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Message-ID: <33468asstr$1005772201@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: sandia@texas.net
Subject: {ASSM} "Kimberly"     Complete, 1-3     M+/F, wife, cheat, D/s
Date: Wed, 14 Nov 2001 16:10:01 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

"Kimberly" By Sandia.

Story codes:  M+/F, Reluctant, Wife, D/s.

This is all three chapters of the Kimberly story.  I you like it,
please let me know at sandia@texas.net. Thank you.



Part I:  Kimberly And Tony

My name is Kimberly.  I'm a thirty-two year old wife, mother of
two, married eleven years.  I work for a financial services
corporation where I commute to work from our quiet, conservative
suburban town.  I'm active in my church group and consider myself
a Christian conservative.  I've always tried to uphold the values
of my church, and to be a good Christian wife and mother.  This
is how I became corrupted, and betrayed myself, as well as my
husband. 

It all started at my job.  There was a man there, named Tony, in
accounting, who had transferred several months earlier.  He was
about seven or eight years younger than me, but very
self-assured.  He was ambitious; he had a reputation as
"executive material," somebody marked for advancement.  He was
also known for the many women he had dated.   He made no effort
to hide his interest in me, from his first day in our division;
he smiled when he took my hand, but as soon as he caught my eye,
his eyes traveled down my body.  When he met my eyes again, I
remember I blushed and had to look away.  He squeezed my hand
meaningfully before he let me go.

After that I couldn't keep away from him.  He would come around
my cubicle to flirt with me.  He would massage my neck, or try to
guide my hand on the computer mouse, leaning over my shoulder. 
He would look pointedly at my breasts or at my legs.  I should
have been offended, and I was; but I was also a little flattered.
 Anyway, I never encouraged him, but I didn't report him either.
 

He was a very handsome man, muscular and dark-skinned; he had an
Italian last name.  I never thought of letting things go any
further than that, though I admit I was attracted to him.  Some
of the younger women in the office were jealous of the attention
he paid me.  I sometimes found myself thinking about him late at
night. 

Things went on like this for a few months, until Tony learned my
secret:

I'd been cheating on my expense vouchers.  I'd started out small,
a few dollars here and there.  Everybody did it.  But things were
tight at home.  We were on a budget.  Soon I was stealing
regularly, and in larger and larger amounts.  I used the money to
pay for things I felt I needed for myself.

Tony came by my cubicle one day, as usual, but he dropped some
papers on my keyboard.

"You need to take a look at this," he said. 

I examined the papers and recognized them.  I felt a cold tingle
in my chest.  They were my weekly vouchers and my quarterly
expense account.  My numbers didn't match! 

"You know Kimberly, your expenses are much higher than the
others'." 

I closed my mouth and studied them.  "Tony," I scrambled, "I must
have made a mistake!"

He laughed snidely. 

"Kimberly," he smirked, "I have to ask you for your receipts
now". 

I swallowed.  My hands were beginning to tremble. 

I was desperate.

I looked up at him, pleadingly.  "Tony," I whispered, "You've got
to let me change these..." 

He smirked playfully at me.  "What's in it for me?" he asked.  He
put his hand on my shoulder. 

"Please let me change them," I begged him.  "I--I can't lose my
job right now..."

His eyes dropped to the level of my breasts.  I caught myself
looking down as well.

His hand began tracing a line down the front of my blouse.  He
stopped at my nipple.  He gave me a little squeeze.  He looked
back at me.  I realized I had closed my eyes.

I looked down at my lap and then into his eyes.  There was no
mistaking his intentions. 

"You'll let me change these, Tony?" I asked.

He smiled at me and began to slide his other hand along my thigh.
I saw his hand disappear beneath my skirt.  "Maybe, Kim," he
said.  "Like I said:  It depends on what's in it for me."

Me continued to look at me, and when he saw I was going to let
him, he leaned down and kissed me on the mouth.  His hand
continued down my thighs.  I felt him through my panties.  He
squeezed my breast harder.  I couldn't help myself:  I opened my
mouth for him; I raised my hips.  He twisted the front panel of
my panties aside, and I felt his finger at my opening.  He
entered me, roughly, all at once.  The sensation was
unbelievable.  I couldn't believe how slutty I felt, yet how
wonderfully erotic.  He told me to meet him later, in the
conference room.  I let him put his wet finger in my mouth.  I
felt like a whore, but I was panting in my seat.

I can't say what I did next I was just for my job.  That was part
of it, of course.  I couldn't afford to get fired.  We were
barely making it as it was.  I told myself that I was doing it
for my family, for my children, for my job.  The other part of
the truth is:  I'd liked the way his hands had felt on me; I
wanted him to touch me again. 

I met him in a conference room at noon.  I made sure nobody saw
me go in there, and shut the door carefully behind me.  I was
ashamed of myself.  He grinned at me with a look of naked lust. 
I was humiliated at how he looked at me when he saw me come in
the room like that.  "What a slut," I thought, sneaking into a
room to be with a man who was not her husband. 

I almost backed out, but he took me in his arms and kissed me,
pressing my body against his.  I could feel every part of him; I
felt even his dick, already hard, pressing against my belly.  His
hands caressed me through my dress, pressing against the backs of
my thighs and my ass.  I felt a rush of pleasure, and I felt my
body melting against him.

He stepped back and admired me.  He told me to unbutton the back
of my dress, and I obediently did what he told me.  He grasped my
dress at my hips, and pulled it un-gently up and over my head,
tossing it to the floor.  I stood before him in my bra and
panties, still breathing hard from the kiss he'd given me.  He
examined me.

"Kimberly," he said, "you have no idea how good this is going to
be."  A guilty thrill ran through me when I heard him say that. 
He told me he wanted to see me naked, and I hesitated for only a
moment before unhooking my bra and sliding my panties down around
my knees.

He smiled and wet his lips.  The look of animal lust in his eyes
made me quiver.  I couldn't remember when a man had looked at me
so boldly and appreciatively.  My nipples stiffened under his
gaze, and I felt a trickle between my legs.  My sense of shame
increased as I realized how slutty I must look to him.

He took my head and neck in his strong hands and I submitted to
him.  I let him kiss me and run his hands up and down my body.  I
wanted his finger inside me again, but he pushed me away.  He
told me to get up on the table. 

He openly admired me while I sat there, legs apart, grasping the
edge of the table with my hands.  "This is going to be fucking
great," he said, staring at my pussy.  He put his finger in my
mouth, and then he shoved it in my pussy.  I watched him do it. 
He used one, two, and finally all four fingers to finger- fuck me
on the table.  I felt myself begin to move against him.  I
groaned very quietly.

He pulled his fingers out of me and he pushed me back on the
table.  He pulled my hips up, and then bent his face down toward
me.  When his tongue touched my clitoris I felt a rush of
pleasure.  I squealed for him.  I covered my face with my hands
as I felt him suck me into his mouth.  This was something a man
had never done to me, though it was something I often thought
about.  It felt even better than I'd imagined.  The pleasure was
indescribable.  When I came I stuffed my fist into my mouth to
stifle my cries, and then I moaned and slobbered around my
fingers.  He stood up, his face slick with my come.  He studied
me for a moment.  I remember lying there, my chest heaving from
my orgasm; my legs still open wide for him.  I wondered what he'd
do to me next. 

