the sternness of his voice or his mere presence, but amazingly she did as told.

"Now keep looking at your husband and finger your cunt."

She was clearly having a hard time looking into my eyes. But her hand nevertheless moved between her legs until a finger slipped in and I could tell that her cunt was beginning to throb and she was slowly adjusting to being an unashamed slut. At that point Bill stood up, walked behind the sofa, leaned forward to unbutton my wife's blouse so that he could openly fondle her tits, whispering in her ear "push it in deeper, slut ... move it in and out."

I sat there in both shock and supreme arousal as I watched her now wet finger slowly slide in and out of her reddened cunt. "You want to cum for me, don't you slut?" he asked.

"Yessss .. " she moaned.

"Did I fuck all your holes last night?"

"Yessss..."

"Were you my whore?"

And again she moaned her Yessss.

"Are you going to be my whore again when I want you?"

With her next Yesss all I could do was think, as if commanding myself, 'don't cum ... don't cum in your pants.'

"Are you going to let your husband watch me fuck you anytime he wants to watch you being fucked?"

"Yesssss... " she moaned and with a shiver pleaded "please, let me cum."

"Are you going to let me train you to be a slut, a submissive little fuck toy with me and your husband your Masters?"

"Yessssssss"

There was my wife, who I thought only 24 hours ago might never let another man fuck her, unashamedly fingering her cunt while Bill fondled her tits, her hips subtly rising to meet her hand, unable to cum until told she could. I knew then that I could only imagine the ways he had controlled and used her that night - the things he had done or had made her do to transform her into what she so obviously was now ... his slut. But I was about to get a full demonstration.

"Cum for me now, slut .. Cum like the whore you are!" whereupon my 'sweet innocent' wife let out a sharp guttural moan, arched her back and did precisely as she was told.

As soon as her orgasm had passed, he ordered her to stand up, whereupon he came around the sofa and, standing directly behind her, produced two wrists cuffs that he had stuffed in his pockets. "Keep looking at your husband," he commanded as he buckled first one cuff then the other around each wrist. Pulling her hands behind her, he then clipped them together.

"There, now we're going to give your husband a demonstration of what a submissive little cunt you truly are."

He then motioned for me to come over to her with the instruction to finger her cunt. Any sense of shock, embarrassment or reticence on my part had now passed, for it seemed that she was now no longer a wife, but simply a fuck toy who needed to be used. Pushing my hand to her cunt thru the slit in her skirt, I could feel her wetness dripping down her inner thigh. And as my finger gently flicked at her clit, she suddenly quivered and straightened as Bill moved her skirt even further aside and pushed a finger into her ass.

She seemed to sag a bit, but grabbing and squeezing a tit with my other hand, I pushed up harder into her. I could feel Bill's finger working her ass, her eyes now closed tight, her breathing coming in short staccato gasps. "Feel good slut?" I asked as I squeezed her tit harder and attempted to assert some control of the situation.

"Yessss" she whimpered, her eyes now shut tight.

"Did Bill play with both holes at the same time last night as we are doing now?"