Although sharing my wife with Bill on a regular basis fulfilled my (and her) need to have her treated as a slut, seeking out other adventures became, at times, difficult and time consuming. Sally at the strip club . her lesbian Domme lover . moved across country to go to college, and neither Bill nor I could count on going out of town for business on any consistent basis. And there's only so many times I could take her to the slut dress shop to have her whore herself for a free dress . after all, how many dresses could she wear? But once my wife's willingness to be a whore became apparent, a new fantasy germinated in my head . arranging somehow for her to be one on a more consistent basis. And not just some common street whore fucked by god-knows-who, but something classier and more in the mold of a call girl.

I knew what I wanted, but was unsure how to set it up. My ideal was to arrange for her to be an on-call whore for a hotel. But I had to solve the problem of contacting hotel managers without knowing anyone. And I had to be concerned about being discrete. I surely couldn't have my wife taken out to dinner by some client dressed as a slut and have someone we knew see her . especially someone at the university where I taught. At the same time, the desire to whore my wife in a consistent way had reached the point where I was willing to take some chances. I knew I was entertaining a dangerous idea, but I had become apparently like a moth drawn to the proverbial flame. Like my wife, once I started down the road of making her a slut, I only wanted more, only wanted to cross the next line.

I honestly don't know if others who share their wives experience the same desire, especially if they have a wife like mine who seems to set no limits. How many husbands with slut wives push ahead like the drug addict who needs a higher dose to achieve the next high. But that seemed to characterize me, and achieving that next high required that my wife be a whore regardless of risks.

I talked things over with Bill beforehand, and not having any issues of discreteness to concern him, he was all for it (with all due concern for her safety). We decided that it would be best to connect her somehow to one or two large motels in the suburbs near an extensive business complex about 20-25 miles from where we lived. Neither Bill nor I knew anyone there and most likely the majority of people staying at such places would be out of town businessmen. That seemed to solve part of my problem with respect to maintaining my wife's anonymity. The other part we'd have to confront if the men she serviced wanted to take her into the city to some restaurant or club likely to be frequented by people we knew. That's where I couldn't resist taking a chance.

There remained the 'small' matter of hiring her out as an on-call whore. I wasn't even sure any of the motels used such services, but the most promising we thought would be a 12 story branch of an international chain, equivalent to a hotel. None had a nightclub, but several had sports bars that drew crowds on the weekends from local residents and guests. The bar we decided would be the route to follow in making whatever contacts we needed. We'd take my wife there, on a consistent basis if need be, dressed if not slutty then provocatively in the hopes that she'd either be noticed and contacted directly by hotel management or where we might get to know a bartender who'd provide the requisite contacts. In fact, we decided that, in the event any of those bars was frequented by someone we might know, we'd begin by merely having her dress sexy, and with each visit (each weekend), increase the sluttiness of her attire. If early on we met anyone we knew, it would seem that my wife was merely being provocative and sexy for her husband.

This was admittedly a longer-term plan than we usually engaged in when setting my wife up for some sexual adventure. But I'd spent nearly three years talking her into being a slut shared wife, so a few months of work making her a call girl didn't seem excessive. And besides, she still had to service Bill and I in all the ways a BDSM slut was required to service her dual Masters (and that included Bill giving me a demonstration of my wife riding the board as a pain slut in his basement).

The reader might wonder about my wife's attitude about all of this. First, it hardly surprised her . she suspected long before we developed specific plans that such a thing would come to pass. And she readily admitted that being a true whore had long been a fantasy: "You might be surprised about this," she told me once, "but a lot more women than you suspect . otherwise happily married housewives . entertain the fantasy of being whores. Not street-walking or full time whores, but occasional call-girls who get to dress elegantly or super-sexy, entertain some businessman or group of businessmen, and then spend the night getting fucked . with or without their husband's approval. I'd bet that every one of my girlfriends entertains that fantasy."

Of course, like most fantasies, these ideas are rarely very detailed or concerned with practical matters. But as plans began to unfold, she too expressed concerns about the need to conceal her identity from any of the men she'd service. But she also knew that regardless of what reservations she might have, once Bill and I decided to whore her, she'd comply. So her attitude was simply to set her mind to enjoy being so utterly wanton, taking pleasure from living out the fantasy of being a TV soap opera style whore housewife.

