SLUT-2-FUCK

By Velvetglove

Disclaimer, Copyright and Synopsis

‘Slut-2-Fuck’ is an original work of fiction in five parts and neither events nor characters portrayed are based in reality. Any resemblance with actual persons is entirely coincidental.

Copyright is asserted by the author Velvetglove and no reposting to other sites or commercial use whatsoever is authorised.

Codes: Female domination of a married couple, consensual but reluctant, F/mf, D/s, B/D, S/M, BDSM, slavery, bondage, chastity belt, slow, humiliation, serious, MF/mf.

‘Slut-2-Fuck’ follows the descent of Chris and Laura, a good looking young couple, who fall under the spell of Samantha, their personal trainer. Although the fate of each character is sealed, suggestions and requests by readers to velvetfeedback@gmail can be incorporated into the later parts of the story. Praise for previous Velvetglove stories:

“The best story here in years” (After the Pestilence)

“The best revenge story on the internet” (Best Enjoyed Cold)

“The best Femdom story ever published to this site” (Five Words)

“I could not stop until the end” (Stranger than Fiction)

For various reasons, this is my first posting for 2 years. With encouragement, I will return to more regular writing and posting in future.

SLUT-2-FUCK

PART ONE: SETTING THE SCENE

“Grind down on his face !”

Sam leaned forward excitedly in her chair, encouraging Laura to rasp her close-shaved bush roughly against Chris’s glistening face. The atmosphere in the room was sexually charged, highlighted by the background orchestra of Laura’s excited squeals, the slurps of cunnilingus, and Sam’s brusque instructions.

Laura was totally naked, her 34D boobs jiggling as she rode her husband’s face. They were on their own living room floor. Her sweating body gleamed in the sunlight streaming through the front window. Dust particles danced in the warm air. She was exposed should any visitor happen to walk close and look through the window. She was facing her husband’s feet, with his similarly nude body spread-eagled on the Persian rug that covered most of their wooden floor.

“Harder. But don’t cum yet.”

In contrast to the couple’s nakedness, Sam was still dressed in her grey track pants and sweaty black running vest. She had a glass of iced water in her hand that she sipped , while she watched her new clients, ‘in training’. She was moist between her own thighs, her nipples hard against the damp cotton vest, but she didn’t touch herself. Not yet anyway. She focused on them.

It had all begun two months earlier, when Chris and Laura had answered her ad. She was a legitimate, qualified personal trainer, based at a nearby gym, but she did home visits too. Chris and Laura were married, both 27 and keen to get fit, to lose a few pounds and to look great. Both were good looking anyway, but pretty much everybody can use a bit more definition, a healthier lifestyle.

Right from the first meeting, there was a frisson of excitement; an electricity between the three of them. At 23, Sam was four years the couple’s junior, but taking charge came naturally to her. She was a hard taskmistress and Laura and Chris quickly demonstrated a willingness to follow her orders. Almost blind obedience to her, in fact.

Four weeks later, she stayed behind for a drink after their running and exercise session had finished and the conversation turned to sex. Sam encouraged her clients to use sex as physical exercise, as a motivation. It soon became obvious that Chris and Laura’s sex life was vanilla, unfulfilled, and yet that’s not how it seemed either of them wanted it to be. Somebody had to take charge.

“Okay. Push back. Ram your butt on his face now.”

Laura didn’t even hesitate. Her eyes were closed. She adjusted her hips so her sweaty anus plopped onto Chris’s face. Her mouth was open in a small, eager ‘o’. Just a week ago, Laura had never even had a tongue in her ass and Chris had never once put his tongue into one. But Sam was broadening their horizons all the time.

She smiled at Chris’s erection, jutting up towards his stomach muscles. Neither he nor Laura touched it. His turn may come at the end ? But maybe not. His groin was totally devoid of hair, waxed bald as a baby now, a blunt reminder that Sam was now in charge of ‘all his body’. She could hear him struggling to breathe and see his neck muscles working. The room smelt heavy with the sweet and sour spice of their perspiration and sex.

Sam couldn’t really believe her luck. This was her fantasy in the flesh. She had her own casual boyfriend but he was nothing serious. She loved kinky sex and was bisexual and dominant. So Chris and Laura ticked all her boxes.

Laura had revealed to Sam that she had been a virgin when she married Chris 7 years before. She hadn’t done more than kiss another boy when she was in her mid-teens. She was 18 when she met Chris and had married him at 20.

Even Chris had only had one girlfriend before Laura. They met on arrival at college and it was love at first sight. Sweet, romantic, young love. Sex was typically plentiful but bland; inexperienced, rushed, missionary, vanilla. Laura had shyly admitted to Sam she’d almost never had an orgasm from sex with Chris. They had both slowly settled into a sexual rut. Each of them silently thought it was their destiny to live with their own private, unshared fantasies.

Before fate had decided to scratch their seven year itch.

Sam sipped her water and smiled, as Laura bounced her sweaty buns energetically over Chris’s chops. Laura had enjoyed quite a few huge orgasms after Sam had taken over her training.

The shattering, memorable, addictive kind that become like drugs.

Now, for the past fortnight, Sam had forbidden Laura and Chris to have any sex together at all, or even to masturbate, jointly or alone, without her permission. Laura’s eyelids opened and her smoky green eyes sought out Sam’s face.

Laura was pretty, very pretty, prettier even than Sam. She was a brunette with shoulder length dark hair, high cheekbones, and classic features. She stood tall, at 5’9”, with a model’s legs and a lissom body. As she bucked and moaned astride Chris’s face, her posture showed off the symmetry of her tiny waist and rounded hips.

The slight excess on her thighs that she’d been worried about had already been exercised off and her skin glowed from the strict, healthy diet Sam had put her on. But Sam’s favourite feature was Laura’s boobs; high and full, 34D, with dark berry nipples, larger than you’d normally expect on such a lithe body. They bounced and swayed and made Sam want to kiss and bite them.

Sam herself was a fake blonde, only 5’6”, but her athletic, upright bearing made her appear taller. She had citron-yellow hair cut in a short bob, framing her cute puckish face. People said she looked like some French actress, but she couldn’t remember the name. Her body was magnificently fit, without a millimetre of fat, although she herself would have liked more generous curves. She had a flat A-cup chest and was going to get herself a boob-job if she ever got the money. Boys fancied her aura, energy and sexual enthusiasm as much as her looks. She’d lost her virginity at 14 and had never looked back since.

She smiled and gently nodded her head. Laura’s eyes blinked back at her in relief like two emeralds. Laura was desperate to cum and was seeking approval to swivel her clit back into contact with Chris’s tongue. After two hours of exercise, every inch of her skin shone and her bottom was leaking sweat.

Sam watched her lean forward so that her stubbly ‘five o’clock shadow’ of pussy hair slid down either side of Chris’s nostrils. His face was rubbed red and raw from his wife’s bristly pubes. But his tongue slid obediently into her pink folds.

“Okay.” Sam sighed magnanimously. “You can cum”.

*** *** ***

Three days later, Sam arrived early and let herself in. She had a copy of their door key now. She made two home visits a week; Thursdays and Sundays. Both training sessions were officially two hours; paid in cash at her full, standard rate.

But today was going to be different. A whole Sunday. They had all agreed to kick things up another notch. Chris greeted her in his running shorts and a Coldplay T-shirt. His face was fresh-shaven but he still bore the ‘shaving rash’ of the marathon face-sitting session three days before.

Chris and Laura lived in an upmarket starter home. It was a modern built house with a living room, kitchen, master suite, guest bedroom and a third bedroom-study. It was quite a contrast to Sam’s rented bedsit in a derelict neighbourhood.

He was as cute as his wife was pretty. They made a handsome couple. He was 6’ 1” tall with caramel hair and a square-jaw. A bit like the actor Christopher Reeve, in Clark Kent mode rather than Superman. He proved the truth that not all male submissives are poorly endowed wimps. He had intelligent brown eyes and wore glasses most of the time.

Like Laura, the excess inch round his waist when they’d begun their training was already gone. Sam had put him on a rigid alcohol-free, low sugar, zero red meat diet. He had given up his 5-a-day smoking habit and tried as hard as he could to observe her total veto on masturbation and internet porn.

“Morning Chris.” She said, placing her key on the console. Her envelope was already there, containing cash for two sessions and a copy of their past three months bank statements she’d asked to see.

“Good morning, Miss.” He replied. “Coffee ?”

She smiled and he flicked on the kettle. There was a flushing sound and Laura emerged from the downstairs toilet. She was in running shorts as well, with slits up the side. She was wearing the new skin-tight top Sam had found for her online; ‘Bimbo’ was emblazoned across her straining chest in bright pink letters.

“Ready ?” Sam greeted her, without even saying hello.

“Yes, Miss.” Laura replied.

Sam pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket with a ‘treasure map’ on it. It marked a route to her own neighbourhood in red pen that added up to a six and a half mile run. There and back would be thirteen miles. A half marathon. Sam had deposited a coin buried by a tree that was the ‘treasure’. Laura had to run and fetch it and bring it back. As fast as she could. Sam watched from the front door as Laura set off running down the street.

Sam sat down with the coffee Chris had made her; black without sugar. He knelt at her feet and she began the interrogation.

“So, no cigarettes ?”

He shook his head.

“No booze ? No porn ? No sex ?”

He shook his head.

“No jerking off ?”

He paused, then shook his head.

“No ? Sure ?”

She looked hard into his brown eyes. He swallowed.

“Tell me.”

“I didn’t cum. But I did touch myself a bit. I managed to control myself before coming.”

“When ? Where ?”

“At the office. In the mens room cubicles at Lewis Mitchell. On Friday.”

She feigned anger. She had forbidden him to cum last Thursday at the end of the session. It was the first time she hadn’t let him spurt his load, even just before she left. She wanted to see what happened if she didn’t.

“You expect me to believe you didn’t make yourself cum ?”

He met her gaze. “I didn’t. I promise. It was agony but I didn’t.”

She stared at him, exploring his brown eyes, and then finally smiled. It was probably true. How delicious.

“What did you do Friday and Saturday nights ?”

He shrugged. “Supper. TV. Chores. Early nights.”

“No touching Laura ? No sex ?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I swear.”

She chuckled. It felt so good to be controlling an adult couple; married, older than her, forbidding them to do what any normal husband and wife would do at the weekend.

“Take off your clothes.”

He quickly obeyed, stepping out of his flip-flops, shorts and Coldplay T-shirt. She studied him casually. He’d make a fine boyfriend, husband even. A good earner, domesticated, well mannered. But he was hot too. His waist was narrow and his torso flared out in a sexy v to a broad chest. His cock and balls looked strangely magnified by the fact there was no pubic hair around them.

“Now mine.”

Sam watched his eyes widen in shock. But he obediently unlaced and removed her running shoes and socks. Next she raised her hips so he could tug down her grey track pants. She wasn’t wearing any underwear. She signalled dismissively that he should leave her running vest on.

She sat above him, naked from the waist down, thighs apart. Her own bush was lush and curly, in contrast to Chris’s baby-waxed groin and Laura’s bristly stubble. His eyes looked down at her feet and his face had flushed red.

“Look at me.” She snapped.

He gazed at her and gulped.

“You don’t think all that oral training you’ve been having is just for your wife, do you ? Well, do you ?”

He shook his head. “Er ... no Mistress.”

She stared him down until he glanced away then reached out to tug his hair. She twisted his head until his eyes were fixed on hers. A thrill of power surged through her.

It felt so good, thinking of Laura, barely out of the house, running a half marathon. And Sam was about to cuckquean her as the next stage in the takeover process. Eventually she’d have Chris’s dick inside her – just the once - to prove she could, but for now his tongue and lips would be enough.

“Kiss it.”

It would have been immediately obvious to anybody that Sam’s pussy wasn’t clean. Her labia were puffy, her thighs damp and her pubic bush was wet. She was usually a manic bather and took showers twice a day or more. But she’d had sex with Tim at midnight and again that morning before he left. Then she’d just pulled on her kit and come straight round. On purpose.

Chris lent forward and ran his tongue up her gaping slit. A bolt of electricity ran through her. This was a first, even for her. She shut her eyes and settled back into the armchair. To think, she was being paid for this !

*** *** ***

Chris controlled his gagging reflex. There’s a big difference between fantasy and reality. It was obvious that Sam’s pussy had been fucked recently. But the fluid oozing out of her was clear and rancid, not thick and white like fresh semen, so he guessed it was at least from earlier that morning, or maybe even the night before.

He ran his tongue between the folds of her soaking slit, up and down. She gasped and he felt her body shudder, then relax, and her thighs parted even wider. He realised that he had not even considered Sam might have her own own sex life beforehand. He’d just assumed she was single, part of their triangle, and not thought about the possibility she had a boyfriend as well.

Yet here he was slurping the fishy spunk of some unknown guy. Did the guy know ? Had Sam told him what she planned and had they laughed together as he deposited this load in her pussy ? Who was he ? Old ? Young ? Black ? White ? Chinese ? Married ? Fuck knew ? He could even have some disease ? He realised he just had to trust Sam.

It didn’t really taste of much. Just sour and salty. But the stench was worse. And the thought. He couldn’t have licked it from anywhere or anybody else. But somehow Sam’s pussy made it bearable. His young Mistress. His 23 year old trainer. Hot. So fucking hot. And sexy. And dominant.  He was kissing her cunt at last.

He suddenly thought of Laura. Out running. Shit. What would Laura say ? What had Sam said ? “You don’t think all that oral training you’ve been having is just for your wife, do you ?”

He’d never considered oral sex before. Was it being unfaithful ? It wasn’t like he was fucking another woman. He was just using his tongue. But how would he feel if Laura gave another a guy a blowjob ? That would be infidelity too, wouldn’t  it ? Just because Sam had told him to do something, didn’t make it right, did it ?

But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. He was like a deer in a trap. A honey trap.

Then he felt fingers in his hair. Her thighs tensed and she shifted her body.

“Hold my knees up.” Her voice was crisp, authoritative, unembarrassed.

He used his hands to support her and found her crinkled butthole under his face.

“That’s right. Yes.” She hissed. “Put your tongue in there now.”

*** *** ***

Laura walked for a minute or so, then managed to stagger up to a jog again. She had terrible stitch. Her legs ached and she was dripping with sweat. But at least she’d found the coin and was on her way home now.

Thank heavens most people didn’t seem to notice her outfit. The slit shorts and the tight T. At least it supported her bouncing breasts as she ran, so they didn’t flop about too much. There were a lot of men, women and families out and about in the sunshine. Thankfully only a few groups of teenage kids. A few smiled slyly at the ‘Bimbo’ logo inscribed in pink across her chest.

The humiliation and adrenaline excited her in equal measure. What was she, a grown woman, doing ? Out running to please her personal trainer ? This wasn’t just training, after all, was it ? It was sexual submission. Pure and simple.

*** *** ***

By the time Laura stumbled home, Sam was showered and dressed. She had forbidden Chris to mention anything about what had happened between them. It would be their secret.

For now.

Sam let Laura drink a glass of water and recover her breath. But then it was time for Chris’s reward. Sam knew it was important to bait the hook.

Laura had never licked Chris’s asshole. Up to today their recent conversion to analingus had been a one-way street. But what’s good for the gander is good for the goose. Sam was an equal opportunities Domme !

Chris bent over and clutched his ankles. He was totally naked. Laura knelt behind him. She was still dressed in her running shorts and T-shirt. They clung damply to her curves.

“Use your thumbs to prise open your husband’s butt cheeks.”

Sam chuckled at the nervous expression of distaste on Laura’s red face.

“Good. That’s it. Wider. Now have a good look inside.”

Sam leaned down and put her head alongside Laura’s, peering into Chris’s puckered anus. His buns were toned, hairy with a red zit on one cheek.

“Mmm ...do you like what you see ?”

Laura’s throat bobbed. Her voice cracked. “Er ... n .. y ... yes.”

“Then why haven’t you done this before ?”

“H ... he never asked me to.”

Sam snorted. “Never asked you to ? Why didn’t you offer to ? He’s your darling husband, isn’t he ?”

“I ... d ...” Laura’s whisper trailed off.

“Well get your tongue up there right now.”

Sam gave the back of Laura’s head a light shove of encouragement. She watched her pink tongue stick out and disappear between Chris’s cleft.

He gasped and his semi-erect dick jumped to complete attention.

Sam reached under him and gave it a few encouraging tugs. Then she perched down on the arm of the sofa to watch the entertainment.

“Mmm ... looks good. I can’t believe you’ve been married seven years and you haven’t tongued his shitter before. His dick is sticking out like a yardarm. He’s loving it. I’m going to make you both give each other so many thrills over the months to come.”

Laura’s head bobbed rhythmically in and out of her husband’s ass. Sam lifted her phone out from under a cushion and took several photos.

“Okay.” She called out after three minutes. “Lie face up on the floor now.”

Laura pulled her head away, stared at Sam, and slowly wiped her lip. But after a pause, she obeyed, lying down on the living room floor.

“Okay. Sit on her face, big boy.” Sam winked at Chris. “Facing me.”

She watched as he gingerly squatted astride his wife’s gorgeous features.

“Now grind down on her face !”

*** *** ***

Two weeks later, Sam moved in.

Officially, she was their rent paying ‘lodger’ in the third bedroom. But in reality, Sam took the master suite, Chris moved to the guest room, and Laura was relegated to the small bedroom-study.

Sam used their bathroom and Chris and Laura shared the guest shower-toilet.

Their relationship had moved on apace. Chris now wore a shiny new Steelwerx Extreme chastity tube 24/7. He worked in an accountancy office in a well cut suit. His pleated trousers hid the steel cock-cage from view. He sat down to pee in the mens cubicles and he’d aroused no suspicions in his colleagues yet.

Sam cut back on most of her own fitness clients apart from a few favourites. She took up residence as a lady of leisure. She decided that Laura would immediately quit her 3 days a week sales assistant job in an upmarket department store, so she could be a fulltime housemaid. Sam advised them that, with some cutbacks, they could all survive on Chris’s income alone.

However, she had a plan for how Laura would soon contribute financially.

*** *** ***

Chris ate his packed lunch at his desk and worked through lunchtime. He was doing his best to impress his boss. It was his annual performance review in a couple of weeks and Sam had set him the target of getting the highest raise and bonus. He had always done well in his 5 years at Lewis Mitchell & Co but he’d been cruising. Now he was determined to impress his new Mistress.

He also concentrated on his work to minimise his sexual frustration. In the past he’d spent many a lunch hour jerking off in the restroom. The firm was full of sexy twenty and thirty something executives and secretaries. It was hard to see them all in their summer dresses and tight skirts and not feel horny.

But Sam was super-strict. She only allowed him one fantastic orgasm a week. Two weeks ago, He’d almost blown Laura’s head off after she sucked him off, having licked his asshole for the first time.

Now that Sam had moved in with them, he was hooked. Infatuated. He loved his wife more than ever but he worshipped their Mistress like a goddess. His crush on her was totally out of control. And he couldn’t do anything about it.

A week ago, while Laura was out running again, Sam had instructed him to fuck her. He had never known sex like it. He’d slept with only one girlfriend before Laura, so Sam was only his third. He was no expert. She wasn’t even as pretty as Laura but man, could she fuck ! She’d made him eat her out afterwards, in the marital bed he had shared with Laura, guzzling his own spunk from her cunt. She’d kept him at it until only a few minutes before Laura had arrived home.

He felt guilty but excited. After all, he knew this was only a temporary game for Sam. If she wanted a bit of illicit sex with him, who was he to complain ? And what Laura didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, would it ?

*** *** ***

Laura was hurting. The plastic ruler didn’t cut her flesh but it stung like wildfire. Sam was lashing it randomly across her bottom as encouragement.

Laura was bent over her own kitchen table, her naked breasts pressed to the wood, her buttocks draped over the edge. Her wrists were tied with Velcro straps behind her back.

In front of her stood Tim. Sam had introduced him as her own ‘fuck buddy’. He was well over 6ft tall, muscular and dark, of mixed ethnicity. He worked in a gym as an instructor. His track pants were round his ankles and his erection poked out of his thick clump of wiry black pubic hair. The brutally defined muscles of his abdomen made it look like a bar of milk chocolate. Sam had invited him round to see her ‘new home’ and introduce Laura to a ‘new cock’.

Laura had never even considered whether oral sex was unfaithful ? It wasn’t like she was fucking another man. She would only be using her mouth. But how would she feel if Chris did cunnilingus on another woman ? That would be infidelity, wouldn’t it ? Just because Sam was telling her to do it, didn’t make it right, did it ?

But in spite of her mental doubts, she opened her lips and slid them over the swollen crown of Tim’s large penis. Deep down, she knew she was doing it not because of the sting of the ruler, but because she wanted the humiliation of sucking a stranger. He thrust his hips forward, pushing his erection into the back of her throat, making her gag. She felt his fingers gently tighten in her hair.

“Yesssss ...” she heard him hiss in pleasure and Sam’s amused snort.

“There we are. I told you you’d be inside her mouth within minute or two.”

Laura’s eyes watered as she gagged on his length. He pulled back, letting her breathe, then pushed again, building a rhythm.

“And I’m really only her second guy ?”

“Yup.” Sam replied, both of them discussing her like she was meat.

He chuckled. “Then she’s going to struggle to get me off ‘no hands’”.

“Well let’s give her time to try.”

Laura heard a click and realised Sam had taken a photo with her phone.

“Mwa ...” Laura objected, pulling her lips away.

Tim’s fingers grabbed her earlobes tightly and the plastic ruler slashed loudly down across Laura’s bottom, making her gasp a mouthful of penis.

“Just keep sucking.” Sam ordered matter-of-factly. “I’m only snapping a few souvenirs of this moment.”

Laura shut her eyes, as if by blanking out the view, somehow the lens wouldn’t be able to see her either. She concentrated on inhaling each time the erection withdrew from banging her throat.

“Use your tongue. French kiss it.” Sam ordered.

She curled her tongue and did her best to obey, drooling like a dog.

Tim was really starting to face fuck her now; hard and fast. Laura almost choked on it but they ignored her. She heard more camera clicks.

It went on for what seemed like several minutes; in and out, thrust and pull. Occasionally Laura felt the stinging cut of the ruler whenever she tried to draw away. He was just fucking her face. Her eyes were shut and wet. She didn’t know if her tears were more from gagging or crying.

“Well blow me down !” Tim’s voice exclaimed suddenly. “I’m going to cum. The bitch has done it.”

“Whoopee.” Sam said. “Open your eyes.”

Reluctantly, Laura blinked. She could only see blurred skin.

“Look at me.”

She turned her head slightly towards Sam and made out her elfin face, peering at Laura from inches away. Then the camera clicked.

“Finish me !” Tim groaned at Sam, jerking his hips backwards.

Laura’s lips hung open like a goldfish as he vacated her mouth. She watched in shock as Sam’s fingers flew up and skilfully masturbated Tim’s throbbing shaft, aiming it directly at Laura’s face. In moments, it erupted.

“Yeeaaahh .... mmmmmmm.”

“Keep that mouth wide open.” Sam snarled.

Somehow, Laura obeyed. She shut her eyes to protect them from the pulsing jets but held her jaws apart. She felt hot fluid hitting her; on her nose, cheeks, forehead. It felt endless. Bitterness splashed her tongue, her lips and chin.

“Oh man.” She heard Tim exhale.

Sam was laughing, camera snapping. “What a glazed doughnut !”

Thirty seconds passed. She heard them moving, the sound of Tim pulling up his tracksuit, yet another camera click in front of her face.

“Eyes.” Sam’s voice said.

Laura batted her eyelids again, peering through the goo. Sam’s eyes and teeth were grinning down at her mischievously.

“Good girl. Not bad for a first try.” She slid a finger down Laura’s face and scooped up a big blob of semen, holding it under Laura’s nostrils.

“Eat.”

Laura hesitantly dabbed her tongue out and licked at the white fluid.

Tim peered over Sam’s shoulder smiling. “Guzzle it all down, slut. There’s plenty more where that came from !”

*** *** ***

Sam lay in bed that night, planning the future.

She was stretched out in their double bed. Her own clothes now filled the wardrobe and drawers, her own cosmetics were in the basin and shower, her own bag and purse rested by the side of the bed.

She had never set out for this point, certainly not this far, this fast. But there was no turning back. It felt so good. To be so in charge.

She had locked Laura in the tiny third bedroom early, at 8 p.m, like a kid. The room contained just a small desk, a wooden chair and a pull-out sofa bed. Laura had obviously been petrified that Sam would mention their afternoon with Tim. But there was no rush. A spider waits until its victim is well and truly enmeshed in the web.

After they ate supper together, Sam had locked Chris in the guest room. In his single bed, his dick still caged in his Steelwerx. She had ridden his face, soaking him with her cum. She loved the fact that, only a few feet and a thin wall away, his wife was curled up on an uncomfortable sofa bed, trying to sleep, unaware of what was happening. Sam left Chris frustrated in his steel tube.

