The doorbell rang early that evening; Erin was gone with Sarah "visiting colleges" and I had come back from the main base gym to a solitary meal. I had thrown myself into another punishing workout; the extreme exhaustion I felt in my upper body dulled all my senses.

In the slow days and shorts months since Sarah hijacked our lives I had taken my already strong physical training regime to a new level; physical exhaustion was a surcease from emotional misery.

I was still in PT gear, sweaty and still hot when I answered the door to find Amy dressed outrageously, obviously anxious, almost hoping from foot to foot. She wore a black party dress and hose. Made up and with jewelry, she had her hands clenched before her and was gnawing on her lip. We stared at each other for a second, and then she said in a rush,

"Please Mr. Bob, please sir may I come in? Oh Miss Erin sent me and I have to." My dick was hardening in my shorts, and I added another sin to my list as I waved her in. "Mr. Bob, Miss Erin, Miss Erin was concerned about you. She was concerned that you would be lonely so she sent this defective slut here."

Amy looked so miserable that despite my cock I told her she didn't need to do this; it was ok. She cut me off, almost crying in desperation, her face screwed up.

"Please Mr. Bob, I only have a few minutes to get you off in this defective slut's mouth! Please let me please you."

In a few moments, with one more glance at her watch, we were ready. I was on the sofa, shorts off, brown T-shirt still plastered to my torso, socks and go-fasters still on. She knelt before me like she had dozens of times before, and as she took my rock hard cock, throbbing with excitement in her hand, I saw that look in her eyes again. Despite her revulsion she was excited; I had no doubt she was wet. She stroked me firmly with one hand while gently playing with my balls; she looked at her watch one more time and before she went done she looked at me fully in her mouth. Her look said "I love being made to do this," and she kept eye contact as long as possible before fully plunging me down her throat.

She was fantastic; in one way we were like an old married couple. Amy had blown me again and again over the months; nobody knew how to service my cock like this pretty young teenager. She had been conditioned, she had learned every part of my genitals; she was finally being controlled remotely, in the most abject way possible. She threw herself into her job with real passion, resting her slim forearms on my thickly muscled thighs while she pumped her head up and down doing her damnedest to coax my spend into her mouth.

She worked feverishly and with real enthusiasm; men are easy to please. It was not long before I experienced a powerful orgasm, jerking my hips into that poor girl's mouth without any regard for her comfort. She swallowed every drop with convulsive gulps, sucking and gently rubbing until I came down from my high. She stood up then between my legs with a far away look. She had a somnambulant expression and demeanor; she said softly, "I did what Miss Erin made me do." I lay back, exhausted, and spent literally and figuratively while she wiped slobber from her chin, and then licked her fingers clean. Some time later the phone rang; I made no effort to pick it up as Amy glided over, serenely calm.

Amy glanced again at her watch before picking up the phone. "Yes Miss Erin. Yes. I did, every drop, I rolled it around and coated my mouth...I stink like cum. Oh yes Miss Erin, everything you say. I'm so wet right now but I can't touch myself. Thank you Miss Erin, thank you for controlling everything I think or do. Yes Miss Erin, I will." She placed the receiver down with the same intense, glassy eyed stare and walked back to me, went to her knees again, bowed her head at my feet.

"Thank you so much Mr. Bob for letting me service you like the cocksucker I am." She looked up at me, and I could see there were tears misting her eyes. She was obviously miserable; pretty, young, black hair like silk framing that Amer-Asian face but filled with sorrow.

"What's wrong Amy?" She shook her head. "What is it?" I don't know why I kept asking her what was wrong; everything was wrong in the sick world Sarah had made for us.

"I can only answer to my name." After a few minutes intuition moved me and I said gently,

"Tell me...Amy Cocksucker." She stiffened then somewhat, back straighter, chest out as she spoke through her tears.

