During my wife's introduction to being a stripper Bill had mentioned in passing an upcoming business trip to Washington DC and his desire to take my wife with him. A few days later I learned some details, but he made clear he'd take her only if I had no alternative plans, which I hadn't. He had business to conduct Friday afternoon but he'd stay until Sunday to have time to devote exclusively to her. Most husbands, even those with shared slut wives, might be apprehensive about such a scheme. But Bill and I had achieved a smoothly functioning relationship. He made clear that I set the priorities as to when and how she could be used and I, on the other hand, imposed as few restraints as possible. Nor had he sought to undermine the authority I was developing as a Dom. In fact, he seemed as interested in assisting me in that respect as he was in using her for his own pleasure.

I'd also developed full confidence in him for respecting our need to be discrete and protective of her safety. Thus, though the trip opened up the possibility that others would fuck her, I knew that if he whored her he'd do so safely. I'd be one horney guy while they were away, imagining how she was being used, but I agreed to let her go and told her of the plan a few days later. Her reaction was simply "what will you do while I'm gone?"

Its reasonable to ask at this point whether Betty had grown cold or hard in some way, given her experiences of the past month or so. In fact, our relationship and her overall personality hadn't changed at all. In the privacy of our own relationship she was still the same woman I'd dated and married. Both she and I kept sex separate from everything else, and she seemed to act as if there was a switch that moved her between being an everyday housewife and a wholly submissive slut. Nor had any apparent emotional attachment developed between her and Bill. For him she was a sub who needed training and ever broadening experiences; for her he was the mentor helping me become a Dom who held no inhibitions about new sexual experiences.

The issue of her traveling with Bill lay dormant until 2 days before their departure, whereupon I told her she was being taken not as a companion, but as a sub slut who would be used in ways she hadn't been used before. My wife understood and accepted this. And when the three of us discussed the trip Bill admitted that he had no specific agenda. He'd play it by ear as to how she'd be used, displayed, and so on. His only suggestion was that I be near the phone Friday and Saturday nights if I wanted to listen in to anything, but he'd call ahead to give more specific times. He asked if I could drive them to the airport and pick them up when they returned, which wasn't a problem. He also wanted to make sure Betty brought the appropriate wardrobe. "You'll wear your heels, jumpsuit and collar on the plane. Pack your sheer gown, the cowl neck dress and the skirt and top you bought last month. Do not bring a bra or any other dresses, skirts or tops. Pack your other pair of fuck me heels, but no other shoes." Thus, my wife's most conservative option for the trip would be a jumpsuit that was skin tight from the waist down and that barely covered her tits.

On the day of their departure Betty appeared with her small carry-on suitcase dressed as instructed. And despite my opinion that the jumpsuit wasn't nearly as salacious as what she'd worn before when on display, her appearance hardly matched that of the innocent housewife. She looked like a woman who made no apologies about looking provocatively erotic. That appearance, though, was fortunately muted when she put on her crouched coat . something I deemed essential in the off chance we met someone at the airport who knew us.

When Bill came over and moments before we got into my car for the airport, he asked "did you bring your remote vibe?" My wife raced upstairs to retrieve, whereupon Bill's only comment, offered with a wry smile, was "I won't make you insert it 'til we go through security."

Airport check in proceeded rapidly and it was almost too easy to give my wife a goodby kiss before wishing her a seemingly innocuous 'enjoyable weekend'.

At this point in my story its best to recount events as they were related to me upon their return along with my recollections of our several 'phone conversations' while they were gone. To begin, once through security, Bill had my wife go to the restroom and insert the egg in her cunt. and once on the plane, she had to take off her coat and store it in the overhead, which gave anyone walking past or standing above her an nearly unobstructed view of her tits. Bill made certain, in fact, that she took the aisle seat for precisely that purpose.

Bill did nothing with the remote until they taxied onto the runway. Its effect was no different than before an increasingly wet cunt, heavier breathing, and a closing of the eyes as my wife enjoyed the sensations without cumming, or at least without cumming in any outwardly obvious way. Bill admitted that he sought merely to toy with her through most of the flight, with no attempt at making her cum. There was a good reason why he kept her perched on the edge without letting her fall over it: He didn't want repercussions should a stewardess take offense at their actions.