She felt no more guilt than a pretty young girl who snares a rich guy as her boyfriend would. If he were some Russian oligarch or New York hedge funder, Sam would spend his money and keep him happy, wouldn’t she ? The world wouldn’t frown. So why should people think any differently just because she was dating a kinky married couple with a nice house ? She’d spend their money and keep them both happy.

She lay in the dark, smiling, and drifted into a deep, contented sleep.

*** *** ***

Over the next two weeks, Chris was sucked into a vortex of subspace. His full balls screamed with frustration but he felt more and more hooked on his love for Laura and his lust for Sam. He had never felt remotely as sexually charged in his life before, but with no release for his pent up frenzy.

At work, he’d somehow managed to concentrate and impress his boss and colleagues. Sam had taken control of his and Laura’s joint bank account and finances. For some weird reason he wanted to impress her.

Finally, old man Lewis called him in and gave him the news. It was good. He was getting a 10% raise and a 20% bonus. Surely Sam would reward him now ?

*** *** ***

Chris was tied spread-eagled on the single bed while Laura tantalised his erection. Sam had instructed her to give him a meagre slow hand job as his reward for “improving the family finances.”

Chris was naked but for a velvet blindfold over his eyes. He couldn’t see Laura’s cunt as she hovered above his head, facing his feet. He was whimpering with excitement, moaning in disappointment whenever her languid fingers pulled away. She teased, barely touching his throbbing vein.

Sam was stood in the doorway smiling, holding her phone in her hand, taking occasional photos. His raise and bonus were even better than she’d hoped. He deserved this paltry reward. Lewis Mitchell had rewarded him. Now it was important for her to incentivise her staff too.

She winked at Laura to start again, slowly building up the rhythm. Laura’s manual skills were improving all the time. Every afternoon, Laura gave Sam massages, manicures, pedicures, and all kinds of sexual pleasure. Her endless bicep curls and wrist raises had given her the strength and stamina of a fulltime spa therapist.

Sam nodded and motioned her hand up and down, signalling to Laura to lower her cunt onto her husband’s mouth. It had been several days since Laura had cum. She had become addicted to the huge toe-curling climaxes she enjoyed since becoming submissive to Sam. But like any dealer with an addict on the hook, Sam was starting to increase the price of her fix.

Sam’s eyes twinkled with amusement as Laura smeared her wet gash back and forwards over Chris’s nose and tongue. They had all come so far in such a short time, but there was so much further to go. Laura’s fingernails toyed fleetingly with her husband’s pulsing erection, barely making contact. It was drooling pre-cum that shone in a translucent puddle on his bald groin. He could wait a while yet. They had plenty of time. There was, after all, a plan.

She waved her hand up and Laura stopped teasing Chris. Sam curled her finger and then put it to her lips, gesturing Laura to follow her quietly out of the room. They left Chris to his thoughts and sexual famine.

“Good girl.” Sam patted Laura on the back when they were downstairs in the living room. “I’ll pop up and keep an eye on him shortly.”

Sam pulled the Velcro straps out from under a cushion and patted the bench. Laura smiled nervously. Bondage sessions were always intense but they often ended with mind blowing orgasms. The bench was a sturdy, low table, covered in fabric. Laura’s head and hips extended over the end but the bench supported her back and bottom. Sam expertly fastened her wrists and ankles to the wooden legs of the bench. Then, smiling down, she eased Laura’s bent knees apart and used a single long cord to lash them in a V, pulling the rope tight under the bench. Finally, she tied a thick black velvet blindfold over Laura’s eyes. Blindness magnifies all the other senses.

Sam relaxed. She had them exactly where she needed them; both tied up and separated, Chris upstairs and Laura down with her. She poured herself a glass of red wine and fired up her I-pod. The opening magnificence of ‘O Fortuna’ flooded the room. Carl Orff’s ‘Carmina Burana’ was one of Sam’s favourites. Pop music was great for dancing and aerobics but classical or jazz were best for sex.

She unlocked the top drawer of the desk and slid it open. It contained many of her new ‘toys’; cuffs, clips, crops, gags, plugs and more. All purchased with Chris and Laura’s savings. But pride of place went to three magnificent vibrators; one was large, another had a strap-on harness and was even larger. But the middle one was largest of all.

Sam’s new toy, that she used herself was the first of the three. It was a bright pink waterproof rabbit, thick, long but comfortable. Laura had already spent many hours between Sam’s legs using it to bring her off numerous times.

But Sam had never even tried the third and largest. It had only just arrived in an unmarked package from an overseas online store. It was over-sized, black and downright ugly, with plastic veins and a huge ridge where it was ‘circumsized’. The same company sold fake ‘forearms’ for fisting and plastic coke cans and bottles, but this was the largest item in their entire catalogue.

Sam sipped her Merlot and admired it. There was a handle section that housed the twin battery pack and then exactly 12 inches of penis length to be inserted, making the entire vibrator 16 inches long, like a black police truncheon.

As impressive was the width. It was 2 inches wide along the shaft, flaring out to 2.5 inches in diameter at its bulbous crown, plus another 0.5 inch of ridge of circumcised ‘foreskin’, making it 3 inches at its maximum girth.

As well as the battery pack, the handle housed a trigger and a cartridge that could be filled with fluid. In the tip of the penis there was a hole and the trigger released a copious liquid discharge into the cunt at a suitable time.

And it was time for Laura’s inexperienced, under-utilized 27 year old cunt to start widening its horizons, so to speak !

*** *** ***

Laura squealed like a stuck pig.

She breathed in and out in rushed, manic gulps. She had only ever had Chris’s penis inside her. She had no means of comparison but she thought her husband was quite well endowed. He never hurt her, not even at the beginning, but he filled her nicely.

She heard Sam’s amused voice in her ear and felt a wet tongue by the blindfold, licking her lobe.

“That’s not even half of it, my dear. But be brave. I’ve taken it all, so you can.”

“Naaah.”

“Sssh !”

She felt Sam’s fingers again, right on her clit. Right there ! She gasped in pleasure-pain, trying to stretch her thighs wider, although she felt as if they were spread flat already. A sharp fingernail robed the entrance to her bottom.

“Ple ... aaaagh.”

She screamed as she felt the plastic intrusion thrust about another mile up inside her. It was ripping, shredding her female parts into pieces.

“Quiet now.” Sam’s taunting voice was sharp. “A baby will come through this gap one day. And this thing is much smaller than a newborn baby.”

“No ... please !”

And then Laura heard the doorbell ring.

“Ah ! Bang on time. That will be your audience.”

*** *** ***

Chris heard the doorbell. He lay there, blindfolded, his wife’s dried juices on his face, still erect, hoping the two women would return.

Minutes later – two, five, ten, he wasn’t sure – he suddenly felt the shock of the lightest touch on his erection. It bounced in response. He gasped.

Somebody was in the room. He could sense movement. He breathed in, trying to scent who it was. Sam ? Or Laura ? The intruder stood by his head.

The was the lightest rustle and then he groaned as a hot splat landed down his penis shaft. A plastic ruler or something caning his hardness.

“Grrrmmm.” He exhaled in shock and pain.

Sam’s voice was even crisper and more authoritative than usual.

“I want this hard. Exercise it. Up !”

Chris used the muscle in the base of his shaft to tighten his erection.

“Now down.”

He relaxed, until a second fiery stroke lashed along his length.

“Aaaahh.”

Sam sniffed unsympathetically. “Up ! And down !”

He followed her voice, tightening, relaxing, in rhythm, training his cock. A minute or so passed as she stood there in silence. He could sense her watching him as he concentrated on his penile work out.

“Wait here.” He heard her say, as she left him. “It’s time to party.”

*** *** ***

By the time that Sam got downstairs, Tim and his two mates were gathered round Laura, easing the vibrator yet another inch or so up her cunt. They had brought round Tim’s DVD camera on a tripod.

Laura was struggling, her muscles and sinews taut, her veins sticking out. The men were grinning, chuckling, eyes bright. Laura’s mouth babbled quietly, too scared and submissive to scream, but begging them for mercy.

“Pull it out, guys. It’s obviously too big for her yet.”

Laura whimpered with relief. Sam knelt down by Laura’s ear.

“As you can’t handle a big fake one, it’s time for a real one instead.”

Laura’s head turned. Although she couldn’t see, she was staring at Sam through the blindfold. Her mouth opened and shut in silent eloquence.

Tim was ready in moments. He shucked off his track pants and plunged his cock in place of the enormous vibrator that he’d pulled out. The other two guys gathered round and fondled Laura’s big tits, thumbing her dark nipples.

“Please ...” Laura gasped.

“Don’t be silly.” Sam said into her ear. “You’ve been wanting this for ages. I know you have. You’ve sucked this cock before so now take it up your cunt.”

The visible, bottom half of Laura’s face froze; her mouth hung open, nostrils flared, jaw set. Several seconds passed. And then, suddenly, just as Sam knew it would, her expression changed. Her mouth inhaled excitedly, neck arched, giving in to her response.

If Laura could have seen the other two men, she’d have been less thrilled. Sam sniggered to herself. Tim was a good looking guy, but Laura’s next two lovers had been handpicked. Ginge, a pasty faced redhead, and Cole, a fat bald black guy. But cock is cock and Laura couldn’t see the rear carriages of the train she was about to haul. She bucked and snorted like a rodeo filly and, quickly built to an embarrassingly shrill orgasm.

Tim matched her timing and dumped his load unceremoniously inside her. After he clambered off, at first Sam wasn’t even sure that Laura realised that a different man had replaced him. Ginge plunged into her sodden cunt easily and quickly, shoving her knees as far apart as he could. But his breath was full of burger and onions and he insisted on kissing Laura’s mouth where it poked out under the blindfold. Laura twisted her head from side to side in a token gesture of resistance to a new cock.

Sam shuddered. Ginge was a nice enough bloke but the idea of sex with him ...yuk. She checked the DVD camera on its tripod. The red recording light glowed. One day, in the not too distant future, Laura and Chris could witness this special moment together. Proof that good looks aren’t necessary for a guy to partner the right kind of slut.

A slut to fuck.

Sam adjusted the lens to get a close up of Ginge’s freckled and acne-scarred face. He winked back his watery blue eyes and gave a yellow-toothed grin. Sam had hung out with Ginge’s older brother who was her age. But Ginge was three years younger and only 20. She doubted he’d got much sex in his life so far.

She leaned into Laura’s ear. “Don’t worry. They’re clean.”

Ginge grunted a staccato series of “ugh .. ugh .. ugh” noises and added his bitter cocktail to the mix inside Laura’s cunt. Everybody applauded.

Unlike Ginge, Cole took his time. All three guys squatted down and pulled opened Laura’s puffy labia, fingering the creamy stream oozing out.

“Hey man, that’s one messy pussy you guys left me.” Cole moaned.

His accent was recognisably Caribbean. He shucked down his over-sized jeans. Cole was a mini cab driver, mid-forties, big bellied and divorced.

Laura’s head turned to Sam and her mouth opened wide. ‘No’, she whispered.

Sam frowned. “Yes ? Do you have anything to say ?”

Cole began taking up position, his big palms on Laura’s knees. An undeniable aroma of marijuana and sweat made Sam sniff.

“Please ...” Laura murmured.

“What ?”

“Not ... he’s ...”

“Yes.” Sam replied soothingly. “He is. He’s a good friend of mine too. I hope you’re not a racist, as well as a slut ?”

Cole took his time, chuckling, very slowly easing his meat inside Laura’s soaking cunt, making her feel every inch.

“Aaah ...”

Sam couldn’t tell if the wailing sound was excitement or anguish.

Not that it mattered now. She picked up the camera and focused tight on Laura’s blindfolded face, taking proof of the lack of resistance, the acceptance, the slow arch of her neck in response to Cole’s thrusting hips.

Sam smiled inwardly and thought of Chris upstairs, maybe still flexing his cock, training it. She looked around the room. At Tim and Ginge, swigging bottles of beer, leering at the action. At Cole’s big sweaty frame, humping away.

And finally, at Laura. Such a cute slut. Her dark hair was mussed and tied in the blindfold, her pretty green eyes were covered. But her head was turned towards Sam, her lips open, Cole’s dark face licking her neck. Her big tits were pressed flat under him and her knees were high, as she readied herself to accept a third load inside her.

Yes, at last, the scene was set !

END OF PART ONE

velvetfeedback@gmail.com

SLUT-2-FUCK

By Velvetglove

PART TWO: ASSEMBLING THE CAST

Chris whimpered with frustration. Sam’s fingernail was teasing his tight ball sack. She barely touched him and her strokes danced like feathers on his hairless groin.

He hissed, breathing in her scent. Her bush was thick, untrimmed, and her cunt was syrupy with excitement as he tongued between her labial folds. He tried to ignore the single stray pubic hair stuck in his gums and concentrated on bringing her off.

“Come in.” He heard Sam say, without warning.

Fuck !

He pulled his mouth away as best he could but Sam simply pressed down harder on his face.

“Come here Laura.” There was an amused titter in her voice. He could imagine his wife’s face as she caught him with Sam ‘in flagrante’ like this.

He felt movement. The warm skin of Laura’s body brushed against the top of his head. He heard a kiss as the two women embraced each other above him, the throaty sounds of their wet lips and tongues.

What the fuck ?!

“Your husband gives reasonable head.” Sam teased. “Doesn’t he ?”

He heard Laura’s embarrassed intake of breath. “Mmm.” She whispered.

Without warning, Sam’s cunt rose out of reach of his tongue. He felt her fingers guide Laura’s hand onto his erection. His wife’s soft palm encircled him. He groaned with excitement, thrusting up into her gentle grip.

“You don’t mind do you ?” Sam asked.

There was a long pause. “N ... no.” Laura stammered quietly.

“Just so that you know, it’s been going on between us for a while.”

The soft gulp of their kisses, and his wife’s fingers skipping lightly along his shaft, indicated that Laura seemed to have accepted the situation.

A pungent bitter sweet aroma of perfume and sex assailed his nostrils.

“Don’t make him cum yet.” Sam instructed. “Here. You ride his face now.”

“No ...” Laura gasped.

“Yes !”

“Please ... don’t make ...”

“Do it ! Now !”

He stuck his tongue out like a panting dog. He wanted to please Laura.

“Omigod ...”

He smelt it milliseconds before he realised what it was. Then his mouth was enveloped by the soaking wet maw of Laura’s gash.

What the f ggghh ...!

She began undulating on his face, rubbing her sloppy folds against his features. Strong hands tugged his hair and Sam’s voice burrowed into his ear.

“Don’t fight it ! Give in to it. What’s good for the goose and all that ! She enjoyed it. Every bit as much as you have enjoyed fucking me.”

Rage and shock and lust and need fought inside him simultaneously. Laura’s hand was toying with his dick, lightly, but firmly enough to make him cum. He bucked his hips and gulped another mouthful of her bitter sweet fluid.

“That’s a good boy.” Sam said. “Go on ! Make each other cum now.”

Chris’s lips and tongue sought out his wife’s engorged clit while he pushed himself in and out of her clenched fist until wailing sirens went off in his head.

*** *** ***

“It was not rape.” Sam replied calmly.

“But she was tied up ! And blindfolded ! They were strangers !”

Chris was doing the talking, Laura sat awkwardly silent, sipping her glass. The three of them were sat round the kitchen table, drinking wine. The conversation was a necessary stage in the process, the negotiation.

“Rape ? Hah ! Rape is what happens to a drunken woman in a back alley on her way home at night. Rape is what happens in war. Rape is what happens to an underage girl with a perverted stepdad, or to a wife with a violent husband.”

Sam jabbed her finger at him. “And to call what happened to Laura here ‘rape’ is an insult to the word. An insult all those women who’ve ever been raped. And,” she smirked, “what’s more, I can prove it !”

They looked at him, mouths open like fish. Her smirk dissolved into a nice, understanding smile. She held all the aces; the 10x8 printouts of Laura’s bucking bronco routine and her piercing orgasm were just a few of them. Sam stared into Laura’s green eyes and saw her shudder of embarrassment.

“Tell him.”

Laura dropped her eyes and shook her head slowly. She dry-swallowed and looked up at Chris.  “No. It ... wasn’t rape.”

Sam opened her palms upwards in an ‘I-told-you-so’ gesture.

She was the only one of them who was dressed. Chris was wearing a towelling bathrobe and Laura was still naked, except for her skin-tight ‘Bimbo’ top, with bare pussy and legs.

“Let’s get one thing straight.” Sam said to both of them, mostly to Chris. “From now on, it’s my way, or the highway.”

In every battle, there is a moment when the victor and vanquished both realise their fates. Chris’s brown eyes dropped in acceptance of defeat.

They spent the next three hours talking. Drinking and really communicating. It was the first booze that Sam had allowed them for ages and first Laura, then Chris, started slurring, the alcohol removing their last inhibitions.

Laura admitted to them both how turned on she had been since Sam had entered their lives. Sometimes, she said, it was hard being a slave in her own house; the shame, the guilt, the queasiness when she feared her life was being taken over. But it was what she wanted. More than ‘wanted’. Needed. She held Chris’s hand tight and apologised to him for her behaviour and for what she had become. It was just ... who she was.

Chris replied that he was the one who should say sorry to her. He confessed that he felt similar shame, anxiety and disgust with himself. He hated the illicit thrill he got from being financially dominated, his forced chastity and now being cuckolded. He leaned over and, glancing at Sam for permission, kissed his wife gently on the forehead.

And Sam surprised them both by owning up to her own misgivings too. Domination is an easy fantasy - an exciting fiction - but real life control comes with responsibility. She would never intend to hurt either of them, or to harm their love for each other. She just had this great urge to control willing victims.

However, this was a journey and she didn’t know their eventual destination, any better than they did. It was a high wire they would all be walking together.

So, she added, they had either better throw her out, tonight – now - or accept her as their Mistress. Without any limits. Without any safety net. She was taking the steering wheel now and they could jump in behind her for the ride, or not.

The one thing she wouldn’t ever allow them to do was to drive from the back seats.

At midnight, Sam wryly raised her glass in a toast.

“To the future.”

The three of them chinked glasses and went up to her bedroom.

That night, for the only time, they had sex as a threesome. Naked limbs entwined, almost as equals. Laura was mostly the centre of attention. Her cunt was still slick and unwashed from Tim, Ginge and Cole’s residue. Sam let Chris make sloppy, vanilla love to his wife, emptying his seed into her melting pot.

“That will be the last time for a while.” She warned him, affectionately.

Laura orgasmed twice, the second time while she licked Sam’s clitoris, at the same time as Chris nuzzled his Mistress’s breasts. Finally Sam climaxed too, and the three of them fell into an emotionally exhausted sleep in bed together.

*** *** ***

Sam was true to her word. Over the days and weeks that followed, she stepped things up several gears. Chris went to work in his Steelwerx Extreme chastity tube and focused on his job. He rose at 6.30 a.m., was out of the house by seven, and didn’t return until 9 p.m. Sam wanted his bosses to notice his even greater efforts at work. And they did.

Laura spent each morning swabbing, drying, dusting, tidying, cleaning, polishing, sorting, washing, ironing. The house was perfect but still Sam found fault. A slightly misfolded shirt resulted in Sam pulling every garment out of every drawer so that Laura had to start over again.

Meanwhile, Sam ate breakfast and lunch, drank coffee and wine, all prepared, cooked and served by Laura. While Sam ate perfectly sliced fresh fruit, dressed salads and drank crisp sauvignon blanc, Laura chomped on dry cereal, unseasoned greens without dressing, and slurped tap water from a bowl.

Most afternoons, guests visited. Sometimes it was Tim, Sam’s ‘fuck buddy’ as she referred to him. Laura never knew what was going to happen. Sometimes, all three of them would go up to Sam’s double bed. Sam and Tim would fuck energetically and Laura would have to watch them. When they’d finished, Laura had to lick them both clean while they simply relaxed and ignored her.

But other times, Sam wasn’t in the mood. She’d offer Tim a blowjob or a fuck with Laura instead, casually like she was saying ‘grab a beer from the fridge’. Tim always seemed to be straight from the gym and sweaty on these occasions. Sam watched and gave instructions, telling Laura to tongue Tim’s asshole or gargle his semen, always finding some new test to set her.

While they fucked, Sam warned Laura not to orgasm. Tim was dark and fit and, despite herself, Laura found him exciting, if not attractive. He liked to fuck her from behind, in the doggie position, and his large penis thumped thrillingly in and out of her vagina.

But Sam knelt close, her eyes fixed on Laura’s in reproach.

“No. Control yourself, slut. You’re his cum dump. Nothing else.”

When he came, his hot fluid spilling inside her, Laura had to bite her bottom lip, steeling her own body not to melt. When he pulled out, Sam passed her a soup spoon.

“Don’t waste it.”

Laura squatted on the bed on her knees and held the spoon under her vagina. On Sam’s command, she squeezed her muscles, pushing the pasty white globs into the round receptacle. Tim produced a seemingly enormous load every time and she had to hold the spoon carefully to stop it spilling over the sides. Finally, Laura had to lay it on her tongue and gargle it, trilling it round her palate.

But one afternoon, Laura was blindfolded and tied to the double bed. An unknown man arrived and Sam’s voice greeted him downstairs. Soon, their footsteps climbed the staircase and the door opened. Breathing, movement, hushed laughter drifted across the room. Laura winced as fingers roamed her body. Coarse male hands squeezed her nipples and fingered her labia.

“Ngah ...” she objected.

More amusement. She heard the grating sound of a zipper.

“Here. Put this on.”

The rustle of a wrapper.

A wet tongue licked her neck. “Don’t worry. You know this cock already. But he’s wearing a condom so you can drink his cum afterwards.”

Laura cringed as she felt the weight of a man’s body and the jab of an erection between her thighs. But she was wet enough for it to penetrate her easily.

“Hold on.” Sam’s voice teased her. “I fucked up. Maybe you don’t know this guy after all. Is he your number three or four, I forget ? Or maybe he’s new number five ?”

Laura gasped, her brain scrambled by stimulation and indignity. The nameless body and penis plunged into her in a barrage of panting and garlic.

“Mmm ... mmmf ...” A deep baritone exhaled.

Fingers thumbed Laura’s nipples and hands gripped her hips.

Sam encouraged him. “That’s right. Fuck the bitch.  She’ll never know who you are. She’s just a slut to unload into. Isn’t that right, slut ?”

Laura tried to shut her ears. And yet ... she sensed an orgasm of shattering intensity building in every part of her body; her cunt, her fingertips, her brain.

“Smile.”

She gasped towards where she heard the click of a camera.

“Fuck ... fuck ... fuck ... shit ... bitch ... slut ... fuck ... fuck ... fuuu ... yeeeerrhhh ...” The man’s groin slapped hard against hers and she felt him tense a few seconds atop her and then shudder in orgasm.

Unable to control herself, Laura matched him moments later, hearing her own climactic shriek as if it came from somebody else, some madwoman howling faraway.

The stranger was heavy. He lay on Laura, breathing heavily, no longer supporting any of his weight. She realized how big he really was. Eventually the mattress shifted as he clambered slowly off her. Laura gasped with relief.

She felt a gentle brush against her lower lip. “Open wide.”

Gulping with nausea, Laura sniffed rubber and bleach.

“Come on now. Say ah. Let’s not be rude to our guest.”

Her eyes wet behind the blindfold, Laura forced her jaws apart.

“Mmm ...” Sam murmured appreciatively. “Look, there’s masses of it.”

There was a deep masculine snort, almost embarrassed laughter.

Laura let a little of the fluid slide down the back of her throat. She managed to suppress her gag reflex. She had never used to swallow Chris’s semen. It wasn’t just the sickly smell of it. It was the slimy texture and how she imagined the taste would be. If he’d asked her nicely she’d maybe have tried it once but she had never seen any reason to volunteer.

But Sam insisted. Tim had been her first. She didn’t like his taste, but she knew him. Kind of. She had at least seen his face. This was even worse. An unseen stranger’s, tipped from a rubbery condom into her mouth, like she was simply a trash bin.

And yet, she lay there obediently, jaws aching, lips apart, tongue coated. It wriggled down her throat like a worm.

“Good girl.” Sam chirruped, like a mom egging her kid daughter to eat some vegetable she didn’t like.

“Down the hatch.”

*** *** ***

Chris stood at the ATM and keyed in his PIN.

It was the maximum cash his bank allowed daily. Each day he withdrew £100. Until the balance was almost empty. Aside from the monthly standing order for his mortgage and the household utility direct debits, he handed over to Sam all the rest. In ten and twenty pound notes. She insisted he gave her cash so there could be no paper trail. In return, she gave him back a small weekly allowance, just enough to pay for his travel and a lunchtime sandwich.

He knew it was madness. What had begun as a game was getting out of hand. He was working harder than ever, long hours, through his lunchtime. His bosses were pleased, unaware that he was wearing a damned steel tube inside his pants. They only way he could get through the day was not to think about anything but work; files, phone calls, emails, his targets.