"I want you to suck on my cock," he said.  Lying naked on the
table, my legs spread for him, my cunt-juices dripping onto the
conference room table, I didn't care how he talked to me.  It
made me even wetter.  I wondered if his dick was bigger than my
husband's, and then I found myself hoping that it was.

His dick, when he pulled it out, was indeed a big, fat dick,
bigger than my husband's.  I raised my head so I could see it. 
He motioned to me and I crawled toward him on the table.  He held
it up to my lips, and I licked it.  He put his fingers in my
mouth and I licked and sucked his fingers for him too.  He rubbed
his cock across my lips and cheeks.  A little bit of his come
leaked out of his dick and stuck to my face.  It made me feel
sexy, knowing it was there.  Then he turned me around so my pussy
was facing him again.  I hoped he'd put his fingers inside me
again.  I raised my legs high in the air and spread them wide for
him.  I closed my eyes.  I wanted desperately to cum.  I felt him
touch my opening.  I felt his shoulders on the backs of my
thighs, and his hands encircled my waist.

In that instant I felt a sense of panic.  Despite everything he'd
already done to me, I was unprepared.  I wasn't ready.  I tried
to open my mouth, to ask about a condom; I started to pull away.
But he lifted me off the table and pulled me onto him.  I felt my
pussy expand around him; he slid deeper into me than I'd ever
felt. 

I suddenly couldn't believe this was me, lying there, with this
man's cock in my pussy, pounding me, waiting for him to shoot his
sperm in me.  I had been loyal to my husband all those years. I
wondered if he would make me pregnant.  My husband and I had been
trying for years, but I knew this could be different.  It was
uncomfortable at first, he was so much bigger than my husband.  I
was terrified to cry out, for fear someone would hear me, and he
ignored my quiet pleas. 

He pinned me against the table, and savagely pounded me.  The
sensation was overpowering.  I was helplessly trapped under him,
unable to move or cry out.  He fucked me hard, and he fucked me
violently, pounding himself deeper and deeper into me, and
jerking my body onto him with each thrust, completely filling a
place in my cunt that had never before even been touched, until I
began to feel myself beginning to respond to him.  My pussy
clenched itself around him, waves of pleasure radiated from
around his cock.  I was panting, now, and moaning. 

When he saw me responding, he began to talk to me.

"Tell... me..." I said, "how... much... you... like... getting...
fucked..." I gasped and tossed my head.  He continued pounding
me.  I couldn't deny the pleasure he was giving me.

He repeated his command:  "Tell... me... how... much... you...
LIKE... getting... FUCKED...!"

I tossed my head again, but I found myself wanting to do it,
wanting to humiliate myself completely.  I felt an orgasm
building up inside me.   

He slapped my ass with his hand, making a terrifyingly loud
smacking noise. 

"I do... I do..." I moaned.  "Oh God...  Oh God... Oh please...
don't stop..."

"TELL ME!" he demanded.  He smacked me again.

"OH GOD..." I moaned.  "Oh please...  please, please, oh please
FUCK ME! Oh please fuck me, FUCK... ME...!"

He came inside me then, his cock throbbing deep in my pussy.  "Oh
God," I cried, "Oh God, please cum inside me... CUM inside my
pussy!"  He leaned forward and squeezed my tits in his hands,
continuing to cum.  I wanted him to squeeze me harder.

He groaned. I wrapped my legs around him, squeezing him against
me; wanting him deep, deep inside me.  He squeezed me harder.  I
came for him like that, knowing he might have just made me
pregnant.  It felt so good I thought I might die with his cock
inside me. 

I worked the rest of the day with his come dripping into my
panties.  He left bruises on my breasts. 


In the afterglow of my orgasm I didn't feel any real shame for
what I'd done. When I opened the door to my own home, however,
and saw my husband I felt a sense of panic that was almost
overwhelming.  I was terrified that my husband would smell or
taste the evidence of Tony on me. 

I left him standing there and took a scalding shower.  The red
marks on my breasts would not wash off, of course, but I washed
his cum off of me and tried to wash it out of me as well. 

I felt horrible.  I was too embarrassed to let my husband make
love to me that night, but when I dreamed I dreamed of Tony. 

I knew I'd let him do me again, and I did.  I let him take me in
the conference room the very next day. 

He fucked me from behind this time, bending my naked body face
down on the big table.  The possibility of getting caught like
that, I think, just made me that much wetter.  I came before he
did, anticipating his spunk in my womb.  He used my panties to
wipe the table and handed them back to me.  I put them in my
purse and walked around like that for a while, his jism dripping
down my thighs. 

He fucked me whenever he wanted after that.  He took me in the
bathroom, where he had me blow him on my knees.  He came on my
tongue and down my throat, and then he squirted some on my lips
and cheeks as well.  He made me clean his cock with his tongue
and then he fingered me to orgasm.  He used my panties to clean
his cum off my face.  I came that time almost as hard as I had
when he'd fucked me.   

He had me meet him in a motel, late at night.  I had to sneak out
of the bed of my husband, praying he wouldn't wake.  He tied me
up.  He fucked me tied spread- eagle, the ropes biting my wrists
and legs.  I came like that, while he threatened to put it in my
ass. 

He took me to his apartment.  He felt me up while his girlfriend
watched us, then he fucked me on their bed, and sent me home. 

I knew things were out of control.  I lived in terror.  I was
wracked with guilt.  I wanted to cry every time I said "no" to my
husband, because Tony had just cum inside me, or his marks had
not yet faded.  I felt even worse when I did let my husband have
me, wondering if he could tell my pussy was freshly fucked. 
After being with Tony, I had to pretend when I was with my
husband.

This went on for about four and a half weeks.  Tony's dominion
over me became more and more complete.  The more I gave into him,
the more demeaning and degrading his demands became. 

I admit I enjoyed the sex.  But I hated myself after.  Once he
called me at home, during dinner, and told me to come to his
apartment.  I had to leave my family so I could service him.  The
stress was intolerable.  I would hyperventilate in church,
imagining what the people would think if they knew what a slut
I'd become.  .  I was relieved then, when Tony was assigned to
another branch.  It was "temporary," but there were rumors it
would become permanent, and I prayed that it would.  I promised
myself that if Tony did come back, I would never let him have me
again, regardless of the consequences. 

Then things got much worse for me. 




Part II:  Kimberly Exposed.

One of the managers of our division called me to his office.  I
had never been there before, and I wondered what he could
possibly want with me.  I didn't think it could have anything to
do with Tony; he'd been gone for weeks. 

The manager told me to shut the door and take a seat.  I sat down
uncomfortably.  He was one of those men who'd been there forever,
but nobody seemed to know. 

He smiled strangely at me.  I followed his eyes and noticed he
had a little stack of micro-cassettes piled on his desk between
us.  Swiveling away from me, he clicked on a little TV behind
him.  What I saw there made me nauseous:  It was me; and I was
mostly naked, and I had Tony's cock in my mouth. 

I stared in horror.  We were in the conference room.  I was on my
knees.  Tony was leaning against the table, smiling down at me. 
He stroked my face.  I remembered how good I'd felt when he had
done that.  I watched as he looked up and grinned directly at the
camera.  It was like getting punched in the gut.

I remembered all the things I'd done for him that time:  After it
was over, I knew, I would touch his cum cooling on my thigh.  I
would touch my finger to my lips, knowing it would please him to
see me do that.  Why had he done this to me?

