The Transformation of Betty Ch. 07

As Bill later described things, to say that she got the look-over on the street was an understatement. More than one man stopped after they passed, turned and simply looked. As for my wife, if she felt like a whore at the dress store back home or with Frank the night before, she felt no different then dressed as she was. Their visit to the dress store, however, was itself largely uneventful since the store was busy and crowded ... uneventful except for what Bill bought her. To be honest, I'm glad he did it rather than me since its cost exceeded that of the slut attire I had bought her – a steel-boned leather corset that half covered her tits, did not cover her cunt and drew her waist in a full 5 or 6 inches. Bill, in fact, made certain the corset was smaller than recommended – if a corset is to give a slut a true hourglass shape, then it should do so fully.

Upon returning to their hotel Bill hadn't enough time to be subtle or to take advantage of the corset as he intended. It was simply "bend over whore, I want to cum in your cunt." And that is precisely what he did. Bill then told her to hurry and get dressed – they were meeting one of his clients for dinner.

My wife, naturally, knew precisely what that meant. Since she had brought only slut dresses, she was going to be whored again. Her fucking the previous night, though, had been magnificent. Frank had really worked her over and she was sorry he had to leave town. She doubted tonight could be the same, but she knew even before she got on the plane two days ago what her role was that weekend, and so her only response was "What should I wear?"

Bill's favorite remained the cowl neck dress, but they'd be going to a somewhat upscale restaurant and it would be best if she wore the sheer gown with a black thong. Not that the thong made the dress any less slutty since it was more readily seen than the hair at her cunt. But she'd also be 'legal' and a restaurant would have a hard time excluding her. In any event, Bill called to tell me they were going out with one of his clients and they'd most likely return to the hotel earlier than last night. He didn't have to say anything more than that for me to know I was going to have the opportunity, in all likelihood, to listen to my wife getting fucked again.

They met Bill's client – I'll call him Sam – at the restaurant and as Bill recounted things later, Sam's eyes, to use the cliche, nearly fell out of his head when he saw my wife. And no doubt, based on what Bill had already told him, his ardor was increased by the knowledge that he was going to fuck her later that night.

The dinner itself was utterly normal with the exception that, as always, Bill had her go to the lady's room. But not so much to put her on display to those at other tables as much as for Sam's benefit. Throughout dinner Sam had a superb view of my wife's tits thru the dress's stretched sheer fabric, but Bill wanted him to take special note of her ass. In fact, he unashamedly told her at the table "Go to the lady's room but walk slowly ... I want Sam to see what a fuckable ass you have."

For my wife, as she later recalled things, the dinner was somewhat surreal. Sitting there, listening to Bill and Sam chat, knowing she was being openly whored, she felt humiliated at times but at other times found herself incredibly turned on. Aside from Bill's comment about her 'fuckable ass' nothing was explicitly said about anything sexual. It was as if, following dinner, Sam would go his separate way, when precisely the opposite was true.

Nevertheless, to make a long story short, Bill, Sam and my wife returned to the hotel and the first thing Bill did was have my wife model her corset. With my wife taking off her dress and thong and squiggling into the corset, Bill called and informed me of the corset purchase, Sam's presence and what my wife was then wearing. I heard my wife say she couldn't tighten the corset on her own, whereupon Bill set the phone down with the comment "hope you enjoy listening to the show." Then he said simply "Don't worry, slut ... I'm going to tighten it in my own way."

I had no idea what Bill meant by that and I'm sure neither did my wife, but his next words were "on your hands and knees on the floor, whore." The sounds of the slight rustling of clothes told me that Bill was undressing, and probably Sam as well, whereupon is was Bill's voice I heard next again: "Sam, you can have her mouth, but first let me heat her up by taking her in her well-used ass."

Initially, I formed the image of Bill plowing into her in the usual way, but a minute or two after her usual 'ohhhhhhhhhhhhh,' indicating that Bill's had penetrated her, she began to moan, almost plead, "too tight ... too tight."

