The Transformation of Betty A06

Once he was done he announced that we were going out to dinner to a fancy upscale restaurant and that he wanted me to dress sexy but not like a whore. I was relieved to learn about dinner because I was starving, but now I had a challenge ... dressing appropriately. Scurrying upstairs I chose a skin tight but wholly opaque white mini-dress with a modestly scooped neckline. However, since Bill often bought spandex dresses for me that were one size too small and fit me like a latex glove, the dress made my tits bulge up and out so as to maximize my cleavage. The feel of the fabric so tight against my skin made my nipples instantly hard and rendered them wholly prominent. That, in combination with how tightly the dress held me around my ass left it obvious I was wearing nothing beneath it. Thus, while it covered me so as to keep me from being pornographic, it was surely sexy and erotic.

Adding my collar, earrings and heels, I walked back downstairs, holding my breath not knowing what Alex's reaction would be. The minute he saw me, though, he responded "perfect!"

"Whew, I was worried you'd think it too sexy."

"My dear, you can never dress too sexy for me ... or even too slutty. I simply wanted to make sure the restaurant wouldn't give us a hard time getting a table." But then he added "go back upstairs slut and put the plug back in your ass. You'll henceforth always keep your ass plugged unless I tell you otherwise."

I didn't have to be told twice what to do, so heading directly upstairs I took the plug out of the drawer, struggled a bit to lift my dress high enough, and worked the plug back into me. Returning to Alex, without saying a word he took my hand and led me out to the car and dinner.

The restaurant was warm and comfortable, but what made dinner notable was our conversation. Alex began: "Your husband appears to have accepted the fact that he doesn't know how long you'll be out here with me, right?"

"Yes Sir ... he has no expectations as to when I'll return."

"And what about you?"

"As I told you on the phone, Sir ... I'm here for as long as you want me."

"Excellent. So I'll tell you now that unless you displease or disappoint me in some way, owing to what I have planned for you, you'll be here somewhat longer than just two or three weeks."

"May I ask Sir what you have planned?"

"You may ask, slut, but I'm not going to answer. You'll find out in due time ... in fact, you'll learn a good bit tomorrow."

To say that Alex's words had me on the edge of my chair in anticipation is an understatement of monumental proportions. But I'd long ago learned not to press a Master into telling you something he doesn't want to tell you. So I said simply "Well, Sir, I hope I live up to your expectations."

"From what I've seen and experienced thus far, slut, you'll have no problem at all doing that." He then commented on something that I wasn't sure had been obvious to him "I see you're referring to me now as Sir. Is that because you view me or want me to be your Dom, your Master in a D/s relationship?"

"If I may speak freely, Sir, yes, that's precisely what I envision. I very much need being owned again and made to serve as someone's obedient slave. For a variety of reasons, some of which I don't understand myself, my husband cannot fit that role. He understands that and would be delighted if someone such as yourself collared me. And to be honest, Sir, ever since you fucked and shared me in Las Vegas I've fantasized about you as my new Master and me as your wholly owned slut."

"I'm flattered and I too have fantasied the past two months ... about you being my slut. I simply don't know how well that would work given the 1500 miles between our respective homes."

"Sir, I don't want to push things, I don't want to scare you away, and I'm not even yet fully certain that we are 100% compatible as Master and slave. But when I said I'd stay here for as long as you wanted me, I was hopefully opening the door for you to collar me eventually. And that was an unconditional statement. I was prepared to move permanently to Europe to be with my Master four years ago. Nothing has changed insofar as my need to be owned. So should I find another equally compatible Master, I will be his sub slut under any conditions he sets including moving to live with him 24/7."

"And your husband is prepared to accept that?"

"Yes Sir, he is ... if only because he knows he has no choice but to accept it. He had no choice but to accept whatever fate Bill chose for me, and that too hasn't changed."

"Well, I guess we'll have to see how this all plays out ... but for now you'll simply serve me as but another man's wife who happens to be a wanton slut that craves having other men fuck her."

"That, Sir, is precisely what I am ... a wanton married slut."

"And I assume you're sitting there right now craving my cock?"