"Miss-miss-Erin and Mistress Sarah are gone on a college tour. They are letting all those college lesbians in training suck and worship them and I can't touch myself because I am an out of control play-with-myself. I feel so worthless-I AM worthless. Miss Erin told me they were working their way from a school called Wellsely into Boston, school by school, making foursomes. Mistress Sarah and Miss Erin each pick two girls, and help them understand they are just lesbian sluts in training. " The tears had dimmed somewhat; Amy spoke with real enthusiasm. "She said they try and arrange aesthetically pleasing combinations, particularly girls who contrast or might not seem compatible at first. I wish I could be there and help those girls service my controller and my owner. She told me about the ones that they did last night. They collected four Barbie doll blondies, prissy little cunts who were pretending they had dignity. Miss Erin told me how pretty they were; long blonde hair, smooth complexions and ripe bodies that were moving from girls to women. They almost look like sisters; the most similar blonde sluts they could find at Smith College. That is the beauty of what Mistress Sarah helped them with. They look so alike on the outside; they all know now that they love to have lingerie parties where they wash together, dress each other in high heels and pretty night clothes, put lip gloss and eye shadow on each other, and pair off again and again for lesbian cunt sucking. But really they are so different. With Mistress Sarah's help, each of them knows who they truly are. One of them has a deep need to receive enemas from a pretty girl. She cums hardest and best when she is filled up, just filled with water and made to hold it. She especially loves to sit on the toilet holding it in, shaking in obedience while she leans forward to lap at another girl's crack. It makes her feel so submissive and pliant. Another one of the girls is a freak for toys. She is bitchy and pushy until one of her pussy pals straps on a thick rubber dick. Then she looses all her will, and she is scared and thrilled and will do anything. She will suck fake dick, get slapped with a fake dick; she takes strap-ons in her pussy and gratefully rolls over to spread her ass-cheeks. After she has been fucked, she is so soft and grateful and loving; she just wants to serve and lick the pretty dyke who cored her. No matter how many times it happens it's like the first time; she is terrified and submits and is broken time after time.

Another one of the girls has come to understand she has a profound need to be hurt and abused by other girls. She loves to have her tits tortured, her pussy slapped, but her main obsession is large object insertion. She can only cum when she is the subject of abuse from another hot slut lesbian like herself. When she is hurt by a girl she feels warm yummy love and an emotional dam bursts inside her. She longs to be a true painslut for her sisters. She willingly sucks and gets sucks, it feels good, but she only comes when she is abused, because she knows her cunt needs to be punished."

I was, unbelievably, hard again, my dick throbbing. Amy was staring straight at my cock, licking her lips, attracted yet repulsed. Attraction and repulsion, it was so evident on her face it might have been written. My dick was gross to her, inferior, and yet she had been trained again and again by my wife to suck and swallow for her release.

"Go on Amy," I croaked out. Never taking her eyes of my cock she continued.

"The last one is has also learned the Truth, that she is a freak for girls, a pretty femme lesbian who feels real love for her sisters and will never tire of night after night of girl sex. Soft curves and sweet flesh, wet pussies and pretty, shapely feminine legs make her so hot she has to lick and be licked. But she is the keystone; she is pretty and feminine and loves high-heels and lingerie, but she is as hard as a diamond. She knows the special thrill of bending another girl to her will. She is a dominant; she has the force to make a girl obey, yeild, give in and be sweetly compliant or forced into submission. She is the one who ends up wearing the strap on, she is the one who will play games of water and power, she is the one will abuse her sister until they both have to fuck. She will love them and hurt them and use them."

We stared at each other, I at her face and she at my "filthy man-cock." Many, many of the things that had happened so far had been initiated by others; I felt guilty but not predatory. I was so hard then, so turned on, so lonely to in a way.

"Amy Cock-sucker, I'm going to tell Erin how much of a slut you really are. How you even sucked cock when not being directly controlled. She controls what you do all the time, even when she is not here."

She nodded slowly, pushing her face down obediently onto my cock, even harder this time than when she first started; thrillingly, achingly hard as that sweet young, totally fucked up girl sucked and jacked me into her mouth. She was a cocksucker, with a phantom mistress omnipresent in her life. I came hard again, spilling my seed without as much violence but with a sense of being completely emptied as she kept on firmly jerking and swallowing every bit of my jiz.

When Erin came back from her college tour, I was in the field again. I didn't see her then until Friday night.

She was more subdued than she had been lately. As we lay in bed we talked quietly, and for the first time since Sarah came into our life she expressed remorse and loneliness. I actually held her as she talked about the trip: exciting, exhausting and ultimately shocking to Erin even in her new relationship.

Apparently Sarah had been quite cruel, crueler than usual I guess, with three girls who offended her.

"It was one really, in the Rathskeller at BU. She caught Sarah checking her out, twigged to what she was about really. A lot of these girls were just oblivious, but this girl sussed Sarah out, walked up to her and snapped her fingers under Sarah's nose and called her a 'dyke.'" This was when Erin lay against me in bed, letting it all pour out.