Our first two visits to the hotel bar on Friday nights were largely uneventful, although on the second we made certain we got there early enough for the three of us to sit at the bar with my wife wearing a button up blouse that she incrementally unbuttoned as the evening progressed, affording the bartender and a few patrons an increasingly more provocative view . By the second visit it was evident the bar had 'regulars' . locals . plus a scattering of men spending the night at the hotel. Our interest, however, wasn't in whoring her directly to anyone, but in simply becoming one of the regulars ourselves, with it evident to someone at the hotel that my wife available for 'other duties'.

On the third visit . and Bill was unable to come with us that night . Betty wore one of her shorter skirts that fit so tight there was no mistaking the cleavage of her ass. No sheer blouse or slut dress yet, but her appearance was augmented with a pair of fuck me heels and earrings that hung the full length of her neck. It was thus evident that she was a woman who loved to be viewed as anything but prim and proper. By then, moreover, I'd developed an easy relationship with the bartender, who was increasingly comfortable commenting on her appearance. Indeed, with her in the restroom, he blurted out "sexy lady and nice tits" as if he were testing to see whether I'd get upset at such an explicit comment about my wife.

"Yes, I do like her to display herself."

"I noticed that and I how you and your friend . he's not here tonight, is he? . had her unbutton her blouse the past two Fridays. She seems to do as she's told."

"Yes she does . " I replied, still seeing myself where the conversation was headed.

Then, after granting his request to ask a blunt question and acknowledging that she was in fact my wife, he asked "Are you and your friend both fucking her?"

"Yes we are."

"Nice . a shared housewife, huh? Does anyone else fuck her?"

Taking this as my opportunity to reveal more than perhaps he bargained for, I told him bluntly "When the opportunity arises she fucks whoever I tell her to fuck."

Emboldened by my answer, he pressed on: "So she's a slut housewife?"

"A sub slut housewife . she is strictly sub for anyone who uses her" I answered, emphasizing the word 'sub'.

He then asked the question I wanted him to ask: "Has she been whored . fucked for money?"

"Nothing yet professionally," I answered, now emphasizing the word 'yet'.

"So you have no objection to having her be a whore?"

"None at all" I said simply, letting the consequences of that reply sink in.

"Are you bringing her here to pimp her?"

Time, I decided to reveal my intentions: "I'm bringing her here in the hopes of making contact with someone at the hotel in the event it has a need for an on-call whore, where she can be hired out one or two nights a week."

"Not sure the hotel can get involved with such a thing. By the way, I didn't think you were pimping her since I would have noticed if she had left with anyone for their room. She's a sexy looking slut and I've kept an eye on her . its hard to keep your eyes off a woman who likes showing her tits. Would you let me fuck her if I can arrange something here at the hotel?"

I didn't think my wife would be attracted to an aging bartender with a bulging stomach, but if she were a whore, that's the type she'd have to service from time to time: "Yes, you could fuck her."

I sensed that he had many more questions, but my wife then returned, so I decided to demonstrate her ready acceptance of being a whore. With the bartender again staring at her tits, I said "Our friend here is going to see if he can arrange for you to be an on-call whore here."

Without a hint of embarrassment or surprise she replied simply "that's what I assumed you were discussing in my absence."

"Unbutton your blouse more so our friend here can see your tits fully."

Taking a quick look at nipples fully on display to him, he quickly excused himself when being called to the other end of the bar, but not before saying "hold on a sec . I'll be right back."

Turning to my wife, I asked (already knowing the answer): "Is your cunt wet?" "Yes it is."

"Why?" I asked if only to explicitly state the reason.

"Because I know that I'll most likely be a whore here and because one way or the other I'm going to eventually fuck the bartender."

"That's right . even if he can't arrange what I want, if he makes the effort I'm going to let him fuck you. But I'm not going to tell him that now."

With that the bartender returned: "How do I contact you in case I can arrange something?"

"We'll be here next Friday. If you can arrange something I'll give you a telephone number then." And with that we left, since I then had a raging hard-on that needed release brought on by the prospect, now real, of making my wife a call girl.

The next day Bill readily approved of the course of events, although he expressed some concern that my wife's duties as a whore would cut into his opportunities to fuck and use her. I assured Bill that he'd still have as much access to her as I, and as if to confirm that fact I gave her to him for the night, telling him simply to return her Sunday morning.