"Oh god yes Sir. I can't possibly describe how badly I want your cock in me now."

"And is your cunt wet right now thinking about me as your Master?"

"My cunt is dripping and throbbing, Sir."

"And your ass ... how does your ass feel?"

"Stuffed Sir ... and you already know how much I enjoy being fucked in my ass."

Our conversation had pretty much consumed dinner whereupon we headed back to Alex's house and a night in which I finally got what I craved ... being fucked on the kitchen table, bent over the living room sofa, on the staircase going up to the bedrooms, and fucked in his bed. He fucked me in my mouth, in my cunt, in my ass, and over the course of the night and into the morning, he came in each and every hole. I came, moreover, about as many times as I had the previous two months with my husband, and after falling asleep together, didn't awake until 11 in the morning.

Following breakfast Alex announced "OK slut, get dressed and this time I expect you to look like a slut, a whore even. We have to go somewhere and I want you looking as shamelessly slutty as possible."

Wow, I thought to myself, that's quite a command, but once again I headed upstairs to go through the dresses I'd brought. And by far the absolute sluttiest was a little number that didn't have much more fabric to it that a sexy swimsuit. In fact, calling it a dress was a bit of a stretch. First, it was as short as the skirt I'd worn at the airport. Second, it had a scooped loose neckline that dropped a few inches below my belly button. And finally the back dropped even further so as to reveal a good share of the crack of my ass. Wearing it was akin to hanging a sign off me that said "fuck me here". And since it hung over my shoulders, a simple flick of someone's fingers and it would immediately drop to the floor. "He wanted me slutty," I said to myself, "and I don't think I can get any sluttier that this."

Heading back down the stairs, I presented myself to Alex and once again he said "perfect." Then walking up to me, he did what I'd suggested ... flicking the shoulder straps to the side, it dropped to the floor leaving me standing there utterly naked except for my collar and heels. "It's actually better than perfect, slut."

Telling me then that plugging my ass wasn't necessary, we got into his car and in less that twenty minutes we pulled up to our destination ... a destination that left my cunt throbbing: Its name as best as I recall it was "The Purring Pussy Gentleman's Club."

Given the time of day ... around 1 in the afternoon ... I was surprised to find a fair number of cars in the parking lot, but as soon as we entered I understood why. Yes, there were a number of semi-naked girls (naked except for their thongs) on small stages languidly dancing along with an equal number of similarly 'dressed' girls working as waitresses. This wasn't simply a strip club, but a place for horny businessmen to eat a visually enjoyable lunch.

However, rather than take a table, we walked immediately to a door marked 'manager', knocked and were immediately invited in. Behind a desk sat a somewhat elderly gentleman who, looking up, said simply "So Alex, is this the slut you talked to me about?"

"Yes, she arrived yesterday."

Standing up and walking around his desk, he approached and began inspecting me with his eyes as if I were a used car he was thinking of buying. "So slut, Alex tells me you'd be perfect to work here. What do you think?"

"I ... I don't know Sir ... I've never been here before but if Alex wants me to work here then that's what I want."

Without saying another word he then did what Alex did to my dress in his apartment causing it to drop to the floor. Then, walking around as if he were now looking under the hood of that used car, he ran a finger deliciously over one of my tits and then down to just above my cunt. Turning me around, he then slid a finger between the cheeks of my ass and pushed it just an inch or so into me there ... perhaps to see my reaction. I stood perfectly still, trying to be as much of a mannequin on display as I possibly could be, when he said simply "not bad ... nice tits, good tight ass ... if she agrees to terms, I can use the bitch."

If he wanted me to feel cheap, he succeeded. But more importantly, that left the question of terms as the question to be answered: "Here are my terms, slut. First, you will work either the day or night shift three times a week. You'll be paid minimum wage plus half the tips you earn. Except for when you arrive or depart at the end of your shift, you will wear nothing but a thing and the highest heels you can walk in. The rule for men are 'look but don't touch' and I have those working for me who can enforce that rule. But that's only part of your duties. The club closes at 1AM and at least once a week there's an after hours party you'll attend if called to do so. We do not allow violence and no bareback ... the men must use condoms ... but as long as a man satisfies that, if he wants to fuck you, you will let him do so. So if you do work here, it will be as a whore. Finally, my enterprise is protected by local law enforcement, and I pay them handsomely for that. But from time to time one or two of my girls will be asked to serve night duty with members of our fine and upstanding police department. When asked to do so, you will provide the expected service with a smile and to full satisfaction."