Bill had indeed shoved his cock up her ass, but he was using the corset's laces to pull her onto him, tightening the corset with each thrust. The corset grew tighter until it closed fully, by which time my wife was moaning loudly "ohhhhhhhh godddddddddd ... ohhhhhhhhh godddddddddddd."

I have no idea how different the sensations were for her but Bill later told me that with the corset closed fully, he could literally hold her around her waist with his thumbs and index fingers touching. This gave him a grip that let him to drive his cock into her harder than he had done before. Little wonder, then, that her cries and moans soon turned into a gasping "arghhhhhhhhhhh" as she came.

For the second night in a row my wife's ass was getting a thorough reaming, But Bill at that point changed his mind and decided she needed a double fucking. "Sam, why don't you lay on the floor and let this little slut ride you?"

Sam must have complied, since the next sound was my wife's moans signaling that Sam's cock had slid into her cunt. Bill obviously had pulled out of her ass, and I fully expected him to mount her again. But what I heard next was a loud crack followed immediately by my wife letting out a scream of shock and pain. Bill had apparently removed his belt, bent her forward, and snapped the belt across her ass. "We best gag her or the hotel is gonna wonder what's happening here."

This wasn't going to be the last necktie that would need dry cleaning after a business trip, but even with it tied tightly behind her head I could still hear her muffled whimpers, cries, and moans. A minute or so after that first crack I heard two or three others in rapid succession along with my wife's gurgling muffled cries. You might think this treatment was sadistic. But Bill had whipped my wife's ass with his crop before while she rode my cock and the experience is exquisite. With each crack of the whip her reflex is to lurch forward, impaling herself, while her cunt contracts from the pain. Bill, clearly, was letting Sam enjoy this pleasure, but it was not Sam's pleasure alone. Inevitably my wife cums from a whipping with an orgasm as intense as any other she experiences.

The next crack of the belt yields another muffled scream, and the same with the 3rd, then the 4th crack, until with the fifth there was her unmistakable muffled orgasmic cry of a slut cumming out of control.

Her fucking, however, was hardly done. With the whipping finished, Bill ungagged her and with the hotel phone nearby, commanded "tell your husband what you are doing."

"I'm ... I'm riding Sam's cock" she said with a discernable weakness in her voice that hinted at tears and a sob.

"And what's happening now, whore?"

"Bill ... ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh .... ," followed by a deep breath, then "he's ... oh godddddddd."

"Tell him, whore ... tell him!"

"He's ... he's in ... he's in my ass."

"You love having two cocks in you, slut ... don't you?" he continued, knowing that making my wife answer such questions was not only a turn on for everyone involved, but also a way to eliminate any sense of shame in her.

"Yessssssssssssssssssss ..."

"Tell your husband how Sam's cock feels in your cunt"

"Oh goddddddddddddddd" was the only reply she could offer.

"Does he have a nice big cock?"

"Yesssssssssssssssssss ..." she moaned ... then a pause ... then once again a cry "aieeeeeeeeeeeeeeee" as she came.

"Bite her tits, Sam ... bite the slut's tits hard."

"Oh godddddd ... nooooooooo ... noooooooooo ... owwwwwwwww ... arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" she screamed, still in the midst of her orgasm.

I wondered then if she might have to be gagged again, when I hear Bill command "cum you little bitch, cum."

"Argggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh"

"Keep cumming, whore .... don't stop ..."

"Aieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee" she screamed with a wail that I'm sure people in the adjoining rooms could hear.

"We've got the slut going now." I thought I heard Sam say and again a few moments later I could hear my wife cumming in what seemed like a long continuous garbled, gasping wail .

It was then that, sitting in my chair, I came. I marveled, in fact, at how Sam had thus far been able to refrain from cumming himself, with his cock enjoying the pleasure of my wife's warm convulsing cunt. I didn't, however, have long to wait since the next thing I heard was Bill say "Shall we cum in this married whore together?"

"Yes ... I can't hold off much longer."

"Then let's do it!"

From there on after, the only sounds to be heard were my wife gasping grunts of 'ohhhhhhhhhhhh' until finally she let out another wailing scream "aieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee."

Following a long pause during which I assumed Bill and Sam were extricating themselves from my wife, Bill said "Tell your husband, whore, what just happened."

