The Transformation of Betty Ch. 09

Exhaustion overtook the three of us, and all I could do, after flushing the condom down the toilet, was sit back in a chair while the two women lay on the bed, Sally half on and half off. Occasionally a shiver would run thru my wife, but other than that she simply lay there, totally exhausted. After awhile Sally got up and headed to the bathroom for a quick shower and when she returned we released my wife from her cuffs, gag, collar and corset ... but only to send her to clean up as well.

With my wife in the bathroom Sally quickly dressed and told me she was working the club that night and that she'd love it if we came there again so my wife could join her onstage. I wasn't sure myself what I wanted to do, though it seemed I was now committed to another night in that motel since checkout time had long since passed. As drained as I was then, I'll admit that the prospect of bringing my wife back to the strip club for a second night had its appeal, since it offered the image of my wife as a serious stripper rather than merely a housewife taking an occasional walk on the wild side. "Will you use her again on stage?" I asked.

"I certainly hope so ... she's a great fuck."

"And will you be available after-hours again like last night if the opportunity arises?" I asked.

"Yes, though I should tell you that if arrangements are made for any men to fuck your wife, you should make certain she's paid more than the $150 she was paid last night."

"Don't you worry about disease and things like that when whoring yourself?"

"For after hours at the club, condoms are required regardless of who the men are."

"OK, just wanted to get that practical issue out of the way."

"I understand. And I understand as well why you've been careful with me. I've been working at the club for two years now trying to save enough money for college, and I've never had any problems. Alex who owns and runs the club is a good guy ... he protects the girls so you can feel secure having your wife work or perform there."

"We're not doing this for the money. Three months ago my wife was your typical middle class housewife, but she certainly is to be enjoying her life as a slut now. As you probably already guessed, I share her with Bill, the guy I was with the first time she came to the club. I have no plans for her to become a fully time stripper, but I've certainly enjoyed our visits to the club and I'm delighted that she made the connection with you."

"Ditto here. Again, she's a great fuck and I really do get off having a woman whose sub. I'm a switch with men ... depends on what they want. But I prefer to be in command when it comes to other women. I'd love to have your wife alone some day or with my roommate."

At about that point in our conversation my wife, naked, exited the bathroom, unsure as to what if anything would be happening next. And for whatever reason, despite the fact that I preferred then to simply relax until it was time to go to dinner, I decided that she should be kept as a BDSM slut. I asked Sally to help me 're-dress' my wife, but rather than retrieve a dress, I reached for the corset.

Sally immediately understood what I wanted, and in minutes my wife was trussed up again as she had been before – heels, corset (tightly laced), posture collar, ring gag and cuffs. It was time, however, for Sally to leave, but before doing so she walked up to my wife, pushed two fingers up into her cunt and after giving her a gentle kiss on the cheek, said simply "you're going to be my slut again, aren't you, if your husband wants it?"

The only response my wife could give at that point was an affirmative nod of the head, whereupon Sally exited our room. I then told my wife that it was my turn to shower ... but not before I attached her wrists cuffs behind her back, sat her on the bed, and attached her ankle cuffs to each other.

There was nothing she could do but sit while I took my time in the bathroom: 'let her contemplate her circumstance as a slut and Sally's lesbian lover' I thought to myself, while making the decision to return to the club that evening – especially since I couldn't think of anything else to do that night.

Once out of the shower and dressed, despite my wife's salacious appearance, I thought it best to simply go to dinner without getting all sweaty again. But of course, she'd have to be dressed as well, and so after a short interlude of playing with her cunt to ensure its wetness, I removed everything she was wearing except for her gag and heels, then told her to put on her hobble dress.

Unfortunately, I knew nothing of the restaurants in the immediate vicinity and so I went to the motel's front desk for suggestions while my wife prepared herself. I was told of a fairly quiet Italian restaurant up the road that had something of a romantic atmosphere to it and I decided that this suggestion was as good as any other.

Returning to the room, I found my wife standing there, still gagged, wearing her dress unzipped from the bottom so as to make it sexy enough, but in no way overly salacious. Since I knew nothing of the restaurant to which we were going I decided to leave things as they were, but in a moment of daring, told her to keep the gag in her mouth for our walk to the car.