The following Friday was another 'bad' one for Bill in that he was unable to go with us to the hotel. I didn't mind since I preferred being the go-between for my wife and our new friend at the bar. It was time, though, to dress her more explicitly, especially since, after three weekends, I'd developed some confidence that we'd be unlikely to meet anyone we knew. So the dangling earrings and 6" fuck me heels remained, but the skirt, blouse, bra and panties were replaced by the dress Bill chose for her some time ago that barely covered her ass and, owing to the plunging neckline, threatened to uncover one tit or the other with the slightest misstep. Not that I planned on whoring her then, but it was time to let others see she was more than just a housewife with a taste for being provocative.

The bar was empty when we arrived and so the bartender immediately approached us when we sat at the bar, announcing "I think I've arranged what you want. I'll tell the night manager of the hotel you're here. He's expecting you."

I think my cock stiffened instantly and I suspect my wife's cunt grew damp just as fast. And true to his word, the bartender soon returned to say that we should go to the front desk and ask to see the manager. Ushered into his office he closed the door behind us and announced simply "nothing that we discuss here will in any way be formally connected to this hotel."

"Of course," I assured him, whereupon, after getting some background information, he outlined some potential arrangements. He would be largely divorced from whatever transpired since he rarely if ever got an explicit request from a guest for a whore. Those requests were much more likely to be expressed to the bartender. Thus, the bartender . Alfred . would make specific arrangements. The manager's sole responsibility was to cast a blind eye. That didn't preclude the possibility that he'd receive an occasional request to 'liven up a party' of out-of-town businessmen, but requests for my wife's services would most likely come from Alfred.

"Alfred, I assume, is aware of all of this?" I queried.

"Yes . and you should return to him now to make whatever arrangements you think are necessary. The less I know, the better."

Taking that as an invitation to return to the bar, my wife and I stood to leave, but he interrupted: "There is a cost to my complicity . from time to time I'll want to fuck your wife. As a matter of fact, I suggest you leave her here now while you discuss things with Alfred."

Considering how salaciously my wife was dressed, I'd anticipated this request. And as I learned subsequently, my wife would have been disappointed if he hadn't wanted to fuck her. So with little more than an approving nod, I exited his office, leaving my wife behind still in her seat. .

With a few more patrons now at the bar, it took a few minutes before Alfred approached me. "I see by your wife's absence that our manager is extracting his fee."

"Yes, he wants to fuck her now."

"I don't blame him . she's a delicious piece of ass. Let me tell you now what I need. I'll need a few pics of her,. preferably of her dressed both elegantly and as a slut. And I'll need a telephone number. I also need to know if there are any times, dates, etc where she'll generally be unavailable. Men may come in here hinting that the want a fuck or a companion that night. I won't expect your wife to be immediately available, but it wouldn't hurt if she was. Beyond that everything's up to you and we can play it by ear."

"How much do you think she should charge?" I asked, my mind still groping for the right questions. I amazed myself, in fact, at how unprepared I was for everything.

"If she were my wife I'd ask 100/hour and 500/night. She's probably worth twice that but lets see how things go. By the way, I won't handle any money . collecting her fee will be up to you."

What was curious about this conversation was that there I sat, making arrangements for my wife as a whore while she was doubtlessly getting fucked somewhere by the hotel manager, and the hardon I had when first learning that arrangements were afoot had wholly dissipated. It was as if I were selling apples or making arrangements to have the oil changed in my car. I agreed, naturally, to Alfred's request for pictures, saying I'd FedEx them the next day, adding the proviso that condoms be required unless permission was otherwise given and that her limits were to include the usual . no children, drugs, permanent damage, and so on.

Alfred assured me that she'd be rented out only to hotel guests and advertised simply as an escort . he'd brief her on how to avoid illegalities and entrapment. He'd also tell her how to dress when she was called since sometimes the men who hired her would want to have her dressed elegantly as when she'd be taken out to dinner as a companion, and sometimes they'd want only an erotic fuck and would prefer that she wear only some naughty lingerie under a coat. As for his 'fee' as a 'facilitator' of things, he'd call in a week or so. After that he would ask only that I be 'fair' in my treatment of him . money-wise or by granting him further access to her.

Admittedly, his comment about entrapment set me back and reminded me of the seriousness of what I was doing. But so cool was his demeanor, I hardly has cause to rethink the scheme. "Have you done this before . handled a whore from the bar?"