Anything but women. Anything but sex.

Anything but Laura.

Anything but Sam.

Of course, he got a secret buzz. He wouldn’t allow it to happen if he didn’t, right ? He could just demand that Sam unlock him, release them, and then fuck off back to the shithole she lived in before, couldn’t he ?

If she didn’t, he could go to the police.

Then he and Laura could return to their happy, romantic, bland, missionary, vanilla life together, couldn’t they ?

*** *** ***

The first weekend that Tim came to stay was another milestone.

Sam had been in for her boob job and had returned home for post-procedure recuperation. She’d been to the best place in the country to have it done; a sub muscular mammoplasty that turned her small perky A-cup tits to perfect round 32-C’s.

Expensive but, hey, she was worth it !

She stared at herself nude in the bedroom mirror admiringly; 5’6”, slim waist, great legs, not one ounce of fat, with this great new cleavage to show off. She flexed her arms as they’d advised her to alleviate discomfort. Tomorrow she’d raid her stash of cash to shop for loads of new lingerie. Now she could attract that rich, hot husband she’d always aspired to.

After all, Tim was a nice guy, a good fuck, a fun kink-partner. But that was all. She didn’t really want to have sex much with him anymore, especially with sore tits !

Fortunately, she didn’t have to. Laura could carry the entire burden this weekend.

Although Tim had fucked Laura over a dozen times, Chris had never witnessed it. Sam introduced the two men to each other on the Friday evening and made it clear who was in charge over the next 48 hours.

“Chris, strip.”

Hesitantly, but obediently, Chris obeyed her and removed his clothes. He blushed red standing naked in front of another man, especially wearing his spectacles with his hairless groin and dick caged in a 3-inch steel tube.

“Remove your glasses and bend over.”

Sam winked conspiratorially at Tim. They both watched as Chris laid down his specs then bent at the waist to touch his toes. Sam picked the gnarled yellow bamboo cane out of the umbrella stand and handed it to Tim, who swished it in a practise arc.

“Not too hard. But enough to be a serious warning.”

Tim grinned back. She knew he was getting into the scene. He wasn’t a natural full time Dom. He was essentially ‘vanilla’. But after all, hot sex was hot sex and Tim clearly enjoyed teaming up with Sam and her kinky couple.

Sam studied Laura’s expression. She was kneeling, watching. It was essential that Laura witnessed her husband meekly accepting a caning. The next 48 hours would be the start of a whole new phase.

Thwack ! The room reverberated with the shocking crack of rattan on flesh.

Chris grunted hard but managed to stay in position. A scarlet welt lined his pale buttocks.

“Count.” Sam snapped. “And say thank you Sir.”

“One ... th ... thank you ...” Chris paused, “.... Sir.”

Thwack !

“T ... two ... thank you Sir.”

Thwack !

Thwack !

Thwack !

Thwack !

“S ... six thank you S...Sir.”

Sam raised her finger. She smiled at Tim. And then at Laura. She felt like a Roman Empress at a gladiatorial games; thumb up or down ? The power of life and death. Laura’s green eyes blinked nervously like some trapped animal.

“Okay. Stand up and face us.”

Chris’s face was shiny and crimson. His caramel hair was all out of place. He was slightly shorter than Tim and it showed. His brown eyes were glassy.

“Put your glasses back on.”

Sam watched him, wondering what was going on in his mind. She wanted to keep second guessing him, keep one step ahead. It had now been 19 days since she had last allowed Chris to cum. It had been the night they had sex as a threesome and Sam had let him enjoy sloppy fourths inside Laura’s well used cunt. How horny must he be by now ? Very, she hoped.

It would put him into deep subspace.

*** *** ***

Chris held Laura’s ankles apart.

His wife was lying on the bed with her legs in the air, like she was having her diaper changed. He was kneeling above her head pulling her legs open. Both of them were naked except for his glasses and the infernal cock-cage.

Chris knew Tim had already fucked his wife, but this would be different. Not only seeing it close up, assisting him as well. A deep hollow of shame curdled his guts. He had fantasised about this moment for so long.

And now it was happening.

He felt Sam’s eyes boring into him. She had that amused, elfin grin on her cute face, like she knew exactly what he was thinking.

He had fucked Sam. Yet somehow he didn’t ever feel like he had really ever had sex with her. It had been the other way round, mentally and physically. She’d been fucking him. And fucking with him.

He knew that Tim was Sam’s boyfriend. So in a way, Sam was being cuckolded just as much as he was, if Tim fucked Laura. But it didn’t feel that way. Tim was just a passing ship in the night in Sam’s life. But Laura was Chris’s love.

His wife for fuck’s sake.

He could hear Tim in the bathroom. The sloshing sound of him taking a long piss. He hadn’t even shut the door. The seconds ticked by and still only the splash of him filling the pan, endlessly emptying his bladder, preparing.

Chris glanced down at Laura but avoided her eyes. His wife was so beautiful. Even now, like this, she had a special elegance. Her waist was tiny. When they first met, he used to joke with her about how come his cock didn’t just go in and come out the other side of her ?

He’d been her first man, they could never take that away from him. But he’d used to be her ‘one and only’ man too.

Not any more.

He shifted on the mattress to get comfortable. His butt stung from the caning. Not too bad, but enough to throb. Laura’s tits were almost brushing his knees as he knelt by her head. They were fantastic; he was always proud the way his mates had teased him about “the Law-knockers” as they called them jealously. They lay spread out now, with her red nipples floating like cherries on a dessert, ready for another man to feast on them.

A man who didn’t even bother to wash his hands. Tim flushed the toilet and instantly appeared in the bathroom doorway, wearing Chris’s own robe. It was untied and hung open revealing his muscled midriff and hairy groin.

Chris instinctively snuck a look at his own hairless mound; at his dick inside its shiny steel cylinder. His hands were moist and sweating on Laura’s ankles. Both her holes were totally laid bare. Sam had recently waxed Laura’s stubble away completely. Her labia were closed, puffy and tempting. He could see her bottom too. A tight crinkled bud.

“Ready Tim ?” Sam asked nonchalantly, stepping back to make way.

“Sure.”

“Ready Chris ?” she enquired.

He frowned.

Why make him say anything at this moment ?

“Er ... yes.”

“Come on, you can do better than that. Ask him nicely to fuck her.”

He caught Laura’s wide eyes looking upwards like two sparkling emeralds.

“Please ... Sir ...” Chris’s throat was parched. “Er ... would you fuck her.”

“No.”

He caught Tim and Sam exchanging amused glances.

“No.” Sam echoed Tim’s answer. “Not tonight.”

Chris looked at them, not understanding.

It never occurred to him, until ...

“Tonight Tim is going to pop your wife’s backdoor cherry.”

Laura’s eyes bulged. Chris felt her ankles instinctively try to close.

Sam’s expression hardened. “Hold her.”

Tim pulled a jar out from the pocket of Chris’s blue robe. “Don’t worry.” He said. “I’ll be gentle.”

*** *** ***

Laura shut her eyes as warm lubricant was applied to her anus.

Deep down, she’d known this moment had to come. Deeper down still, maybe she’d always wanted it to ?

Not that she’d have ever let Chris do it to her.

She looked up at him. He was avoiding her gaze. Sam had noticed them both.

“Look deep into each other’s eyes.”

Laura tried to smile bravely back at her husband as he eyeballed her. She winced crookedly as Tim’s finger entered her past the knuckle.

“Whoops.” Sam teased. “Careful Tim.”

She tensed and then tried to relax, taking a few deep, rhythmic breaths.

“Ready Laura ?”

She blinked in response, unable to bring herself to speak or even nod.

Tim smiled at her and he bent down. She felt his weight on her bottom and hips as he crouched to kiss her. His strong arms were astride her shoulders, right next to Chris’s knees. Suddenly everything seemed so crowded.

She felt his hard erection against her body. He wasn’t trying to put it inside her yet. She calmed a little and met his hot, excited kiss, sliding her tongue round his.

“That’s it. Get into it first. A bit of foreplay.” Sam sounded like a fanatical sports coach.

But soon Tim lifted his torso up. Laura detected Sam’s arm brushing her thigh and somebody’s fingers fumbling at the entrance to her anus. Strong hands adjusted her angle on the bed and she was aware of Chris easing her ankles forwards.

“In we go.” Sam applauded.

Laura gasped, like she’d been punched. Tim had bulldozed her lubricated defences in a second, popping through her anal ring and what must have been several inches deep.

“Yesssss.”

She bit her lip and tried to wrench her legs free from her husband’s grip.

“Whoa bitch !” Tim laughed. He grabbed her wrists and held her down, then bludgeoned another couple of inches into her bottom.

She felt like she was jam-packed and fit to burst. “Nah ...” she grimaced.

“Oh yes.” Sam replied. “But don’t worry, that’s the worst bit over.”

Tim was thrusting now, picking up speed, like he was fucking her. In and out, a little deeper each plunge. He was kissing her again, hard, crushing her lips.

“No ...” Laura whispered then gave up.

She realized that Tim was now fully inside her, his balls were slapping against her flesh.

*** *** ***

Sam was in heaven.

She slapped Tim’s muscular butt encouragingly. She could tell his was going to shoot his load any second now.

But it was Chris’s face she was studying.  His deep set brown eyes swam with uncertainty. Here he was, still kneeling right next to the action, holding Laura’s slim ankles apart, watching his love getting butt fucked for the first time. His own dick was straining impotently against its steel residence while another guy reamed his wife’s asshole. Sam would pay Chris back a few of his own banknotes to know what he was thinking right now.

Sam knew she was wet between her own thighs. Literally dripping. She could feel the dampness on her silk thong. But she’d wait for now. Focus just on them.

“Grrrr .... yes ...” Tim roared, reaching his moment of no return.

“Go boy, fill her up !” Sam whooped. “Chris ! Laura ! He’s about to gush.”

She smiled down into Laura’s eyes as Tim reared his head up. She saw Laura couldn’t resist glancing up at Chris at such an important moment.

How cute !

Tim’s orgasm lasted almost as long as his piss earlier. He bucked and jerked, groaned and pumped, planting his liquid flag inside Laura’s back passage. She was like a conquered mountain now. No longer quite as mysterious.

“The first of many.” Sam announced casually, with a twinkle in her eye.

*** *** ***

The following morning, Laura awoke in the tiny bedroom she slept in. She was still dirty and had dozed fitfully all night. Sam and Tim now shared the double bed that had once been Laura and Chris’s. She inspected her tender anus with her finger. There didn’t seem to be any damage but she felt sore and soiled.

Before turning the light out the night before, Sam had come to her room and ridden her face roughly. She could still taste her on her lips. Laura was amazed by Sam’s new breasts. They made her look more feminine and also even more powerful.

Laura slid her fingers from her bottom to her vagina, activating her clit like electricity. She would have liked an orgasm herself.

Here. Now.

To be honest, although submission was hard, it was addictive. The weeks since meeting Sam had been the most electrifying of her life. Where it would end she had no idea ? She was a slut and now she was being treated like one.

She resisted temptation. Sam insisted on the ‘honour system’ and required Laura to admit to any ‘diddling’ as she called it. Poor Chris lived in his steel tube and she knew the two of them somehow deserved to be kept denied like this. There was apparently no female chastity device that fully prevented masturbation. It was up to her self-discipline.

After breakfast, Sam announced she was going shopping and left Tim in charge of them. It was Saturday and she and Chris had their weekend chores to deal with; emptying all the cupboards then cleaning and restacking them, washing all Sam’s training kit by hand, scrubbing behind the toilets, gardening their tiny yard. Laura had dressed in just a chores-T-shirt and flip-flops.

“Please may I use the bathroom ?”  she asked Tim.

He was on Sam’s laptop, reading emails. He smiled.

“Sure. What for ?”

“I need a shower. And to use the toilet.”

He nodded, turning his eyes back to the screen.

Laura was no longer allowed to use her master en suite that Sam had requisitioned. She went upstairs to their other bathroom; it just had a shower, a low stool, corner basin and toilet. She kept it spick and span; sparkling tiled floor, shiny mirrors, bright lightbulbs.

There was no longer a hot water feed to the plumbing of the room. Sam had arranged a local plumber to disconnect it. Now only the cold taps of the basin and shower worked. There was also no longer a lock or bolt behind the door. Their comfortable wooden chair had been removed, and replaced by a low metal stool.

She shut the door quietly, hitched up her T-shirt and sat on the toilet. She glanced at herself in the facing mirror. Her hair was mussed and needed a trim. She’d have to ask Sam for the money to have it cut. Her eyes were dark-rimmed from bad sleep.

She relaxed and started to pee. She needed to poop too and wondered if it would hurt her tender bottom. She sighed with relief as her bladder started emptying.

Suddenly the door opened and Tim stood in the doorway, grinning.

“Don’t stop.” He said, smiling. “Sam told me to keep an eye on you.”

Laura blushed and felt heat mottle her neck. Sam had sometimes watched her in the bathroom but never a man, not even Chris. She listened to the embarrassing spray of her own pee. Maybe she didn’t need to poop after all ?

He chuckled. “I’ve never watched a woman piss before. Noisy aren’t you ?”

She looked at him and shut her eyes. Her stomach somersaulted.

“Y ... yes.”

“Open your eyes.” He said.

She forced them open. This man had fucked her several times and yet she barely knew him. He’d come in her mouth and now even inside her bottom. He was undeniably nice looking, in a tough way, but Laura didn’t fancy him at all.

She winced, feeling her bowel shifting again, as she finished her last drops of pee at last.

He took a step towards her. He was still wearing Chris’s blue bathrobe.

“You need to take a dump too ?” he asked, matter-of-factly.

She gulped and considered lying. But she croaked. “Yes.”

He smirked. “And I’ve never watched a woman take a shit either.” He held out his hand. “Take that T-shirt off.”

Laura bent her neck and dragged the loose T over her head. She was naked now, except for the pair of grubby Havaianas on her feet. He reached out, took the top, and thumbed her unsupported breasts as he did so.

“Get up off the seat a bit. Squat astride it instead.” He said, stepping back.

Blushing again, Laura pushed her bottom up and straddled the toilet awkwardly.

Tim pulled over the low stool and perched on it facing her.

“Lean back. So I can see both your holes.”

She closed her eyes, unable to look at him. His head was level with her waist. She had her hands on her knees to support herself. Her knees were open in the crouch position. Slowly she pushed her chest backwards as far as she could.

“Wait.” He said. He got up, rushed from the room, along the corridor, and returned seconds later, carrying his smart phone. He sat down again.

“Gotta make a record of this.” He explained.

She shook her head, opening her eyes again to plead. “Please.”

“Don’t be silly. Now, smile.”

He held up his camera and she forced a scowl at the lens. He leaned back and panned the lens up and down her body, pausing on her breasts and between her legs. He was videoing her shame.

“Okay, Laura. Hurry up and let it all hang out.”

She wailed with indignity and felt herself lose control. She broke wind loudly.

“Oh boy.” He laughed. “Proof that women fart too.”

“Please ...” she mouthed at him. Her legs were unsteady. She felt so vulnerable, like she was going to miss the pan completely.

“Just get on with it.”

She let out a sob and felt her sphincter muscle release. She strained and pushed. Slowly, a large dry stool emerged and she could feel it dangling between her wide open thighs.

“Hold it there a sec.” He said, like some paparazzi snapper. “And smile.”

*** *** ***

The doorbell rang.

Chris was downstairs, his hands in hot suds, washing Sam’s sports kit. Most of it hadn’t even been used but she liked it freshly washed and pressed anyway. She’d bought herself a lot of new stuff recently; everything from luxury cotton running gear, to designer cashmere loungewear, to the fanciest brand trainers. At least he could see where some of his hard earned cash was going.

He heard Tim call out. “See who it is.”

Chris wiped his hands and went to the front door.

“Who is it ?” He asked through the letter box.

“We’re mates of Tim’s,” was the reply. “Tell him Ginge and Cole are here !”

*** *** ***

Sam adored expensive department stores. She wandered through the cosmetics section on the ground floor, browsed the watch and jewellery boutiques, sipped a cappuccino at one of the restaurants, and took the elevator up to ‘Lingerie’.

She spent an hour trying on numerous items. It felt good to be experimenting with under-wired bras rather than the soft padded kind she had always used. The sales assistant kept returning with a vast array of C-cups in a rainbow of colours; white and black, red, purple, turquoise, in cotton, satin and silk.

While she shopped, she received a couple of text messages from Tim and smiled to herself. Everything was going nicely to plan. Maybe she’d been wrong about him. Maybe he wasn’t quite as vanilla as she’d thought ?

*** *** ***

Chris had finished washing Sam’s kit and had hung it on the line outdoors to air and dry. Her track pants, shorts and tops billowed in the late summer breeze. He was gardening now, trying to concentrate, bending down to tend their small flower bed.

Inside the house, Laura was alone with five men. Tim, and some pair called Ginge and Cole, then another two guys who had just arrived ten minutes ago. Tim had locked the backdoor with Chris outside and told him that the guys had just come round to watch football.

When Tim had tried to peek through the window, the reflection of the sun made it impossible to see inside. And then he heard a sharp tap on the glass and made out Tim gesturing at him to focus on the flowers. Occasionally he could just make out the sound of the TV and male voices shouting.

What was going on inside ?

*** *** ***

Laura’s knees were sore.

She felt light headed, a mix of nausea and ecstasy. She was on the floor in front of five men. They were looking over her head at the television screen behind her, watching the midday match. Her job was to crawl from man to man, unbuckling his belt, tugging down his pants and licking his penis. Tim was still wearing Chris’s robe but the four others all wore jeans or track pants, shirts or Ts.

They sat in a curve, three on the sofa and two in chairs, with side tables on which they had beers and nuts. None of the men had cum. That didn’t seem to be the idea yet. She wasn’t allowed to use her hands to masturbate them. She just had to lean her head over and lick and suck them hard for a few minutes, before moving onto the next man, in a never ending cycle.

She was topless. After her cold shower, Tim had told her to dress in just a mini skirt, stockings and heels, but without a bra or top. He told her to put on loads of makeup and bright lipstick and to make herself look as slutty as possible. Her appearance produced wolf whistles and cheers from the men when she came down the stairs.

She’d never seen any of them before. They were a pretty unappealing bunch. But Tim seemed to know them all and didn’t care about their looks.

“Their cocks are clean and healthy and that’s all that matters.”

When she shook her head, he smirked and unfolded an A4 colour printout.

Her mouth fell open. The printout showed her. And one of the other men. He was younger than her, freckled and spotty with red hair. He was fucking her.

Tim took a second A4 sheet from his robe pocket, unfolded it, and brandished it in her face. It was of her with another man, the fat black guy they’d called Cole. This photo showed the lower part of her face. She was blindfolded and her mouth was open in a wide ‘o’.

It was undeniably her. She was caught in the middle of an orgasm.

“As I said, slut. A clean, healthy cock is clearly all that matters to you.”

She cringed, looking at their eager, ugly grins. Her vision was blurred, but she could make out the ginger guy’s crooked teeth, she noticed the black guy’s body odour and a whiff of marijuana on his basketball top. She saw the other two were a shaven headed brute and a bespectacled Chinese man who looked like he worked in a greasy takeaway.

Did Tim not have any friends who looked more like him ?

But succumbing to greater power than her own, she sunk down onto her knees.

The match was exciting and every few minutes there would be a roar, swearwords at the screen, jeers and cheers. The team they all evidently supported scored the first goal but then their opponents equalised.

But whenever she was licking and sucking one of them, he’d obviously become distracted and enjoy her mouth. Their penises were distinguishable; from the sweaty black one, to the long thin one with red pubic hair, to the smaller one belonging to the Chinese boy, to the oversized one she couldn’t fit in her mouth.

At half-time, she provided the entertainment. Tim produced the same monster vibrator that Sam had purchased online. Laura felt sick. It looked more enormous than ever, as long as her forearm and probably as thick.

“Give us a halftime show !” Tim said. “And make yourself cum before the second half begins.”

Laura was in a trance. What further humiliation could they pile on her ? She sat on a hardback chair and lifted her mini skirt, showing them her bald mound.

More cheers, leers and the inevitable smart phones filming her.

She was naked but for her black stockings, heels, makeup and lipstick. She licked her finger and slid it between her thighs to wet herself. The men laughed. She was bewildered how soaked she was already.

She was even more astonished at the fact that she could get the enormous crown inside her. It was black plastic and contoured like a huge real penis, about 2 inches wide at the veined shaft, but first she had to get the circumcised head into her, and that was even wider, with a disgusting ridge of fake foreskin.

But controlling it herself was easier than when Sam had done it. She pushed the giant through her slick labia, into her yawning vaginal opening, and up towards her cervix.

“Oh yeah.” They cheered. “Boy, now that is some slut.”

Blanking out their insults, she wedged about 8 inches of it inside herself and then flicked on the motor to the batteries. A humming sound filled the room and the thing began to throb deep inside her. Disgraced, she began to push and pull it, carefully out and in, until she’d absorbed a further 2 inches.

“Hey, Jason. She could take you easy.” Somebody shouted to the shaven headed guy with the largest penis.

“Smile.” Said another. “You’re going on the net, babe.”

She stared at him open-mouthed. She’d never considered these photos weren’t just fun. Drool ran from her lips. She couldn’t even reply.

“Hurry.” Tim said, looking over her at the screen. “The second half is about to start.”

She felt the orgasm coming from about an ocean away. It built over what seemed like minutes but was probably only 20 seconds. It rose up her spine and in her head and crashed like a tsunami between her legs, before rippling through her body from the tips of her toes, up her spine, until the hairs stood on her head.

She collapsed in shattered bliss.

It had been the greatest feeling in her entire life.

*** *** ***

From that weekend onwards, it was easy.

Sam had reeled Laura in like a big game tuna. She would still jerk about on the deck a while but she was basically sushi from that moment on. Chris was whitebait, not going anywhere, a tasty starter before the main course.

Laura’s own website was uploaded with photos and her rate card. But most of her business came from the AdultWork.com website. It was a global network of escorts and adult service providers. Laura was registered in the UK section.

And her working name was perfect and obvious.

Slut-2-Fuck.

END OF PART TWO

velvetfeedback@gmail.com

SLUT-2-FUCK

PART THREE: FOLLOWING THE SCRIPT

Thirty Frequently Asked Questions about the Slut-2-Fuck

Q1. Is Slut-2-Fuck being used against her will ?

A1. No. Absolutely not. Slut-2-Fuck is a lifestyle submissive slut. She serves consensually without force or lien.

*** *** ***

Sam smiled down at Chris.

She was sat astride his hips, riding him slowly, studying his brown eyes. They were on the comfy marital bed that Chris had once shared with Laura. His wrists and ankles were tied with soft cord to the four corners of the bed frame. Sam teased herself and him, edging their orgasms, ensuring that only the first couple of inches of his erection nuzzled the soft entrance of her excited cunt.

“Good boy.” She cooed. “Control.”

It had been three weeks since Chris had last cum. His scrotum was tight as a drum. Sam knew there was a point beyond which denial changed from something hot to something negative even to a chastity-bug like Chris. Eventually, it might even get easier for him to bear it too, like virtuous monks eventually stop feeling any sexual urges at all. She didn’t want that.

So it would soon be time to reward his obedience. She felt her own orgasm building nicely. She enjoyed being on top, controlling the action. She leaned down and kissed Chris deeply in his panting mouth.

“Don’t cum yet.” She whispered into his warm breath. “I’m about to. But don’t you dare.”

She smiled down at the blur that was his face, his grimace of concentration, his caramel hair and his handsome features, as her climax washed over her.

“Aaggnnggmmmmmmmmm .....” she howled, loud enough to ensure that Laura would hear the racket in her tiny bedroom down the corridor.

After a break, slowly, she picked up speed again, enjoying her post-orgasmic rush. She took her weight on her outstretched arms so she could speak to Chris.

“Look at me.”

His eyes locked hungrily on hers. He was so desperate.

“Shall we fetch her ?” she asked him. “Your slut wife ? Who would you prefer to cum inside ? Her ? Or me ?”

He was panting. His eyes wide, mouth open. “Please ... you.”

Sam nodded deliberately, giving him a pleasant smirk. “Good boy.”

She raised her hips without warning. He gasped in frustration as his glistening erection jerked in the air below her. But he didn’t say anything or object.

She lowered her lips to his again and kissed him hungrily, smiling.

“I just wanted to make you appreciate how much you want me.”

She took her weight on her left arm and reached down with her right. She manipulated him back into her warm velvety folds and pushed down. He surged up to meet her, as hard as his bonds allowed him, grunting with desire.

“Cum for me.” She murmured. “Fill me up with all that need.”

*** *** ***

Q2. I see that Slut-2-Fuck is married. Is she being used against her husband’s will or without his knowledge ?

