The Transformation of Betty Ch. 11

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Made a party BDSM slut.
9.9k words
4.43
128.2k
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Part 20 of the 25 part series

Updated 11/01/2022
Created 05/06/2006
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For a period of time after it seemed that my wife's transformation into a sub slut and part time stripper and whore was complete our sexual life became somewhat routine. Bill and I continued to use her, separately and together, and occasionally we'd take her to the strip club to allow her to perform with Sally and Nancy. On those occasions, Sally would take Betty as her sub slut to her apartment, letting Alan and Nancy play with her from time to time. My wife's experiences as a whore at the club, on the other hand, were more limited, especially after I learned that she'd allowed herself to be fucked without protection when Sally pimped her. Nevertheless, she was pimped a few times to remind her that she could be made a whore whenever I wished it and we acquired one additional evening gown from our favorite slut dress shop – again at zero financial cost, but a good hard fuck in the back room by the store's owner. It wasn't that my wife needed another slut gown, but I rather enjoyed bringing her to the shop to dry on dresses, knowing that the transaction would end with her being used as a whore.

I suppose its difficult to imagine it becoming routine for a housewife to be a slut, stripper and whore ... especially one who otherwise maintained the image of wholesome propriety. Certainly none of my colleagues nor any of our friends ever imagined my wife was a sub slut. I often got pleasure from taking her to a faculty party knowing that no one there could possibly imagine that she had a ring in her cunt, a tattoo on her tit, and unashamedly achieved total sexual fulfillment when made a whore. If anyone had taken a poll to guess which wife was least likely to have had a man's cock up her ass other than her husband's or who got off by being abused by a lesbian lover, my wife almost certainly would have topped the list. What else could you think of a women who seemingly considered a skirt that showed a knee as daring, who never wore a blouse that wasn't buttoned to the neck, whose "high heels" never exceeded 2" and who seemed interested only in talking about the latest fashions at the mall or the quality of public education? More often than not, however, she wore such clothes and engaged in such banal conversations with a butt plug stuffed up her ass, knowing that someone, not necessarily other than myself, was going to suck on her tits and fuck her later that night.

Our routine was broken, however, months after her week with Sally when I went out of town for three days. I could have taken her but Bill asked me to leave her since he wanted to arrange for some out-of-town friends to use her. In part he wanted to brag about his training another man's wife (he may have taken more credit than deserved, given Sally's contribution, but far be it for me to split hairs). And since his friends were also Doms, he wanted to share her in a context where she would be more than a 'simple' whore, as she had been when he took her to Washington. At this point she was strictly 100% sub with few limits, and Bill wanted to use her with others as someone for whom there were no lines that couldn't be crossed.

I agreed to Bill's request even though I couldn't impose the same stipulation I imposed when he took her on his business trip ... namely to be fully informed over the phone as to how she was used. My business was taking me out of the country for two days, plus a day and a half of 'living' at airports so my ability to participate in any way was essentially nil. I'd have to satisfy myself with learning how she was used only after the fact. Perhaps for this reason, and unlike other instances in which she was to be shared without my presence, I told her of our plans several weeks in advance. Of course, there was a tinge of nastiness in my decision: I wanted her to let her imagination run wild as to how a sub slut might be made to serve three or four Doms simultaneously. But aside from that, nothing was mentioned of her impending service until the day of my departure, and even then all I told her as I left the house for the airport was that Bill would call to tell her what was expected of her.

Bill called late that afternoon and told her to come to his house before dinner ... after bathing and giving herself an enema, naked under a coat wearing only a pair of fuck me heels. She was to bring her posture collar and corset in a bag, but nothing else. These things she did, and when ushered into his house around 6 PM, she found herself alone with him ... his guests, who were to be three in number, would be arriving shortly. "Are you prepared to be a sub slut for four Doms this weekend?"

"Yes, I am," she replied, adding the obligatory "Sir" to signal her acceptance of things. She admitted beforehand to me, of course, to being somewhat apprehensive about how she would be compelled to serve a party of Doms and how she would be used. But it was apprehension mixed with an equal degree of excitement ... excitement about the prospect of experiencing new pleasures. And in any event, she had committed herself to being a wholly trained and experienced sub slut and surely she couldn't be that until she served several Doms simultaneously.