"Sarah made her get her two best looking friends, these two girls who were really nice and now they are just cruel. That girl, Meredith, she is a total painslut now, I don't mean like playing and spankings and squeezing tits, I mean like cutting and branding and choking and hard, hard slapping. The other two girls, Jen and Susan are like cruel priestess of some fucked up religion. I mean they are like stone, striving to please Sarah by hurting that girl every day for the rest of their lives. They were talking about getting the biggest dog they could to make her fuck and suck it, and the most horrible part was when she made Meredith call up her dad and tell him she was dropping out of school to work full time as a stripper and that she was a lesbian slave girl. She was panting as she told him; they were slapping her cunt again and again so hard I wanted to run out of the room. It wasn't hot, it was just cruel."

She cried, we clung to each other, and I wondered how long we could hold out against the storm blowing through our lives. I could not summon anger in response to what Sarah had done to us, but this...I could feel about this. It was outrageous, and gratuitously cruel.

It was doubly frustrating then to come home from a PT session to find Sarah in the house and my wife loving every second of her degradation. I heard them as I came in, I started to turn around but Sarah reminded me that I wanted to see them "playing together."

"Oh God yes Sarah please, please put it all in me God I love this and I love you." Sarah was on the ottoman; Erin was at her feet, legs splayed, trying her damnedest to push Sarah's delicate foot up her snatch.

"Well Rob-O! It seems that old Erin has been cheating on me, saying disrespectful and disloyal things to you about me. What an ungrateful, miserable cunt. Wouldn't you agree honey?"

"Oh I am so sorry Sarah. Please, please hurt my worthless cunt, please make me pay for not loving you enough." Erin redoubled her efforts to push that foot in her; I was amazed to watch her grunt, pull, strain and distend her vagina until almost half of Sarah's foot was up her twat. As she built to her climax Erin continued to profess her sorrow and adoration of Sarah as I felt betrayed again, angry and turned on. I hated myself for it, but I got so fucking hard watching that psychodrama I jerked off to it. But before Erin could come Sarah roughly pulled her foot out.

"Lick it slut." Erin scrambled over, frustrated and eager, so eager to please the one person she really loved. She lay again beneath Sarah, enduring verbal abuse while stretching her tongue out to the max to lick and suck every bit of girl juice off that foot.

"Oh I worship you Sarah, I worship your feet," she blurted out in gasps between lick sessions.

Sarah was wearing a lime sheath dress; as she let my wife worship her feet I couldn't stop my eyes from straying to Sarah's crotch. She kept on flashing glimpses of her bikini panties as she pushed Erin around on the floor with her foot.

Abruptly Sarah stood up, crushing Erin's face below her.

"I am bored with this, and I am bored with you, you ungrateful slut. Since you don't seem to appreciate me or my time, I will go spend my time with someone who does." With a final savage thrust she pushed Erin's face to one side against the carpet, and then walked to the door where her shoes and bag were.

"Oh please forgive me Sarah. Please let me serve you, please punish me and my worthless cunt for not loving you enough. You know I love you, I only love you and I need you Sarah. Please! I need to be your fuck-toy Sarah!" Erin was crawling across the carpet like a worm; Sarah paid her no heed and left without a backward glance. That night by mutual, unspoken consent I slept on the couch. I lay there, unsleeping for hours, hurt, betrayed, yet unable to feel any emotion for Sarah except excitement and lust. But as I pressed around the edges of my feelings, for the first time I felt real fear. What might she do to us, what horrible Truth might Sarah inculcate in either or both of us? I didn't want to be a Meredith.

Erin eventually wormed her way back into Sarah's good graces; eventually Sarah admitted she missed her "sassy little fuck-toy," so long and lean and graceful, so passionate. For two weeks Sarah tortured her sweetly, grinding herself on Erin's face so hard I though she would choke, refusing her the dildo-coring she craved; any release at all in fact. Erin was allowed to orally worship at the twin altars of Sarah's pussy and anus. She had Erin explain why she liked both; why it was so emotionally satisfying to lick her mistress to cunnilingual orgasm, but also so right and fitting to perform annilingus on the most wonderful woman in the world for reasons of debasement and pleasure. Finally Sarah relented, and made up for lost time.

That first night of forgiveness we all sat together and watched the "Anniversary Tape;" Erin sitting in Sarah's lap, the starter strap-on buried to the hilt in her ass while Sarah played with her. Erin's screen groans were mingled with her real life groans; she watched herself get ass fucked by Sarah while she got ass-fucked by Sarah.

And so our life went on, balanced between normalcy and whatever pit Sarah might have thrown us in. One weekend a change came to our lives though.