So there is was. Alex had arranged for me to be a whore. And therein lay at least one of the reasons keeping me with him for only two weeks wouldn't be satisfactory. In fact, two months might be only marginally satisfactory if things worked out since it could easily take me two or three weeks to learn and be wholly comfortable in my job. Regardless, the prospect of being a whore was an immense turn on ... something I wished I'd been able to openly be back home. I did, though, wonder if I was up to the job since the girls I'd seen at the club all looked to be in their 20s and 30s. There I was, a 40 year old slut wondering if I could compete.

"So slut, what have you got to say about the prospect of working here?"

"If Alex wants me to work here, I'd be delighted to do so."

At that point Alex interrupted with a question of his own: "Is my slut allowed to have contact as a paid whore outside of work with men she meets at the club?"

"That's between you and her. I can't police things to the point of prohibiting my girls from being whores away from the club ... essentially all of them are ... and from finding clients while waiting on their table."

I was somewhat surprised at Alex's question. Clearly, he foresaw the possibility of me working as a prostitute beyond what would be required at the club. Naturally, at that moment I had no objection to the implications of Alex's question.

Sensing that he had answered Alex's question satisfactorily, the manager continued: "OK, so it sounds like everything meets with your approval. If so, you can start in two days. I'll call Alex with the details of when you should show up and whether there'll be a party this week. If there is a party I'd want you to attend and get introduced to some of our regulars. But one more thing ... I get to fuck all my girls whenever I want to fuck them."

Turning to Alex, he therein got Alex's approval with a simple affirmative nod of his head and wave of the hand. So turning to me, the manager told me to face and lean against his desk. I can't say I found him the least bit attractive, but I knew what I had to do, whereupon, stepping behind me and releasing his cock, he rammed his manhood hard into my throbbing cunt.

Frankly, I don't think he was fucking me because he was especially horny. He could, after all, have any girl in the club any time he wanted her. Instead, I suspect that he was test me to see how compliant and shameless I was. If it was forbidden for me to refuse being fucked by any man at an after hours party, then I had best respond to him as he expected or wanted me to. Thus, I did what I'd done before with some of the men Bill had me fuck ... I closed my eyes, wiped from my mind any picture of who it was who was fucking me, and focused on the sensations in my cunt. There was no need, then, for any faked orgasm, and as the manager slammed mercilessly into me, I began moaning and grunting in pleasure with each thrust. Suddenly the manager stiffened and his warm creamy seed began filling me, at which point a very real orgasm swept thru me as I cried out "AIEEEEEEEE."

Pulling out and wiping his cock with a towel kept nearby for, I assumed, that purpose, the manager, whose name I still didn't know, turned to Alex and said "Yes, she'll be an excellent whore. A bit older than my other girls, but some of my customers enjoy fucking a married sluts whose husbands have no choice but to let their wives be prostitutes."

Clearly, Alex had told the manager a good bit about me even before I'd left home, portraying my husband, perhaps correctly, as a mere cuckold. Be that as it may, I was enthralled at the prospect of not only being a whore, but also working as a waitress in the club. To walk around shamelessly on display was a decided turn on, and if I worried about anything, it was whether getting turned on from that would make me unable to satisfactorily perform my duties as a waitress.

With a handshake, Alex and I left the club after I pulled up my dress with the manager's seed still leaking out of me. "So slut, what do you think?"

"The idea, Sir, of working as a whore has always excited me. It's degrading and dirty and thus something I find intensely erotic. If my Master wants me to be a whore, I'll be the best one I can be."

"Well, I'm not your Master ... not yet ... but I think you now understand why it's reasonable to keep you out here indefinitely."