"In my 30 or so years of bartending, your wife isn't my first encounter with setting someone up as a whore. What they tell you about bartenders 'hearing it all' its pretty much true. Your wife isn't the first housewife I've poured a drink for who wanted to experiment being a whore. Nor are you the first husband who encouraged his wife to be one."

That last comment only confirmed my belief that beneath the thin veneer of propriety that characterized suburbia with its baby strollers, two car garages, and SUVs, there existed a far more salacious core . BDSM in the bedroom, horny housewives exploring sex outside of their marriage, and husbands who encouraged them to do so. Society's norms and expectations might keep a lid on everything but I would have been shocked to learn that only a few housewives who lived in the vicinity of the hotel hadn't been fucked there or in some nearby motel by someone other than hubby. And not shocked either to learn that a good share of them had been fucked with hubby's enthusiastic approval.

In any event, after giving him our telephone number I sat at the bar for a half hour or so before Betty finally reappeared . a tad disheveled and obviously fucked. The manager couldn't devote an evening to her and instead had satisfied himself, as the slut dress shop owner had, with a quick encounter. He'd taken her to a vacant room and used her there rather than take the chance anyone on the staff would know what was happening. There seemed, then, little reason to remain at the bar except to review things with my wife. I began, however, again asking a question to underscore her status as a slut: "Is your cunt full of the manager's cum now?"

"Yes . yes it is."

"The bartender . Alfred . is going to be your pimp. He'll call you at home whenever your services are required." I used the word 'pimp' deliberately, knowing it would bring into sharp focus the fact that she was going to be made a whore

"All of this scares me a little," she acknowledged,. "But before you ask, yes, the prospect of becoming a real whore does excite me."

One had to be sitting there, looking at her, dressed like a wanton slut, her tits nearly falling out of her dress, to not be surprised at her comment. It would, though, be a jaw-dropping statement for anyone who knew her in any other context . our family or any of my work colleagues, who continued to see her only as a prim and proper suburban housewife. My mind flashed back again to asking myself how many other housewives who appeared utterly unexceptional also had dark sexual secrets? How many women at the supermarket were going to return home and be wanton sluts for their husbands? How many colleagues at the university have wives who otherwise seemed boring and frumpy, fuck someone other than their husbands and with their husbands' consent? The only answer was 'far more than I imagined a year ago.'

We left the hotel with that thought still in my head, figuring I'd give my whore wife further details later. So the clock was running and it was only matter of time before she began this new adventure. That time, in fact, came sooner than I 'd expected . the very next evening. The call from Alfred came around 6:30 PM: Could she be at the hotel in two hours? Bill and I had planned to take her to dinner that night, but it seemed unwise to make her unavailable the first time she was called. So we decided to forgo that pleasure. As for her attire, Alfred suggested some naughty lingerie: "She'll simply be sent to someone's room who wants a good fuck."

I directed her, then, to wear her little black sheer bustier with long garter straps, black thigh high hose, fuck me heels . and nothing else (except of course, a coat to render her legal in public). "No panties of thong?" she asked in a half pleading voice. "No, I want your client to see the ring in your cunt as soon as you open your coat." And then I asked if she was nervous, in perhaps my only show of concern.

"A little, but I'll be ok."

At this point the reader might wonder what pleasure I got from sending my wife out the door as a whore, since it precluded the possibility that I (or Bill) could watch her be a slut. Since we surely didn't need the money and since I never sought to eat another man's cum out of her (for me at least, that was anything but a turn on), that's a difficult question. Did she fuck me harder or was she more of a slut after another man's cock had filled her? Not really. Did I get any special pleasure shoving my cock into a hole that was already filled with another man's seed? Not at all. Nevertheless, the mere thought of her being a whore was incredibly erotic. Perhaps the reason was in the contrast . in having her seem at times like the innocent housewife who I knew was in fact a wanton shameless slut. Whatever it was, all I know is that I had an incredible erection as she drove away headed to the hotel.

She returned some three hours later . before midnight even . utterly naked beneath her coat, her lingerie stuffed into her purse along with two 100 bills. "That was easy," she commented matter-of-factly. "The only kinky thing he wanted was to have me undress and leave naked under my coat . he fucked me with all my lingerie on."

"Was it a good fuck?" I asked, probing for specifics.