There was, though, one additional somewhat sinister reason Bill wanted her merely to be horny, frustrated even, on the plane. He knew they'd arrive in the early evening in time to catch a good deal of the traffic from airport into the city, thus making it nearly an hour cab ride to their hotel. Thus, with my wife's cunt still wet and doubtlessly craving a good hard fucking, once on the highway he again turned on the vibe. Instructing her to simply sit there, it wasn't long before he'd pushed the fabric of jumpsuit aside to give the driver a rearview mirror display of her heaving bare tits. My wife, apparently resigned to her fate and desperately in need of a good hard cum, simply leaned back and let Bill do as he wished, which consisted of little more than leaving the vibe buzzing in her cunt while reaching around with one arm so he could openly fondle and pinch those lovely globes.

When Bill recounted all of this to me I was especially interested in knowing when and how the little slut came, and so in response to my often asked question 'did she cum?' I got from him a definitive 'oh yes!' She didn't necessarily cum quickly or easily, this being her first experience with being exhibited in a car in the presence of a stranger. But with Bill's hand pressed between her legs and the other playing with a wholly exposed tit, they were apparently only a third of the way to their destination when she abandoned all restraint and let out one of her unmistakable cries of pleasure.

Bill, for his part, wanted to make sure the driver knew precisely what was happening in his backseat and in a voice intended for him to hear, urged her on with "cum my little slut . cum."

The driver apparently never said a word, either out of embarrassment or uncertainty as to what was appropriate. But the thought crossed Bill's mind that the driver best keep his eyes on the road as opposed to the rearview mirror lest they have an accident. At that point, however, Bill was less interested in having my wife cum as much as he was in compelling her to sit there without objecting to having her tits on display. And so, until they approached the hotel, he satisfied himself (and the driver) with simply playing with her tits while the vibe continued to buzz in her cunt.

Bill turned off the vibe and let my wife pull herself back together once they exited the expressway, satisfied with having established the fact in her mind that she was a slut who on this trip could be exposed to anyone.

The hour was getting late once they finished their check-in and so Bill decided they'd best eat a light dinner at the hotel's rooftop lounge . not elegant cuisine to be sure, but convenient. And for that he was specific as to what she would wear . her cowl neck dress that revealed both cleavages, front and back. But Bill himself needed some release and so there was to be one added touch: He fucked her quickly before they could leave and told her keep his seed in her while they dined. So after she'd changed he had her raise the dress's hem, bend over with her hands on the bed so her ass could await his cock. As Bill later admitted, after the plane and taxi rides, it didn't take him long to cum, whereupon, without her achieving orgasm, he told her to reinsert the egg in her cunt. I asked Bill why he didn't make her cum, and he had a good explanation: "A slut needs to know that sometimes she's there simply for someone else's pleasure and that and that her fulfillment need not be anyone's concern." He was also somewhat familiar with the hotel's rooftop lounge and restaurant, knew it was frequented at that hour by out of town businessmen, and he wanted my wife horney and hot in their presence.

True to his expectations, that precisely who was there when they arrived a scattering of out-of-town businessmen killing time as an alternative to watching one of those boring porno flicks one can rent in a hotel room. But there were enough to not only have my wife get a good look-over as they were led to the table, but enough also for her to know she was on display as a slut perhaps even as a working whore or hired 'companion'.

Absent any dancing, there wasn't the opportunity to display her as at the restaurant back home. So on two occasions Bill simply ordered her to the restroom. As he later recounted, "the men paid her no less attention than at our favorite dining-dancing establishment." In fact, with a thinner crowd and being the only woman there, she was in some respects even more on display. If someone missed the opportunity to admire the shamelessly displayed cleavage of her ass when she came in, they certainly were afforded that view when she walked to the lady's room. Bill even took advantage of the positioning of the hostess's podium, telling her to go there on her return to their table to ask the precise hours of the lounge, whether they served breakfast (they didn't) and if there were any nightclubs nearby with dancing (the waiter was unaware of any). His intent, of course, was to have her stand with her back to the lounge for a minute or two so everyone could enjoy a view of the pornographically plunging back of her dress.