A2. Again, absolutely not. Slut-2-Fuck’s husband is a lifestyle submissive cuckold. He is fully accepting of her activities. He works in an office during weekdays and is not present during sessions, except by special arrangement.

*** *** ***

Sam soaked in the hot bath and smiled.

Her arm was draped over the rim of the tub, with her elbow propped, so that her hand was an awkward height for Laura to squat over.

Laura was bent in a thigh-burning crouch, with her damp labia astride Sam’s upturned thumb. She was staring straight ahead, fingers locked behind her head, sliding ever so slowly to and fro on Sam’s digit, gasping with concentration and physical effort.

“Good girl.” Sam cooed. “Control.”

Laura was dressed in her new cliché maid’s uniform. Sam had bought it from a tacky store; a tight white see-through shirt made of some dreadful nylon fabric, a shiny black PVC miniskirt, a suspender belt, red fishnet stockings and punishment 5-inch stiletto heels. The skirt had ridden up so that her bald cunt was on display to Sam’s amused gaze.

“How does that feel ?”

“G ... good.” Laura gasped.

“Don’t cum.” Sam replied. It was Monday morning. Chris had left for the office and she and Laura were home alone. Sam turned the screw.

“He’s a good fuck, your Chris. Or he will be with training anyway.”

Laura’s face and neck flushed an even deeper shade of beetroot.

“Slow down.” Sam smiled. “It excites you, doesn’t it ? Me fucking your husband ?”

“Yesss.” Laura hissed, grimacing.

“I’m splitting up with Tim. So instead your hubby can look after me for a while. If and when I need him, that is.”

Laura’s green eyes glanced down. She wasn’t wearing any bra. Her unsupported 34Ds were fully visible under the nasty shirt fabric, her jutting nipples exposing her shame.

“Alright ?”

“Mmm.” Laura replied, unable to get the word out.

“Lower.” Sam said, stiffening her thumb while Laura sunk deeper onto it.

Both women’s eyes locked like poker players over a high stakes pot.

“And,” Sam continued, “you can look after Tim. That is, until he finds something better.” There was a long pause. “Alright ?”

“Y... yes.” Laura croaked.

Sam pulled her finger away. It glistened with slick moisture. She sniffed it disapprovingly and put her hand in her scented bathwater to wash it.

“You are a slut, Laura, aren’t you ?”

Laura remained in her uncomfortable, tired squat. “Yes. I am.”

Sam’s tone changed. “If you want me to leave, I will, today. Now.”

Laura looked at her, lips open in shock. “N ... no. I don’t ...”

There was another silence, as Sam quietly scooped her winnings.

“In which case, it’s time to get to work.”

*** *** ***

Q3. Are monetary tributes payment for sex or services ?

A3. Slut-2-Fuck is a lifestyle submissive and tributes are not payment for sex or her services. Your pre-arranged wishes will of course be fully considered but tributes are for her time and companionship only. Anything else that occurs is between consenting adults.

*** *** ***

Laura tried not to gag.

She was in a blindfold. It was new, a blackout hood, with just a hole for her mouth and two nostril vents. The hole round her mouth was trimmed with a red edge.

Sam had put the hood on her before the doorbell rang. A man arrived. Voices. Movement. A distinctive male scent; sweat and cologne.

There were no introductions, no foreplay, no politeness. Straight to the point, as it were. The scraping sound of a zipper.

“No hands.” Sam’s voice instructed. “Just use your mouth.”

Somehow, Laura managed to obey. She opened wide and felt this strange penis slide in. She wondered if he was one of the men she’d already serviced. It wasn’t Tim. For sure. Maybe another of them ? No. This one seemed new.

Yet another new one.

Strong fingers held her head. She knelt and let the man literally fuck her face, trying not to choke. She heard typically appreciative male moans.

“Do you need a handjob ?” Sam’s voice eventually asked him bluntly. It sounded further away, like she’d withdrawn to the corner of the room.

“Nn .. no.” The man grunted.

Without warning, Laura felt a shot of warm fluid coat the back of her throat. She gulped in surprise and swallowed it, just as several more chewy, bitter splashes assaulted her taste buds. The man’s hands gripped her hooded head tightly. She drunk again, somehow forcing the whole lot down her gullet.

Eventually his fingers let her head go. She stayed kneeling, blinking inside the hood, trying to breathe regularly. She heard a zipper and sensed movement. His odour lingered in her nostril holes. Movement. Voices. The front door slammed.

“Eight minutes.” Sam’s voice whispered through the hood into her ear.

Laura stared into the black void, running her tongue over her lower lip, trying to get rid of the tang.

She heard Sam’s amused chuckle. “Don’t bother.”

*** *** ***

Q4. Will Slut-2-Fuck benefit financially from any tribute I give for her time and companionship ?

A4. No, absolutely not. All tributes are paid to and will be retained 100% by her Mistress. Slut-2-Fuck receives absolutely nothing. This is fundamental to the relationship between her Mistress and Slut-2-Fuck. The financial arrangement is entirely consensual between them.

*** *** ***

Sam slid her finger inside Laura’s mouth, prodding her pink tongue.

“Eight minutes.” She repeated. “That’s all it took.”

It wasn’t about the money, of course. Sam had two new £20 notes and one £10 in her pocket. Laura’s first paying punter. Not that she knew it yet.

It was the thrill of exploitation. Sam was going to keep every damned penny she made out of Laura’s prostitution. That’s what made her so hot. Every fucking penny. The whore got nothing. The pimp took the lot. The whore’s sole reward was a job well done.

She looked down at her watch. Laura was kneeling on the rug. She was still dressed in just her transparent white shirt, miniskirt, stockings and heels. Her hood was made of black leather and it was perfect for faceless, nameless sex. The hole round her lips was slightly larger than her mouth, just wide enough for any fat penis to slide through. The edge of the hole was trimmed with red PVC, drawing attention to the lips within.

Laura’s face resembled a dartboard. The outer circle was the red PVC trim and inside was her mouth, a glistening bullseye of waterproof lipstick.

The doorbell chimed. Bang on time.

“Time for number two.”

*** *** ***

Chris did his best to forget about the tug of the Steelwerx inside his underpants. Fortunately, he was so busy he barely had time to think about anything but his work at Lewis Mitchell.  His balls were so relieved to have cum with Sam, although his mind already felt horny again. He guessed it would be ages before she allowed him to have another orgasm.

So he focused on the file in front of him. He briefly thought about Laura and what she might be doing right now ? It felt strange to admit it, but it was almost as if it were none of his business anymore. His wife. And yet she was Sam’s slave now, just like he was. He felt a stirring in his loins.

Damn it. Focus on the file.

*** *** ***

Sam logged into the AdultWork.com website.

The familiar purple graphics filled the screen. She filled in Laura’s password and waited while Slut-2-Fuck’s inbox loaded.

5 new messages !

Slut-2-Fuck’s profile and gallery showed photos taken over the past weeks. Neither Laura nor Chris knew about the site yet. It was Sam’s little secret.

Laura looked good in all 16 shots. The centre of her face had been blurred just enough to make her unrecognisable to anybody who didn’t know her well. But her green eyes, shoulder length hair and fine jaw were all visible. She was there posing, using a vibrator, and sucking and fucking, her model’s legs wrapped round men of different hues, her 34Ds displayed in all their meaty glory.

Four new punters had sent enquiries about booking Laura. Better still, one of today’s was a repeat request. That was a good sign. All the best businesses are founded on satisfied customers. Sam smiled at the screen. If Laura could have seen the man who’d fucked her face for 50 quid that morning !

That would be the next stage. Another test.

One punter had asked if there was any age limit. He was 66. Sam winced. She knew that Laura’s own father who’d moved to Australia was only 49.

She tapped the keys and replied. No. ‘There is no upper age limit’.

Sam scrolled down to the rates she had set.

When she’d started out as a personal trainer, Sam had learned that pricing is everything. Get it wrong, and you sit at home waiting for the phone to ring. Get it too right, and you bust a gut working ten sessions a day, to make what another trainer can make in six. What’s more, you can only fit in so many training sessions a day. It was better to sit at home than to charge too little.

But it was different with Laura. The last thing Sam wanted was to be waiting for the phone to ring, or the emails to arrive. And she didn’t really care within reason if Laura bust a gut earning in ten bookings what another whore earned in six. On the contrary, great value for money could be Slut-2-Fuck’s USP !

Her ‘likes’ were listed as Oral without protection, CIM, Swallow and Fucking with protection.

Sam smirked at the screen and made one small amendment.

She added ‘rimming’ to Laura’s list of likes.

*** *** ***

Q5. Can I tip Slut-2-Fuck for her companionship ?

A5. Tipping if you have enjoyed a special time with the slut is welcome but not expected. However, all cash tips must be handed to her Mistress and will be retained by her. Arrival gifts of flowers, chocolates and champagne for her Mistress are also gratefully received. However, the only donations suitable for Slut-2-Fuck are sex toys and roleplay costumes agreed in advance with her Mistress.

*** *** ***

That evening, Laura spent on a knife-edge, wondering if Sam would tell Chris everything. Three different men had visited; two in the morning and one that afternoon. Every time she had been hooded and unable to see them.

Sam seemed to be highly amused. She asked how Chris’s day had been and when he replied he’d been busy, she’d laughed and said how ‘busy’ theirs had been too.

When Chris said he was full after supper, Sam had turned to Laura and commented she was probably ‘full’ as well.

The innuendo hung in the air but Chris seemed too exhausted to ask them to explain and Sam was clearly happy to let the subject slide.

At 8.30 p.m., Laura was locked in her bedroom like a little schoolgirl.

In the dark, much later, she heard Sam shrieking loudly in orgasm.

*** *** ***

“Don’t worry. I’ll just disappear into the background.”

Sam led the man into the room. He was nervous, embarrassed. She offered him a drink; a beer, Scotch, brandy ?

He was smartly dressed in a pin stripe suit, white shirt, silk tie. He was on the heavy side, with a double chin, but otherwise he was stylish and well preserved. He declined her offer of alcohol but asked for a glass of water.

Laura was kneeling in the corner, wearing her hood, and just a black quarter-cup bra and roll up stockings. It was the exact lingerie he’d requested.

“Slut.” Sam said. “Your visitor is here.”

“W ... welcome Sir.” Laura whispered into the wall.

“He’s come here for two things. Firstly, you are going to tongue his asshole. You’re going to make a damn good job of it too, because his wife would never do such a thing for him. So make it special.”

Sam smiled across at him reassuringly. She was learning that new punters are often nervous, especially about asking for specific things.

“Then he’s going to fuck you with your legs over his shoulders and your ankles wide. His wife is a little old to manage that position now, even if she wanted to. But that’s what young 27 yr old sluts like you are for. So make that special for him too. Okay ?”

There was a potent silence. Laura’s kneeling body was motionless. Her red lips were visible through the ‘o’ of the hood, curling with uncertainty. All decisions and negotiations were Sam’s.  She discussed nothing beforehand with Laura.

“Y ... yes.” Laura stammered.

Sam turned and gestured that he should take over.

The gent removed his jacket and folded it neatly over the arm of the sofa. He was wearing matching red silk braces and tie. He carefully unlaced his polished leather shoes and eased them off his feet. Then he slipped the braces off his shoulders and unbuttoned his fly, so he could ease down his trousers.

Sam sat down in a shadowy corner of the room as unobtrusively as possible. She watched him unbutton the lower half of his shirt. He was sucking in his stomach unnecessarily. It wasn’t as if Sam was going to object to his belly. He eased his underpants down and she caught a glimpse of his erection.

Finally he spoke to Laura, his voice cracking with excitement.

“H ... here, slut.” His finger tilted her chin upwards.

Sam inhaled. She could barely breathe with exhilaration. She had a wad of 250 pounds in cash in her pocket. Her biggest payday yet. But the money was irrelevant compared with the thrill of power.

The man groaned with pleasure as he reversed his fat bottom onto Laura’s hood. Her young tongue had obviously hit the spot. He turned his own head up to the ceiling in ecstasy and Sam realised she was already invisible to him.

She pulled out her digital camera and started filming the action. As they had agreed, she was careful to keep his face out of frame. But she ensured his jowls and neck were visible at the top of the shot. She panned down to his flapping shirt, his huge belly and his spindly old man legs.

His Viagra-fuelled cock jutted out like a young man’s half his age. This video clip would give any doubting punter yet another taste of Slut-2-Fucks’s awesome potential !

Five minutes later, his second wish was coming true. Laura was on the sofa with her ankles in the air like a beached crab, and her heels over his shoulders. He was red-faced, grimacing with effort, energetically fucking her. The only rule was that he was wearing a condom. Aside from that, he could do as he liked.

He didn’t seem bothered about Sam filming him. He seemed almost ridiculously proud of his performance. She realised at moments like this how porno films really need good looking actors for them to be a turn on. But fat sweaty men gritting their teeth as they fuck themselves to orgasm aren’t a conventionally pretty sight at all.

She kept the lens focused on Laura’s mouth as he fucked her. That was the shot she needed. She had instructed Laura that just when she felt the punter about to orgasm, she had to please him by pretending to cum herself.

“Yes.” Laura hissed.

“Grrmm .... mmmm .... sssss.” Her guest grunted as he blew his load.

“Aaa ... hhh .... hhh ... aaaagh.” Laura faked, very convincingly.

*** *** ***

Q6. What services does Slut-2-Fuck provide ?

A6. Everything ! The kinkier and more outrageous the better. One of the important principles of Slut-2-Fuck’s service is that it should always be as varied and demanding as possible. New faces, new genitalia, new experiences and new challenges all form an essential part of her training and lifestyle.

*** *** ***

At nine p.m., Chris finished washing the dishes and joined Sam in the living room. She was watching TV, with the sound turned right down.

“Ah.” She smiled at him, beckoning him to stand at a spot next to her. “Here.”

Sam had already locked Laura in her room for the night. Chris barely got to speak with his wife during the week now. It was strange. He missed her. But he couldn’t deny it was exciting spending time alone devoted to his Mistress.

“Look.”

He did a double-take. On the screen, it was Laura’s face. She was hooded but it was definitely her. Her mouth was open towards the camera.

Sam fiddled with the remote and cranked the volume up high.

“Yes.”

He heard through the speakers. The noises. He could see the grey-haired back of a man’s head. It was moving.

Some old man was obviously fucking Laura !

Chris stared at Sam. She was grinning at him wickedly.

Amused.

“Come here.” She said, reaching out to his groin.

He gawped at the screen.

“Grrmm .... mmmm .... sssss.”

He listened to the man’s noisy orgasm. Sam was teasingly fingering her necklace. She often wore his chastity cage key on a gold chain round her neck.

“It’s made me horny.” She murmured. “Watching your wife.”

He felt his knees tremble. He tore his eyes away from the screen. He was ashamed to admit it. It had made him horny too. He felt the hard steel pressing against his dick as blood rushed through his veins.

Would Sam unlock him again so soon ?

“Aaa ... hhh .... hhh ... aaaagh.”

He listened to his wife’s loud climax bursting through the speakers seconds after the man’s orgasm. And all he could do was smile meekly at Sam.

*** *** ***

Q7. Fucking? Of course (but protected) Anal? Yes (but protected). Oral? Yes (without protection). Deep throat? Yes. Cum in mouth? Always. Facials? Yes Facesitting? Yes .Anal worship and rimming? Yes (encouraged). Foot worship? Yes. Spanking / caning? Yes (limited, mild) Watersports? Yes Hardsports? Yes (limited and always below neck) Vibrators? Yes. Speculum / Medical play? Yes. Enema play? Yes Food play and insertion? Yes. Verbal Humiliation? Yes (unlimited) Nettles? Yes Hot wax? Yes. Hot peppers? Yes Basically, if you can think of it, the Slut can provide it.

*** *** ***

Of course, Sam made Chris work for his own release.

She watched a re-run of Laura rimming the old guy while Chris licked her own, rather nicer bottom. She adored his long warm tongue buried inside her poop hole. Occasionally, she froze the onscreen action to send a 10 x 8 inch colour glossy to the printer. And to get Chris to turn his head a second so she could point it out to him.

“Look.” She cooed. “You can really sense the guy’s having a great time, can’t you ?”

She studied the mixture of befuddled emotions on Chris’s face.

“Yeah.”

She reached out and ran her toe along the underside of his firm shaft. He was kneeling between her feet.

“Don’t be jealous.” She warned. “Or do you want to go back to your boring, vanilla Mr and Mrs Dull life again ?”

His brown eyes dropped to the floor.

“N ... no.”

She put her finger under his chin and turned his face to hers.

“Don’t worry. Your wife isn’t doing anything she doesn’t want to. And nor are you. Nor is any one of us.”

He nodded, the twinge of guilt extinguished from his eyes. All she could see now in them was his submission and desperation.

Sam lay back into the same sofa that featured in the movie. She spread her legs as wide as she could, her ankles straddling the arms of the sofa, so that Chris’s nose nudged her clit while his tongue could get right up her asshole.

She kept up a running commentary for his benefit. It wasn’t an erotic movie in the conventional sense. The lighting was shadowy, the camera angle was poor. Most of all, the male star was plump, perspiring and his face was puckered with exertion. But to Sam it was the hottest porn she’d ever watched.

“I love this bit. I could watch it over and over. Oh Chris. Mmm.”

The close up of Laura’s mouth as they both came was the best moment. Her smudged red lipstick, her pearly white teeth, gasping in fake orgasm. “Yessss.”

Sam tugged his hair to drag his nose a couple of inches inside her vagina. She pushed the tip to her G-spot and felt her body explode into molten liquid.

“Aaa ... hhh .... hhh ... aaaagh.”

*** *** ***

“It’s the chair leg, or not at all.”

Chris shut his eyes. He had just given Sam the biggest orgasm he’d ever given any woman in his life. She had gushed a geyser all over his face. Her clear sticky fluid still covered his hair, cheeks and chin.

And now she was telling him to hump a piece of wood.

But he was desperate to cum. He never knew when the next opportunity might be. Sometimes it was only a few days, other times it was weeks.

“Thank you, Ma’am.”

He took up a position like a dog cocking its leg, and rubbed his erection against the wooden leg of the chair. It was awkward, and humiliating, but it felt good to be touching his cock against something. Anything. He chafed it again.

“Hurry up.”

Sam was still lying on the sofa naked watching him. She was on her side, sexually sated, with her head propped up on a cushion. She looked like some kind of feline animal, a lioness perhaps. Her yellow hair was spiky. Her new boobs stuck out like those of a pneumatic porn star.

He humped the hard wood again. Slowly, he built up an embarrassed rhythm.

Was this better than nothing ?

He gritted his teeth. It seemed so unjust. He’d given her something really special and this was his meagre reward.

The doorbell rang.

He glanced at Sam. She seemed as surprised as he was.

“Ignore it.” She said. “Whoever it is will go away. Carry on.”

He resumed his self conscious tempo.

It rang again.

She got up, naked. “Don’t stop. And no using your hands.”

He heard her calling out through the letter box. “Who is it ?”

A male voice. Murmurs. Laughter. The sliding chain. Door opening.

“It’s okay.” She said, walking back into the room. “It’s only Tim.”

Chris crouched frozen in position, like a deer in headlights.

“Carry on.” Sam snapped impatiently, sitting back down on the sofa. Tim entered, wobbling slightly, obviously slightly the worse for alcohol.

Dying with shame, Chris rocked against the chair leg, bouncing his throbbing shaft into the hard surface.

Could he really cum like this ?

“Fuck me !” Tim laughed, slumping down on the sofa next to Sam.

Chris did his best to ignore them, masturbating himself with timber.

“No.” Sam said sharply, pawing Tim away. Her drunken friend had obviously come round after failing to pull anyone at the pub.

“Come on.” Tim slurred.

“You know what I said.” Sam replied. “Go upstairs. You can fuck the slut instead.”

Chris gasped. He was going to cum. Somehow. He jerked so that he could get a slightly better angle against the chair leg.

He heard Tim staggering up off the sofa. “Alright then.” His voice sounded unimpressed, like he’d just been told to use an outside toilet.

“What are you looking at, wimp ?”

Chris snatched his eyes away and humped the leg as hard as he could.

Sam chuckled and pushed Tim towards the staircase.

“Her door is locked. The key’s on the ledge. Have fun.”

Chris heard Tim’s uneven steps start mounting the stairs.

“And if you do her ass, use a fucking condom !” Sam shouted after him.

She sighed at Chris with irritation . “You’ve got thirty seconds.”

Somehow, someway, he got enough friction to trigger his orgasm. He shuddered as his cock pulsed and released a single squirt of semen over the chair leg and floor. He whimpered and tried to rub again so he could get some follow through. But he failed and his dick just skipped about in the air unsatisfied.

“That looks fun.” Sam commented dryly. “Now. Stay there. Don’t move.”

Chris was still frozen in the same position a full fifteen minutes later when Sam pushed Tim out of the front door into the night. There was a small puddle of semen under Chris that had oozed very slowly out of his now flaccid dick.

Meanwhile, it was clear from their brief conversation that Tim had taken up the invite to fuck Laura’s bottom and, as he was leaving, he draped a used, bulging condom across Chris’s hunched, naked back.

“Your missus sends her regards.”

“Okay.” Sam said, after locking the front door. “Get your head down and lick up that mess you made.”

*** *** ***

Q8. Are there any limits on Slut-2-Fuck’s use ?

A8. Slut-2-Fuck is being trained to accept sexual use with virtually no limits (within the law). However, Slut-2-Fuck is not a painslut and only modest amounts of physical punishment are allowed. Her Mistress’s decision is always final. Mistress is open to all your suggestions. Please email or message your requirements or ideas.

*** *** ***

“How many different men do you think you’ve fucked now ?”

Several weeks had passed. Sam was thrilled with progress. Laura was on all fours scrubbing the floor with a nail brush and soapy water. She was dressed in punishment high heels, fishnets, suspender belt and a PVC apron.

“Twenty five ?” Laura replied, after a moment’s embarrassed hesitation.

Sam nodded nonchalantly, looking back at the screen. She didn’t even know herself, though she could probably work it out. Twenty five sounded low. The thing was Laura had been blindfolded for many of them, so she hadn’t known which were repeat customers and how many had been new ones.

But now things had moved on and nowadays Laura mostly got to see the faces and bodies of her visitors. She had even been allowed to admire her own Adult Work profile and the new photographs that featured her. Full face, no photoshop  or blurring. She had even seen her own pricelist and the increasingly long list of services she was now prepared to provide.

However, Sam completely controlled her account. Laura didn’t even know her own password. All negotiations and discussions were handled solely by Sam. And all payments – or ‘tributes’ as they were labelled – were handed over to Sam, in cash, on arrival.

“I doubt it’s that many.” Sam replied a minute or so later. “Really ?”

Laura kept scouring the floor. “I think so. Maybe more.”

“Phew. You could be right. Fuck, that’s quite a few in such a short time.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“And to think you’d only fucked Chris when I met you.”

Laura nodded. Sam knew there wasn’t much her slut could say.

“Chris could divorce you for infidelity, you know ?”

Laura’s green eyes widened in shock.

Sam laughed. “Only joking. And after all, he’s been fucking me too.”

Barely a day went by when Slut-2-Fuck didn’t generate several hundred pounds or more. Her budding reputation in the punter community and her proximity to London, with its 10 million-plus population, provided a huge market. But men from a radius of over 200 miles had already made the journey to try her out. Plenty of guys loved the additional kink-factor provided by Sam’s presence and the fact that Laura had a dominant female pimp.

Twice a day, Sam checked Laura’s in-box. Of course, there were timewasters and she was selective about bookings to accept. She used the ratings of punters to check them out and developed a nose for the really weird and wacky ones.

“Oh that’s fun.” Sam giggled one morning.

The inevitable had happened. Somebody who knew Laura had stumbled across her profile. Well, actually, the person knew Chris, but he’d met Laura too. He’d even attended their wedding eight years earlier.

His name was Steve and he wanted to book her !

After an interesting exchange of messages, Sam arranged to meet Steve in a coffee shop. He lived about half an hour’s drive away. She liked the sound of him and knew that he offered a special opportunity to ramp things up another notch. Of course, at this stage, she’d mentioned to Laura nothing about him.

Steve was everything she’d hoped. He looked even better than he sounded. Handsome, 28 yrs old, muscled. He bought them both cappuccinos and they sat at a quiet corner table.

“So.” She said to him. “Nice to put a face to the name.”

He grinned. “Equally.”

“And such a nice face.” She flirted.

He blushed. “Look, I’ve never done this before you know. I was just surfing.”

“Sure.”

His eyes were brown, like Chris’s. But the similarities stopped there. Whereas Chris was handsome, a kind of cute Clark Kent with caramel hair, Steve looked hard, dark and faintly villainous. He was quirky good looking, not Hollywood poster boy.

“You’ve known Chris since you were seven ?”

He nodded. “First day together at school.”

“And he’s a good mate ?”

“Yeah. Used to be. One of the best.”