"It was OK, nothing special. After I took off my coat he had me undress him, sucking his cock a little along the way. Then he fucked me for maybe 15-20 minutes before he came. After that we talked a little. He asked why I was a whore and after seeing my wedding ring, asked about you . your attitude about everything. I told him it was all your idea . that you got off in having me fucked. He was maybe in his mid-40's and so we fooled around on the bed a little after that . he really liked sucking my tits and fingering my ass . until he got hard again and could fuck me in my ass. After that he was done, paid me and I left."

"Did you cum for him?"

"Yes, I came. I came several times even before he did. It wasn't that he was a good fuck or sexy. I think I got turned on simply because he was going to pay just to shove his cock in me." And then she added "he's here on business three or four times a year for one or two nights and he wants me again next time he's in town . for longer, maybe even a full evening or night. He seemed nice so I told him to just let Alfred know and if I'm not busy he can have me."

That alone turned me on . the idea that my wife was already building a clientele and that maybe soon enough we wouldn't even need Alfred, that she'd be an on-call whore for any of the men who had her telephone number. At this point, though, and to make a longer story short, Bill saw her pull into our driveway, and being no less curious than I about her first experience as a whore, invited himself over. We then spent the remainder of the evening and part of the morning fucking her . and in ways appropriate for an ordinary street slut.

Alfred's next call came on the following Thursday: "I have someone here who wants an escort tomorrow night . someone he can take to dinner and keep for the night. Oh . I showed her pics to him and he wants her dressed as a slut."

The cost of having a wife be a whore began to impact me . the loss of weekend nights with her. Nevertheless, the prospect of dressing her as a slut to be taken out by someone I didn't know had its erotic appeal and I agreed to send her to him around 5:00 PM the next day. As for what she could wear, the reader might recall that on her first trip to the slut dress shop we had a cowl neck dress that not only displayed her tits nicely but also plunged in back to reveal an inch or so of the crack of her ass. 'Let him decide where he wants to take her wearing this,' I thought.

"Are you sure you want me to wear this?" she asked as she put it on.

"You're a whore . wear it!" I commanded, as I reached behind to finger her ass.

My finger had its intended effect: "yessssssss . of co . courseeeeee" she moaned as she leaned back against my hand.

With my finger now buried fully in her I said simply "you're going for the night and all you'll have to wear is this dress and your heels. Bet you could use a good hard fuck right now!"

"Y . yessssssssssss."

To say I was tempted to fill one of her holes with my cum was an understatement, but I knew she had to be delivered fully clean. "I'd love to fuck you now, but I'll leave that pleasure for your client."

"This dress ought to give him the incentive to fuck your ass, don't you think? I asked rhetorically.

'Yesssssssssssssss."

"And I wonder where he's going to take you to display you as his fuck toy."

"I . I don't . ohhhhhhh goddddddddddddd," she finally moaned as her cunt spasmed.

"That's right, whore . cum! Let whoever fucks you find you with a wet cunt." I felt her sag against my hand, her ass tightening around my finger: "You'll be disappointed if he doesn't fuck your ass, won't you?" "Yessssssssssssssssssss."

The odds her client could resist shoving his cock up her there had to be zero. I don't know if you've ever seen a woman wearing a dress that plunged in back to her ass, but if you have you'll appreciate my assessment. And none of this takes away from the view offered in front, which, even when she stood motionless, gave a full profile of each tit. Salacious or not, I did enjoy fingering her and getting her cunt dripping even before she left the house. Another expression of control I suppose, but I probably would have done it even if she wasn't a sub slut. In any event, I sent her off and simply awaited her return in the morning. That isn't to say I was able to resist jacking off at least once to relieve the tension brought on by the image of my wife introducing herself to a complete stranger wearing what she was wearing, knowing she was doing so for a nice little payment of 500.

And return she did, around 10 AM the next day, all seemingly clean and fresh: "So, how was your night?"

"It was good . very good. Alfred directed me immediately to his room when I arrived and I thought that in that dress he'd be afraid to take me out. But he has your taste for displaying me. He didn't even fuck me at first but immediately took me to a small restaurant near the business complex. Naturally, given how you had me dress, I got tons of stares from whoever was there, especially when we walked in. Up til then he hadn't touched me and I began to wonder if he would. And as soon as we finished dinner, we headed directly back to the hotel."

"Did you go to his room then?"