Needless to say, when they arrived at the lounge, Bill had no idea if there would be any opportunity to whore her, but at the same time he was prepared to take advantage of any opportunity that might arise. And indeed, after her second visit to the restroom one of the men sitting alone at a table said something to her as she passed . almost a repeat of her encounter at the restaurant back home. Apparently he made a comment much like before . too the effect 'nice dress'. However, rather than simply acknowledge his comment with a 'thank you' she obeyed a command I'd given her myself in anticipation of such an event: She was to offer the more expansive reply "thank you . my husband chose it for me."

"Is that your husband over there?" he asked, motioning to Bill.

"No, he's a friend." As she later explained, she knew Bill wanted to have her fucked. Impulsively, she decided to help him achieve that end.

"Does your husband know you're here, wearing that dress?"

"Yes he does."

"So he shares you with him?" again motioning to Bill.

"Yes."

"And does he share you with anyone else?"

"He has a few times." My wife knew precisely where this conversation might lead . standing there with her half-covered tits, she was whoring herself. Bill told me, though, that when he did catch her eye, he gave her a wink to indicate all was cool. It was then that her new 'friend' picked up a card on the table that asked patrons to rate the lounge's service and, after writing on it, folded it and handed it to my wife telling her to give it to Bill.

Returning to the table, she handed him the note, which read 'If you're interested in sharing her tonight I'm staying at the hotel alone.'

Bill's reply was immediate. Taking the same card he wrote 'We're in room . Come there in 20 minutes,' and told my wife to take it back to him.

Bill and my wife exited the lounge for their room before this new friend finished paying his bill. Bill was uncertain as to whether anyone would show up, but he told my wife in the room to stay dressed "He might like to undress you himself." It was then that Bill called to tell me what was might happen and that I should call back in a half hour.

For me it was a long half hour, and no less so for my wife who knew she was being whored. I hadn't the slightest idea what was in her mind then, but in fact her surrender was more complete than I assumed despite all that had thus far happened. Her cunt literally throbbed in anticipation of being fucked by this new stranger. He was tall, good looking, well dressed and, unless looks were deceiving, she assumed he'd fuck her with a ferocity women fantasize about. So she was neither embarrassed nor disappointed when he did knock on the door. About Bill's age with a plane to catch in the morning, he wasn't about to pass on the chance to play with a delicious morsel. He did, though, stop at the hotel newsstand for condoms since he wasn't about to take any more chances than we were.

After some perfunctory introductions, with Bill explaining again that Betty was someone else's wife and was being trained as a sub, he was told I'd most likely call to listen in, but that Bill himself was, initially at least, going to sit back and watch. With that and "she's all yours now," Bill sat down to enjoy the show.

The show began with my wife's new friend telling her "lift your dress so I can see what's under there," which of course was nothing at all.

It was about then that I made my call and Bill told me to just relax and listen, whereupon I hear a strange male voice command "kneel on the bed."

The image in my head matched what was occurring. My wife, with her dress up past her ass, knelt as told while Frank (his name) knelt behind her, lowered his pants, and let the head of his already stiff cock slide along the crack of her ass. "Feel good, whore?" he asked, knowing that Bill (nor I, listening on the phone) would raise an objecting to having her called such names.

"Yes."

"Do you like having your husband listen to you being a whore?"

Her affirmative reply was followed almost immediately by a shocked, gasping "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh."

"Tell your husband what's happening to you?"

"He . he has his cock in . in my ass . " she replied, her breathing obviously growing heavier.

Her answer was soon followed by a rhythmic sequence of grunts and moans of pleasure as Frank slowly methodically fucked her. And as the minutes dragged by the only sounds I could hear were the rhythmic slapping of his balls against her ass, the squeak of the bed and her breathless 'ohhhhhhhhhhh' each time his cock slammed home.

Suddenly, there I heard her near plea "ohhhhhhh . going .going to cummmmmm" followed almost immediately by a gasping "arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" as she came.

But Frank's assault was relentless: "You're going to cum again for me, bitch . aren't you?"

"Yesssssssssssssss ."

However, rather that hearing the sounds of another cum, I heard instead the cry "Goddddddddddddd" as Frank reached around and lifted her up by her tits with his cock still in her.