I looked away.  I felt stunned.

The manager had turned to face me.  "This is against company
policy," he said.  I could have died of shame.  "It's grounds for
termination.  Automatic."  I couldn't bear to look at him.  I
felt the ground spinning out from under me. 

"You know," he continued, "the safest thing for me would be to
send these to corporate headquarters.  Nobody would question
that."

I glanced up at him, my face burning with shame.  He was staring
right at my chest.  On the TV screen behind him I saw Tony
stripping me.

"You would be fired, of course, once the board saw what was on
them."

I looked down.  I was too scared to talk.  The shame of what he
was talking about was unbearable.  I remembered once I'd been
scared of being fired for stealing money.

"They would send the originals to the lawyers, in case you tried
to litigate.  There'd be copies, of course.  Those could get
passed around for years."

My chest heaved.  I couldn't imagine things getting any worse.

"I wouldn't be surprised if some of those made it back to you, or
your husband, at some point."

I moaned out loud.

"Kim," he said, "you're married, what ten, eleven years?"

I nodded.  I could feel myself starting to cry.  This seemed like
a nightmare. 

Tony, I saw, had turned me to face the camera; I was easing
myself onto him.

"You have two children?"

I nodded again, trying not to see the images on the screen.

"You go to church on Sunday?"

Tears started running down my cheeks.  I saw Tony was beginning
to penetrate me; a look of pleasure crossed my face.

"They don't approve of this sort of thing, do they?"

I shook my head hopelessly.  "I'm... I'm so ashamed," I cried. 
"Please," I said, "don't let anyone see... see me like this."  I
glanced at the video.  Tony was squeezing my breasts; I was
rotating myself around his cock.   

"What would your church group think about this?" he asked.

I let out a little sob.

"Or your husband?  Or your kids?"

I broke down crying.  I was horribly ashamed, and I was beginning
to become afraid of HIM.  "I--I need my job," I cried.

"Kimberly," he said, "I know you do.  But this isn't just about
your job.  This is about you:  your husband, your reputation...
your family.  You'd lose everything, wouldn't you, if this got
out?"  He paused.  It was like being flayed with a rusty knife.

"Stand up."

I glanced at him.  There was not a hint of compassion on his
face.  I climbed trembling to my feet.

"These tapes belong to me now." 

I looked at him, a small glimmer of hope forming inside me.  He
was still staring at my chest.

"Kimberly," he whispered.  "I could keep these secret."

I smiled tremblingly at him.

"But I wonder if there's something you could do for me?"

I exhaled.  "Anything, Mr. Lambert," I breathed, wiping my
cheeks.  "I'll do anything." 

"Do you really mean that?" he asked.

I nodded anxiously.  I would do anything.

"Good," he said.  He stared at me.  Tremblingly, I raised my hand
to my chest.  I knew what he wanted me to do. 

I unbuttoned the top button.  He smiled.  I undid the second, and
he smiled more broadly.  I unbuttoned the third and the fourth,
and then all of them.  I looked down and saw my breasts swelling
out from under the bra I was wearing.  I could feel my nipples
pushing against the fabric.  I was disgusted with myself.  I
couldn't believe my body was responding to this new humiliation.

"Keep going, Kimberly," he said crudely, "I want to see your
tits."

I slipped my blouse from my shoulders and let it fall to the
floor.  I unhooked the bra.  I held the cups against my chest for
a moment.  I closed my eyes.  I glanced at the window.  There
were people on the street below.  I let my bra fall to the floor
as well.  I stared at the TV.  I was bouncing up and down on
Tony's cock now; soon I would start to cum.  The manager cleared
his throat. 

I unhooked my skirt and let that fall to the floor as well.

I knew he could see my nipples were swollen, and I wondered if
the place between my legs would betray me as well.  I reflexively
covered myself with my hands.

"Mr. Jones," I whispered, "Please let me go now."

He smiled at me.  "Kimberly," he said, "I don't think you
understand the situation.  When you said you'd do anything, I
think you meant it.  And I mean to take advantage."  He stopped.
He glanced at the tape behind him.  Tony was finished with me; I
was climbing off of him.  I cringed at what I knew I'd see myself
doing next.

"Let's be clear," he said.  "I intend to make good use of you; to
use you anyway I want, until I get tired of you; to make you my
fuck-toy, my cum-slut, my sex slave.  If you disobey me in
anything, ANYTHING, I'll not only send these to headquarters,
I'll make sure everybody you know, every single person, gets a
copy.  Do you understand?"

I collapsed back into my seat, sobbing.  This was even worse than
I could have imagined.  "You can call me Master," he laughed.  I
soon learned that he meant that.

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

I nodded miserably.

"Do you agree?"

I was still crying, but I managed.  "I'll--I'll do anything.  But
p--please, don't let any--anyone see them," I begged him.

He must have watched me crying for a while.  After some time I
heard him putting the tapes away.  He told me to stand up, which
I did.  I saw he had a camcorder on his desk.  "Strip for me
Kimberly."  I glanced at the recorder.  "YES, I'm going to be
taping you, Kimberly, and NO, there's not a damn thing you can do
about it.  Now... take... off... your... panties!" 

I wanted to cry again, but I was terrified, and I slipped my
panties off my hips and onto the floor for him.  It was the most
humiliating thing I'd done so far.  He was the next thing to a
stranger to me.  He was utterly unattractive.  He was an old man,
balding and paunchy.  He continued taping me for a while, panning
up and down my body, including my face. 

I was ashamed to be standing naked before him, ashamed of all
things I knew he had seen me do on tape, ashamed of the things I
was afraid he was going to make me do next, but also ashamed of
what my body was doing to me.  I could feel myself swelling and
slickening between my legs, and my nipples were swollen and
sticking out.

He put the camera down and carefully set it on the edge of the
desk, pointed at me. 

"Kim," he said, "from now on you will be my own personal slut. 
You will do everything I tell you.  I will use you any way that
pleases me.  You will not question anything I do to you.  Do you
understand?"

I nodded, hanging my head.

"Say it back to me."

"I will do anything you... tell me to.  I will be... I will be
your... personal... slut.  You will use me... anyway... that
pleases you.  You can do whatever you want to me."

"Master," he said.

"M--master..." I said.

"Very good, Kim."  He looked down between my legs.  "Don't drip
on my carpet, bitch."  He laughed at me.

He asked me personal questions, about my sex life, my boyfriends,
and my husband.  He asked me about what I'd done for all of them,
and I told him.  I told him I'd only been with one other man
besides Tony and my husband.  I admitted I had enjoyed giving
head to Tony, though I'd only done it twice for my own husband. 
I told him about my honeymoon.  I told him I had never had a man
in my ass, though Tony had threatened to do me there.  I told him
about all the things I'd done for Tony, including the time with
his girlfriend.  When he was through, I felt like even more of a
slut than ever.  I remember hoping no one on the street below
could see me standing there. 

He ordered me to stand next to his desk.  He took an ink marker
and wrote "CUNT" above my pussy and "CUM-SLUT" on each of my
thighs.   He told me I was no longer allowed to fuck my husband
without permission. 