"Good," Bill told her. "Now take off your coat and lie on your back on the dining room table."

She followed this somewhat curious instruction, whereupon Bill, after attaching her ankle and wrist cuffs, attached each to a rope tied beneath each corner of the table. Spread eagled, vulnerable and admittedly with a dripping wet cunt with the ropes pulled tight so that she was essentially unable to move anything but her head or to raise her hips slightly off the table, Bill proceeded to set the table for four people ... knives, plates, forks, etc as if she weren't there. "You are going to be our centerpiece this evening and doubtlessly the dessert."

One can safely assume that my wife's cunt began dripping almost immediately after being told her role for dinner. But no sooner had Bill completed his preliminary arrangements than the front door bell rang, announcing the simultaneous arrival of three fellow Doms. Ushering his guests into the dining room, Bill cooly announced "this is our fuck toy for the weekend. She has been loaned to us by her husband, who is out of town on business. I can tell you she's a true pain slut, although I haven't yet fully tested her tolerance there. She's also bi and on occasion has served a lesbian lover. Her sexual tastes are totally unknown to family and her husband's business associates, but she has been a stripper and a paid whore. As far as her husband is concerned, she is ours to use as we please provided only that we do no permanent damage and maintain being discrete ... no one outside of this house is to know how she is used this weekend. No pictures will be allowed and I will accept your promise that none of you will under any circumstances reveal her identity to anyone."

One of the men commented that the conditions were of course wholly reasonable, while one of the men, while doubtlessly focused on my wife's wet cunt or heaving tits simply offered the lament "Delicious, though I suppose we don't get to play with the slut until after dinner?"

"Yes, that's partially true ... I'm not sure my dining room table could withstand having us fuck her there. But once dinner ends, we all will have full access to her. In the meantime, pull up a chair and let me serve the dinner, which I had delivered a short while ago."

At that point, with my wife's cunt continuing to drip, the men attended to their meal and only occasionally made reference to the tied and spread slut before them. Periodically one of them would touch her ... a tit or her thigh near her cunt ... but other than that their preoccupation seemed to be the food Bill had set before them. Nearing the end of the meal, however, one of the men commented "I bet the little slut would cum from this wine bottle."

"You're right," Bill commented, as if offering an invitation for her to be fucked by the bottle.

By this time, of course, my wife would have cum from having nearly anything pushed into her cunt. She'd laid there, largely unable to move and never talked to directly, knowing that all this was but a prelude to her being a fuck toy for four men who were planning to use her in ways she couldn't imagine. Bill's comment about being a pain slut whose limits had not yet been tested sent a shiver of anxiety through her, but aside from that she found herself becoming increasingly excited as the dinner progressed and wished only that the food would quickly disappear. The mention of the wine bottle, though, sent another shiver thru her and she let out an involuntary moan of pleasure when she felt its neck sliding into her ... into her to the point where she could feel the bottle stretching her more than even an overly large cock.

"The slut likes it," someone commented as the bottle was withdrawn and then pushed back in. "She can't seem to keep from arching her back to meet it .. She surely wants to be fucked by something."

By then that hypothesis was wholly true ... my wife wanted nothing more than to be fucked to gain some orgasmic release. "Should we let the little whore cum?" someone asked.

"Not yet," Bill replied. "I have a special treat planned for us and for her first. Just keep her hot with the bottle while I clear the table."

The next few minutes were a torment for her since it seemed to take Bill forever to clear the table and since the bottle was being slid in and out of her cunt only to keep her on the edge, pleading to be allowed to cum. "Its hard to believe this slut's married and fucked regularly," one of the men observed. "She acts like she hasn't been fucked and allowed to cum in weeks."

"She can be insatiable," Bill replied as he cleared the last of the dinner from the table and turned to release my wife from her bounds. Then turning to Betty with the wine bottle half in her cunt he said "my friends here are going to fuck you this weekend and make you their whore. You will not object to being used in any way that pleases them ... correct?"