I haven't the foggiest idea what anyone might think had they seen her then wearing 6" heels, a skin tight dress and a ring gag, but our short walk to the car was observed by noone insofar as I could tell, and I only allowed her to remove the gag as we pulled up to the restaurant's parking lot. Throughout this time, of course, my wife had been wholly unable to give me her verbal reactions to having been Sally's slut in the motel that afternoon, or indeed say anything at all. But once at our table I asked simply "so tell me, did you enjoy yourself this afternoon?"

"Yes, for the most part ... but it hurt a lot when she bit me."

"But you still came."

"Yes, I know," she answered with a somewhat sheepish look.

"And did you enjoy watching me fuck her?" I asked point blank.

This time she blushed before answering "yes."

Deciding that her embarrassment wasn't my concern, I pushed matters further "and did you enjoy drinking her piss?"

"Oh god .. . no ... that was so embarrassing ... so dirty."

"But you swallowed it." "I had no choice."

"And you came ...!"

Unable to look me in the eye then, she lowered her head saying "oh god."

"I'm taking you back to the club tonight."

"Yes, I assumed you were going to do that."

"And Sally will be there."

"I assumed that was going to be the case too," she answered.

"We'll go there as soon as we finish dinner. I put your stripper gown from last night in a bag in the backseat and you'll change into it on the drive there."

Beyond that dinner was wholly uneventful. With a crowded restaurant filled with families as well as couples, it was hardly the place to display my wife in any salacious way and the only move I made in that direction was telling her to zipper her dress down to within a few inches of her ankles. Though tempted to have her zipper it fully so that it became an unforgiving hobble gown, one does have to worry about such practical concerns as being able to walk without tripping. Even still, the dress hugged her so tightly to just a few inches above her ankles, it was evident to anyone watching her that she was no ordinary 'housewife'.

Once in the car I had her change into her stripper gown and Alex, the club's owner, wasn't in the least bit surprised to see us reappear. Apparently Sally, who was already there, had told him of our afternoon together and likely plans for the night. "Your on rotation number 3" he said in a wholly business-like manner, directing my wife to the backstage while finding me a small table toward the back of the club: "Drinks are on the house whenever your wife performs here. Since you're here earlier than last night she'll earn $150 for her three stints on the stage."

What occurred thereafter wasn't much different than what had happened the night before, although it seemed to me that my wife pretended to cum rather than experience the real thing during her first two performances. I surmised, in fact, that her 'act' with Sally was becoming somewhat routine and that, if I had wanted it, she was well on her way to being a 'professional' stripper. This isn't to say that I wasn't turned on by her performance or that the audience failed to respond as fully as they had the night before. On the contrary ... in addition to tucking bills into her thong at the conclusion of each performance, several men threw $1 and $5 bills onto the stage for her and Sally to gather up. It was evident to me, however, that she came for real during her last performance with Sally on stage. And I learned later why. Sally wasn't the only stripper in Alex's stable of 'sweet young things' who enjoyed the taste of another woman. Sally apparently enjoyed sharing as much as I did and understood as well that my wife was falling into something of a routine. So during Betty's second and third performances, she commanded my wife to let one of the other girls eat out her cunt. My wife was then sent out onto the stage with Sally only moments after being made to cum and in the mental state of being a sub slut for women generally.

Unlike the previous night, however, there were no requests for a private after hours 'party' -- or at least none that Alex deemed acceptable (I learned that he pretty much didn't allow men who, in his view, had drunk too much or been too rowdy during any performance to arrange for such things). However, he did tell me that Sally and the girl who had sucked my wife's cunt and who, I was then told, was Sally's roommate, wanted another go at my wife: "I think they just want to get off using her after the club officially closes and while I clean up the books for the weekend."

Now how could I object? It might not have been one of my original fantasies when formulating plans to share my wife, but the idea of having her be a slut for other women as well as for Bill did, to say the least, have its appeal. But then Alex added a somewhat disconcerting twist: "They want her alone, and if you happen to have the ring gag she wore last night, they want to use it on her." Sensing my moments hesitation, he added "Don't worry, they wont damage her ... she'll be perfectly safe."

I have no idea how they could have guessed that the ring gag was in my car, but I agreed to Alex's request (actually Sally's, I suppose) and handed it to Alex after I retrieved it.