Carefully aiming his recorder at me, he had me finger myself to
orgasm.  I was surprised at how easy it was, and how hard I came.
 When I was done, he put me on my knees and unbuttoned himself. 
He rubbed his dick on my face and on my tits.  When come started
to leak, he rubbed the come on my lips.  "Lick your lips, bitch,"
he ordered me.  I did it.  He tasted foul.  "Open your mouth," he
ordered.  He was much smaller than Tony was, smaller even than my
husband.  He put his dick in my mouth and ordered me to suck on
it.  He slapped my face and ordered me to keep my teeth off him.
He took my head in his hands by my hair and started fucking my
mouth.  Even Tony had never done me like that.  (Not that he
could have fit.)  He slapped my face when I started to gag.  When
he came, he pulled out, and got his cum all over my face and hair
and tits, as well as in my mouth.  He spurted his cum on my
cheek, and on my eye, and in my hair.  He took my hand and rubbed
the cum into my skin.  It was sticky and disgusting and made me
smell terrible. 

"Keep rubbing," he said.  "You're going to leave my office like
that, and you're going to work the rest of the day with my cum on
your face.  If you don't want everyone to know, you'll rub as
much of it in as you can."

I worked the rest of the day with Greg's cum on my face,
desperately trying to avoid people.  I knew if I could smell it
on myself, other people could smell it too.  When I got home I
ran to the bathroom and scrubbed my skin raw.  I forgot what he'd
written on me and my husband came within seconds of seeing it
there.  When he reached for me in bed, I told him my period had
come early that month. 

The next morning, Greg set the rules for me.  I was not allowed
to fuck my husband without permission.  I had to call him on the
phone and whisper, "Master, may I let my husband fuck me?"

He made me wear skirts, but never panties.  I had to take them
off and slip them in my purse when I got to work.  Often I had to
do this in my cubicle, terrified someone would see.  I was never
allowed to say "no" to him.  I called him "Sir" in public; in
private I called him "Master."  I was to refer to myself as "your
slut," or "your slave" when I spoke to him. 

I had to ask permission to go to the bathroom when I was at work.
 You cannot imagine the humiliation of calling your boss at work
and whispering, "Master, your slut needs to go to the bathroom."
I got so used to calling him master I had to be careful not to
say it in public.

He enjoyed embarrassing me in public too.  Once he made me leave
my blouse unbuttoned to my waist.  He made me wear a lacy bra
that barely covered me, and it seemed every man on our floor came
to "talk" to me that day.  Every one of them stared at my chest.
The women started whispering behind my back. 

He had hand signals he used to make me expose myself to him.  I
had to learn to raise my skirt, spread my legs or bend over on
command.  Another time he made me proposition a man at another
bank.  I was made to ask him to put his finger in me during a
meeting, wearing a short, short skirt and no panties, my legs
spread wide under the table.  Thankfully, he didn't try to do it.
 But after that I knew rumors were spreading about me.  Women
began to avoid me at the office.

Greg was an old man, but he liked to humiliate me even when he
couldn't "finish me off."  He would punish me for any minor
transgression, or just because he felt like it.  He liked to
watch me cry.  He would pinch me, and spank my privates, and make
me beg for mercy.  He would call me in his office just to make me
strip, and then tell me to go back to work again. 

He liked to make me watch his tapes; seeing myself humiliated on
video while he watched me cumming was incredibly degrading.  I
had to beg him to let me stuff my panties in my mouth so his
secretary wouldn't hear.  He taped everything he made me do,
adding a new volumes to his collection.  Worst of all, he was
consciously trying to make me pregnant; he said he wanted to see
me bear his son.

Although my life at work had turned into a perfect hell, I tried
to carry out the rest of my life as normally as possible.  I
still went to church and to other functions.  I took care of my
kids.  I tried to take care of my husband, as best I could,
though I couldn't enjoy him in bed anymore, knowing I'd have to
report to Master on what we'd done. 

I couldn't help thinking about it, though, and sometimes I would
have what felt like panic attacks, where I would tremble and
flush, terrified that everybody around me already knew.  

Eventually Master decided controlling my sex with my husband
wasn't enough.  He decided to introduce humiliation and
degradation into my marriage, as well as my workplace.

He ordered me to ask my husband to start fucking me in the ass. 

"Tonight," he said, "you will ask your husband for a spanking,
and then you'll beg him to fuck your ass."  I was mortified.  He
told me the reason I no longer enjoyed sex with my husband was
that it was not degrading enough for me anymore.

He instructed me to wear my sexiest bra and panties; to get down
on my knees, and to beg him for what he said I needed. 

"Make sure he smacks you hard enough.  I want to see bruises on
your ass tomorrow.  When you're sure he's left bruises on you,
tell him there's something you've always wanted him to do to you.
 Something you're ashamed to ask.  Tell him that you've always
wanted to feel his hard throbbing cock in your ass.  He'll fuck
you there, slut, trust me."

I cried and pleaded with him, but he was inflexible.  I think he
really got off on making me into a whore in front of my husband.
He told me if I didn't do it, he'd rent me out to strangers.

That afternoon, I sent the kids away.  I undressed and put on the
bra and panties Master had selected.  The panties were designed
to hang loosely off my butt cheeks, and revealed as much as they
concealed.  The bra was a "push-up" bra, lacey and revealing. 
When my husband got home from work I met him in the bedroom. 
"Honey," I said, quickly sliding to my knees, "I have to ask you
something."  He stared down at me, shocked to see me
half-undressed and kneeling, like a perfect slut, in front of
him.  "I--I" I said, unable to meet his eyes, "I need for you to
spank me." 

I hung my head in shame.  There was silence for what seemed
eternity.  Then he began slipping off his belt.  I was thrilled
he would belt me; it'd make the bruises come much easier. 

I arranged myself on the bed, bending over the baseboard to make
it easier for him.  I had no trouble with the begging to spank me
harder; I wanted for it to hurt.  I felt I deserved it, after
everything I'd done.  I didn't want him to stop until I was sure
he'd left his marks on me. 

Afterwards I asked him for the ass fucking.  "Honey," I said,
"there's something I've always wanted you to do to me..." 

I was surprised at how quickly he took me up.  This hurt too, of
course, but I suppressed my cries of pain, and I managed to beg
him to do me harder.  I wanted him to enjoy it, even if I could
not.  It felt right to me that his pleasure cause me pain. 
Afterwards I let him watch me rub myself to orgasm, for the first
time in front of him.

I showed the bruises to my Master the next day, and he was
pleased with me too.  He told me he was proud of me, now that my
husband had "broken me in."  He had me lick him to get him wet,
and then he violated me there as well.  I didn't enjoy it at all,
though he did let me finger myself while he did me. 

He said I had to let my husband ass-fuck me whenever he wanted,
since I didn't enjoy it. 

This was terribly degrading.  I knew I'd never get over it. 

Things went on like this for two more months. 

Then my husband found out.


Part III  "Kimberly And Her Husband"


I can't say I "adjusted" to being Greg's sex slave, but I
separated it from my "normal" life and tried not to think about
it when it wasn't actually happening.   

Then one day I did something stupid, and I exposed myself to my
husband:  It happened as I was coming out of the shower.  I was
being careless, I guess. 

I saw my husband standing there and I froze.  He glanced at me;
then he turned and stared.  I knew immediately what he was
looking at.  I tried to cover myself, but it was too late.  I
looked down and saw it too.  "Greg's slut" was printed, in ink,
across my breasts.

I tried to look back at him, but couldn't.  I opened my mouth to
try to speak, but I was speechless.  I felt dizzy, and then I
just collapsed. 