There was, though, no immediate reply, and I assume my wife was catching her breath or in some way recovering.

"Whore, tell your husband what just happened!"

"Ohhhhhhhh ...." she moaned, barely able to speak, "they ... they both came."

"Tell your husband what's in your cunt and ass now, slut!"

"Their cum ... their cum is in me now."

"Very good whore, now go clean up ... but don't loosen that corset!"

With my wife evidently in the bathroom, there followed a brief conversation between Bill and Sam covering topics from how good a fuck my wife was to an agreement to call each other when they returned to their offices and they'd have to finalize the terms of some contracts. Sam, of course, said he hoped my wife would accompany Bill next time they met: "That's one hell of a whore" he commented before saying that he best leave and get home before his wife got pissed.

With that Sam left and Bill, picking up the phone, asked if I enjoyed the show. Our conversation concluded with "Call you again tomorrow."

I suppose one might ask how it feels listening to one's wife being whored ... perhaps not in the traditional sense, but surely required to fuck men she didn't know. Why not jealousy when you hear her cum as hard or even harder than when you fuck her yourself? The answer, for me at least, is another question: How many husbands are jealous when their wives get off from a vibe? After all, how does it feel to know that she can get as much pleasure from a hard piece of plastic or rubber as one's own cock? I suppose I might have over-intellectualized things, but it always seemed to me that I should be more jealous of that vibe than another man's cock.

I didn't hear from Bill again until evening the next day, but that's not to say their day was uneventful. Indeed, the opposite was true. Bill made my wife sleep in her corset and despite how tight it was, her hard fucking made it easy for her to fall asleep. A word about that corset since I've obviously seen her in it subsequently: My wife's normal waistline then was a nearly perfect 26 inches but the corset when tightened fully brought her down to a breathless 21 inches. The visual effect was incredible, accentuating her ass as nothing else could. At the same time it pushed her tits up and out, leaving her with an incredible cleavage with nipples wholly uncovered. I'm offering this description to set the stage for what Bill did the next morning. When they awoke, Bill dressed but told my wife to brush her hair, put on her makeup but remain in the corset. When she was done he called room service to order a light breakfast and told my wife to put on her platform heels. Let me tell you ... if a man didn't get an instant hardon given how she looked then, then nothing would give him one.

"When room service knocks, answer the door."

My wife was aghast at that command although she knew she must obey. One never knows whether room service will be some young stud or some guy with fewer than then teeth in his mouth. Nevertheless, she did as told and, according to Bill's account, room service was a guy most likely in his late 30's who was almost certainly more embarrassed by my wife's appearance than anything else. As he wheeled the food cart into the room (with the door closing automatically behind him) Bill told my wife to come over and stand next to where he was seated. Initially it seemed that room service was more interested in setting out the food as quickly as possible and then hastening his retreat out the door, but Bill wasn't about to encourage such a thing: "What do you think of my slut?" he straightforwardly asked.

"She's very nice" he apparently answered nervously while trying not to make eye contact with anything but the food on the tray.

Bill moved his hand up between my wife's legs until, from behind, he had a finger playing with her cunt. My wife knew precisely what she had to do, which was to stand there and do nothing. Bill, however, didn't simply insert a finger and keep it there. He did what he could to get her close to cumming before asking room service "would you like to see her cum?"

Apparently still embarrassed and ill at ease, room service replied "If you want me to, yes." Apparently, however, room service had slowed considerably in laying out the meal. He was essentially done but was making no attempt at retreating to the door.

My wife recalled a feeling of total humiliation, but that hardly kept her from becoming eminently fuckable. And that's precisely what Bill had in mind: "Would you like to fuck her?"

"Umm .. not sure I should."

Retrieving a condom from the bedside stand, "with this of course. Slut, put your hands on the bed!"

I'll never know what went through room service's mind then, but it didn't keep him from taking up on Bill's offer. However, it didn't take long for him to cum while fucking her. Seems that as much as he wanted to fuck her, he also was nervous about the time he was spending in the room. And so in less than five minutes after slipping the condom over his cock he was out the door pushing his cart down the hall.