I didn't see my wife again after that since apparently Sally and her roommate (Nancy) took her directly to the back room through another door when the club closed. All I could do then was sit near a door to that room, sipping a beer and eating what was left of the club's free popcorn.

With my wife apparently once again gagged, it was difficult, if not impossible, to infer precisely what was occurring through most of the hour or so they were there. But I could tell that Betty was clearly being used hard. In addition to long sequence of hard slaps on the ass, I heard a variety of comments and commands such as "we're gonna whore you to my biker friends if you don't drink all my piss", "you're not a housewife anymore, your just a whore," "push your tongue into my asshole, slut", and "look at that bitch cum!"

My mind, of course, formed countless images as to what my wife was experiencing, all of which were, to say the least, erotic. A far clearer picture emerged, however, in the final 20 minutes when apparently, secure that the club was now empty, they removed my wife's gag. At that point I could hear her whimpering, although I couldn't tell if it was from pleasure or from the pain she had experienced at the hands of two lesbian Dommes intent on making her a wholly submissive bitch.

I cannot say what precisely they were doing when my wife's gag was removed, but I could suddenly hear her pleading "ohhhhhh godddddddd ...... nooooooooo ...... pleaseeeeeeeee ...... noooooo ...... pleaseeeeeeeeee." Seconds later I had to rely on Alex's guarantee they wouldn't harm or in any way damage her when I hear her scream "owwwwwwwwwwwwwwww ..." then "goddddddddddddddddd nooooooooooooooooooooo ......!"

A thirty second silence ensued, and then another piercing scream "aieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee" that was not, this time one of pleasure but clearly that of pain.

"Tell us you like it, bitch!" I heard Sally command.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhh goddddddddddddd ......."

"Tell us ... tell me!"

"Pleaseeeeeee ....... no moreeee ...........aieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee"

"Tell us ... tell me now ...... tell me you like it!"

With my wife sounding as if she could barely gasp out the words, I could nevertheless hear her plainly say "I ...... I ...... I like .... oh godddddd ...... ohhhhhhhhhhh" and then another piercing scream.

My wife's profession of 'liking it' was anything but convincing. It was clear, in fact, that she was saying whatever had to be said in a vain attempt to stop whatever the two women were doing to her. At the same time, I had a suspicion that the 'conversation' I was hearing was as much for my benefit as anything else – that Sally had decided it was time for me to listen to my wife be their BDSM slut.

"Now slut, lets make you cum."

I can't say what they did then but whatever it was, it was successful. Her earlier cries of apparent anguish were almost immediately replaced by the soft moans of a woman being pleasured ... almost too smoothly and easily for me to believe that those cries of anguish were not in some ways pleasurable. In any event, those moans, a gradually increasing frequency of ohhhhhhh's and ahhhhhhh's, seemed to be building to the usual climax, except this time there was a piercing truly anguished cry that was an unmistakable an expression of both surprise and pain.

"Keep fucking me bitch, don't stop" was all that I heard next, soon to be followed once again by that very same sequence of pleasurable moans that had a minute earlier preceded my wife's plaintiff cry. This time, however, the women were apparently content to let my wife experience a full measure of pleasure since those moans were soon enough followed by that often heard wail of a slut whose cunt was convulsing in orgasmic fulfillment.

Still, despite the fact that my wife had been used to the point of cumming ... and cumming hard ... I had to wonder what they had done to her or were doing to her to also elicit those anguished screams. They knew that needles and blood were strictly off limits. And I had already heard my wife when her tits and cunt were being sharply bitten. Her screams this time, though, were far more piercing and doubtlessly brought on by something I assumed to be far less pleasurable. Surely it wasn't being forced to swallow someone's piss ... at most that would cause her to gag. She hadn't even screamed in this way when taking more than a reasonable amount of water in her ass when given an enema. Unusually tight clamps? An oversized dong shoved up her ass? My imagination couldn't fill in the blank in the image I had of what was happening behind that closed door.