I lay there on the bathroom floor, bawling and naked.  I knew
Master had left his mark on me and my husband had seen it.  I
knew I was exposed.

I cried and I cried.  It was over now, I thought.  My life was
over. 

My husband would divorce me.  He would get the house.  He would
get custody of our children. 

I would be alone.  And everyone would know. 

I felt him kneeling down beside me.  When I felt his hand on my
shoulder I started blubbering.   It all came out; I told him
everything...  how I'd gone with Tony, how he'd blackmailed me
and tricked me, and finally how Greg had made me his property. 

I waited for him to curse me, or to hit me, or to leave me lying
there naked on the floor. 

But he sat down next to me.  He didn't say a word. 

I glanced at him.  He had a pained expression.  He was looking at
the floor.  I saw he might have been crying too. 

I crawled over to him.  I touched him and he did not push me
away.  I put my arms around his waist.  Still he did not move. 

I put my head down on his lap.  "I'm so, so sorry..." I cried. 
"I know what this must do to you."  He didn't move.

"I'll--I'll let you have the kids," I continued.  "I won't fight
you.  You can have whatever you want..." I knew no judge would
give me custody.  I felt I was not good enough to be a wife or
mother. 

I pressed my face against him, I held him tight.  I was afraid to
let him go.  I did not want to be alone.  I did not want for him
to leave me. 


After a while I felt his hand on my temple, smoothing back my
hair.  "Kimberly," he said, "I--I don't want to--divorce you."  I
couldn't help but smile through my tears.  I realized I had hoped
for this.  In my heart I'd hoped he was this good. 

I adjusted myself on his lap, and I also noticed he was hard. 

He said that he'd suspected.  He confessed he didn't know what he
would do, but whatever happened, he said, I couldn't go on seeing
Greg.

I looked up at him.  "I'll do anything for you," I told him,
"anything at all... You're much too good for me."

He smiled wanly.

But I knew what to do.


I let my hand slide down his stomach, and I touched him through
his pants.  His smile faded, but his eyelids drooped.  I saw from
his expression that this was the right thing to do. 

I caressed him through his pants, and when he raised himself, I
pulled off his pants and underwear.  I held his penis gently in
my hands and then caressed it with my cheeks. 

I licked him and I tasted saltiness of my tears.  I took the tip
into my mouth and felt him start to cum immediately.  I took the
first spurt in my mouth and then I took it out and let him spray
the rest onto my face.

I knew my husband was no master, but I wanted him to like this
too.  When he had finished coming I looked up at him and saw that
I'd been right. 

I touched my fingers to my face where he had cum on me.  Then
still looking up at him I slowly brought my fingers to my mouth.
When he groaned I also licked some fluid that had landed on his
chest. 

I opened my mouth so he could see my tongue coated with his cum.
I climbed up and straddled him.  I held his hands in mine and
leaned forward to kiss his mouth.  He closed his eyes, and I saw
I was right to do this too.  When I slipped my tongue into his
mouth I felt him harden again beneath me.


Later, we talked about our situation.  I cried again.  I
confessed I couldn't bear the thought of Greg exposing me.  He
told me he'd stick with me no matter what.  I held him and I knew
I was blessed to have him for a husband.   


The next morning, Greg called me to his office.  I saw he was
playing tapes of me and I quickly closed the door.  I sat down. 
He turned to face me.

"Kimberly," he sighed, "I'm an old man."  He grinned sourly. 
"You may have noticed." 

I looked away. 

"I've spoken to your husband.  We've, ahh, reached an agreement."
 He paused. 

"I didn't think you'd tell him," he said.  He turned away. 

I saw he was watching a tape of me and Tony.  I saw that Tony was
about to cum.  I was kneeling down to catch it on my tongue. 

"You're a lucky woman Kimberly," Master said.  I watched as Tony
began to squirt his cum on me. 

"I'm leaving soon," he sighed.  "I'm going to let them buy me
out." 

He paused the tape and turned back to me.  "I'm planning a little
party."  He smiled at my expression.  "Ask your husband." 

He turned his back to me again.  "I'll call you when I need you.
Now get your slutty cunt out of here." 

I felt a thrill of excitement as I left the room.  What had
happened?  What had my husband done for me?  Was my master really
leaving?


I could barely work.  I kept fingering the telephone, dying to
call my husband, but I knew he'd be at work.  He'd reached an
agreement, he'd said.  He was going to retire.  He was going to
leave.  Was it really almost over?  Could I be a normal woman
again? 

I also wondered about the party.  I shifted nervously in my seat.
 I'd become such a slut, I realized, that thinking about the
"party" was actually turning me on.  I bit my lips and stilled
myself.

That evening I waited for my husband by the door.  I dragged him
to the bedroom.

"What happened?" I pleaded.  "What did he say?"

My husband smiled.  "He agreed to let you go."  I hugged him,
crying. 

"Oh, honey," I bawled, "that's wonderful.  You ARE much too good
for me."

He pushed me away from him.  "You--we--have to do something for
him as well."

I dropped my head.  "Whatever it is, honey, you know I'll do it.
I want for this to end."

He swallowed.  Master, he told me, was going to a party, in
Cincinnati, a reunion for old friends, people he'd known from his
years the army.  I would be there.  I would have to put on a
show, and I would have to go along with whatever happened.  In
the meantime, I'd have to continue to be Master's slave, until
the party, until he retired and moved away.  And then I would be
free!

He'd said he'd give me back to my husband.

I hung my head in shame, but secretly I was thrilled.  I would
get the tapes back!  I would be a normal woman again!  My
purgatory would end. 

Again I found myself thinking about this party, and now I
wondered if my husband would be coming too.  

That night I undressed my husband, and I called my master from
our bedroom phone.  "Master," I said, "may your slave please fuck
her husband?"  When at last he relented, and granted me
permission, I found in me a strange passion building up inside of
me.  Knowing my husband knew everything, and was willing to fuck
me anyway, made me burn for him.  I crawled on top of him, and
kissed him, and he let me press his wrists against the bed.  "I
want to be your slut, too," I whispered.  He groaned and moved
beneath me.

I took him in my mouth, but when I tasted him begin to leak, I
warned him not to come.  I kissed him again, letting him taste
himself on my tongue.  I'd learned to like the taste of cum, and
I wanted him to taste it too.  I reached my hand behind me and
moved his cock so it was pressed against me.  "Two other men have
been there," I whispered in his ear.  I felt him move inside me.
"Master's cock is tiny," I told him, "But Tony's cock is huge. 
It felt so good inside me... That's why I let him do it..." He
came, moaning in my ear. 

We kissed for a while, and then I crawled up over his belly,
positioning myself above his face.  He saw what I was about to
do, but made no move to stop me.  I lowered myself on his mouth,
although I knew he'd taste his sperm inside me.  He was
reluctant, but he knew what I wanted him to do.  "Please, baby,"
I moaned, "Please put your tongue inside me..." I came as soon as
I felt his tongue inside my cunt.

Afterwards I asked my husband if he'd be there for the show.  He
said he would.  We held each other tightly and fell asleep in
each other's arms. 

  The party was about two weeks later.  Master drove me there.  I
rode beside him nervously; fingering the hem of the tiny leather
skirt he'd had me wear.  I'd been told I'd get to see my husband,
that he'd be there at the party, that he'd take me home again
when it was over.  I was looking forward to it, to having my life
back again.