"No. He first took me back to the hotel bar . he wasn't done displaying me. Alfred was there, of course, but aside from staring at my tits and ass, he never approached us. However, we sat at a table and whenever we needed Larry sent me up to the bar to order it . which, of course, gave nearly everyone there a view of my ass. You knew of course that that dress makes me feel sluttier than just abut anything else I could wear . I know what men think when they can see the crack of my ass peering out from what little there is to the back of it. So I felt pretty self-conscious standing there at the bar waiting for Alfred to give me whatever drinks I ordered, and I think he actually moved a little slower that he had to so as to keep me standing there. In addition, Larry, just like you and Bill, had me go to the lady's room several times and because it was a bar I suppose, I got a few comments along the way like 'nice ass' or 'nice tits'."

Larry took full advantage of the opportunity to display the slut at his table, but I was still beginning to wonder what was special about the night aside from my wife getting paid to fuck. But the first hint arrived when she showed me 800 in her purse rather than the expected 500. And in response to my query 'how'd you earn that much' she simply continued with her description of the evening. "After making me take a few trips to the bar and to the lady's room so everyone had a good view of my tits and ass, Larry took me to his room. Aside from putting a finger in my ass as you'd done, it all started out calmly. Without taking my dress off, he put me on the bed, face down, then rubbed his cock over my cunt and the crack of my ass until he pushed it in . into my ass. I was pretty hot and when he pulled out before cumming, I actually asked him to push it back in. Instead he retrieved some neckties from the side table, tied my wrists to my ankles and blindfolded me with a third tie."

I'd had my slut wife in that position countless times, but then she added "I didn't know then where he got all the neckties, but he attached one to each ankle, pulled my legs (and wrists with them) apart and tied them to the bed's legs. I was helpless and a little scared, but using his tongue and fingers, he got me to cum easily. Then, with his fingers still in my cunt, he picked up the phone, dialed, and said to whoever he reached 'the slut's ready.'"

If you think then that I could just sit there and listen to what followed without needing my own pleasures . well, I decided my wife needed to continue her story with MY cock in her ass. Pushing her onto the floor, ass in the air, I did precisely as Larry had done, sliding up into her. Grabbing her hips and pushing in deeper, I commanded "what happened next, whore?"

My wife paused to catch her breath as my cock impaled her before she answered "He . ohhhh goddddddd . he hung up and pushed his cock back into my ass."

"And did you ask who he called?"

"Yesssss . friends . he simply said 'friends'."

"You didn't anticipate that, did you?"

"Nooooooo . I didn't know what he planned."

"He displayed you at the bar to advertise you as a hot little fuckable slut . didn't he?"

"Yessssssssss ." she moaned as her ass seemingly sucked my cock into her.

'What did you say when you realized he had invited others in to fuck you?"

"I came . I didn't say anything . I just came."

"How many men . how many had he invited to fuck you?"

"I don't know . several . oh godddddd . four . five . "

My cock twitched at that count . my little whore wife fucked by four, five, maybe six men . I couldn't tell from her answer if the number included Larry or not. "So that's where the neckties came from . from his friends, who he planned to have fuck you from the very start?"

"Yesssssssssssss ."

"And your cunt dripped when you realized you were going to service more than just him, didn't it . you were just a hot little bitch then, weren't you?"

"Yesssssssssssssss ."

"And when they came to the room . what happened then?"

"Larry told them I was someone's wife, a whore wife, and that I didn't deserve to be treated like a lady . that I was just a married whore."

"And did they immediately proceed to fuck you?"

"Yes . someone put his cock in my ass as soon as Larry let them into the room, and someone else moved to the head of the bed and made me suck him."

"And they proceeded to fuck you, one after the other . and did they all cum in you . no condoms, just cum?"

"Yesssssssssssssssssss . oh godddddddddddddd . yesssssssssssssssss."

She came then, she came hard and it was only with the greatest self-restraint that I didn't cum myself then. But I wanted to keep fucking her as she gave me the details of her gang-bang. "And you came like a hot little bitch for them, didn't you? Like the whore he said you were."

"Yessssssssssssssss."

Reaching around to rush what little there was of her dress in front to squeeze her tits I asked "It turned you on to be a helpless cunt who they could fuck at will, didn't it?"

"Yesssssssssssssssssssssssss . oh godddddddddd . cum in me . pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeee."

"Not yet whore . not yet. What else did they do to you . how else did you serve them?"

"They . they called me names, they pissed in my mouth . they . they made me swallow it."

"And you did swallow it, didn't you .?"

"Yessssssssssssssssssssss ."