"Yes Sir, it is."

"And you are here with your husband's consent ... on loan as our pain slut and whore, right?"

"Yes Sir ... he has given me to you for the weekend."

Taking the bottle out of her cunt and helping her down from the table he then ordered "Now bend over the coffee table ... Michael has something for you."

As events were described to me, Michael, whose interest in my wife's ass was apparently as great as mine, asked if he could test the capacity of that ass. Bill agreed and it was suggested that two men hold her, face down, over the coffee table. Michael then retrieved a string of five anal balls from a small carry-on bag he brought with him whose size, connected by a length or rawhide, fell somewhere between golf and tennis balls, or about 2 to 2 1/4" in diameter. Needless to say, absent lubrication, it was only with some effort that the first ball was pushed into her ass ... and not before there was considerable begging and pleading, with cries of 'oh god, its tearing me'. But one by one, each ball was pushed in until all that was visible was a length of rawhide sufficient to pull them out. Apparently none of this was accomplished without cheeks streaked with tears, but once Michael was done she stood before them ... a perfect specimen of the young sub slut housewife with throbbing ass and a cunt craving penetration.

"Finger your cunt," Michael commanded, and unsurprisingly, she quickly achieved the release she'd craved from the bottle.

"It's time to prepare you," Bill announced, whereupon he proceeded to complete her attire – her posture collar buckled tightly around her neck and the leather corset tied to draw her waist in as much as possible. With my wife trussed up, feeling and looking about as slutty as she could, Bill ominously announced it was time to test my wife's tolerance and craving for pain.

The setting I am about to describe now comes only after having visited Bill's basement upon returning from my trip. But that basement, in addition to corresponding to the usual dark unfinished musty chambre of a home built at the turn of the century and suited primarily for the storage of garden hoses, had two jack-like devices set in the middle of the room. The best way to envision those devices, ordinarily used in construction, is to imagine two substantially oversized car jacks. Across the two jacks Bill had attached a 2" by 6" board, set on its edge at a height slightly lower than my wife's cunt. The board's upward edge was rounded and sanded smooth. Directed to straddle it, my wife's wrists were then attached to a large eye hook set in the board behind her back. Her tits were then clamped and the chain connecting them drawn tight and attached to an eye hook in the board in front of her. Thus, unable to bend forward to relieve the tension in her tits, she was also unable to bend back without threatening to literally tear the clamps off. Finally, to complete her helpless state, a spreader bar was attached to her ankle cuffs beneath the board.

I'll admit that, when informed later of how my wife had been used that night, I wished I'd been there to witness her first experience on the board, although I suspect my sympathy for her plight made it best that I was absent. In any event, once she was properly attached and positioned, Bill directed one of the men to raise one of the jacks while he did the same to the other, stopping only when the board was pushed up tightly against her cunt. I cannot say whether my wife at that point could guess at her ultimate fate, but despite the fact that her feet were both still firmly on the floor, she begged for the board not to be raised any higher. It was then that Bill thought it prudent to gag her.

I can imagine the sensations and apprehension that coursed thru her as Bill attached the gag. She had only been gagged in the past in anticipation of the need to muffle her cries of anguish and pain. That gag, then, could only mean that the board was about to be raised higher. And indeed, once she was adequately muffled the jacks were both slowly and somewhat sadistically raised another two or three inches until she was literally 'standing' on her toes. By then, with each 1/4 inch added to the board's height, her discomfort became nearly unbearable so that her garbled cries were only partially muffled ... muffled only enough to keep anyone outside oblivious to what was transpiring in the basement.

I can't imagine the pain she experienced or for that matter the contortions of her body as she attempted to escape the pain in her cunt as well as her tits. But after a few minutes or so on tiptoes, her composure ... or lack thereof ... was such that Bill thought it wise to lower the board so she could again keep both feet on the ground. Humiliation, though, was also to be her lot, and with her making every attempt to relieve the painful pressure of the board, Bill ordered "show my friends what a dirty slut you are and piss for us, whore ... piss for us or have me raise the board again!"