Master parked outside the lobby.  The valet who took the keys
stopped to stare.  I was embarrassed at how I looked:  stiletto
heels with kinky ankle straps, fishnet stockings, a micro
mini-skirt and a tight-fitting corset with a big zipper down the
front. 

The skirt was too short to decently cover my stocking tops, and
barely hid my panties.  The corset squeezed my breasts, so they
were spilling out the top.  I imagined what people must think of
me.  I looked worse than slutty; I was dressed up like a
sex-slave.  He'd even put a collar on me; a black leather choker,
with metal rings sewn in the sides.   

I was, of course, embarrassed to be seen like that, and as we
walked into the ballroom people turned and stared.  I looked
away, examining the paintings on the wall.  My master took me by
the arm and pulled me forward.  He took me to the bar, where he
ordered cocktails.  I stood there nervously while I waited for my
drink, and people milled around. 

Master stopped a man and talked to him.  He didn't introduce me.
The man was tall and good-looking, but barely glanced at me. 
After a while a woman came up behind him, wearing a stunning
evening dress.  She put her hand on his shoulder and I noticed
the diamond on her ring.  She stood there looking at me an
awkward moment before Master finally introduced me.  She smiled
thinly at me and squeezed her husband's shoulder.  After she had
gone Master told the other man, "She's going to be the
entertainment.  She's putting on a show tonight.  Some of us are
hoping that you'll come."  The man glanced around and then he
looked me over.  He asked the number of the room. 

This new humiliation was unendurable.  I felt like a regular
whore.

As the night wore on Master let his hands wander freely.  He
seemed to enjoy the way the men and women looked at me.  I, of
course, was mortified.  To some of the men he spoke openly about
me.  To others he said I was his "friend," or didn't speak of me
at all.  Once, while we were talking to a young couple, he let
his hand wander down my chest.  He slipped his fingers below the
corset and began playing with my breast.   He blatantly pinched
my nipple.  They both watched me avidly.  I looked down at the
ground, but when I glanced up the woman gave me the slightest
nervous smile.  I blushed furiously, but something about the way
she looked at me made my stomach tumble. 


Greg would sometimes send me to the bar and encouraged me to
drink.  The bartender leered openly as I tottered back and forth,
the heels and the alcohol making me unsteady on my feet.  Later
on I saw my husband.  He was talking to the bartender, who
glanced up at me and nodded in my direction.  I quickly turned
away, as I felt Master's hand sliding down below my waist.  He
cupped my butt and squeezed.  I imagined my husband watching me
and the thought made me weak inside.  I was dreadfully ashamed,
but there was a tingle in my belly.   

  Around eleven, the party began breaking up.  My master told me
to wait for half an hour, and then come up to the room.  I drank
straight shots of tequila while I waited.  I found I had mixed
feelings.  I was nervous about what was about to happen.  I
wondered if I could do it.  And I was thankful my servitude was
almost over.  But I admit, I was also curious, and a little bit
excited.

When it was my time to go up, I was still very nervous, though my
head was swimming from the booze.  My master would have told
whoever was there, I knew, what I'd agreed to do.  I knew that
I'd be humiliated.  At the very least I'd soon be naked in front
of a group of strangers.     

The room number was 2211.  The door was slightly ajar, and the
conversation ended as I entered.  It was dark, and there were
large picture windows looking out over the city down below. 
There was a single dim light turned on, and people gathered
around it.  I could not make out their faces.  I heard my
master's voice, telling me to come forward, to come into the
light.  I saw they'd put a blanket on the floor for me. 

There was music, and somebody turned the volume up.  I nervously
stepped forward, and Master told me I had to dance.  I began to
move my hips for them, looking around a little for my husband.  I
couldn't find him in the dark. 

I swayed tentatively at first, but they began to clap for me, and
I found it easier than I'd feared.  With their encouragement I
soon found myself dancing more and more provocatively.  It was
kind of sexy, being there in front of them, hearing their
approval, and knowing they what I was doing.  I found I did want
to be sexy for them, for whoever was out there.  The tequila
shots were helping.  I touched the zipper on my corset, and I
pulled it down my chest.

I continued dancing for them, trying to be sexy.  I slipped my
hands along my bra straps, and along the fabric of the bra.  I
heard murmurs of approval, but I could tell they wanted more.   

Suddenly I heard somebody come up behind me.  He put his hands on
my shoulders, and then yanked my corset down my arms.  Everybody
cheered as it fell down to the floor. 

"Take it off," I heard, "Take off her bra!"  Another voice:
"Let's see her tits!"  I felt a little scared, but I touched the
clasp that held the bra between my breasts.  I felt the man slide
his fingers under the straps that held it on in back.  He slid
the straps off my shoulders, and I undid the clasp.  When my
boobs were naked, they cheered again.  I felt a sense of relief.

I touched myself for them.  I held my breasts up in my hands.

The man behind me ran his hands down my sides.  He held my waist
while I continued dancing between his hands.  I could feel my
panties getting wet. 

He found the zipper on my skirt, and began to pull it down.  I
felt his breath hot against my neck.  My skirt slipped down
around my hips.  The zipper caught.  I looked down and saw my
panties, and the man's hands pulling on my skirt.  I reached down
and slipped my hands inside the waist of the skirt and wiggled
out it.  The crowd applauded me. 

I continued to dance.  I touched my breasts again, and felt my
nipples stiffen.  They can see how much I like this! I thought. 

The thought embarrassed me, but didn't stop the feelings I was
having. 

I ran my hands over my body for them, touching my chest and
thighs. 

I was dancing in just my panties.  My chest was heaving.  I was
breathing through an open mouth.  My clothes were lying at my
feet.  I felt more and more a slut. 

They started chanting: "Panties! Panties! Panties!"  They wanted
me to take them off, but I wouldn't do it yet.  I kept dancing
for them, wanting them to want me more.  I ran my hands along my
sides, and even between my legs.  I felt the dampness there.

Then I felt the stranger's hands on my hips again.  He grasped
the fabric of my panties.  I tried to catch his hands, but he
jerked them before I could try to stop him.  He was much too
strong for me.  My panties were stretched out around my thighs. 
I stood there a moment, panting and a little scared.  They can do
anything to me, I thought.  There's nothing I can do to stop
them.  

The man slipped his hands along the outsides of my thighs and up
my sides.  When he brought them to my chest he caught my breasts
in each hand and squeezed them.  I inhaled deeply.  I couldn't
deny I was enjoying this. 

Everyone was quiet, and then they began asking him to show them
more.  They chanted.  "Show us her pussy!  Show us her cunt!" 
There was a woman's voice in the crowd.  I was astonished hear
her chanting too.

The man took me by the shoulders and pulled me back, tripping me.
 I cried out as I fell.  He lowered me to the ground. 

I saw him for the first time then; he was a blond man with
straight hair and handsome brown eyes.  He looked very strong.  
I remembered seeming him at the party. 

He knelt down beside me.  He held my head in his hands.  "Open
your legs for them," he said.  "They want to see you."  I
swallowed.  I was scared.  He stroked my cheek. 

"We know you're enjoying this," he said.  He stroked my nipple
with his hand. 

I looked at him.

"Do you want for us to punish you?"  He began to squeeze me,
hard. 

I spread my legs. 

He glanced down at me.  "Put your knees up.  Slide your hips
forward so they can see." 