"So all of Larry's niceness during dinner was merely a prelude to treating you like a common fuck toy . a common street whore?"

"Yessssssssssssssssssssssssssssss ."

"Who were they, the men who fucked you?"

"I don't know . friends of Larry's I assume."

"Did you ever get to see them . talk to them?"

"No . they left before Larry took off the blindfold."

"So you could go to the hotel bar and not know there were men there who filled your cunt and your ass with their seed of who made you swallow their piss?"

"Ohhhhhhhhh god . yessssssssssssssssssss."

That revelation, of course, was an incredible turn on . at least for me. To take my wife back to the bar and to imagine there were men there who'd dumped their cum and piss into her without her knowing who they were and if any of them were there. She's forever trapped by uncertainty. Even if I took her there as a proper housewife, people who knew better might see her . who knew she was an unashamed on-call whore.

"What else did they do to you or make you do?"

"They fucked me . they fucked me with a bottle or something. They shoved a bottle into my ass and fucked me with it."

"Did they hurt you," I asked, as if concern for her safety was my first priority as opposed to the throbbing I felt in my cock from the image of a bottle being thrust in and out of her ass while she thrashed about, unable to escape the assault, until she finally surrendered to the pleasures it was bringing her, the pleasures she couldn't deny herself: "And did you cum from that . cum with a bottle in your ass?"

"Yesssssssssssss . oh god, they kept shoving the bottle into my ass, pulling it out, shoving it back in until I came, until I couldn't keep from cumming."

I could see it all clearly im my head . a bottle sticking out of her ass, a hand harshly thrusting it in and out as the other men around her called her names . bitch, cunt, whore, slut . egging her on to cum, telling her she was nothing more that a fuck toy, a married whore fuck toy. I could see her resist at first, horrified by what they were shoving into her, what they were fucking her with . but slowly her resistance would melt, slowly her cries of 'nooooo' would give way to moans of pleasure until, unable to keep from surrendering to the assault on her ass, she began to convulse uncontrollably and cum. I could see it all, and I wanted her to lead me to see more: "What else whore . what else did they do to you?"

"They had me piss . piss into a cup. They took the bottle out of my ass, poured my piss into it, and put it back in my ass."

"So they filled your ass with your own piss?"

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh goddddddddddddddd ."

That revelation and the sudden trembling of her body against me made it wholly impossible for me to keep from cumming, from shooting my seed into her while telling her she was nothing more than a dirty slut, a dirty whore: "Cummingggggg . cumming ." I moaned as I gripped her hips and pressed my cock harder still into her ass.

"Yesssssssssssssss . yesssssssssssssssss . ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh . ohhhhhhhhhhh . ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," she cried, her cunt once again convulsing, her ass pushing up against me, shuddering and gripping my cock. My dirty slut wife . cumming again from revealing how they had filled her ass with piss, from the sensation of my warm cum shooting into her. I could only hold tight to keep my cock in her as she thrashed and bucked against me . a bitch in heat who wanted it deeper and harder, wanted to literally consume my cock, to take her over, to own her, to render her nothing more that a wanton fuck hole.

Finally, spent, and with my cock now relaxing but still held in place by the tightening muscles of her ass I asked "Larry, I assume, kept you the rest of the night? Kept you so he could fuck you again?"

After catching her breath, she answered: "No . after the men left, he untied me and took off the blindfold. It was nearly midnight, but the bar doesn't close until 1:00 AM, so he took me back to it. It wasn't nearly as crowded as before, but there were still a half dozen men there and, I think, one couple. He let me clean up and comb my hair before taking me down there, but after how hard they fucked me . especially with the bottle . it still felt like all their cum and piss was in me even though it wasn't"

"And what did you think, walking into the bar?"

"That some of the men who fucked me were there now. Larry made me stand at the bar to order the drinks and display me as he had earlier. I felt like such a whore . such a dirty whore. Its actually difficult to describe how I felt . ashamed, embarrassed, yet turned on and wet. I didn't want people to see the crack of my ass, and yet I also wanted them to see. I wanted them to lust, to imagine shoving their cocks into me back there . and yet I also felt embarrassment at what they could see, what they were thinking."

"I assume he did everything he could to let people know you were a fuck toy?"

"Yes . he played with my tits at the table, and it seemed like he was letting everyone know that he could play with them at will . and then play with my cunt. I had to just sit there when he reached under my dress, making no effort to conceal what he was doing."