Erin had asked me to go to the mall with her to pick out some sexy new clothes to wear for Sarah. She wanted to surprise Sarah with a complete slutwear change. Out with the old, in with the new. I, like a guilty addict, felt dread at this, but also lust; I knew it would add spice to the next time I watched them play a game of power and strap-ons.

So it was that we went to the mall with hundreds of other soldiers and their wives, children and a smattering of locals.

Our first stop was of course Victoria's Secret. Erin was enthusiastically trying on different outfits, matching bra and panty sets (buy three pairs of panties, get the fourth pair FREE!), when I twigged to a man looking at us. His eyes moved from wife (understandable) to me, finally looking at me with intensity that was confrontational. He was a fairly non-descript fellow, maybe 30, brown hair, decent sized but not really big. He had two stunningly attractive girls absolutely fawning over him, but he seemed to ignore them in favor of just eyeballing the shit out of me and my wife.

I don't pick fights; I don't get fucked with either. I walked up to him to ask him what his major malfunction was and he said simply,

"We need to talk."

Of course, I realized. We needed to talk; I desperately gestured to Erin to come over with the stuff she had bought, and in a moment she too understood how important it was that We Talked.

We walked to a large circular bench around a giant planter, and we talked.

Mostly we talked, while he listened. At a certain point we both knew we were supposed to Be Quiet, to be quiet while he looked intently at us.

"Man, you two are seriously fucked up. I mean fucked like nothing I have ever seen. I mean A-1 fucked up. This is only the second really professional job I have ever seen; what were the odds?" I didn't understand everything he said, but yea I understood the fucked in the head part.

We talked some more, but I can't remember anything we said, and eventually we were DONE and went home.

The incident was so unremarkable that Erin and I had forgotten all about the man by the time we got to our car, purchases in tow.

The very next night Sarah showed up; Erin was ready for her. She was wearing a new purchase: a mesh, utterly see through black baby doll nightie and red satin panties with black lace trim. She wore red lipstick and nail polish as well, with glossy black high-heel shoes. Sarah's eye's went wide as she took in this wet dream, she smiled cheerily at me as if to say,

"See what I get to play with?" and walked past me to my wife.

I was already hard and nothing had happened yet.

As Sarah walked past me though, something strange happened. Sarah walked past me, slowly, jauntily, eyes fixed on the prize. But it wasn't Sarah. It was really an enemy combatant sentry. I could never do anything but be a puppy dog to Sarah, but this was different. My life and the life of my wife were on the line. If that sentry called out we were dead.

I stepped behind him, punched my right arm over her (?) right shoulder and choked back violently, jerking the sentry of his (her?) feet as my left hand pulled back on my right arm, barring his (her?) throat as I yanked us both to the ground, ear to ear. A perfect "silent sentry take-down."

The sentry flopped and clawed at me for a while, but I waited. I knew it was very important that the sentry not say one solitary word, and I knew I couldn't kill him (her?). The sentry needed to be questioned.

I let go after she (she?) had stopped moving. I looked up to see if Erin was worried, but she was very busy, twiddling her thumbs with utter concentration, silently counting each revolution. Erin was fine; I used duct tape in generous quantities until I knew we were Safe. We could only be Safe if the sentry couldn't speak.

I then pulled out a cell phone (I don't own a cell phone) and hit the home button. After a few rings a voice answered and told me to stay there, but by the time I had heard the words I had dropped the phone and sat down.

Both of us were silent, she counting thumb revolutions and uncharacteristically quiet, just still. The door opened some undetermined time later, and the man from the mall was there. I had forgot him until I saw him again.

He smiled at me, lifted one eyebrow and said "Nice going, Rambo." I was feeling around inside my head, wondering if this was all right, when the man from the mall let us know we were supposed to go upstairs and rest. We got up to leave the living room, and he was kneeling down, whispering in the ear of the bound and gagged sentry.

Some time later he called up to us. We used the toilet and had some water (it must have been a long time, I was so dry). Erin needed to speak to the man; I am not sure how long it was but it must have been fairly because the man reminded me I wanted to eat something and I realized just how hungry I was.

Finally it was my turn to talk to the man. Erin walked past me, tears streaming down her face; she reached for me but then fled upstairs sobbing. I wanted to comfort her but I HAD to talk to this fellow.

Sarah was there. I realized the sentry had been Sarah, but that couldn't be. She did have red marks on her hands and face though, like she had been duct taped all to hell, but, anyway, she was there, quiet, demure, eyes moving from me to the him and back again.

"So man. How you feeling?"