“But you still want to fuck his wife ?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely !”

Sam arched an eyebrow at his frankness. She smiled into his deadpan brown eyes. “Because she’s a babe ?”

He shook his head. “Nah, not just that.”

She waited while he paused. He was wearing a nice shirt, a jacket and jeans. Tastefully but not expensively dressed. His teeth were white and even.

“Look.” He continued. “I like Chris. And that will make it better for me. I remember when they met. He was so besotted with her. We were young and all of us wanted him to just pork her a few times and then move on. Some of us could have fucked her on the rebound too. But the fool married her instead.”

He sipped his coffee, peering at her over the top of his cup.

“I rarely see him nowadays. And now I know why !”

Sam blew on the froth to cool her own cappuccino.

“You don’t know the half of it yet !” She smiled encouragingly. “Will Chris hate it if you fuck Laura ?”

“I expect so.” Steve shrugged. “But then, it sounds like he’s into that.”

“What do you do ?”

“Me ? Job-wise ?” Steve made a face. “Not much. I’m afraid that me and a career don’t belong in the same sentence. I’d like to own my own business one day. For now, I do a bit of this and that.”

Sam waved her hand dismissively. “I’m the same. Do you have money to pay ?”

Steve tapped his jacket pocket. “Enough for an hour with Laura.”

She winked at him. “No. I’ve got a better idea.”

*** *** ***

Q9. Is oral sex always without condoms ?

A9. Yes, always. For your pleasure, Slut-2-Fuck is not permitted the use of condoms for oral sex. Provided you are clean, she will suck any visitor to completion, gargle and swallow. If you prefer to use a condom yourself, that’s fine, in which case she will drink the contents after you have used it. It is an important principle of her training that, before her retirement, Slut-2-Fuck will have tasted and swallowed as much different semen as possible. Condoms however are required for all penetrative acts in her other holes.

*** *** ***

In many ways, Laura preferred being blindfolded. She could focus on her feelings, her fantasies, and almost pretend it wasn’t happening for real. And most of the men that Sam hooked her up with weren’t exactly oil paintings.

“You have a nice young visitor today.” Sam’s voice said.

Laura knelt on the rug unable to see. She was hooded and dressed in just a quarter-cup bra and a thong. The bra was only a C-cup and her tits spilled out of it. The thong was a size too small as well and the back of it dug deep into her ass crack.

“As a starter, he’ll have one of your best blowjobs.”

Laura reached out blind, fumbled skilfully with his belt and zip. She’d done this quite a few times now, undressing a man in the dark.

“Mmm.” His deep voice murmured. “Lick my balls, Laura.”

Most men didn’t use her real name. A few did. But most called her slut and other rude names like whore, bitch and cunt. Some didn’t speak to her at all.

She licked his heavy sac, tasting salt where his thigh met his scrotum.

“Your mistress tells me you’re married, Laura ?”

“Mmm.” She replied.

“His name is Chris ?”

“Mmm.”

His fingers were on the hood, directing her mouth. She felt him turning round.

“Lick my asshole, Laura.”

Why did so many men want their arses kissed ? She slipped her tongue in between his cheeks. At least he tasted dry. Some were moist or worse.

“Do you lick Chris’s asshole ?”

“Nnggo.” She replied.

Again, why did some men fixate on the fact she was married ?

Laura heard Sam’s voice from the corner of the room, where she usually sat.

“Deeper.”

She pushed her face further into the man’s behind and stuck out her tongue.

*** *** ***

“Hello Mum.”

Chris answered his mobile quietly. He’d seen from the screen it was her. Personal calls at work weren’t allowed except for emergencies.

“What do you want mum, I’m at the office.”

His parents were separated. His dad had run off with a woman even older than his mum. Why would you do that ? Leave home for a saggy-titted neighbour with four kids ? Chris could understand it more if his loser dad had left them to shack up with some tight-pussied babe in her twenties.

“I want to see you.”

His mum lived on her own in a cottage 250 miles away. She was lonely. Chris felt guilty. He and Laura hadn’t visited her since ... well, since Sam.

“Yeah. Sorry mum. I’ve been busy. We’ll come down soon.”

She seemed grateful for that. They talked a bit more.

“And how’s Laura ?”

He glanced round the office. His boss was watching him.

“She’s okay too, mum.”

“And she’s busy ?”

“Yeah, mum. She’s super busy.”

*** *** ***

Sam adjusted the view to zoom in a little.

She wanted Steve’s face in the shot. Close up.

Unmistakeable.

For his main course, he was fucking Laura in the doggy position on the floor. In, out. In, out. Pounding into her like a Rottweiler slamming its bitch. He had tugged off her bra and her tits were hanging down under her, rocking and rolling.

She had two cameras going. She had spent a little of her growing stash on a new digital and tripod. It was mounted behind Steve’s muscular butt, low down at an angle so his balls were in shot. It had recorded the moment of penetration. Today Sam had made an exception and Steve wasn’t wearing protection. Condoms didn’t fit with Sam’s plans !

She had mixed feelings. Everything was going perfectly. But a small part of her was envious. She hadn’t fancied any guy in ages like she did Steve. And here she was watching him fuck another woman.

She listened to the slap-slap of his flesh against Laura’s bum. It was a sound the house resounded with most days. Slap-slap, slap-slap, grunts and yelps. Sam loved it. The recently so prim and proper wife, a virgin when she met her husband no less, and who had almost never had an orgasm from sex with him.

Yet here the same wife was, thanks to Sam, servicing strangers like a two-dime hooker in a frontier brothel. Slap-slap, flesh on flesh, squish-squish, fuck-fuck.

And at least Steve was clean. He’d taken one of those quickie STD tests and come up fine. And Sam had noticed his dick was a whopper. She couldn’t help but admire his stamina and technique too. Slap-slap, squish-squish.

Laura wasn’t faking it this time. She shrieked in a noisy climax.

Steve glanced over at Sam and smiled. Then he winked straight at the camera lens.

“Oh Laura.” He grunted, slamming hard into her. “And Chris.”

Sam couldn’t help clenching her fist in triumph. She could only imagine what this would do to Laura and especially Chris. True humility is learned by degrees. Watching somebody you’ve known for twenty years, man and boy, fuck your woman, requires you to develop genuine humbleness. A boy you sat next to in class, played sport with, drank and puffed cigarettes with, competed with growing up.

And now he’s blowing his load in your wife’s cunt.

Sam watched Steve lift his head and shudder in conquest.

*** *** ***

Q10. How ‘clean’ do I have to be ?

A10. Well, you do not have to bathe immediately before a session ! On the contrary, Slut-2-Fuck is required to be considerably less fussy than a woman you might meet in a pub or club. Nevertheless, if only as a courtesy to other users of her mouth, penises should be disease-free and washed under foreskins. Bottoms must be wiped. The Mistress requires that you do not smell. Toilet facilities are available. However, full bathroom and shower facilities may only be used with prior arrangement.

*** *** ***

The unsigned property deeds and mortgage documents lay on the table.

Instead of everything being 50:50, as they had been when Laura worked, the house and mortgage would soon be owned 100 per cent in Chris’s name. The new arrangement assigned Laura’s individual half share of their net worth over to her husband permanently.

Of course, she would still be his wife so not much would change really.

Sam was leaning over the new punter’s shoulder as he dabbed Tabasco sauce onto Slut-2-Fuck’s clit. Laura howled in anguish and tried to get up, slamming her spine back on the mattress in frustration trying to disperse the searing sting.

“Wow !” Sam said, admiringly.

Joe grinned. He was into Bdsm play. He had made a 300-mile day trip to ‘play’ with Slut-2-Fuck. Not many ‘normal’ tarts accept a spicing with hot sauce.

He tilted the bottle again and drizzled some red drops onto the bottle neck. Then he pushed the top of the small red bottle into Laura’s puckered anus.

It was fascinating. She bucked and hissed and would have hollered the house down if it weren’t for the bright red ball strapped in her mouth. Instead, all she could manage was indignant mewling and frothing saliva into the gag.

Next Joe produced a thick red candle from his suitcase. He looked like a travelling salesman; ordinary-looking, middle aged, nondescript. His name wasn’t really Joe as far as she knew, but that’s what she thought of him as. It amazed Sam how such average looking ‘Joes’ could hide such kinky minds.

He took a cigarette lighter from his pocket and lit the wick. He had pre-agreed with Sam that he’d use a paraffin pillar candle that burned hot, but not too hot. Laura could see the flickering flame and she was hopping mad, bug-eyed and dripping with perspiration.

The ‘scene’ they were playing was a torture role-play he’d requested. The punter and Sam were persuading Laura to confess. All she had to do to end the session was to sign her admission of guilt, whenever she couldn’t take any more.

Like a safe word.

“Be a brave girl.” Sam encouraged.

He waited until the wax was liquid, then reached out and tipped a red blob onto Laura’s stomach from three foot above her. It landed like a cherry tomato hitting concrete, splattered and set instantaneously onto her skin.

Laura hissed into the gag, her expression betraying relief it wasn’t hotter.

With a wicked chortle, the Joe lowered his arm and held it only an inch above Laura’s hairless pussy mound. He waited until there was a big pool of red liquid in the rim and then angled the candle so a globule of wax dripped onto her skin.

From an inch away, the wax was much hotter and it spread like a red tearstain from where it landed, down into the hairless lips of her cunt, before hardening.

“You can sign the papers whenever you like.” Sam reassured her.

*** *** ***

That evening, Sam took Chris and Laura out for supper. The three of them went to one of those gastro-pubs with a beer counter downstairs, and tables and wine on the upper floor. The food was simple but delicious.

Sam ordered a good bottle of red wine and soon they had all relaxed. She let them choose whatever they liked from the menu. Chris ordered soup and lamb, while Laura went for the whitebait and poached salmon.

At times like this, they could still chat easily and normally. Chris brought the women up to date with developments at Lewis Mitchell. Laura explained the difference between Bordeaux and Burgundy grapes that she’d learned on a wine course. Sam explained to them both what she’d learned about wax and the differences in temperature between paraffin and beeswax and the amount of stearine in the recipe. She checked several times that Laura wasn’t feeling any serious soreness from her first experience of wax play.

During the main course, a good looking guy walked into the dining room and recognised Chris and Laura.

“Hey, mate ! How are things ? Long time no see.”

He hugged Chris, kissed Laura and was introduced to Sam.

His name was Steve. He’d known Chris since they were 7 years old.

“Why don’t you join us ?” Sam asked, pointing at the fourth seat.

“Well, I was going to eat on my own. But if you don’t mind ?” he replied.

“Not at all.” They all said, sitting back down.

“On your own ?” Chris said, slapping Steve on the back. “That’s unlike you.”

After three bottles of Bordeaux between the four of them, Sam invited Steve home for coffee. It was clear to everybody that she fancied him. In the taxi cab, she squeezed in the backseat between Steve and Chris while Laura was perched up front next to the Asian driver.

“So what’s the scene then ?” Steve asked. “You’re lodging with Chris and Laura ?”

Sam’s face was radiant in the headlights of a passing car. “Kind of.”

Chris seemed tense and Laura stared straight ahead in silence.

“Here we are.” Sam said to the driver. “Just here on the left.”

She turned and winked at Steve.

He was following the script perfectly.

END OF PART THREE

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SLUT-2-FUCK

PART FOUR: DRESS REHEARSAL

Author’s Note:

To any readers who are having problems with the formatting or punctuation of this story, I have posted it to a couple of other story sites, where you may find it easier to read.

Story so far:

As told in Chapter One (‘Setting the Scene’), Sam is a personal trainer to a married couple named Laura and Chris. Her training of them quickly develops from fitness training to sexual instruction and soon she moves into their home and begins taking over their lives. In Chapter Two (‘Assembling the Cast’), Sam assumes full time control, emptying their bank account, and keeping Chris in strict chastity, whilst starting Laura out in a lucrative career.

In Chapter Three (‘Following the Script’), a list of FAQs introduce Laura’s new life under Sam’s supervision. One day, Steve, an ex-school buddy of Chris, stumbles across Slut-2-Fuck’s online profile, giving Sam another opportunity to ratchet up the humiliation levels for her married servants.

Sam is only 23, 5’6” of trim muscle, with new enhanced boobs, citron-yellow hair and an elfin-face. Laura is a pretty 27 yr old green eyed brunette with a 34D chest and great legs. Chris is also 27 with caramel hair, brown eyes, spectacles and he now lives in a steel chastity tube. Steve is 28, with brown eyes and handsome, faintly villainous good looks.

“Chris, get some wine, and Laura, see what’s on TV. A horror movie or something ?”

Steve whistled. “Hey, nice place, Chris. You’re obviously doing okay.”

Laura cringed. This was all going wrong. Sam even seemed to be enjoying their embarrassment. How the hell could they explain the bedrooms to Steve if he went upstairs.

She switched on the TV and selected the movie channels. Behind her, Sam had sunk into the sofa and Steve was perusing the bookshelves, snooping through their possessions. Chris came in with glasses and a bottle of wine.

“How about some porn ?” Sam giggled. “Have you got any porn ?”

“No.” Laura replied, settling on a movie channel. “How about this ?” It was some old black and white film with a werewolf in it.

“No porn ?” Steve frowned. “That’s not like you Chris. You never had your dick out of your hand when we were younger.”

Everybody laughed, but it was a barbed comment. Laura blushed.

“What about home-made ? Surely you and the missus have filmed yourselves ?”

Chris smiled weakly and passed Steve a full glass. “Nope. Not us.”

Laura caught Sam’s eye and her heart filled with dread. She knew what Sam was going to say before she said it.

“Check inside that book there, Steve. I’ve saw some discs hidden there once.”

There was stunned silence.

“This one ? Here we are.” Steve held up three silver discs triumphantly. “Secret stash.”

*** *** ***

Q11. Can Slut-2-Fuck be used bareback ?

A11. Sadly, the risks involved in lower hole use without condoms are too great. Much as it would be preferable to allow every stranger to use her as a cum dump, protection is necessary for everybody’s health, except for oral.

*** *** ***

Chris sat helplessly in a dining chair and waited. It was the same chair he had humped his dick against the most recent time he’d been allowed to cum.

He didn’t know which of Laura’s escapades he was about to witness on screen, but whatever, he knew it would be excruciatingly embarrassing. And once Steve knew, then pretty soon everybody else would know. The idea of being ‘outed’ terrified him. And yet he could feel his cock tightening inside its steel cage.

“You have a nice young visitor today.”

He recognised Sam’s voice coming out of the TV speakers. The image was grainy, soft focus. A title appeared on screen in large red letters:

‘Slut-2-Fuck Number IV’

The title dissolved and was replaced by a second line:

‘The slut entertains her husband’s Friend’.

“He’ll start with one of your best blowjobs.”

It was Sam’s voice again. The picture slowly sharpened into focus. Laura was hooded but he knew immediately it was her. She was kneeling on the rug in just a quarter cup bra that was too small for her, and a thong.

He looked over at the sofa. Sam and Steve were grinning back at him. Laura was sitting on the floor between them, hiding her face in her hands.

“Mmm.” A deep voice murmured. “Lick my balls, Laura.”

Chris realised it was Steve a second before he saw him on screen. Laura’s hands reached out blindly on screen. It was obvious she’d done this kind of thing before. She unbuckled his belt and tugged down his zip.

“Come here.” Steve called over to Chris, curling a finger.

His legs felt shaky. He slowly got up out of his chair. It all made sense now. The accidental meeting. Steve joining them. Coming back here. It had all been pre-planned. His fate had been sealed. Sam was such a wicked bastard.

“Kneel down there and make a footrest for me.”

There had already been moments when Chris resisted inside. The turmoil of battle between his heart and his head. This was another one. He didn’t have to obey Steve. He could tell him to fuck off. Right here. Right now. This was his house.

But he got down on all fours like a dog, in front of the sofa, right next to his wife, facing the TV.

On screen, Laura was licking Steve’s balls while he was winking lasciviously at the camera.

“Your mistress tells me you’re married, Laura ?”

“Mmm.”

Somehow Chris couldn’t tear his eyes from the screen. Then he felt Steve’s heavy feet on his back. He was a fucking footstool for a guy he’d known all his life !

“His name is Chris ?” Steve asked onscreen.

“Mmm.”

“This is a good bit coming up.” Sam said. “Laura, get in the same position alongside Chris and make a footstool for me too.”

Like a fucking automaton, his wife got out of her sitting position and squatted on all fours next to him. Her body touched his. They were both dressed but he felt himself shy away from her. They were like a pair of horses pulling a carriage. He wanted to shut his eyes but he was mesmerised.

“Lick my asshole, Laura.”

Omigod. He dry-swallowed with shame. His wife’s face was in his friend’s ass.

“Do you lick Chris’s asshole ?”

Sam and Steve both laughed hysterically behind him. Sam’s feet were stretched out over Laura’s back. They were drinking wine.

Laura mumbled a negative reply from the depths of Steve’s anus.

“Liar. She used to.” Sam answered Steve’s onscreen question, poking the back of Laura’s head. “Didn’t you ? Briefly. When I began both your training.”

“Y ... yes.”

His wife’s voice was barely a whisper. She nodded her head once.

“But she prefers other guys’shitters now, don’t you ?”

There was a short silence. Everybody waited for Laura’s hushed response.

“Yes..... I do.”

*** *** ***

Q12. Is my age a barrier ? Are my looks a barrier ?

A12. Not at all. Strictly no minors, but there is absolutely no upper age limit and there are special rates for pensioners over 65. Your own looks should be of no concern at all. Slut-2-Fuck is an equal opportunities service provider ! Whatever your age over 18, gender, weight, physical appearance or ethnic origin, the slut is there to serve all without hesitation. Whites, Blacks, Arabs and Asians are all welcome. Overweight, lonely or inexperienced men are especially encouraged to pay a visit. Married men looking for a nasty activity their wives won’t tolerate can always rely on Slut-2-Fuck to provide it. The location has wheelchair access and Slut-2-Fuck will happily cater to disabled persons.

*** *** ***

Laura could hardly bear to watch.

She remembered the first time she met him. It was at a party Chris took her to. She met lots of his mates that night. But Steve had looked at her with those eyes of his. She’d felt them appraising her, checking her mouth, her cleavage, her body out.

She was much younger then but any woman instinctively knows. There are men for whom their friendship with a mate is more important than anything. And there are men who will fuck that mate’s woman without a thought for the friendship. Steve fell into the latter category.

So she had always kept him at arm’s length.

Until ... he was fucking her like a dog.

The film had been edited by somebody. At least two cameras, two angles. One obscenely displayed his muscled buttocks as he slammed into her. She could remember how good it felt.

She squirmed with shame, sensing Chris’s body adjacent to hers. Seeing her. It was blatantly obvious how much she was into it.

She certainly hadn’t been faking it for once as she shrieked in a disgusting, disgraceful, wonderful, toe-curling orgasm.

She watched Steve onscreen wink arrogantly directly at the camera lens. He’d obviously known then she’d be watching him now.

“Oh Laura.”

The picture blurred as a tear of self knowledge rolled down her cheek.

She still wanted this. However, terribly things may turn out. She felt like a junkie must, in the days when they still have some kind of choice: the peaks and troughs of a life with drugs versus the monotony of a life without highs.

She watched Steve ram his length into her and throw his head back.

“And Chris.” He hollered.

She felt as if a syringe of submission had just been injected into her vein.

*** *** ***

Q13. I am a female bisexual / lesbian / domme, etc, can I book Slut-2-Fuck ?

A13. Of course, lesbian use is encouraged. Prices are discounted by 50% from comparable male charges. Slut-2-Fuck is not physically attracted to normal females but all services are provided regardless, including strap-on (all holes), oral and analingus, watersports, foot worship and other F/f fun.

*** *** ***

Sam slept with Steve in her double bed.

She no longer thought of the bed, or the room, as Chris and Laura’s. She wasn’t borrowing them any more. They were hers now. It was her double bed.

She had enjoyed normal, vanilla, almost romantic sex with Steve. After the alcohol and excitement, they undressed feverishly, kissing each other hungrily. But Sam managed to control their pace. She stopped to light candles, to explore each other’s fit bodies, before he thrust into her urgently from underneath.

They didn’t discuss Chris and Laura until afterwards.

“You’re mine.” She said, her head resting on his shoulder in the dark, twiddling his chest hairs gently in her fingers.

He pulled her to him. “You were much better than her.”

Sam snorted. “Don’t think flattery is going to get me to lick your asshole.”

He laughed, before a moment’s silence.

“Thank you for the most brilliant evening.”

Sam felt warm inside. “The first of many, I hope.”

He kissed the top of her head. “You think Chris will stomach it ?”

“Chris !” she giggled. “Of course he will. But it will still be fun trying to push him too far.”

She felt him hardening against her thigh.

“That idea excites you, huh ? Pushing Chris to his absolute limit ?”

He gasped as her hand encircled his erection, until he was ready for round two.

“What about Laura ?” he asked, climbing on top.

“You can do whatever you like to her.” Sam sighed, as he slid between her legs.

“Well, except this.”

*** *** ***

Q14. Is Slut-2-Fuck available for parties ?

A14. Absolutely. Group use is encouraged and is the most cost effective way to enjoy Slut-2-Fuck (on a per person basis). She is available for all male, female, and both-gender groups, for striptease, lap dancing, bukkake, gangbangs, stag and hen parties, etc. all at discounted rates.

*** *** ***

Over the weekend, Steve moved in.

He brought a couple of suitcases of clothes, a few books, car magazines, a few gadgets, his wash bag. Chris carried everything up to Sam’s bedroom and unpacked the clothes and toiletries and put them away for him.

“Thanks mate.” Steve said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

“That’s okay.”

“Hey.” Steve said, standing at the bathroom toilet to piss. “Show me your chastity thing. Go on. Pull your pants down.”

Chris hesitantly undid his belt.

Steve shook his own dick dry and tucked himself back in. He left Chris standing there with his pants round his knees while he washed his hands and dried them. Then he bent down and peered closely at Chris’s hairless groin.

“Shit, that looks tight, mate. Does it hurt ?”

Chris blushed crimson. “Not really. Only when ... you know ...”

Steve reached out and flicked the steel tube gently.

“I hear Sam keeps you on a pretty tight leash ?”

“Yeah. Most of the time.”

“You’ve fucked her.”

Chris nodded, with a hint of manly pride. “Yeah, several times.”

Steve stood up and looked directly into Chris’s eyes, like two boxers head to head at a weigh-in.

“Well ...” He reached into his pocket and showed Chris the key in his palm. “There’s a new sheriff in town.”

Chris blinked, and lowered his gaze.

Steve chuckled. “And your leash has just been tightened.”

*** *** ***

Q15. Is there a maximum number for a gangbang ?

A15. The only limits on numbers are physical space and time. Generally ‘the more, the merrier’. However, gangbang slots can get booked up well in advance so, if you are planning a special event, get in touch early to avoid disappointment. A minimum of 5 minutes per banger applies to all bookings.

*** *** ***

“Please, Ma’am. May I go to the toilet ?”

Sam looked up from her I-pad. She had just purchased it. Those greedy Apple people hadn’t even given her a discount for cash.

“I’m busy. Ask Steve.”

She smiled inwardly as Laura shuffled over to Steve who was reading some car mag. Sam had warned him about the strict toilet regime she kept both slaves on during weekends.

“Please, Sir. May I go to the toilet ?”

Sam pretended to look intently at her screen but secretly listened to their conversation.

“Why ?” he asked impatiently.

“B ... because I need to go, Sir.”

There was a long pause, during which Steve flipped over pages of his mag.

“What ? Piss or shit ?”

“Both, Sir.”

“Both !” He mocked in a hoity-toity voice. “And when did you last take a shit, Lady Muck ?”

Sam smiled. Laura paused. “Er ... yesterday morning.”

“Twice in two days.” He looked across at Sam. “Is that okay ?”

Sam replied without looking up. “It’s a sign she’s eating too much.”

Steve laughed. “Okay. Go upstairs and wait there for me.”

Sam pressed ‘buy’ to download a new track from I-tunes. She watched Laura trudge off upstairs. She had already sent Chris off on a 15-mile run. After all, she was still their personal trainer !

Steve got up, came over and bent down to kiss her.

“Mmm.” He said, appreciatively. “How shall I play this ?”

“However you like. She hates the indignity. Of performing in public.”

“I might get her to earn it. Suck me off first ? Unless ...”

Sam patted the front of his jeans. He was hard. She smiled at him indulgently. “Sure. Make her blow you. Then you’ll last longer later with me, horny boy !”

*** *** ***

Q16. Can Slut-2-Fuck dress as I require for a session ?

A16. Of course. Please send full details at the time of booking of how you want her prepared and dressed. She has a wide and growing range of outfits and items for all fetishes; leather, PVC, wife, whore, slave girl, schoolgirl, secretary, etc.

*** *** ***

On Monday morning, Chris was leaving for work at 6.30 as usual.