Once room service left Bill fucked her for his own satisfaction and only then allowed my wife to get out of her corset. But only so she could change into the skirt and top she'd worn the previous day. As long as they were in DC that skirt and top were to be her daytime wear, including the trip they made to the fish market for lunch. And as she later recounted things, the men selling fish there weren't in the least bit reticent to whistle and make comments to her, with several of them unashamedly asking her how much she charged.

There were so many other things Bill could have done with her during the day. There was a gentlemen's club nearby and he was tempted to take her there instead for lunch. She surely was dressed for that. But he'd already lost track of how many times she'd cum that weekend and she did seem to be wearing down. Best to just display her as a whore on the street, shopping and eating lunch at a sidewalk café.

Its difficult for me to fully appreciate my wife's feelings walking around the city dressed in a way that encouraged people to think she was nothing but a shameless whore ... the stares, the comments ... knowing that any man who saw you imagined how it must be to fuck you, wondering if you were shaved or trimmed, imagining their cocks in your ass and cunt, guessing at your moans and cries when you came. As my wife later admitted, its not something she thought she'd ever get used to ... the sense of shame. Its one thing being displayed and then fucked by some stranger in the privacy of a hotel room; its something else to be paraded around in public dressed like a common slut. There was nothing in the least bit erotic in this for her; but there wasn't supposed to be. She WAS a whore and making her walk about dressed as such was as a part of her training. Perhaps the worst for her was walking thru the hotel lobby, wondering if room service had bragged to the other employees how he'd fucked her, wondering if their stares were the knowing looks of those who knew what a shameless slut she was.

As far as the evening was concerned, Bill debated whether to take her back to the hotel's rooftop lounge but decided on the evening dinner/dancing cruise along the Potomac – she had after all already been fucked by three different men that weekend and there was no reason to push her further. She knew she was a whore even if she hadn't been paid for her services. 'Tonight is my night to fuck her' he thought.

For the cruise, it was the cowl neck again since Bill was hardly going to pass on the opportunity to display her, especially on the dance floor. To an extent it was an 'instant replay' of the evenings at the restaurant back home ... with one exception. Having finished their meal and having given everyone a salacious view of her ass on the dance floor, he took her outs to the ship's rail so they could watch the city's lights pass by. Occasionally a couple might walk past, but for the most part they stood there alone with a another couple or two yards away looking at the lights. This scene might seem especially romantic, and dangerously so from my perspective. That, as she later confided to me, was how she felt initially. Although she loved being fucked by him, she held no romantic feelings toward Bill. Nevertheless, and despite all that she'd had done that weekend, she feared at that moment that he might have romantic feeling for her. She was wrong. Bill had chosen the cruise to emphasize that she was nothing more to him than a slut ... his slut in training ... and the cruise was the perfect context in which to make that point. In a context where a man might lean over and gently kiss the woman he was with, Bill rested his hand on her back, slowly let it slide down until it reached under what little there was of the dress, and pushed his finger into her ass while warning her to not move and to continue looking at the city's lights.

Impaled on his finger she didn't dare do anything else, which isn't to say that her cunt didn't respond. She'd felt like a whore all day, and now came the humiliation of being required to simply lean against the ship's rail without objection with a finger in her ass. The question was: How long could she hold off from cumming? The answer was 'not long', especially when he commanded her to reach down and touch her own cunt. She knew what he was again doing to her – making her cum when HE wanted her to cum, regardless of where they might be, regardless of who might see her. If anyone had walked by ... and no one did ... they would have seen a collared slut 'secretly' fingering her own cunt while the man next to her had his hand down the back of her dress. And she did cum, quietly and softly.

Back at the hotel she was, as Bill promised, his. It was his night to fuck her without interruption. He called me, of course, as soon as they got to the room, and then simply set the phone's receiver next to the bed. What transpired after that was as much for my pleasure as it was for his.

"Strip whore and put on your corset."

"Yes Sir" she replied, again assuming the persona of the submissive slut.

"On the bed on your hands and knees, slut ... facing the mirror."