"Yes Sir, I understand completely." I then took the bold step of adding "I understand that you are not my Master ... at least not yet, Sir. But I intend to respond to you and to serve you as if you were. I will be unquestioning in my obedience and you may use me in any way that pleases you. I ask only that nothing you do to me or make me do results in any permanent physical damage."

"Well slut, it is my plan to have you satisfy every and all fantasies I've ever entertained about sex, along with the fantasies of my friends. As I think you already guess after I introduced you to my friend the bartender, we'll be having a party tonight at my house attend by some of my friends. I'm sure you know what your responsibilities will be, but to underscore that, I want you to wear precisely what you are wearing now.

Cutting to my memories of the party itself, Alex was absolutely right when he said I would be expected to fulfill the fantasies of his friends. As best as I can recall, six men showed up, all roughly Alex's age (early 30s) and all horny as hell. But what it meant for there to be seven men focused exclusively on me was that there was almost never a moment when there wasn't at least one male eager to fuck me with a rock hard cock. Frankly, I can't remember everything. At times things turned into an utter blur, with cocks on one, two or all three of my holes. Periodically I was allowed to go to the bathroom to clean up and in a repeat of what had happened in Vegas with the pool attendant, on one of those trips upstairs I was joined by two of Alex's friends who together fucked me hard in the shower.

Thinking about it all in retrospect, I'd have to say that, like Alex, none of them had ever had access to a slut such as myself who let herself be used with no limits. I was fucked, spanked, whipped with a belt, and had god knows how much cum shot onto my tits and face. While they fucked me some of the men taunted me about being a whore or taunted my absent husband about being a wimp cuckold. Someone suggested humiliating me by sending me naked out onto the street covered in cum (that idea was ruled out by Alex) while someone else suggested cleaning me out with an enema (the tools for that apparently weren't yet available). If there's a description of an orgy with a single slut, that night fit the description.

The men were gone by early morning, leaving me alone with Alex to get some sleep. I was exhausted, sore, and leaking seed when the last man left. At the same time, I was about as sexually satisfied as a woman could be. There had been very little in the way of BDSM sex ... one severe whipping and a hard fucking of my ass with the plug while someone's cock was deep in my cunt. If the men concentrated on anything it was recharging so they cold fuck me again and come in or on me. The net result was that I probably had more seed shot into and on me than ever before. Of course, the advantage there is that if men see me with a face covered in cum while cumming myself because someone was banging away at me, then all questions as to whether I was a total slut evaporated.

If I were to imagine myself now looking back at those first two days with Alex as I lay there on the bed barely awake, I had to have been ecstatic. Not only had I gotten to fuck Alex, which in and of itself was great, but I'd displayed myself as a whore at the airport to Alex's satisfaction, I'd been hired as a whore at a topless gentleman's club, fucked to orgasm by the club's manager in front of Alex, and finally experienced a 7-man gangbang that seemed certain to be repeated. I had, moreover committed myself both verbally and psychologically to remain at Alex's for an indefinite period and, while he made no commitment to say yes or no, offered myself to Alex as his collared sub slut.

You're doubtlessly wondering how so much could happen so quickly, and how after 14 years of marriage I was prepared to commit myself totally to someone I'd known only briefly. The answer lies in part to the fact that I flew to Alex with the well-developed fantasy of becoming his collared slut and nothing that had happened thus far had made that fantasy seem infeasible. Second, one needs to keep in mind that I was anything but an inexperienced collared sub slut. I knew what it meant to be collared and owned by someone, and thus far at least Alex seemed to fit the bill of Master perfectly. Finally, there was the simple fact that I craved being collared and owned ... possibly craving it too much for my own good and willing to be incautious in my search for a Master. But at this point I saw no reason for caution.

Now you might ask how in my thinking my husband and marriage fit it with all of this. Well, to be honest, lying there in the afterglow of two intensely erotic days, he didn't and it didn't fit in at all. That is, he wasn't at that moment even an afterthought, and I was of a mind at that moment that if becoming Alex's collared sub slut meant abandoning my marriage, I would. I realize in this is an indefensible attitude, but I am not trying to defend anything ... I'm only describing feelings, thoughts and emotions infected admittedly by an intense sexual experience.