Steve came downstairs yawning, rubbing his eyes. He was dressed in track pants and bare-chested.

“Thanks, mate.” He said, helping himself to the mug of coffee Chris had just brewed.

“Er ...” Chris paused, hoping that Steve would realise. There wasn’t time to make another.

He watched Chris blow on the scalding liquid and take a sip.

“They make you start too early, mate.” Chris said. “You know me. I was never the office type. I couldn’t stick that routine, day in day out, like you do.”

Chris gave up on the coffee and poured himself a glass of tap water instead.

“I’ve got to go.” He said.

“Hold on.” Steve snapped. “Wish me a nice day.”

“Have a nice day ... Sir”

Steve smirked at him, reaching into his track pants to scratch his balls, farting loudly.

“I will.” He winked. “And I’ve got some special plans for your missus.”

*** *** ***

Q17. Can I negotiate a discount ?

A17. Sorry, discounts are never offered to individual males on their first visit, so please don’t ask. Mistress’s rates for Slut-2-Fuck’s services are already much cheaper than those set by anybody else offering comparable levels of ‘companionship’. However, Mistress offers (i) loyalty discounts for repeat customers (ii) group rates and discounts for married m/f couples (iii) Pensioner discounts for men over 65 and huge discounts for over 75s (iv) special rates for all females of whatever age or colour, usually half the male equivalent rate.

*** *** ***

Sam sprawled on the bed kissing Steve.

He was alongside her, his tongue coiled in hers.

Between Sam’s widespread thighs, Laura was hunkered down, slurping every drop of both Steve’s loads from her pussy; the stale deposit from the night before and the fresh batch he’d just deposited in her before breakfast. Phew, she needed a nice shower.

But there was no rush. They had the whole day before them. A manic Monday.

“Mmm.” Steve pulled his head back, grinning at her.

She let her head fall back on the pillow and looked up at the ceiling. She was going to cum again soon. Now she’d stopped kissing Chris she noticed the wet slurping sounds being made by Laura’s lips. She smiled dreamily.

Laura’s tongue was doing all the work. Sam arched her back and eased her thighs open as wide as they would go. She tightened her muscles to squeeze out any last gobs of Steve’s cum and turned to look into his eyes again.

“Cum.” He whispered in her ear, nibbling her lobe.

She forced her own eyes to stay open so she could share the exquisite moment with him as she climaxed noisily. This was the life she’d always wanted.

After a hot soapy shower, she towelled herself dry and put on a new silk gown she’d bought herself from an expensive department store. She looked in the mirror, admiring her new cleavage, and put on some blush and mascara.

By the time she got down to the kitchen, Laura was bustling about in her underwear. Her hair was wet and her skin had goose-bumps. The weather was chillier now but it was too early to waste money turning the central heating on.

Sam sat while Laura poured her a cup of peppermint tea and served half a grapefruit.

“If you’re cold, move faster.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Laura’s shower had been freezing and the threadbare towel didn’t dry her properly. Not that it mattered. She would warm up soon enough !

*** *** ***

Q18. Is Slut-2-Fuck available on her own ?

A18. Never. Due to the nature of the sessions, her Mistress is always present, but be ensured she stays in the background and encourages full use of the slut.

*** *** ***

At 10.30 a.m., the first of Laura’s clients that day arrived. Sam greeted him, took the ‘tribute’ cash, and settled into the background as usual.

Steve had the screen upstairs on mute. He watched from Sam’s bedroom so the punters wouldn’t be aware of his presence. He was just extra security if the ladies needed any. Sam told him she thought that the volume of Laura’s business could safely increase now Steve was on the team too.

He was glad he’d already given Sam a good seeing to, otherwise he’d have been tempted to jerk himself off. It was shocking, but exciting, watching Laura get down on her knees to blow a complete stranger. The guy was young, late 20s, and not as bad looking as most he’d seen in the albums. Laura was unmasked and so she and the punter could see each other’s faces.

Steve’s view was controlled by Sam. She had a remote handset that controlled the hidden cam in the bookshelves. He studied Laura’s lips sliding up and down the guy’s shaft, feeling himself harden despite having cum earlier.

The blowjob overture lasted a few minutes but the lad had really come for an anal symphony. That’s what he was paying a premium price for. He rolled a condom onto his baton and Laura lay on her back on the sofa. Steve couldn’t hear him but gathered he wanted to bugger her nose-to-nose, so he pushed her knees up towards her ears.

It didn’t take him long. Steve smiled at his watch. By 10.46. Laura was lying in just her bra like a rag doll while the guy shucked his pants back on and Sam showed him out.

At 11.15 a.m., the second one arrived. This one was much older. Sixties. Sam had told Steve this guy was a repeat customer. He couldn’t see their greeting and cash changing hands, as it happened off screen, but he knew she’d given him a loyalty discount. Sam also liked to encourage her older clientele.

Again, Laura was unmasked and so she too could see the businessman’s red face, his jowls and belly, his pinstripe suit. He was well dressed but when he took his trousers off Steve shook his head at the dirty-white boxer shorts he was wearing underneath, billowing like some yellow-stained spinnaker sail.

Laura had dressed up in a schoolgirl outfit as instructed. Everything was arranged and negotiated by Sam beforehand, without consultation with Laura. The guy draped her across his knee, lifted her pleated skirt and admired her pert bottom in tight white cotton panties.

Steve turned up the volume on his screen and enjoyed the resounding cracks as the guy smacked his fleshy palm down six times onto her 27 yr old buttocks. Laura cried out. She wasn’t a painslut and Sam was careful that customers didn’t overstep her corporal punishment threshold.

He rolled her cotton panties down her cheeks to the top of her thighs, so he could admire his handiwork. Then he gave her six more meaty slaps on her bare backside, making Laura’s butt turn an even brighter shade of scarlet.

Upstairs, Steve couldn’t help chuckling. He got a sudden flashback to Chris and Laura’s wedding, that bit in the service when the couple exchange vows. He could still picture them standing up at the altar facing the vicar, Chris in his groom’s suit and Laura in her white wedding dress. She’d looked all sweet and innocent – and tasty – that day, as she’d sworn to forsake all other men.

After spanking her ass, the old guy had Laura undress him and roll a condom onto his erection. It appeared awkward given the size of his belly. Laura seemed relieved not to be being spanked any more. To Steve, the contrast between her lean, fit body and his large bloated bulk was somehow erotically disgusting.

*** *** ***

Q19. Does Slut-2-Fuck cum, squirt or gush ?

A19. Slut-2-Fuck has begun to be trained in strict self denial and is not allowed to reach orgasm. If you fuck her, she must grit her teeth and not cum. Please do not consider her satisfaction at all. However, be assured the slut can cum quite easily and can certainly squirt if her right buttons are pushed. If you wish to purchase a session where Slut-2-Fuck is allowed to cum / squirt, you will need to book well in advance and to pay for Slut-2-Fuck’s own orgasm. Please enquire about (very rare) dates and (very high) prices. Personally, Mistress would advise you not to waste your money on the slut’s pleasure !

*** *** ***

Chris wobbled but managed to stay upright.

It had been a frantic Friday at Lewis Mitchell, after which he’d got home to cook dinner for them all, before washing, then drying and clearing up.

Now he was standing on one leg – his right – with his left leg cocked out to his side, bent at the knee, and his left heel pressed against his right knee. It was an awkward, humiliating position to hold. And he’d been like that for 10 minutes.

Worse, he was naked, and worse still, he was masturbating himself. But he was using his wrong hand – his left – to do it, using only his thumb and index finger to manipulate his erection up and down slowly.

Steve and Sam were lying on the sofa watching a sit-com on TV. Occasionally, one of them would glance away from the screen to check up on him.

“Whoa. Slow down Tiger.” Steve winked. “You’re not meant to cum.”

Another week had passed. By now, Chris was more than desperate. Sam barely seemed to show any interest in him any longer. Of course, her cool attitude was intoxicating to him in a way. He was living the life he’d always wanted; an exploited slave, with his wife an exploited slave too. But he was exhausted and his blue balls were fit to burst.

“Fetch the ice.” Steve yawned eventually. “Let’s shrink that dicky down to size again.”

One evening the following week, Steve went out to the pub to meet somebody. While he was out, Sam instructed Chris to give her a pedicure. He fetched hot water, fluffy towels, flannel, her pedicure set and nail varnish.

He set to work and it felt like old times. He loved massaging her feet.

“I’ve been thinking.” Sam said to him.

“Yes, Ma’am ?”

“I think we should get married.”

He nearly choked. He just managed not to cut her with the toenail scissors.

“I ...”

“Look at me.”

He stared up into her eyes. She was deadly serious.

“It will be perfect.” She continued. “You will divorce Laura and marry me instead.” He blinked hard. “Don’t worry. We won’t throw her out. Far from it. We both love her. But it will be the ultimate humiliation for her. Living here as your ex and as my slut. It’s what she needs, I promise you.”

“But ...”

She put her index finger to her lips. He tried to say something. Anything. But she had this aura. Her expression was caring but firm, like a mother telling her son not to misbehave. It was as if she’d made the decision for them.

“I have arranged it all.” She said. “A quickie divorce. On grounds of adultery obviously. She’ll be in the wrong, not you. You just have to sign the decree nisi papers. In a few weeks we’ll get your decree nisi absolute and a clean break order. It’s simple.”

She twiddled her toes to indicate that he could start filing her nails.

“D ... divorce ?”

She raised her eyebrows like he was stupid.

“Duh. And a clean break. Then you and I can get a quickie marriage.”

“M ... marriage.”

Her eyes sparkled. “And then a honeymoon.” She winked.

*** *** ***

Q20. What are Slut-2-Fuck’s stats ?

A20. Age 27; Height 5’ 9”; Dress Size UK 10 / US 6; Chest 36D natural; Waist 22; Hair Colour Brunette; Eyes Green; Pubic Hair shaved completely. Shoe Size UK 6.

*** *** ***

Steve met the guy at a local pub. He seemed nervous, glancing this way and that.

“This isn’t a set up, right ?”

“Nah.” Steve grinned, supping his pint.

“And she’s real, this ... Slut-2-Fuck ?”

“As real as you and me, mate.”

The young guy was to be Best Man at a wedding. He was organising the Stag Night and he wanted to arrange something a little different. A bukkake party. There were sixteen lads aged only 18-22 and they had bucket loads of testosterone.

“She’ll do ... like you know ... what the profile says.”

“Anything you like.” Steve leered.

*** *** ***

“Hello Mum.”

Chris almost never phoned his mum.

“Christopher, dear. What a nice surprise.”

They made small talk a while. The usual; his job, her health, the weather.

“And how’s Laura ?”

His voice croaked. He nearly chickened out. He pictured Sam’s stern face to give him strength.

“Er, not so good.”

“No ? Not good ? What’s the matter with her ? She’s not ill ?”

“No mum. It’s just ....”

He couldn’t say it. His dad had walked out on his mum. Now he was telling his mum that he was doing the same, even if it wasn’t true.

“You’re leaving her, aren’t you ?”

He gulped, relieved he didn’t have to say the words.

“Yes.”

“And you’ve got another woman, haven’t you ?”

He shifted uncomfortably, as his chastity tube tweaked his flesh.

“Yeah, mum. I have.”

*** *** ***

Q21. Are all the photos and film clips on Slut-2-Fuck’s profile real ?

A21. Slut-2-Fuck’s public and private galleries feature real action with real people. Some facial features have been blurred to protect client identities but nothing has been faked. You will not be able to take photos or film of a session with your own camera. However, if you agree to be photographed or filmed with Mistress’s own equipment, then you are welcome to have or to purchase digital or print souvenirs and clips after they have been edited. A one-hour session includes one free photo and a two-hour session includes two free photos. Further stills and movie clips are charged at very reasonable prices.

*** *** ***

Laura’s head was filled with shame. Her body oozed with lust.

Sam surveyed her calmly as she pumped the 12-inch dildo in and out of her pussy. Laura remembered the time that she couldn’t even get the thing inside herself. Now it was like a haute couture dress that had been made to measure.

“Whoa. Slow down Tigress.” Sam winked, echoing Steve’s phrase.

Laura blinked and tried to control her breathing. Nowadays, Sam didn’t allow her to climax, even with customers, unless they paid extra. Most preferred to save their money.

“I’ve been thinking.” Sam said to her.

“Yesss.” She hissed, so near to reaching the summit.

“You and Chris are going to get divorced.”

Laura’s brain swam with confusion. “Wh ... ?”

“It’s all arranged; signed and sealed.”

“But ...”

“Look at me.”

Laura gasped, nearly choking. The vibrating dildo was reaming her drenched insides. She used to only be able to climax from clitoral stimulation but now she could cum just about any way. She tried to focus on Sam’s fuzzy, smirking face.

“Life isn’t a dress rehearsal, my dirty slut. You only get one chance to live it to the max. To live out every one of those fantasies. So ... tell me you agree.”

Laura choked. She had been so near to the summit for so long. The view was amazing. She could see for miles and miles. She couldn’t speak. She fixed her gaze on Sam’s face and fluttered her eyelids in agreement.

“Go on then. My little divorced slut. Now you can cum !”

*** *** ***

Q22. Can I cum more than once in a session ?

A22. By all means. The more cum the better. You are encouraged to cum as many times as you want and are able to manage during the time booked. If you are trying to cum one last time when your booking time finishes, you will be allowed an extra minute or two to complete the job. Mistress is not a clock watcher !  Remember that all cum should be swallowed by Slut-2-Fuck.

*** *** ***

Needless to say, Sam had never watched a bukkake party before.

The cameras were rolling so it could later be posted on Slutload and YouPorn. In the end 19 young lads came and not one of them was married yet. The groom didn’t seem to care that his future missus might see him sowing his oats the weekend before their wedding.

They were a wild bunch. They’d been drinking for an hour already and were lewd, loud and laughing at anything. When they saw Laura tied onto the table with her face up, her neck hanging over the edge, they exploded into wolf whistles and catcalls. Sam and Steve showed them a bucket full of iced beers and vodka coolers and they seemed unsure whether to go for the booze or the woman first.

Laura was topless, dressed in just a thong, suspender belt, fishnets and heels. They hadn’t paid to fuck her but Sam might give the groom a freebie wedding present later. In the meantime, she was going to guzzle their young, thick porridge.

A few of the boys were a bit shy around each other at first but the booze helped. Soon they were stood around Laura’s head, groping her D-cup tits and pinching her nipples, jerking themselves off. Sam had told them earlier to insist on open-mouthed service.

The first one to cum, spewed copious ropes that uncoiled all over Laura’s neck, face and dangling hair. He was a tall, leader-of-the-pack type and everybody applauded and patted him on the back. Sam checked the screen. Steve had taped a mini-cam to the ceiling and it gave a great bird’s eye view of the action. Sadly, she couldn’t see Laura’s face well but she could imagine the disbelief in those green eyes.

After that, they came thick and fast. The Best Man grabbed Laura’s ears and pushed his dick between her lips as he emptied his balls. The third didn’t have time to follow him and simply spattered her eye socket, nostril and open mouth. The groom was stuck to one side and could only lean over to paint his signature over her right tit. After that, it was hard to tell who did what. It was also hard to tell who returned for seconds, or even thirds. In their late-teens and early-twenties the lads could reload like Winchester repeaters.

By the time 45 minutes had passed, Laura’s skin was pasted with creamy and translucent glaze like a gateau on a dessert trolley. Her eyelashes were stuck shut, and her mascara, eye shadow and lipstick were smeared into a bloody war zone of black, blue and red. Her tits had borne the brunt of their attacks to her body but almost everywhere above her waist was spattered with runny shrapnel.

The groom declined Sam’s offer of a free shag, probably realising that his fiancé might consider fucking a step too far if she ever saw the video. But the Best Man was happy to stand in, as the Best Man should, providing Laura was wiped down a bit with a wet flannel first. He dropped his jeans and peeled on a condom, while the lads used a kitchen knife to slice away Laura’s thong.

He fucked her with her heels, fishnets and suspender belt still on, to raucous encouragement from the crowd. Sam caught Steve’s eye and grinned. She knew that somewhere, deep in her submissive psyche, Laura would be loving this. And Sam sure as hell was. She couldn’t wait to get into bed with Steve.

*** *** ***

Q23. Can I use Viagra / Cialis ?

A23. Yes (but please no other drugs such as amphetamines).

*** *** ***

Sam knew the report about a guy who won £2 million on the UK lottery the day after his divorce was formalised. Despite the decree, his ex-wife was still entitled to half his lottery win because they hadn’t signed a Clean Break Order.

Sam had no intention of throwing Laura out on the street but she wanted that power. So she ensured the paperwork was all done properly. Laura signed the Order that gave up her right - in perpetuity - to all property, pension, savings and maintenance from her marriage to Chris. She instantly became penniless.

As soon as Chris’s decree absolute came through, he was legally entitled to marry Sam. But she delayed their wedding a few extra weeks. She wanted to marry Chris on Laura’s 28th birthday. And, naturally, Steve was delighted to accept Sam’s invitation that he act as their Best Man.

END OF PART FOUR

SLUT-2-FUCK

CHAPTER FIVE: THE CURTAIN RISES

Story so far:

As told in Chapters One through Four (‘Setting the Scene’, ‘Assembling the Cast’, ‘Following the Script’ and ‘Dress Rehearsal’), Sam becomes a personal trainer to a married couple named Laura and Chris.

Her training of them soon evolves from fitness instruction to total control and she moves into their home before taking over their lives, emptying their wallets, keeping Chris in chastity, and pimping Laura. A list of FAQs explains life for them under Sam’s supervision. Eventually, Steve, a school buddy of Chris, joins the action. He becomes Sam’s lover and co-Dom of Laura and Chris. The plot thickens when Sam arranges the divorce of Chris and Laura primarily so she can transfer their remaining financial assets to herself tax-free.

Sam is only 23, 5’6” of trim muscle, with new enhanced boobs, citron-yellow hair and an elfin-face. Laura is a pretty, almost 28 yr old, green eyed brunette with a 34D chest and great legs. Chris is the same age as Laura, with caramel hair, brown eyes, spectacles and he now lives in a steel chastity tube. Steve is 28 yrs old, with brown eyes and handsome, faintly villainous good looks.

Sam’s pre-wedding Hen Night began as a modest affair.

She invited five other bachelorettes who constituted those she thought of as her best friends; they were a couple of other personal trainers, two clubbing friends and one old school mate from where she grew up. She hadn’t seen any of them much in a while and they had a fun evening in a private room, drinking champagne, eating Sushi, and catching up on old times and new gossip.

They were all impressed with Sam’s obvious success; her designer clothes, the Hindmarch handbag, her Cartier watch, diamond necklace and sparkling engagement ring. They particularly admired her new boobs. At 23, she’d evidently scored herself a mysterious husband with a fat wallet. They were even more amazed by the after-dinner entertainment Sam had laid on.

First, a female stripper performed a private hardcore show for them. If they hadn’t drunk so many bottles of Bollinger, the girls might have been more embarrassed. The stripper was pretty - very pretty - and she somehow seemed a bit posh for her line of work. She was brunette, with shoulder length dark hair, high cheekbones, and green eyes visible under the spotlight. She was tall, maybe 5’ 9” or so, with big tits, long model’s legs and a lissom body.

“Phew, Sam, where’d ya find her ?” asked Kelly, an Aussie trainer.

“On the net.” Sam shouted, over the thumping strip music. Kelly was lesbian and she could barely take her eyes off the undressing dancer.

A waiter arrived with another magnum of champagne. He filled glasses generously, ignoring their whistles and lecherous comments.

The stripper performed admirably, like a true artiste. She was obviously a well brought up girl but maybe she’d fallen on difficult times; perhaps she had a problem paying her rent ? Eventually, she was topless, gyrating and wiggling in just a thong, her svelte hips and large boobs rotating like pineapples balanced in teaspoons.

Then the show really kicked off. An oiled black male dancer entered the room and began stripping as well, to the whoops and catcalls of the Hen Party. He was huge; probably 6’ 6” tall with pectorals and abdomen in proportion.

The audience was riveted as the topless stripper got down on her knees and removed the male’s thong, releasing a black truncheon in proportion to the rest of him. She opened her red-lipped mouth and began sucking him.

“Wow ! This is amazing.” Jana yelled into Sam’s ear, emptying her champagne glass. They watched the ebony-ivory blowjob from just a few feet away.

The same handsome waiter returned with his magnum to top up their glasses. He was dressed smartly in a white jacket and dark trousers, and black spectacles that made him look a bit like Clark Kent. His averted his eyes from the obscene cabaret taking place right in front of him.

Sam’s friends were just like most other groups of young single women on a night out with alcohol and music. They began chanting for the man to cum in the woman’s mouth and sure enough he eventually did. His knees buckled slightly and he grinned in an orgasmic rictus, throwing his head upwards.

His first spurt disappeared down the strippers’ throat, then he pulled out and the remaining creamy lava erupted from his black volcano into the spotlight. There was an awed scream from the spectators as he spewed what appeared to be several weeks’ worth of magma all over the pretty white face.

*** *** ***

Q24. Can I book Slut-2-Fuck with my wife / partner ?

A24. Yes. Slut-2-Fuck will fully interact with, or serve, your wife or girlfriend in a threesome, twosome or as solo entertainment. Encourage your lady to explore her bisexual or dominant streak with a compliant female submissive.

*** *** ***

Their wedding began as a sedate registry office affair.

Sam wore white, as every bride should be entitled to do once. She had rented a lovely silk wedding dress with a veil and the trimmings. But underneath she had put on the most sluttish attire imaginable. Gobs of fresh white semen covered her lace knickers and stockings, oozing between her thighs.

Chris and Steve were both wearing identical dark suits. It was hard to tell the groom and best man apart. Which was exactly how Sam planned it !

And, even though it was a cold wintry day, the birthday girl was dressed in a tiny skirt, seamed silk stockings, stiletto heels and a tight blouse that revealed way too much cleavage. Her chilled nipples were stiff and way too visible for wedding attire. Laura was not only celebrating her 28th birthday today. She was Sam’s maid of honour. And she was Chris’s ex-wife.

Kelly, a honey-haired Aussie personal trainer, and Fred, Laura’s most regular and trusted punter, completed the select congregation, along with the registrar.

The legal formalities before the wedding vows included a final financial ‘Clean Break’ order signed by Laura, giving Chris sole ownership of all their joint assets and forfeiting forever any rights she might ever have had as his ex-wife.

Next came a comprehensive Pre-Nup agreement between Chris and Sam. Not only was there an immediate transfer of all his assets from Chris’s name into Sam’s sole ownership, but in the event of their divorce, all parties agreed that she would retain everything, and he would get absolutely nothing.

All the documents were properly signed and witnessed. The whole process took just a few important minutes. The registrar then performed the service and Sam and Chris said their vows, after which they were declared husband and wife.

The six of them, excluding the registrar, then returned to Sam’s house. There was one final chore to make the marriage one hundred per cent legal. It had to be consummated ! Leaving Steve, Laura, Kelly and Fred downstairs, Sam impatiently tugged Chris upstairs by his hand, to cheers from three of the other four.

She lay on the bed in her white wedding dress and giggled.

“I’ve been waiting for this day to come ever since I first met you.”

Chris stood in his suit at the end of the bed, looking at her.

“But ...” he said, obviously shocked. “I don’t believe it. You planned all this ?”

She gave him a crooked smile, patting her dress meaningfully between her legs.

“From Day One. All of it. Especially taking you for every penny you had.”

She watched him kneel dutifully and start raising the hem of her dress. He stared into her eyes. She could see everything she wanted inside them simultaneously; devotion, submission, awe and, yes, fear.

He pushed it, and her dress continued to rise, like a theatre curtain rising slowly to reveal the set of a play.

“And whoring your ex.” She continued. “I planned that too, as soon as I knew what she was like.”

She sat up on her elbows so she could admire the mess too. Ten minutes before the ceremony, the Best Man had fucked her in the registry office toilets. She had chosen an ‘ouvert’ pair of lace knickers, the kind invented by French courtesans so that they could have illicit fucks without removing their dresses or underwear. There was a front slit, similar to the opening in a pair of male briefs.

He blinked. And then shook his head at her in amazement.

She winked back at him. After all, she was just the kind of woman he’d always wanted to marry.

“And above all,” she sighed, “having you pleasure me with your tongue.”

*** *** ***

Chris’s mind flashed back to the first time, that Sunday morning she had first made him do this to her. That time it had been Tim’s, today it was Steve’s, but what was the difference ?

One thing was for sure. It wasn’t his.

He lowered his face obediently to her parted thighs. He was still dressed in his wedding suit and tie, still constrained down below by his tight steel tube. How many husband’s get married wearing a chastity belt ?

He put his mouth to the silky material of her underwear and slipped his tongue through the open slit, then into the drenched folds of her pussy.

“Mmm.” She moaned appreciatively. “Here cums the bride.”

He gasped hot breath into her. Even just a few words from her could thrill him.