I was glad they'd put a blanket on the floor.  I knew that I was
dripping.

After that I did exactly what I was told.

I slipped my finger inside myself, and the feeling made me moan.
I finger- fucked my pussy, and then I touched my finger to my
lips.  I rubbed my juices on my face.  I could see other people
now, pushing in around me. 

I slipped my finger in my mouth, and sucked it.  I watched as a
man came forward, and knelt down between my legs. 

He put his hands on my thighs and looked at me.  I wanted it
then.  I did want it.  I let out a moan for him, to encourage
him.  He began to caress me there, and I watched as he wet his
fingers and reached down to penetrate me.  I moved my own hands
away and lifted myself for him.  I wanted him inside me then,
this stranger.  I wanted my husband to see. I imagined him out
there, watching me. 

He slipped his fingers into my cunt.  I moaned for all of them,
but especially for my husband.  I could hear the squishing noise
as he fingered me.  I ground my hips against the stranger's
fingers.  I let him finger me like that for a while, waves of
pleasure washing over me as I imagined them watching me writhing
on the floor.

When I looked again I saw the blond man smiling at me.  He
gathered up one of my tits in his hands and squeezed, forcing my
nipple to stand out even more rigidly.  He leaned over and licked
my nipple with his tongue.  I groaned again.  I couldn't believe
how good I felt.  He took my nipple in his mouth and sucked on
me.  I came for the first time like that, humping one man's hand,
while another man suckled my tit.  I imagined my husband
somewhere, watching this, and I came just that much harder. 

When I came down I felt the man between my legs pull his hand out
of my pussy.  He came around, and then he held his hand before my
face.  I could smell myself on him.  I willingly let him put his
fingers in my mouth.  I licked and sucked them clean.   

The blond man took his cock out of his pants and laid it up
across my face.  I opened my mouth for him and slipped my tongue
out between my lips so he could rub it across its wetness.  He
groaned as he did this, and I looked and caught sight of my
husband standing in the background.  His eyes were wide and
staring, but I could tell he was not displeased.  I hoped he'd
gotten hard, watching this stranger rub his cock across my lips.

Several of the men were beginning to unbuckle.  I saw the woman
too.  She was fully clothed, but leaning against another man who
held her from behind.  I could see both their hands clasped
against the place between her legs.  I saw she wore a ring. 

I looked back at the man who was rubbing his cock across my face.
 His was the first cock that night I'd seen.  It was long and
hard and pale.  It was much paler than my husband's.  The tip was
ruby-red.  It looked beautiful to me.  I struggled to sit up, but
he pushed me down, straddling my chest.  I saw a drop of cum
shining in the light as he held it inches from my lips.  I licked
my lips and opened them. 

He laced his fingers behind my neck and I took him in my mouth. 
I worked hard to make it pleasurable for him.  I wanted him to
cum. 

I flipped my tongue under his cock while I sucked and slobbered.
I felt myself begin to drool as he held my head and fucked my
mouth.  The blond man threw his head back when he came, and
tightening his grip on me.  He touched the back of my throat with
his cock.  I gagged, and then I choked on the salty fluid he was
spraying down my throat.  When he was done the taste of him
filled my mouth, and his sperm was dripping down my chin.   He
sighed and let me go.

I licked my lips and took a long strand of sticky come in my
mouth while they watched me.  I could see the looks of lust on
every face now.  Every man I could see was waiting for his turn
with me. 

Two of the men came forward, naked below the waist.  They pulled
me to my knees.  I took one in my mouth.  The other stroked his
hard-on, inches from my cheek.   Soon the man in my mouth began
to cum, and I swallowed what I could.  The other man, watching,
shot his spunk onto my face. 

I sucked two more men like that.  One held my head so I would
swallow.  The other pulled his cock out and sprayed my face, my
tits and hair. 

They had me lie back down again and spread my legs.  An old fat
man knelt down and masturbated himself onto my pussy. 

Another had me hold my tits together for him and fucked me in
between them.  I held my head up so I could look watch his cock
fucking me like that.  I opened my mouth for him when he came so
I could get some on my tongue.  The rest sprayed on my lips, my
chin, my neck, and my chest.   He wiped his dick on my nipple
when he was done.    

After that, they picked me up and bent me over the back of a
couch that was in the room.   I was face down on the cushions.  I
couldn't see what they were doing, but they spread my legs to
give them easy access.  I thought about my husband watching, and
the thought caused me rub my pelvis against the couch 

Soon I felt someone pushing his cock against my opening.   When
he entered me, I almost came again, still thinking about my
husband, but it wasn't until the third man entered me and
squirted his cum inside me that I felt my second orgasm of the
night.  I came like that, in front of all of them, thinking of
all the semen inside me and imagining how I looked, their cum
leaking out of my pussy-lips as the man withdrew, and dripping
down my thighs.  I continued to cum like that even as a fourth
man stuck his cock inside me. 

I took another three or four cocks like that before the got me
down and put me back down on the floor.  I no longer cared how I
looked or what they did, as long as they could continue to make
me cum.  I wanted to be their slut.  I wanted to be used like the
whore I knew I was.

I lay there, expectantly, waiting to see what man would use me
next.

Instead it was the woman who came forward, encouraged by her
husband, who pushed her gently by her back.  She came and stood
over me, her heels on either side of my naked chest.  She looked
down at me, and then over her shoulder.  I imagine her husband
smiled approvingly, because she unbuttoned her blouse and showed
her tits.

She grasped her breasts in her hands and sighed.  Then she looked
at me again and stepped over my arms and turned around.  She
gathered up her skirt and I could see her naked pussy.  She
looked down at me as she lowered herself carefully onto my face.

This was something I'd never imagined doing, not in any wild
fantasy.  Normally I might have been disgusted.  But I was so
turned on that even this was not too much for me. 

Besides, I wanted her to cum for them.  I wanted them to watch me
make her do it.  I wanted for her husband to see her orgasm on my
face, in front of all these men.   

I tried to tongue her like I like to be tongued myself.  I licked
her pussy lips, searching for her clitoris.  I stuck my tongue
inside her.  I wanted to hear her moan.

Then a thought occurred to me that almost made me stop.  I
realized there was cum on me, in my mouth and on my skin.  But as
I thought about my chances of impregnating her I heard her start
to moan.  

I realized I wanted her to lean down and touch me too, to touch
me with her tongue.  But she didn't do it. 

Instead she arched her back and groaned. 

She rocked herself on top of me, squishing her cunt against my
mouth and nose and tongue.  I did the best I could for her,
licking her with my tongue, until finally she pivoted so I could
suckle on her clit.  I sucked on it until she began to cum.  She
came loudly so I could hear her, grunting and groaning lewdly,
still I hoped, squeezing and pinching her tits for all the men. 

When she got off of me, I realized she hadn't touched me, except
for with her cunt.

She took her husband's hand in hers and smiled up at him.  I
watched them retreating from the room.  I realized I wanted to
fuck her husband too.

I wondered what I looked like, lying on the floor.  I wondered if
there were any men there who hadn't fucked me yet.

I played with my tits, hoping to make them hard. 

Finally they put me back on the couch, and Master told them I
liked it up the ass. 

Two men sodomized me, though I begged them to fuck my cunt
instead.  They ignored me and came inside my ass.  

I couldn't see them.  I wondered if my husband had fucked meyet.