Again, but not without some apparent difficulty, she complied as piss flowed visibly over the board and onto the concrete floor. Bill however was anything but done with her or her humiliation: "the slut needs something in her cunt." Lowering the board further, her cunt was then stuffed with a dildo that fit fully into her (and not without some difficulty, given that the balls were still in her ass), whereupon the board was jacked back up until it again fit snugly up between her legs. Then, with her feet still on the floor Bill commanded "rock your hips, hump the board and cum for us!"

As painful as that must have been, my wife again complied and, as Bill confirmed, she succeeded in bringing herself off for what seemed a considerably enjoyable orgasm. But now, after having both pissed and cum, Bill somewhat sadistic streak appeared ... or at least his desire to test, as promised, my wife's tolerance for pain ... and he asked two of his friends to keep her steady while he and his third friend raise the jacks so that my wife's feet no longer reached the floor.

The pain must have been excruciating, for as Bill described it, her screams of anguish were only barely muffled by her gag. Had there not been two men at her side, she would have collapsed and fallen over regardless of the damage the clamps did to her tits. Despite this Bill was not about to let her down easily: "you're going to cum for me again, slut, before this board is lowered," whereupon Bill moved to her so that he could play with her outstretched tits while slipping a finger between the board and her clit. "You're a pain slut, bitch ... cum for me ... cum like the whore you are!"

Shivering in pain as Bill continued his 'assault', and despite or perhaps even because of her anguish, she apparently soon enough stiffed and with a garbled, stuttering and incoherent cry, the slut who was otherwise my seemingly innocent wife came ... her feet hanging in the air, trembling, as her whole body participated in her orgasm.

"She IS a pain slut, isn't she," on of the men commented.

Bill agreed and then added "I wasn't sure the slut would cum while riding the board, but lets see if she can cum again." And with that Bill continued to play with whatever part of her cunt was available to him while gently pushing her backwards with his other hand to increase the tension and pain in her tits. Her screams by then, as Bill recalled things, had subsided to become 'merely' gasping whimpers ... similar to the sounds one might make when attempting to catch one's breath. But again, just as suddenly as her last orgasm, she stiffened and came.

"Marvelous," someone remarked, "absolutely marvelous."

This time, as soon as my wife's orgasm had subsided it was clear that she was no longer moaning in some combination of either pain and pleasure, but was simply whimpering and crying in anguish. She seemed, in fact, on the verge of passing out as her eyes began to roll back into her head, whereupon Bill lowered the board so that his friends could release her wrists and ankles, unclip her tits and lay her on a nearby rug. But by this time the men needed their own release and, despite my wife's continual whimper and crying, Bill suggested that she be turned over onto her stomach and that her less tormented ass be the receptacle of their pleasure. The balls stuffing her ass were unceremoniously pulled out of her, causing her body to spasm once again, but only to be followed by a hardened cock that shot its seed quickly into her. By Bill's account, his second friend chose instead to pull her up to her knees and remove her gag so she could be made to swallow all the warm creamy cum he could feed her. The third took little notice of her swollen and sore cunt and after turning her onto her back and removing the dildo, proceeded to fuck her until not just he, but amazingly enough, the two of them came together.

Bill refrained from using her, and instead simply attached a leash to her collar so that, with her cheeks still stained from tears, and her cunt as ass filled with seed, he could lead her back upstairs.

Once back in the living room and standing before all four seated men, one of them remarked that she was indeed a wonderfully trained sub slut. "I'm sure she knew perfectly well the purpose of the board the instant she saw it, yet she straddled it without objection."

"Yes she did," Bill replied, "though I doubt she'd ever experienced such intense pain before." Then turning to my wife he asked "how did that feel, slut?"

"Sir ... I thought I was going to pass out. My cunt is still throbbing in pain Sir."

"And if I commanded you to return to the basement now to ride the board again ...?"

"Oh god Sir ... you ... yes, I would of course obey. Oh please ... don't ask me to do that ... I beg you."