But whatever was happening wasn't about to end when I heard Sally say "turn the bitch over ... her ass needs one last hard fuck." This time my wife's initial moan with having her ass roughly penetrated by Sally strap on was more muted than usual ... almost as if she were either at the point of sheer exhaustion of the pain from such an assault paled in comparison to what she had minutes ago experienced: All I heard was a soft weak "ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" as, apparently, Sally's dong slid in.

'You still like it in your ass as much as your cunt, whore?"

"Yessssssssssss ..." was once again Betty's reply, but still in a weak humbled voice.

"And are you my bitch now ... and Nancy's?"

"Yesssssssss ..." she answered in a whispered reply that gave no hint as to whether she was finding pleasure or pain from Sally's strap on.

"And if your husband loaned you to us for a week, you'd consent to letting us make you a whore?"

It wasn't clear whether the question sought an honest answer or simply to provide me with a hint as to what they'd like to do with my wife. But her answer remained the same: "yessssssssss ..."

"What if I told you it was arranged for you to be a whore for five men tonight?"

"Ohhhh godddddddddd ...."

"Are you willing to be whored to five men tonight?"

"Y ... yessssssssss," she gasped as her reply – a reply that I could tell was colored by lust.

"Well, sorry ... not tonight bitch. But if I have any say, you will be whored like that eventually."

Her whispered compliant "yessssssssssssssss." was immediately followed thereafter by a gasping "ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" as Sally apparently drove her strap on deep and hard.

Sally's questions were done, for now the only sounds coming from the room were my wife's rhythmic grunting moans of "ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh ...... ohhhhhhhhhhh ...... ohhhhhhhhhhh" each time the dong was driven hard into her, until once more I heard that "aieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee" signaling still another orgasm.

"Ok bitch, we're done with you" were Sally's last words before, minutes later, Sally and Nancy exited from the room, leaving the door open for me to retrieve my wife.

It was then that I saw the source of my wife's anguished screams ... her tits, stomach and the narrow strip of hair at her cunt were covered with drops and rivulets of wax. I learned later that with my wife sitting on Nancy with her back to her and the strap on up her cunt, Sally had dripped hot wax on her while Nancy held her pinned back and impaled.

I have no idea what that wax felt like nor do I ever hope to find out. But apparently my wife was blindfolded throughout this ordeal and thus every drop came as a piercing painful surprise. She lay there now, though, wholly immobile, still not yet recovered from her hour as a Dominatrix's slut It seemed clear to me, however, that she was recovering not so much from her experience with the wax than from simple exhaustion at the intensity with which she had be used..

The wax, I should add, was not simply intended as some sadistic experience. Rather, it had been used to heighten her anxiety and, in the process, the overall intensity of her orgasms. Did her cunt seem to explode when she came? Did it sent shivers of electric shocks racing thru her? Did she in fact cum so hard she actually pissed? The answer to all of these questions was apparently 'Yes'.

"We'd love to have her as a slave for a week," Sally commented, standing next to me as I gazed at my wife. "Bet we could make her the perfect, wholly unashamed fuck toy."

Looking at the small puddle of piss at my wife's cunt and her still heaving tits, the only logical response was "I bet you could."

"Would you like that?" Sally asked, probing me in an apparently serious way.

"In principle, yes. But to be honest, we still have a long life to lead together and I'm not sure that would be best for the future."

It is an incredible fantasy to imagine one's wife trained as the perfect fuck toy by another woman – as someone who would accept being pleasured or giving pleasure in ANY and ALL imaginable ways. But there are also a multitude of practical issues such as how to raise a family when the time comes to do so or how to maintain normal social relationship outside of the sexual dimension. These were not issues I had yet addressed with my wife or even with myself. Thus, while the image of my wife being used and trained mercilessly by a lesbian Dominatrix and her roommate, stripped of every conceivable inhibition and left wholly without any sense of shame, surely had its erotic appeal. And I must admit there was a distinctly naughty erotic pleasure to be gained from knowing that my wife was being compelled to service other women ... women who, at the same time, she would be compelled to watch me fuck. I assumed, in fact, that another woman would be far harsher and far less forgiving than another man. However, I feared it might all be too much as I tried to imagine what my wife's mental state might be afterwards. Would she have as much interest in men afterwards as she obviously had now? Would she later have any interest in raising a family? Might she seek a new life as a true whore, abandoning all pretense to being a normal everyday housewife?