Bill picked up the phone to give me a whispered description. She was, in his words, in a state of wanton ecstasy. With her dress pushed aside, Frank had her tits painfully in his grip while she pushed back with her ass against him. "The bitch is really hot now . and she's gonna have one hell of a sore asshole when Frank's done with her." He even held up the phone to her mouth so I could hear her deep staccato breathing as Frank held her there, impaled, squeezing her tits.

I was nearly there myself as I imagined what she must look like. Suddenly with Frank apparently showing no mercy in the treatment of my wife's tits harder, she cried out "owwwwwwwwwww . oh goddddddddddd . " and then the telltale cry of "arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" as she came.

"Your wife's cumming so hard I hope Frank's cock stays in her" Bill added for effect. And I'll be honest - I came myself then. I dare any husband to listen to his wife having her ass and tits ravaged and not get an uncontrollable hardon.

Frank, however, was not done and Bill had yet to start. I only learned later how she was then fucked. Bill set the phone down, at which point with Frank still in her ass, he got onto the bed to feed her his cock.

Hearing the slurping sounds coming from my wife's mouth, I could so easily visualized her on her haunches, Franks cock up her ass, Bill standing on the bed feeding her his cock. Skewered at both ends, they then proceeded to fuck her to what must have been a near continuous orgasm before her ass and mouth were fed their cum.

My wife by then was a quivering mass, but Bill, for my benefit and Frank's, wanted a demonstration of what a well trained slut she was. "Off the bed slut and stand on the towels on the floor."

I knew precisely what was coming next: Bill slipped her dress off and commanded "piss for Frank."

For the next minute or so there was complete silence until Frank said "wow, what a whore", which told me she had done precisely as ordered. Frank then made his apology: "As much as I'd love to fuck this bitch again, I need to call home and get ready for my 6:30 AM flight. But its been a pleasure . she's one hot little cunt."

With that Bill picked up the phone and asked me to give him a minute, whereupon he apparently stepped to the door for a brief indecipherable conversation with Frank. When he returned he told me they had to clean up and get to bed . it had been a long day and tomorrow he actually had to do a few things to earn a living. Enough time had passed, however, for Bill to recharge a bit and though he wasn't sure he could cum, he did say "Hang in there . her cunt has yet to be used"

Though absent any description, what few sounds I heard told me that Bill had put my wife back on the bed and mounted her. This time she didn't cum easily . he must have slammed into her for a full 3 to 4 minutes before I could hear her heating up again with a rhythmic 'ohhhhhhhh' that grew louder and breathless until her final "ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh."

"She's done for the night . I'll call you tomorrow," he said, somewhat breathless himself from his exertions. And with that he hung up.

I knew my wife, after the fucking she'd experienced, would sleep late. And since Bill's meeting had been switched to morning with a business lunch, he let her sleep leaving a note that told her to use the hotel restaurant for lunch and that he'd be back around 2. My wife's 'problem' at that point was that she only had slut dresses to wear and 6 inch heels. Not wanting to get involved in anything without Bill's presence or permission, her jumpsuit and crochet coat were the only things she dared wear.

Bill returned around 2 as promised and told her that he was taking her shopping there was a dress store in Georgetown he wanted to visit. Nothing unusual in that except for what he told her to wear . her skirt, tie top, heels and nothing else! Losing her place as a sub, she replied "but I'll look like a whore."

"You are a whore" was his dry reply.

Bill knew what he was doing. My wife to that point had been displayed only at night. The exception of the dress shop back home didn't count since the only person who saw her was the store's manager. Now he was going to display her in the cold light of day with a skirt that barely covered her ass and a top that, though it covered her tits, unashamedly displayed their full firm shape. My wife stands 5' 5" with fantastic legs. Put those legs in 6 inch heels and, in combination with a skirt that doesn't exceed 14" in length, and . well . you get the idea. As Bill later described things, to say that she got the look-over on the street was an understatement. More than one man stopped after they passed, turned and simply looked. As for my wife, if she felt like a whore at the dress store back home or with Frank the night before, she felt no different then dressed as she was. Their visit to the dress store, however, was itself largely uneventful since the store was busy and crowded . uneventful except for what Bill bought her. To be honest, I'm glad he did it rather than me since its cost exceeded that of the slut attire I had bought her a steel-boned leather corset that half covered her tits, did not cover her cunt and drew her waist in a full 5 or 6 inches. Bill, in fact, made certain the corset was smaller than recommended if a corset is to give a slut a true hourglass shape, then it should do so fully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And what's happening now, whore?"