"So anyone who was there looking at you could see that you were a whore or unashamed slut?"

"Yes . they couldn't help but know."

"Then what did he do?"

"After a while he sent me to the restroom to clean up again. When I returned, he took me back to his room."

"And he fucked you again I assume?"

"Yes . one more time before we went to sleep. It was midnight by then. In the morning he rose first, and fucked me to wake me up. I woke up with his cock in my cunt and mouth sucking on my tit. He came in me again, then sent me to the bathroom to shower and get dressed before going downstairs for breakfast."

"Dressed as you are . as a whore?"

"Yes."

"And so whoever was working at the hotel then or having breakfast also knows you're a whore . or were at least his fuck toy for the night?"

"Yes . I suppose so."

"And does that turn you on?" I asked, knowing that that fact turned me on.

"Oh god . yes . yes it does."

"You need to be punished for being such a whore . you know that, don't you?"

"If . if you wish it Sir."

"Yes, I do!" I said sharply. Telling her not to move I left to retrieve a toy I'd bought but hadn't yet used . a butt plug with a 2 or 3-foot tail. Moreover, it was a good 1/4 inch wider than the one she normally wore and guaranteed not to slip out no matter how well-lubricated her ass. Showing her the plug, I told her to bend over the sofa so I could push it into her: "You're a dirty little piss swallowing cum slut and you'll wear this today as you go about your chores."

"Yes Sir" she answered dutifully as I lifted the hem of her dress and let the tip of the plug begin to penetrate her asshole. And then a gasping "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," when it was only little more than halfway in.

"Relax whore . relax and accept it," I commanded, in no mood to lubricate her any more than it had been the day before.

"Oh godddd . hurts . hurts . please ." she moaned as I slowly twisted and turned the plug while continuing to push.

"Take it whore . there's no escaping it . take it."

That additional 1/4 inch to the plugs diameter must have been the biggest quarter inch of anything in her experience. I could sense her involuntarily trying to escape its assault on her, but bent over the back of the sofa, there was no escape: "Owwwwwwwwwwwwwwww," she cried, "owwwwwwwwwwww," until it finally popped in, her ass seemingly sucking it in as she let out a breathless "ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" in relief. "Ass is tightly plugged now, isn't it?"

"Yesssssssssssssssss ."

"And if you have to relieve yourself in the bathroom, what will you do slut?"

"Oh god, I don't know ."

"You'll take it out, do your business, and put it back in . on your own!"

"I . I don't know if I can do that . it hurt so much going it."

"You will do it slut . you'll do it or I'll do it. And I think you'll prefer to do it yourself."

"Yes Sir, I understand."

Rarely if ever did she assume the formal role of sub slut when alone at home with me. But she had become a whore . a true whore . and with the plug and its tail I wasn't about to let her slip into any 'normal' existence so soon after renting herself out: "Heels too, slut . the heels you wore last night."

"Yes Sir."

There was, of course, a vicarious pleasure in making her walk about the house with her ass plugged and wearing a dress she had been fucked in and made her look like an unashamed whore. But the sight of a tail hanging out of her made a visual statement all its own. It underscored the absence of any inhibition or sense of shame. One has to envision a petite young wife, 34B tits, only 5' 4" but leggy with a tight little butt and weighting no more that 105 or 110 at the time . the proverbial "girl next door" . dressed like a whore in her fuck me high heels with a horse's tail hanging out of her ass. While the psychological effect of the plug would eventually wear off, as well as that of being displayed in that dress, how could one grow oblivious to a tail, swishing and occasionally brushing against the backs of one's legs? All I can say is that if the effect dimmed on her, it didn't on me. While a few household chores and essential repairs occupied some of my time that Sunday, they did so with my cock at full mast through much of the day and on at least two occasions commanded relief by having her lay across the kitchen table so I could unload my seed into her cunt.

So she had been not only a slut but virtually gang banged if 5 guys is enough to qualify as a gang bang. That was probably worth more than the 800 they paid her, but at least Larry didn't take full advantage. Surely, if he wanted her again next time he was in town he could have her. They hadn't abused her or hurt her in any way . just treated her like the sub slut and fuck toy she was. What really turned me on, though, about the night was the prospect of bringing her back to the hotel bar myself without either of us knowing if any one was there who had fucked her. Who might see her now dressed merely sexy but not slutty, yet know she was a whore? Who might think I was just another of her clients?