“This is it, my darling.” Her voice was throaty, excited, like she had already been building to a climax before he started. “Consummation by tongue. Not that little, locked up thing of yours.”

He grimaced as his expanding flesh met hard steel. His tube was 3 ¼  inches in length and his dick hung about 3 inches when totally soft, so it allowed him to get about 10 per cent of an erection, sufficient to allow just a trickle of his excited blood to start flowing. Enough to taunt him with unfulfilled desire.

“Don’t worry.” She announced, after he’d finished and she’d clutched the sheet in a shrieking climax. “You can cum when we get back from our honeymoon.”

*** *** ***

Q25. Can I book Slut-2-Fuck’s husband to join me / us ?

A25. It depends. Slut-2-Fuck’s husband (S2FH) is not usually in attendance. He is busy working in an office throughout the week. However, for those men who enjoy the idea of fucking a wife while her husband watches, special arrangements can be made to book time with Slut-2-Fuck and S2FH together. S2FH can be restrained in bondage, made to stand in the corner or outside the room, or he can lick one of his wife’s holes while you fuck the other one. He can be naked, or dressed in a butler’s uniform, or a pink ballet tutu or other costumes. Email his Mistress with your requests and to agree dates and rates.

*** *** ***

Laura spent her next three weeks in full time service to Fred.

He was a wealthy widower of 60 who lived alone in a large house with just his two cats. A weekly cleaner, the internet and escort girls were normally his only company. He had discovered Slut-2-Fuck because of his penchant for Bdsm.

Despite Fred’s love of corporal punishment, he was considered trustworthy and safe. Laura, and more importantly Sam, had trusted him to take sole charge of the slut during Sam’s glorious, long honeymoon.

Anyway, the daily fee Fred was shelling out for Slut-2-Fuck’s domestic services over the 21 days was incentive enough ! It more than covered the price of the beachfront suite in the luxurious Caribbean hotel Sam was staying in with Steve.

Fred had given his normal weekly cleaner a holiday, in order that he and Laura would be uninterrupted for days on end. So Laura was made to work incredibly hard to earn the cost of the honeymooners’ luxury; Sam’s spa treatments and champagne, Chris’s windsurfing and tennis lessons, their lobsters and sunset cruises were all paid for with long days of domestic and sexual service.

Fred was a man with an almost insatiable appetite for blowjobs, although his age meant that he could only manage to cum two or three times a day nowadays. So Laura spent many hours on her knees, or lying alongside him on his bed, sucking and kissing and handling his sixty year old equipment. He smoked cigars and drank black coffee and, as a result, his watery semen was pungent and bitter.

“On your tongue, my dear.” He would command. “Hold it there.”

She knelt, looking up at him as he slouched in his armchair. He was more than twice her age (he had calculated that he was already 32 and had been married 7 years with a daughter when Laura was born). He was dressed in just a velvet gown and slippers, smoking a Havana.

“Now, slowly, trill it round your tongue. Gargle it nicely.”

He wasn’t that ugly. Not for a man of sixty. His face was red and round and jovial. But from the angle Laura was looking at, she always felt slightly nauseous. He was bald on top with a close-cut ring of grey hair above his ears. He wore half glasses for reading and they bounced unused on his chest from a cord round his neck. He had a jowly double chin and a shrub of hairs in his nostrils. His skin was pale and saggy. His belly was stout and spotted with grey and white hairs. His balls hung down like old walnuts.

Nevertheless, Laura tilted her neck and warbled his sharp, salty liquid round her mouth, up into her palate, tasting the harsh sourness. She kept her gaze humbly on him while she did it. He enjoyed seeing her distaste and shame as her eyes watered.

“Okay.” He chuckled, after waiting a full minute. “You can swallow it now.”

His second favourite activity was for her to rim his bottom, usually in the mornings, at the end of his breakfast. He drank black coffees and ate Danish pastries that he stored in bulk in the freezer, to be defrosted overnight. Laura heated a couple up for him each morning. He sat in his velvet gown and read the Daily Telegraph at the wooden breakfast table.

Under the table, Laura knelt and kissed him good morning; starting at his feet, then his shins, knees, inner thighs, eventually his sweaty scrotum. He slid back into the chair, so his buttocks were perched over the edge, giving her mouth access to his hairy bottom. Above her, she could hear the rustle of him turning the pages, the occasionally slurp of coffee. Then the flatulence would begin.

He’d wait until her tongue was deep inside his anus, ‘burrowing for truffles’ as he called it, and then without any warning or apology, he would carelessly let rip a blast of warm, stinking air into her face. Laura’s duty was to keep tonguing his passage as if nothing had happened, breathing in deeply like it was the most normal thing in the world.

She’d hear another rustle as he simply turned a page, and another belch as he drained his coffee. After the first fart, there was always the dread of more. She licked and kissed his damp bottom and waited, knowing it was only a question of when, not if.

He occasionally reminded her of the purpose of this.

“Show a little more humility, please young lady. It’s only air.”

After all, he would remind her, it wasn’t for his pleasure. It was merely to train her. To teach her where she now ranked in the social order.

It amazed her how long and loud some of them could be. The inner cheeks of his bottom rippled and slapped against each other, in turn smacking her own cheeks, with the force of the gust. But she continued to ‘burrow’ regardless, her face and tongue in his anus, taking shallow breaths into her squashed nostrils.

And for the millionth time she asked herself why ?

Only a few months ago, she’d been a ‘normal’ woman, living a ‘normal’ life. To be reduced in such a short time to this ? Not just a teensy bit of sexual kink and submission like plenty of people with a certain type of beta personality.

No, reduced to this. About a thousand rungs lower than ‘normal’ subs. She despised herself for having allowed it to happen. And ironically that’s why she deserved everything that had happened.

It was like a masochistic vicious circle. The more guilt and shame she felt about it, the more she knew she deserved it. So here she was, on her knees, while some old man farted in her face. She hated and craved the humiliation at the same time. It wasn’t Fred who was revolting here. No, she disgusted herself.

Laura. Slut-2-Fuck. She was the disgusting one.

Her only relief was that his wind didn’t always smell too strongly. He even commented jokingly that ‘his bark was worse than his bite’. But at other times, when his bowel was full and he’d eaten a rich dinner the night before, the stench could be incredible, like sulphurous chemicals.

Yet his expectations never wavered. She was to remain licking and breathing as if nothing had happened.

Sometimes, he’d push aside his newspaper and peer down at her, as a cloud of particularly foul scented air circled them.

“Look at me.”

She’d blink up at him and try to control her revulsion, with his hairy balls tickling her eyes. His own expression was enquiring, amused but stern.

“Humility, please, young lady.” He’d remind her. “Show proper humility.”

Of course, there was plenty of time each day when he was busy doing other things and he would ignore her. Like when he was investing his stock portfolio, or speaking to his broker or financial adviser, or having long Skype calls with his daughter and grandchildren in Hong Kong. Mostly at those times, Laura worked as a skivvy round the house, dusting, polishing, cleaning, scrubbing and many jobs that a normal cleaner wouldn’t do.

Occasionally, he would summon her over while he was on Skype. He ordered her to suck his cock, out of view of the screen. He chatted happily with his daughter who was three years older than Laura like any normal caring father. He would say hello to his 5 and 3 year old grandchildren onscreen while Laura knelt and nuzzled his erection and listened to him coo-cooing the youngsters.

Whenever he was unimpressed by her efforts as a skivvy, he would curl a finger at her and say.

“I think that bottom of yours needs a bit of spanking, doesn’t it ?”

*** *** ***

Q26. Can I have sex with S2FH ?

A26. Sadly, not at present. S2FH is quite handsome, 6’ 1” and heterosexual (see photo in private gallery). He is also a submissive wimp cuckold who lives in strict 24/7 chastity. His primary duty is to act as the household’s basic breadwinner to support his Mistress and his wife. As time goes by, Mistress intends to explore his consensual limits to include similar services to those provided by Slut-2-Fuck. Currently he can be booked to perform manual and oral fluff and clean up duties. He accepts a caning (6 strokes) and is learning to kiss the feet and rim the man who is, or soon will be, fucking his wife.

*** *** ***

Sam stared longingly into Chris’s eyes and chinked glasses.

They were sitting on the deck of a restaurant overlooking the ocean as a gorgeous pink sun melted into the horizon. They had enjoyed another blissful day.

“All well at home ?” he asked.

She nodded. Fred and Kelly had both emailed her updates. And earlier she had logged into Slut-2-Fuck’s account. The month long break in her services had created pent up demand. Her schedule was booked intensively for weeks after their return.

They ordered from the expensive a la carte menu; steak for Steve and barracuda for Sam. Steve selected a US$ 200 bottle of French white burgundy.

“I could get used to this.” Steve sighed. “Being your lover.”

Sam smiled at him and their eyes met again.

Was this the moment ?

She had almost never been nervous in her life before. She just wasn’t that type of person. But she felt a tightening in her stomach. She took a sip from her glass of champagne.

“Not my lover.” She said. “My husband.”

He smiled, misunderstanding. “Yeah. Helping cuckold your husband.”

“No.” She shook her head gently. “My husband.”

He frowned, interested. “What do you mean ?”

“I mean that as soon as we can arrange it, I’m going to divorce Chris and then I can marry you.” She bit her lip. “If you’re on for that, of course.”

He reached over and took her hand. “Really ? You’re not joking ?”

“Far from it. I only arranged to marry Chris for tax reasons. You see, a husband can gift anything he wants to his spouse free of tax.”

“And he’s given everything over to you tax free ?”

She grinned, a little sheepishly. Of course, it wasn’t just about the money. But why gift the taxman money ?

No, it was everything. She wanted Laura and Chris on her terms. Destitute. So she would have as much control over them as possible.

“Yes. Although there are still paperwork and returns to be filed.”

“Wow.” He sat back in his chair, as a waiter arrived with their starters.

She had never imagined she’d fall for somebody like Steve. She’d always pictured herself with a rich, successful husband. But that no longer seemed so important. She had a Home now. Money. Income.

And a Plan.

“Of course,” she said, “we can wait a while. So it all looks legit. Give Chris his thrill of being a cuckolded husband for a couple of months. I think that’s the least we owe him.”

“And after that ? What do you plan for them once we’re married ?”

Sam smirked and shook her head.

“Now that would be telling, wouldn’t it ?”

*** *** ***

Q27. Can I watch S2FH have sex with his wife during my session ?

A27. At a special session, you can watch S2FH do anything within reason to his wife including oral, fluff and clean up, or rimming her ass, or using a vibrator on her, even caning her, but you will not be able to witness penetrative or romantic sex between husband and wife. S2FH is kept in strict chastity and he will remain locked in his steel device throughout any session.

*** *** ***

Kelly was house-sitting Sam’s home during the honeymoon.

And so she was baby-sitting Chris too, in the evenings and at weekends.

Although Kelly had lived in England for two years, she still sported a year round suntan. Her long honey-coloured tresses were cut in a Farrah Fawcett style of a 1980s Charlie’s Angel. She was gorgeous but uninterested in Chris.

Sam had chosen well. Kelly was a demanding tenant, expecting him to arrive home punctually to prepare her grilled fish and salads, serve her, then wash and tidy up. Although she was lesbian, she was fascinated by Chris’s Steelwerx Extreme. She seemed to enjoy monitoring his showers and brief time unlocked for hygiene purposes. His obvious sexual frustration amused and delighted her.

The only physical contact she had with him was via the two ends of a crook-handled cane; the handle in her strong palm, and the long pole splattering across Chris’s bare, bruised rump. There was no sexuality to it at all. It was functional training, just like the push ups, lunges, crunches and other exercises that he had to complete for her seven days a week.

“Strewth.” She’d comment, when he collapsed exhausted at the end of his work-out. “I wish all men were wimps like you.”

*** *** ***

Q28. Is Slut-2-Fuck available most of the time ?

A28. Absolutely. But booking slots have to be limited to ensure that Slut-2-Fuck is fresh and in shape for every visitor’s pleasure. Normal booking times are weekdays (Mon-Fri) from 10.00 a.m. to 5.00 p.m. Evenings and weekends can be booked by special arrangement.

*** *** ***

After they returned from honeymoon, life settled into an easy routine.

Well, ‘easy’, in the sense of familiar, Sam thought. She was legally Chris’s wife now and she had occasional corporate functions that she had to attend as his spouse; his office Christmas party, a management-and-wives dinner, that kind of thing. On those evenings, she was on her best behaviour; charming, witty, determined. She made sure that both Mr Lewis and Mr Mitchell appreciated her, especially the former who couldn’t remove his eyes from her cleavage.

Steve’s life was easy too. He made friends with Fred and the two of them shared an interest in classic automobiles. Fred had an old Jaguar coupe in his garage and both men set about restoring it together and tuning it for amateur racing. Fred’s large home was located only a 20-minute drive away from Sam’s house.

Meanwhile, unusually for a ‘just married’ husband, Chris wasn’t distracted from his job and career by the amorous or adoring demands of his new wife. He lived a brutally chaste life and steadily learned increasing levels of humility. Instead of him, Sam was well catered to by his old friend Steve.

But life was busiest of all for Laura. An ex, no longer married, she was able to enjoy the carefree existence of a single 28 yr old girl-about-town. Her reputation as a slut who offered superb entertainment filled her diary and earned at least a couple of grand a week for the woman who had replaced her as Chris’s spouse.

*** *** ***

Q29. What are Slut-2-Fuck’s standard rates ?

A29. The following apply for in calls.

15 Minutes ‘Quickie’: £50

30 Minutes: £100

60 Minutes: £200

90 Minutes: £300

2 Hours+: Please email for rates

Out Calls: Please email to discuss

Special Offers:

A ‘book’ of 10 ‘Quickie vouchers’: 20% off (ie. £400, payable upfront)

Loyalty Package: 20% off (for regular customers)

Gangbang Package: £240 an hour (60 minutes, 12 men, only £20 each)

Bukkake Package: £100 for 20 men (60 minutes, no penetration, only £5 each !)

Male Pensioners over 65: 20% off

Male Pensioners over 75: 50% off

All Females: 50% off (eg. 30 minutes for only £50)

*** *** ***

Steve had a bladder full of beer and a belly full of asparagus quiche. He pissed into a bowl and sniffed the vegetable bouquet of his green urine. Whistling, he decanted the frothy fluid into a glass carafe and placed it to warm on the radiator for Chris’s return from work. For what Steve liked to refer to as Chris’s ‘cocktail hour’.

He was interrupted by a crack, a female scream and commotion.

He ran into the living room and found Slut-2-Fuck nursing her red cheek, cowering away from the large male punter who had obviously just hit her.

“What the fuck ?!” Steve roared, marching into the gap between them.

“I only hit the bitch.” The guy shouted, stepping back.

“Well get the fuck out of here.”

The bully looked at him in amazement. His tobacco-stained teeth were bared and he had thin lips. He reached out to push Steve out of the way.

“Get out.” Steve repeated, standing his ground. He glanced round at Laura. “You okay ?”

“I only tapped her.”

“I heard the fucking noise.” Steve said. “You hit her. Hard.”

“So what ? She’s a cunt.”

“No. She’s a slut, not a fucking punch bag.”

The scene ended with the unpleasant punter leaving, without his money being refunded and a place on Slut-2-Fuck’s blacklist. Steve cradled Laura in his arms gently and put ice and then Arnica on her swollen cheek. Fortunately it had been her final booking of the day.

He despised people who confused Bdsm with real violence.

A week later, Steve toured round the new house that Sam had found them all. It was much more spacious, with 5-bedrooms, a garden, and a large basement.

“This is it.” She enthused, excitedly. “It’s what I’ve always wanted.”

She had used every penny she had saved to buy it outright without a mortgage. The entire profit she’d made on Chris and Laura’s 3-bedroom home, her savings out of Chris’s salary, and part of Laura’s cash earnings. She was now a proper homeowner !

Steve and Sam took a particular interest in the undeveloped basement. It was cold but not damp, brick-lined, windowless, with concrete floors. The only natural light filtered down from four iron-grated holes at ground floor level.

The basement comprised an old cellar with empty wine bins, a large vacant area, four small rooms, and a decrepit, hole-in-the-floor style privy. It stank of musky decay and stale urine.

It would make perfect staff accommodation.

*** *** ***

It was a hectic day. Sam sold her 3-bedroom house on the same day as she completed on the purchase of her new 5-bedroom home. She also initiated divorce proceedings against Chris. The final pieces of the jigsaw were slotting into place. She had accomplished everything she’d aimed to pull off before her 24th birthday.

Next, she managed to launder what remained of her stash of banknotes earned by Laura, by paying the builders for refurbishment and decoration work in cash. There were some raised eyebrows at her designs for the basement but, hey, money talked. They did everything she asked.

“What do you think of it ?” Sam asked Laura and Chris.

“It’s fantastic.” Chris replied, admiring the house’ space and views.

“Laura ?”

“Yes. It’s so large.”

“Just how you like them.” Sam teased her. They opened champagne.

“Well, it’s all mine.” Sam continued, chinking glasses. “But hey, you can live here.”

They sipped their drinks. Sam rarely allowed them any alcohol.

“Thank you, Ma’am.”

“Until I get bored of you that is.” She laughed. “Then you’re on your own.”

Laura’s ‘entertainment room’ was a large bedroom on the ground floor. It was furnished with a huge 4-poster double bed, a separate chaise-longue, a dressing table, a chest of drawers, two armchairs and a walk-in wardrobe. It was decorated pink, with frilly curtains and a mirror on the ceiling. There were erotic etchings framed on the wall of Indian and Chinese sexual couples. Finally, there was an enormous TV screen on the wall and several cameras on tripods.

In her ensuite bathroom, there was a sunken Jacuzzi, a multi-jet shower, twin basins and a throne toilet. Obscene framed posters of Slut-2-Fuck in explicit poses and in action with various partners covered the walls. A huge print of her squatting astride a kitty-litter tray hung on the wall above the toilet. A large brown stool dangled between her thighs and her face was crimson with indignity.

It was here that Slut-2-Fuck spent her daytime when she was working.

But at night she slept down in the basement. She and Chris each had one of the four adjacent and identical rooms. Two were empty. For now.

All were small and basic, measuring just 6 ft by 6 ft with concrete floors and bare brick, sound-proofed walls. There was a glass viewing porthole in each solid door but otherwise no window. A bright halogen light bulb was the only light and two CCTV lenses monitored the inside of the room. Everything was controlled remotely by Sam or Steve upstairs.

The only furniture in each small room was a narrow child’s bed, with steel springs, a thin mattress and horsehair blankets. There were pegs on the opposite wall for their clothes and a slop pail in the corner for overnight waste.

The only decoration was a framed photo.

In Laura’s room, she had a picture by her bed. It was of Sam on her wedding day to Chris. Sam was having an orgasm, clutching a bed sheet. The back of Chris’s head was visible lapping between her thighs.

In Chris’s room, he had a glossy photograph of Laura being spit-roasted. Behind her, a large black torso was visible fucking her from behind with black hands cradling her pale tits. Her profile was visible, squished in a thick mat of pubic hair and a sagging white belly, a hidden penis buried in her throat.

One day, out of the blue, Sam asked Chris. “How long since you came ?”

“Forty six days, Ma’am.”

She arched an eyebrow, glancing over at Steve who was listening.

“Is that all ? Oh that’s fine then. You can wait another few weeks.”

Steve nodded approvingly. Eventually their goal was to train Chris to go for periods of three or more months without relief.

Mr. Lewis, one of the two owners of the company where Chris worked, was a divorced man who had taken a shine to Sam. He was okay looking and obviously successful, but he was in his mid-forties and waaaay too old for her taste. When he heard that Sam had sadly divorced Chris after their very brief marriage, he phoned to invite Sam out on a dinner date.

She accepted and flirted naughtily with him. So much so that he eventually tried to kiss her.

“No.” She teased. “I have a much better idea.”

And so it was that, shortly afterwards, Jacob Lewis, became yet another of Laura’s many ‘lovers’. Sam allocated him a freebie slot every Tuesday afternoon, before his weekly game of squash. The idea was that Chris was obliged to work hard and long for a man who left the office once a week to fuck and sodomise his ex-wife. Jacob wasn’t particularly discreet about it either. He kept a photo of Laura in a bikini on his desk at the office.

*** *** ***

Couple bookings were rare.

Which made them all the more enjoyable when they happened.

Kev and Sonja were a white-black couple in the music industry. Kev loved fucking other mens’ wives and Sonja liked to dominate white men. They got in touch via Adultwork.com where they’d been searching for submissives.

“So, they’re not married ?” Kev said on the phone.

“Not technically any more.” Sam replied. “I had them divorced. But I’m getting them married again very soon.”

And so, at a quiet registry office service, six months after they had divorced, Chris and Laura legally became loving husband and wife once more.

“With this ring, I thee wed.” Chris said solemnly to Laura. “With my body I thee worship. And with all my worldly goods I thee endow.”

Sam grinned to herself. Worldly goods ?

An hour later, the groom was lying face up on the 4-poster bed in the 69 position while his bride’s bald cunt hovered just above his mouth. She was still dressed in the same pretty white wedding dress she’d worn to marry him first time round eight years earlier.

Laura’s dress was hitched up above her back revealing her white suspender belt and stockings but she had no panties on. She was kissing and nibbling Chris’s naked hairless thighs, sucking her husband’s 3-inch metal tube into her mouth.

Sam, Steve, Kev and Sonja were watching them, sipping a wedding toast. They had all attended the wedding registry and then returned for the private reception. Kev and Sonja had come on a motorbike and were dressed in black leather.

“I think it’s time to fuck the bride. She’s gagging for it.” Sam said.

Kev put down his glass. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Sam watched him take up position at the end of the bed and drop his leathers. Sonja moved in close so she was standing inches from Laura’s head.

Kev revealed a shockingly large penis that wasn’t even fully erect yet. Sonja turned her head to smile at Sam and winked. She was a striking black woman, in her thirties, who looked like she’d probably been a fashion model once, but her waist was now rather thickset and she had an enormous bosom.

Sam could observe Chris’s flushed face just under Laura’s thighs. He appeared suitably apprehensive to see Kev’s heavily-veined hunk of meat jutting out. Sam gave Chris her best gloating smile. It was time for her couple’s renewed wedding vows to start being broken all over again.

Forsaking all others indeed. Hah !

At Sam’s request, Steve had recently spent several hours ploughing through Slut-2-Fuck’s historic records. In all, 107 different men had already paid to use her. That total excluded those like Tim, Ginge and Cole who had been her first few non-paying partners. It also excluded Steve of course, and Jacob Lewis, Chris’s boss, who never had to pay.

Kev was her 108th punter and one of the largest. He was a typical rock industry type; long prematurely grey-streaked hair tied in a ponytail, a face that had seen some hard drugs and harder living, earrings, some facial stubble, and large tattoos snaking down both arms. Laura emitted a guttural groan as he thrust himself into her bald, marital cunt. By now, she was ignoring her husband’s steel tube lolling uselessly in his lap and she was staring directly into the camera lens. The scene would make a special wedding video.

Watching, Steve put his arm around Sam and kissed her. She looked at him lovingly. He and Fred had gone into business together, buying, doing up and selling classic cars. She was looking forward to later, when the party was over, and she and Steve could retire upstairs to make love together in their wonderful master suite.

Steve. Her fiancé.

Theirs would be the last, and best, wedding of all.

Meanwhile, Kev had begun hammering in and out, producing loud grunts from Laura. He had shown Sam his negative STD test and was riding the bride bareback.

“Fuck the bitch. Fuck the bitch.” Sonja chanted, encouraging him.

Without warning, Laura suddenly squealed in a shattering orgasm. It took her and everybody by surprise and her wide green eyes desperately sought Sam out. She mumbled an apology as a sliver of drool ran from her lower lip.

“I ... I’m s ... sorr ...” she gasped.

Sam beamed indulgently. Laura climaxed so rarely nowadays. She had been so well trained. Why not cut her a bit of slack on her wedding day ?

“It’s okay my dear. Have as many as you can. Just today.”

Sam turned to watch as Kev threw his ponytailed head back and discharged his payload deep inside Laura’s clenching, newly married cunt. The mini-camera installed to the side of Chris’s head recorded a nice cuck’s eye view as Kev’s twitching balls and glistening dick usurped the groom’s privilege. Then Kev pulled out and a thick blob plopped onto Chris’s forehead, before a string of gooey pearl-juice followed close behind.

“Okay Husband.” Sam said, smiling down at Chris. “Time to drink a toast.”

Ten minutes later, the groom was hunched over, with his sticky forehead on the rug, while Sonja took his anal virginity with a strap-on. It was a thick black ribbed dildo and Chris whimpered bravely into the rug as his Mistress and his wife both held his arms down.

“Mmmfff ... mmmfff ...”

“Come on.” Sam said into his ear. “Your wife takes big cocks in her asshole, so you can too. Can’t he ?”