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

"Tell him, whore . tell him!"

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

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

"Yessssssssssssssssssss ."

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

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

"Does he have a nice big cock?"

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

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

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

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

"Argggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh"

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

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

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

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

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

"Then let's do it!"

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

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

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

"Whore, tell your husband what just happened!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"When room service knocks, answer the door."

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

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

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

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

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

"Umm . not sure I should."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Strip whore and put on your corset."

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

"On the bed on your hands and knees, slut . facing the mirror." The minute or so of silence was interrupted only by the sound of rustling bed sheets, interrupted finally by my wife's sudden cry of ravaged penetration: "Tell your husband what's happening, whore . and look in the mirror."

"Bill's cock is in my . oh godddddd."

"Where is my cock, whore."

"In . in my assssssssssss."

Bill clearly had formed a fascination with my wife's ass and was fucking her again in a way to make her feel like a literal bitch in heat, tightening the laces of the corset as he did. And her grunts and groans told me her ass was getting a good reaming as that the unrelenting grip of corset added to her sense of surrender and pleasure. "Tell your husband how many men you've fucked for me, whore . how many men shoved their swollen cocks into you."

"Three . I fucked three."

"And did you cum for them?"

"Yes . yes I did."

The corset now evidently fully tight once again, Bill had apparently pulled her up onto her knees with his cock still in her: "Look in the mirror and tell me what you see."

"I see . I see a whore . a whore with a cock in her ass . I see my tits . ohhhhhhhhh."

"Play with those tits, bitch . pinch them, pull at them!"

Even though the phone wasn't near her mouth I could detect her labored breathing in the occasional moans of 'yessssssssss' and 'ohhhhhhhhh'. And then a nearly pleading 'owwwwwwwwwwww' as Bill reached around to pinch and pull her nipples.

"Play with your cunt now, slut . look in the mirror and play with your cunt!"

My wife was now beyond making any specific sounds until a sharp intake of breath announced her first orgasm. "Did you cum, whore . did you cum looking at the slut in the mirror . tell your husband if you came with my cock in your ass."

"I came . I . I came," she breathlessly answered, followed immediately by another pleading "owwwwwwwwwwwww" as Bill pinched her tits harder.

Bill's fucking in this way must have lasted for 15 or 20 minutes, in which my wife must have cum 4 or 5 times. "Need to piss slut?"

"Yesssssssssssss."

"Then put the pillow under your cunt and piss into it."

"Oh god . ohhhh . ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" my wife finally moaned as the piss flowed out of her.

Bill next words, "Time now whore to fill your ass with my seed," were followed again by the grunts and moans of a women getting fucked until she and Bill apparently came together.

A few minutes of silence then ensued until Bill spoke again: "Tell your husband, whore, what I'm doing to you now."

"Bill's tying my hands behind my back."

"That's right . and you're going to sleep like that tonight . sleep with your hands tied using the pillow you've just pissed into."

"Oh god . please, no." Suddenly a sharp crack of Bill's belt and a scream "arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh."

"Don't contradict me, whore . you will do as I say!"

I could hear her whimpering, crying even . not so much out of pain as out of sheer humiliation. But I knew she would do as she was told regardless of how sleepless her night might be.

This may all sound cruel. But a slut needs to learn her place and learn as well that she must do as told, regardless of how dirty, degrading and onerous that might be. If she was commanded to sleep as a slave with her head in her own piss, then so be it. It might not have been anything I would have required of her, but Bill was fashioning her complete surrender. I think at the same time he was ensuring that there were no romantic overtones to their weekend . she was a slut and nothing more.

The next morning he allowed her to shower and change into her jumpsuit as they prepared to head to the airport. But not before he filled her cunt with the seed she and her thong had to hold throughout their flight. This, in effect, ended her weekend as Bill's whore and slut since, with her unable to sleep soundly at night, she slept most of the flight.