The couple returned from the other room.  They had me kneel down
in the light.  The husband smiled at his wife and she nodded
reluctantly as he unzipped his pants. 

I licked the man's limp and slimy cock for him.  Slowly it grew
in size.  He looked over at his wife again, but hardly glanced at
her before pushing his cock between my lips.  She didn't try to
stop him.  I suckled on him, like I'd done his wife. 

While I did it, I wondered if they might not be trying for a
baby, or if they'd realized what might have happened to her that
night. 

He grunted when he came and watched my face while another load of
cum trickled down my chin.    

By now I'd been fucked more times than I could count, but I
looked around again.  I was covered with cum, soaked with it, it
was dripping out of me, but still I wanted more. 

Finally I saw Master holding his arm out to my husband, who was
still fully dressed.  I realized he was probably the only man who
hadn't fucked me yet. 

"This is our beautiful slut's nice husband," he announced, "the
only man who hasn't cum tonight."

My husband stood frozen.  I realized he was embarrassed for them
to know the slut kneeling on the floor was actually his wife.

Everybody stared.  The woman standing next to me began to clap
softly, and soon everyone joined in. 

When they stopped, my husband continued to stare at me,
uncertain. 

I whispered into the silence, "Please, honey, please come fuck
your wife."

Finally he came and stood in front of me, and I took his cock out
of his pants.

"You can do me any way you want to," I whispered, but he only
stood there, so I took him in my mouth.  He was hard and
throbbing already, but I wanted him in my pussy, so I didn't let
him cum. 

When I pulled him out, he looked down at me achingly, and I lied
back and spread my legs. 

"Come fuck your slutty wife," I told him.  I reached between my
legs and slipped my fingers into my pussy.  I moaned.  "Oh God,
oh please honey please come fuck me now!"

Finally he kneeled between my legs.  I pulled myself apart for
him, anxious to feel him penetrate me.  

When he did, though, I could barely feel it, I was so wet and
loose inside.

"God," he mumbled in my ear, "your pussy feels like water!"

"It's all the other men who've cum inside me," I smiled happily,
"they've made me wet and loose for you."

He grunted and began to fuck me harder.

He was the only man who fucked me face to face.  I wrapped my
legs around him.  I wanted him to kiss me, since I hadn't been
kissed all night. 

I thought of all the men who'd used me, all the things they'd
made me do.  I thought of my husband watching, and now his cock
inside me, where all those men had been.  I thought of all the
cum inside me, him fucking my sloppy cunt. 

I felt a wave of pleasure and knew I would soon be cumming.

But then I felt him go limp inside me, and I realized he'd
already cum.

I held him tightly.  I whispered my thanks into his ear.  But he
could tell I was disappointed he hadn't made me cum. 

I listened as the door opened and people left the room.  Finally
the light went out and we were left in darkness.

We got up and moved into a bedroom, holding hands along the way.
He stripped off his shirt, and we huddled together, underneath
the covers of the bed. 

I touched my slimy cunt between my legs.  I shivered.  I wasn't
through.

"Honey," I whispered.  He mumbled in response. 

"Honey, I really need to cum."  He moved a little in my arms.

"What do you want me to do?"

I think he already knew.

"Please, honey," I whispered.  "Your slut, your cunt, your slimy
whore, she really needs it bad."  I would say anything to
encourage him.  I wanted it worse than I had ever known.

I heard his breathing quicken.  "What do you want me to do?"

I wiggled out of his arms and climbed on top of him, straddling
his belly.  I moved my hips on him, rubbing my juices, and the
juices of all the men onto his skin.  I leaned over, pressing my
sticky breasts onto his chest.

"Please, honey," I whispered, "please kiss your slutty wife."

I could hear him breathing.  I leaned down, and he started to
turn his head away, but I took him in my hands and held him. 

I pressed my lips to his.  I heard him sigh. 

"Open your mouth, baby," I moaned, "please open your mouth for
me."

When he did he sucked my tongue for me, and I could feel the
waves of pleasure coming back as I thought of how I tasted. 

Finally I rose up.  I took his hands and put them on my breasts
and asked him to squeeze me hard.  I ground my hips against his
chest, but it wasn't enough for me. 

When I couldn't take it anymore, I climbed further up on him,
until my pussy was inches from his chin. 

I didn't even ask him.  I pinned his arms beneath my shins and I
spread myself out over him and lowered my cunt onto his face.  He
mumbled but I ignored him.  I fucked his face with my pussy. 

"Oh please," I gasped, "put your tongue inside of me..." I could
feel it coming on now.

"I'll do anything for you... I'll be your slut forever, if you'll
only do this thing for me..."

I felt his tongue and I moaned.  I felt myself begin to cum. 

"Suck on me!" I commanded, "Oh god, Suck!  Suck on me NOW!"

Finally I began to cum, the best orgasm of my life.  Better than
any time before.

I came and came while he sucked on me.  I thought of him
swallowing all that cum.  I reached up and pinched and squeezed
my nipples, and started all over again, grinding my pussy against
his tongue and lips. 

When it was finally over I collapsed beside him and kissed his
cheeks.  "You really are the best, my husband," I whispered.  "No
girl could want more than what you've given me."  I knew I'd feel
embarrassed the next morning, but that moment I was satisfied. 

As I drifted off to sleep, I felt his hands on my sides.  He
rolled me over. 

He climbed on top of me.  "Can I fuck your ass?" he asked.

I grinned contentedly.  "Anything you want, sweetheart.  You can
do anything at all."

It didn't even hurt.  I started to doze off before he even
finished. 


We slept there together that night, cuddling in our cum-soaked
blanket.  When we woke up, everybody was gone, including my
master.  We drove home together. 


I missed my next period, exactly two weeks later.  It's possible,
of course, that it's my husband's, but we both know the odds are
against it.  Especially since we'd been trying just the two of us
for so long without success.

My husband was good to his word, however, and we're happily
preparing for "our" third child together.  I'm sort of hoping
it's the blond man.  My husband later told me it was he who
fucked me first. 

Master moved away soon after.  I told him I was pregnant before
he left.  I think he was disappointed that I didn't catch until
the party.  I know he'd wanted me to bear his child.

He gave us all the tapes, or said he did.  I think he probably
still has copies. 

In a way, I sort of hope he does.  It pleases me to think of him
watching them, somewhere in Arizona. 

I lead a "normal" life again.  No one who still knows me knows
the things I did. 

Except my husband, of course.  But strangely, after I told him
I'd conceived, we stopped talking about how it'd happened.

I'm showing now, but my sex drive has not diminished.

I go to work.  I go to church.  I dress conservatively again.  
I've wanted to repent the things I've done, but I've found that I
cannot.  I can't confess, because I'm too ashamed. 

And I'm afraid I can't renounce.

You see, I still have those tapes, and when I'm alone I sometimes
take them out and play them.  You can guess the rest.

I guess I sort of miss the life I had.  I want my husband to see
me with another man again.  I want to make him do the things I
made him do to me afterwards again.

Sometimes when I read the newsgroups I imagine people doing even
more degrading things to me.

I also wonder if my husband misses the slutty me.  As I said: he
hasn't said. 

I guess I'm like Augustine, in Confessions: "Lord, save me from
temptation... but not just yet."

This is my confession to you, Sandia.  You can post it, if you
like.  Just please change the names and places.

--Kimberly.

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