Laura was still dressed in her rumpled wedding finery. “Yes.”

Sam smiled at her, remembering Laura’s first time. Chris had held his love’s ankles apart while Tim deflowered her rectum. Now she was holding her husband’s wrist while some black lady opened up his tradesman’s entrance for future deliveries.

Sonja was a magnificent sight, rearing back so that three quarters of the dildo’s gleaming length was visible as it exited Chris’s anus, and then bucking forwards to ram its full extent deep inside him again.

“There we are.” Sam winked at Laura. “How to cut the cake.”

*** *** ***

Later, when there were just the four of them, Chris was allowed to masturbate to celebrate his nuptials.

Sam, Steve and Laura sat on the sofa drinking wine, watching him jerk himself off into a saucer.

“Don’t cum yet.” Sam warned him. “Patience.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He bowed his head and slowed down. It was so hard. He had managed to learn to wait several weeks and not to think about cumming. It was about managing his expectations. He didn’t deserve to cum as often as normal men did. He accepted that. But there was a point beyond which everything backed up physically so much inside him, like feeling bloated with too much food after a heavy meal. And it drove him almost mentally insane when they constantly edged him to the point of orgasm then made him stop.

“Look at your husband. Doesn’t he make you proud ?”

Laura looked over at him, and them. “Not really, Ma’am.” She shrugged.

Sam and Steve both chuckled.

Chris tried to fix his gaze on Laura. He knew she loved him. Really. But they both sometimes felt this antagonism towards each other. Like addicts blaming the supposed friend who introduced them to their first fix. But he and Laura were married again now. For better, for worse, for richer.

For poorer, that was for sure.

“Okay. A bit faster again.” Steve told him, taking over the wheel. “But still don’t cum yet.”

*** *** ***

Laura watched, as Steve eventually gave Chris permission to ‘consummate’ their marriage. Her husband gasped and groaned, his hand working in a blur, as he squirted his juice into the cheap plastic saucer. A thick helping of porridge.

“Would you like to lick up your husband’s cum, darling ?” Sam asked.

Laura looked at her uncertainly. “Do I have a choice, Ma’am ?” She asked in a humble way, not rudely, knowing she would always do exactly what Sam told her.

“Of course.” Sam’s magnanimous smile was full of understanding. “Naturally, you must drink every other man’s spunk. But you needn’t bother with your husband’s. Would you prefer him to guzzle it down instead ?”

Laura glanced at Chris.

What was one more load of sperm to her ? She’d been trained to ignore any nausea and just swallow as many slimy loads as men emptied down her throat in a day. And yet ? Why the heck should she do it if she had a choice ?

“Yes.” She said. “I would him to. Please, Ma’am.”

Sam simply raised an eyebrow at Chris.

Laura watched her husband lower his head like a dog to its bowl and start to drink.

*** *** ***

“You’re going on a honeymoon.” Sam said.

The day after the wedding, Laura and Sam flew to Miami. Laura travelled in the back of coach, in seat 69E, while Sam sat up front in business. It was a crowded, uncomfortable flight but Laura managed to get a bit of upright shuteye squeezed between a noisy kid and a large Asian gentleman.

The immigration line was tedious and the cab ride was slow, but eventually they arrived in the upmarket hotel Sam had booked. It was on Collins Avenue in South Beach and Laura waited fatigued while Sam booked them in.

Their room was on the small side but luxurious, with a generous King double for Sam and a narrow fold-down bed that housekeeping had installed for Laura. There was a marble ensuite bathroom. Sam sat on the edge of the bathtub.

“Ah.” She gasped. “Hurry. I’m full of airline champagne. Lie down.”

Laura had already removed her jacket. She slipped her slinky jersey cotton dress over her head and climbed nude into the white tub. She lay down with her face tilted back, and opened her mouth.

Sam perched astride her and smiled down. She stroked Laura’s cheek.

“Good girl, my little bidet.”

Laura stared at Sam’s copious bush. A golden jet appeared without warning.

“Ah.” Sam exclaimed, louder. “Mmm. That’s gooooood.”

Laura did her best. She held her lips and jaw wide apart and allowed her mouth to fill up to about quarter-way, then gulped the acrid urine down her throat, trying not to spill any. She then let her mouth refill. Her gullet burned and her eyes watered but she managed to keep almost all of it down.

Sam’s eyes watched her, amused, as she choked back seven frothy mouthfuls without respite.

Eventually the cascade slowed, and at last ceased.

“Phew. I needed that, didn’t I ? Now, lick those last few droplets up.”

Laura reached out with her tongue and lapped up the golden teardrops hanging from Sam’s pubic hairs and pouting labia.

“Now, what about that prawn curry I ate on the flight ?” Sam teased her, edging forwards, so that her bottom hovered directly over Laura’s face.

*** *** ***

Chris stood at the bar while Steve ordered their drinks; a glass of tap water and a pint of the black stuff. Steve had chosen the same gastro-pub where he had ‘bumped into’ Sam, Laura and Chris on the evening he re-entered their lives.

The owner landlord was a big redheaded man who mostly cooked in the upstairs kitchen while his wife pulled pints behind the downstairs bar. Chris followed Steve to a quiet corner table and sat down opposite him.

“I guess the girls should have arrived at their hotel by now.” Steve said.

Chris glanced at the cheap plastic watch Sam had purchased to replace his Omega. He nodded, sipping his lukewarm water. He lived an almost entirely vice-free existence now; a strict diet, no internet outside the office, no watching television, no shopping, obviously no masturbation. And no alcohol.

“Fuck.” Steve rolled his eyes at him. “I’m horny already. It’s been twenty four hours. Sam was in too much of a rush this morning.”

Chris smiled politely. He watched Steve down a slug of his Guinness.

“You okay ?” Steve asked. “You seem quiet.”

“I’m fine.”

“I mean it.” Steve was looking him straight in the eye. He’d slipped ‘out of character’ for a moment. It seemed he genuinely wanted to check that Chris was coping.

Chris met his gaze. That meant a lot. He was managing. Just.

“Sure ?” Steve winked. “Hey, you’re not regretting marrying Laura again, are you ?”

Chris’s lip curled in an ironic smile. “No ... not at all.”

Steve licked the froth from his upper lip and chuckled. “Good.”

A shadow fell over their table from behind them. Chris looked up. A vaguely familiar man of sixtyish was standing there looking down. He was bald on top with ring of grey hair and reading spectacles hanging from a cord round his neck.

“Ah. Here he is ! Chris, Fred.” Steve said. “Fred, Chris.”

Chris blushed, remembering. Fred had attended his sham wedding to Sam. He knew Fred was one of Laura’s regulars.

“Chris is Laura’s husband.”

“I know. Last time we met he was marrying Sam. Now he’s back with his first wife. Can’t make his mind up, can he ? Hey man, we didn’t get the chance to chat last time we met.”

Fred eased himself into a chair. He had a jowly double chin and a pot-belly. “You’re a lucky guy Chris. Fuck, I love your missus’s blowjobs.”

Chris swallowed. He didn’t really know how to reply. Fred had said it so pleasantly and nonchalantly, like he was complimenting a guy on his car, or golf swing, not his wife. He glanced over at Steve.

“Chris, say thank you to Fred.”

“Er ... thanks.”

“A pleasure. You should be proud, the way she gulps it all down. You’re a generous man, Chris, to share her with old blokes like me.”

Steve leered at Chris. “Fred’s a generous man too. He tips Sam well.”

Fred waved his hand in a dismissive gesture that said think-nothing-of-it.

“I love her titties too. At my age you forget how nice and firm young jugs can be. Nipples like coat pegs. And that tongue, wow. Shit, my asshole was never so clean until I met your missus.”

Chris couldn’t help peeking round to check nobody else was listening.

“Mind you,” Fred continued unabashed, holding his thumb and index finger up together to form a suggestive oval shape, “it’s your little lady’s own shitter that I like most. Tight as a gnat’s chuff.”

Chris watched him squeeze his thumb and finger against each other to turn the oval into a narrow crack.

Fred shrugged ruefully. “Naturally, my own dear wife never used to take it back there. I guess classy ladies are like that. So, thanks heavens for anal sluts like Laura. Tell me, do you love fucking your wife’s asshole too ?”

“Well ?” Steve frowned. “Answer him.”

“Er ... I haven’t ever ... you know... done that.”

Fred grinned. “Never ? You’re kidding. You don’t know what you’re missing, mate.”

“And he never will.” Steve interrupted. “And oral is a thing of the past too. But he does still get to kiss his good lady occasionally. And they do hold hands.”

Both men laughed.

“Fetch Fred a gin and tonic.” Steve said, pushing a five pound note across to Chris.

When Chris returned, Steve and Fred had been joined by the jovial redheaded landlord who had helped himself to Chris’s seat.

“It’s okay.” Steve said. “Just stand there.”

“Slut, two, fuck.” Fred was spelling out. “Google her. I swear it.”

They all looked up at Chris.

“Jock, this is Chris,” Steve pointed at him, “and he needs a casual job.”

“Yeah. He’s got to pay his wedding bills.” Fred added.

“No problem.” The landlord replied, looking Chris up and down. “We need a washer-upper in the restaurant kitchen. Weekends mostly. Okay ?”

“Saturdays and Sundays ? No problem. Hours ?” Steve asked, without even bothering to look up at Chris.

The landlord shrugged. “As long as he can manage. Twelve ? Midday to midnight ideally. And occasional weekday evenings if he can make them ?”

“Perfect.” Steve finished his pint. “And pay ?”

“Only minimum hourly wage, I’m afraid. And washer-uppers don’t share in the front of house tips. But he can have as much free moisturising lotion for his sore hands when he’s finished as he needs.”

Steve grinned up at Chris. “That all sounds fine. When can he start ?”

The landlord shook hands with Steve. “How about right now ?”

Chris shut his eyes. He realised this had all been a set up from the start.

Steve patted Chris in the front of his jeans. The hard steel of his chastity tube made a muffled clunk. The landlord clambered out of his seat.

“And if you weren’t a happily married man, Jock, I’d throw in a freebie voucher to fuck this guy’s missus.” Steve said.

“I can heartily recommend her.” Fred added.

“Don’t tempt me, lads.” Jock replied, smirking at Chris.

“You two want to stay for a bite of supper ? On the house.”

Steve stared directly at Chris, right in the eyes, clearly drinking in his discomfort and humiliation.

“Yeah. That’s a nice idea.”

“Oh, by the way.” Jock asked. “We pay cash. What shall I do with his wages ?”

Steve patted his chest. “Give them to me. I’ll look after them”.

*** *** ***

The movie studio was an hour’s cab ride outside Miami.

Sam was glad she had already met the producer and director at the hotel the evening before. She felt more secure having chatted with the two men in a public place. She had left Laura’s fee in an envelope back in her hotel room safe. The adult movie business wasn’t necessarily going to be any more profitable than Slut-2-Fuck’s main line of work, but it would add a whole new source of entertainment.

“So this is Laura ?” Hank said. He was from central casting; a greasy haired, tubby mid-forties guy, yet who still fancied himself as good looking.

“Er ... y ... yes.” Laura stuttered.

“Get on your knees and offer your director a blowjob.” Sam snapped.

Hank smirked at Sam, clearly surprised and delighted.

“You gotta be kidding right ?”

Laura’s green eyes blinked slowly in resignation. She glanced at Sam and then knelt down on her knees, reaching out her fingers towards Hank’s jeans.

Sam smiled reassuringly at him. “Not at all. You must have been offered your fair share by other wannabe actresses ?”

Hank licked his rubbery lips. “Yeah, sometimes. But usually only to get a part, or before the fee’s agreed. This is a freebie right ?”

“Of course. Think of it as a little extra to lubricate the deal.”

They both looked down at Laura who was kneeling, waiting.

“Please ... Sir. Would you like a blowjob ?” she asked.

Hank looked at his watch.

“Heck, yeah. Why not ? We got time.”

Sam watched Slut-2-Fuck unbuckle the director’s jeans and release his cock. It didn’t look appetising but the slut lowered her head onto it anyway.

“Oh boy. Mmm. I’ve already got twelve dudes lined up for this bitch.”

“So what’s one more then ?”

Sam watched Hank run both his hands through Laura’s hair to part it like a curtain. Her red lips were sliding up and down his veined shaft.

“Yeah, right.” He replied. “But pretty beginners like this usually only want to do it with handsome studs. I got her a bunch of twenty-somethings lined up.”

Sam had already seen casting photos of the guys, mostly hunky and tanned.

“I know. They’re fine for the actual movie.” She studied Laura’s head bobbing up and down under the guy’s paunch. “But there’s no reason the backstage fellows shouldn’t get a bit of action too.”

“Too right.” He exclaimed. “Let me sit down here a sec.”

There was a pause while he slumped into his battered leather chair and Laura scooted over on her knees. During the wait, Sam caught Laura’s eye and nodded approvingly.

“It’s really true this lady is married ?” he asked.

“Absolutely. Just married.”

He nodded. “Fallen on hard times, huh ? Needs the money ?”

Sam lingered. “Kind of.”

“Husband know ?”

“Oh sure. We wouldn’t do anything behind his back.”

He hissed. It was evident that he wasn’t too far from shooting his load.

The movie Laura was starring in was for a series called ‘Open Air Shame’. The location was a motel swimming pool near the beach. There were seventy porno extras that played the role of ‘the public’, basically hotel guests lying on cheap plastic sun beds, set up in long rows either side of the rectangular swimming pool. A few actors would be dressed as waiters and waitresses and hotel staff.

Males were in the majority but there were plenty of females too amongst the cast, mostly porn actresses themselves being paid a few bucks for an easy day’s rest. Dotted amongst the guests and staff on the set were the dozen studs who had got today’s key roles. They were a buffed up, cross section of black, white, Hispanic and Asian guys, all experienced porn actors, all proven STD-free.

Sam managed to keep a straight face as Hank gratefully humped Laura’s mouth and clotted her cheeks and gums with his greasy, middle aged seed.

*** *** ***

The message was lying in his inbox one morning.

It was to Steve’s account on Informed Consent. He had advertised in the personals on his and Sam’s behalf for a second live-in submissive couple, ideally married and aged 25-35, who wanted to join their household to serve alongside Laura and Chris.

Several timewasters had already replied and made enquiries, and he’d even met up with one ‘sub female’ who turned out to be a post-op transsexual, but there was something about this couple he knew was different. They smelt real.

He decided not to tell Sam yet. She was over in Florida and would undoubtedly still be asleep, five hours behind. It would make a nice surprise for her return if he could in the meantime make sure this couple were genuine and move things along.

Their photos looked good. They weren’t married, but they lived together. Both had previously been married to other people and divorced. Neither had kids. Tracy was 33 and looked a bit plump round the edges, but Sam’s diet and exercise regime would soon change that. Facially she was pretty with shoulder length strawberry blonde hair and big turquoise eyes.

Mike was a bit older, 42, and pretty average looking. But there was something about his neat haircut, regular features and white office shirt that suggested money. He looked educated and middle class, and probably had a decent job. Sam would approve of that !

Steve didn’t believe in wasting time writing loads of emails. He sent Mike and Tracy the number of the pre-pay phone he used solely for this purpose.

*** *** ***

Sam had never been on a film set before. Certainly nothing like this one !

There were several cameras and microphones and a small band of technicians to operate them; cables, wires, boxes, paraphernalia everywhere. One camera was mounted on a trolley and two were handheld. One microphone was held at the end of a long pole, so that it could be dangled just above the action. In spite of the clear blue sky above, there were spot lights on tripods to counteract shadows.

The plot line was simple. Laura walked out of the motel towards the pool, past numerous gleaming guests on sun beds. They are covered in suntan lotion, reading books or mags, drinking pina coladas, soaking up the rays. Several men, and women, check Laura out as she struts provocatively past them.

She is shown to an empty lounger by a fresh faced Hispanic pool boy. He puts up her sunshade umbrella while she lays down her beach bag and removes her cotton dress. Her tits and ass are barely covered by her tiny red swimsuit.

It is obvious that Laura’s character is meant to be on the stuck-up side. She summons a black waiter and rudely orders a cappuccino and blueberry muffin from the menu. Her abrupt treatment of him is noticed by the people on the neighbouring sun loungers. She delves into her bag and pulls out a pocket mirror and makeup. She applies a fresh layer of bright red waterproof lipstick to her lips, pouting and preening and admiring herself in the mirror.

Then she walks down the steps into the swimming pool. While she sexily swims a few lengths of breaststroke, the sunbathing guests watch her furtively, eyes over the top edge of their magazines. The action cuts to the kitchen where the black waiter is preparing Laura’s frothy coffee and muffin. We realise that he is jerking off his huge dick and he directs his jets of creamy spunk into her cup, to mingle with the coffee and hot milk. Smiling, he stirs it with his finger and spits a long thread of drool from his mouth onto the top of her blueberry muffin.

The scene changes back to the pool. In the background Laura is swimming and in the foreground we see an unknown arm reach into her beach bag to extract her purse. It is evident that all her money is being stolen. The waiter arrives to lay her cappuccino and muffin on a low table by her lounger, just as she climbs out of the pool and sashays her hips back to her spot.

We watch her sip her coffee and taste her muffin, unaware that she is swallowing the waiter’s liquid additions. Then he returns for payment. She reaches into her bag for her purse. We see her panic as it is no longer there.

Soon Security arrives. Four hotel staff in blue uniforms. As Laura struggles, she loses her bikini top and then tries to make a run for it. Fortunately a couple of guests grab her and she is dragged back to her sun lounger. It is clear she is a thief who intended to eat and drink without paying and she is found guilty by the hotel manager. He starts dialling the police and she pleads for mercy. He offers her an alternative to prison. She accepts summary mob justice instead.

The seventy guests form an excited, jeering backdrop as Laura is stripped, spanked, slapped and fucked. Several men use her cunt and she is spit-roasted by others in her mouth at the same time. Then a man sodomises her and she is triple-teamed by a man underneath her in her asshole, another atop in her cunt, a third in her mouth. All the while, the blue sun beats down on her ‘open air shame’. A small group explore her beach bag and reveal a vibrator along with her mirror, makeup and now empty purse.

Somebody finds some rope and her ankles and wrists are tied to the lounger. While many of the guests drift away swim and play ball in the water, and others relax, drink cocktails and eat lunch, Laura is spread-eagled in the hot sun. A platinum blonde woman undoes her own bikini and sits on Laura’s face while a black domme kneels between her legs and rams the vibrator in and out.

“This is great.” Hank said, sidling up behind Sam. “She’s a natural. She ever do any acting ?”

Sam gave him a shit-eating grin. “I think she played Mary in her school nativity play two decades ago. That’s all. But this isn’t really acting for her anyway.”

They both studied the huge-boobed platinum porn star riding Laura’s face. Another lady has joined the fun. This one is a Chinese actress with pink-streaked hair and she uses Laura’s own lipstick from her purse to write ‘slut’, ‘whore’, ‘fucktoy’ and other names in bright red over her body.

The camera crew were gathered close round the action. There were still plenty of extras hanging about too, just in shot, enjoying Laura’s humiliation. One cameraman is lying on his back next to Laura, to film from below, the sea of laughing faces gathered round her.

Hank patted Sam on the shoulder in a conspiratorial manner. “Yep.” He whispered into Sam’s ear.

“You and I could make ourselves a shitload of money outta this one.”

*** *** ***

“Grind down on her face !”

Hearing those words made Laura’s mind flash back to the day - what seemed like a century ago now - when Sam had first introduced her and Chris to face-sitting.

She concentrated on breathing and what was happening to her. She was only vaguely aware of the audience and the cameras around her. Her senses were centred on her mouth, and breasts and pussy; she felt the woman scrawling on her with lipstick and the black lady skilfully keeping her on the absolute edge of cumming. Her bottom, thighs and pussy were sticky and soaked with everybody else’s cum.

The platinum blonde from Vegas had a round muscular ass and she evidently didn’t need any encouragement to spread it wide and grind her sweaty, suntan-oiled anus onto Laura’s squished nose and lips.

This was the most intense experience of Laura’s life. Her entire 28 years seemed to have been leading her to this moment. Everything from her childhood, her schooldays, her marriage when she was too young, her prim life with Chris, then the other men, her training, submission, and Sam.

Yes, above all, Sam. And what would the next 28 years bring ?

She grimaced as the vibrator inside her plopped out and she vaguely heard a cheer. It was muted by the thighs smeared around her ears. She managed to catch a glimpse through flesh of a tall naked black man crouching onto the sun lounger, about to start fucking her. She had lost count of just today’s number.

Laura knew that Sam would destroy her. Eventually. Sometime over the next 28 years. That was the idea. Sam would leave her and Chris totally wiped out; physically, emotionally, sexually, financially. That was the deal.

That was the Faustian pact she had made with the Devil.

In return, for this.

She gasped in silent ecstasy as the huge unknown cock ploughed into her and she knew for certain that she was about to reach a mind-numbing orgasm.

*** *** ***

Q30 What is included in Slut-2-Fuck’s rates ?

A30. In short, everything. There are no hidden extras. You agree everything up front with her Mistress in the knowledge that Slut-2-Fuck will provide whatever has been agreed. It is important that Slut-2-Fuck is not consulted and has no prior knowledge of either the start time, or the client, or the duration or content of any session (she merely needs to know about any costume or preparations a few minutes beforehand).

She is thus required to live her life in a constant state of uncertainty and preparedness to serve, knowing that at literally any moment of any day a customer (or group) may arrive. Please note that 15 Minute bookings can only include a bit of rimming, a hand or blowjob, or a quick fuck, and they must finish on time. It is quite normal for Slut-2-Fuck’s whole morning to be scheduled back to back with ‘Quickie’ bookings.

However, 30 Minute bookings can include anal sex. More leisurely and advanced activities such as massage, toe sucking, extended rimming, mild spanking and canings, verbal assaults, speculum and medical play, enemas, nettles, hot wax, hot peppers and chillies, ice, toilet play, group sex and gangbangs require longer bookings (one hour or more). However, be assured that whatever is agreed up front will be included in the booking rate.

*** *** ***

Three days later, Steve was waiting at airport arrivals. He hugged Sam and they walked ahead of Laura who was pushing the trolley with all the baggage.

“So it went well ?” he said to Sam. They had hardly spoken on the phone or texted for several days. Everybody had been so busy.

“Fantastic. They liked her so much that our slut starred in a couple of extra movies. ‘Golden Bukkake’ and ‘Whore and Piss’.” Sam shrugged. “The titles say it all.”

“Nah.” Steve replied. “You’re taking the piss !”

Chris was waiting for them in the short term car park. He was dressed as a chauffeur in a suit and peaked cap. He saluted Sam and Steve. Then he helped stack the suitcases in the trunk.

“Your missus is going to be a big star.” Sam told Chris.

Steve winked lewdly at Laura. She looked tired after the overnight flight; red eyes, dark rings under them, hair dishevelled. But it was hopefully nothing that a shower and a short sleep wouldn’t fix. He had scheduled her a busy afternoon.

He had accepted three one-hour booking requests for her from 2 until 5 p.m.

“And how were things at home ?” Sam asked, when they were all in the car and driving out of the airport car park.

“Good.” Steve replied. “A couple of bits of good news.”

He recounted the story about Chris first. How he and Fred had got him an extra job as a washer-upper at Jock’s place. How, even on the minimum wage, it would be worth good money if Chris put in two 12 hour shifts each weekend.

“And what’s this second bit of news ?” she asked him.

Steve was saving the best until last. He had already had several phone conversations with Mike and Tracy, the couple who had answered his Informed Consent advert. And last night he’d met up with the two of them for a drink in a pub. They were the real thing. They had even printed out and given him some story from the internet to read about a submissive married couple. It was how they said they wanted to live out their lives from now on.

Another pair for Sam to work her magic on ! An encore to Slut-2-Fuck !

“Go on.” She repeated, nudging him in the ribs. “What is it ?”

“Ah.” Steve teased, wondering how to drag out the moment a bit longer. He looked into Sam’s eyes and kissed her gently on the lips.

“Well now, that’s a whole new story.”

THE END

Author’s Note

For those who think ‘Slut-2-Fuck’ is farfetched, the initial inspiration for the story came to me when I saw the profile of a real person. Her name is Amber, or Fucktoy, and she is a lifestyle submissive whose Master generously offers her services to those in need. With a bit of effort, I’m sure you can find her site.

The inspiration for my character Samantha is another equally real person, a young Englishwoman I met via Fetlife. She is lifestyle, not for hire, and although I would have liked to, she did not want me to use her actual nickname in this story. She is actually a much nicer person than Sam, but she shares many of my fictional character’s personality traits and sexual tastes.

Regardless of the above, please note that all my characters, their motives and actions, are entirely fictional. Their financial arrangements are pure fantasy. ‘Slut-2-Fuck’ is an original work of adult fiction by Velvetglove and neither events nor characters portrayed are based in reality. Any resemblance with actual persons is entirely coincidental.