"I dunno. I don't know what to think, what I'm going TO think. Brain salad-surgery." He smiled at that, and told me he understood what I meant, and that it would BE OK. I felt better immediately. We talked for only a short time, about how I felt about Sarah, how I felt about my wife. I understood I could forgive Erin if I wanted to, and that loving my wife wasn't really "interfering" with Sarah and Erin.

"Look man, me and the Queen of Darkness over here have some work to do. Shit, I have work to do. But look, I have done what I can here. I can't undo what has been done; it doesn't work that way. You got all I can give you."

At one level I had no idea wtf he was talking about; at another I intuitively understood, and understood he had saved me. He had stood and was turning to leave and whirled back. "No. No, I'm not a good man. Now you, you are a good man. You are ten times the man I have been. Don't...just don't think because I have unfucked one thing I am not just as bad as her." He turned to Sarah. "You ready to make some amends?"

She nodded slowly, with utter intensity, seriousness and a gravity I had never seen in her before. She was clearly ready.

After they left I turned to go upstairs. Whatever the fall-out was going to be, bad news and garbage don't get better with time. Tackle this like everything else: straight on.

"Hey baby." She was lying face down on the bed, shuddering slightly in the hiccups that come after a long, long cry. She didn't turn to face me. I walked up beside her, sat down on the bed, and for the first time in months touched her without feeling I was skating on thin ice. "Come here." I pulled her into me, soft, warm, not as pretty with a red, blubbery face but fragrantly Erin, my wife. She sobbed against me, rocking back and forth. I said nothing else, just held her and let her feel the way she wanted to until she was done. Still sad, but able to look at me and not cry again. But when she did sit back and look at me her face and neck instantly turned red.

"Oh Rob I am so sorry. I-I oh I don't know how you can stand to look at me. You must hate me."

"No baby, I don't hate you. None of this was your fault."

"But it was my fault." At my protest she shook her head emphatically. "Honey, when Sarah took me, that first night; she did some stuff. She changed the way I felt, she changed how my body feels things...but she didn't impinge on my free will." She took a deep breath and looked up, looked at me straight in the eye.

"I choose to give in." I sat there, understanding what she meant, letting the first twinges of anger kindle at the edge of my mind. But I also knew with clarion precision, that this was my wife, who I had married for good or ill, and I could say or do things here that might feel good and yet be wrong for the rest of my life.

"Yea. I guess so, but you were not yourself, you were put to a test no one could have endured."

"No one? What about you? You spend all your hobby time turning the pain off, running more, harder, hitting the O-Course one more time than anyone in your platoon? You told me a hundred times how you just don't give in, and keep going for one more mile or one more rep or whatever. I bet, hell honey, I know, no matter how good it felt, you could have said no. She might have taken your body but you wouldn't have just handed over the keys to your mind willingly." I stood up, agitated, pacing, toying with the rage that I spent so much time burying beneath military discipline, marital duty, professional duty, boxing. Anything to keep my anger under control and only vented at safe places like the ring or an endurance event or a young soldier who needed to get scared before he could get straight.

I hadn't shouted at Erin in years; there had been a time when I would get so mad at her we would have screaming fights until I scared her. I can barely say it now; one night in fury I hit her. Punched her in the stomach.

I never did it again; we never talked about it again. Right now it felt like she was prodding me to a fight I didn't want to have. It was like an invitation to open the door, and I knew if I let it open this time it would be irrevocable.

"Rob, I need to tell you this. Sarah was right. I never let you in all the way, I held myself back and then opened-"

I realized I had jerked her up of the bed, holding her by the throat and jammed her against the wall. Still shaking with fury, I loosened up enough not to choke her to death. Leaning in, just a whisper in her ear, flatly and with menace,

"Why the fuck do you feel the need to tell me this Erin? Because you are hurting me, and if you really want to hurt me I can and will hurt you back. In fact, I think I am going to hurt you regardless and teach you a long term lesson, you disloyal - fucking - cunt." God it felt good to let the anger out, even as I said the words part of me knew I would feel differently another day; my anger wouldn't stay white-hot forever. I pulled back and looked at her, saw the misery and fear in her eyes.

"I have to tell you b-b-because I need to make it up to you, and th-th-th-that starts with confessing."

"Fuck." I let her down.

"Fuck."

I pulled her to me, but she wriggled out of my grasp and knelt at my feet.

"Please Rob, let me make it up to you. I understand now, oh god I understand what a disloyal cunt I have been and I am going to spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you will let me." Here her hands stroked my thighs, and she looked straight at my crotch. "I have to tell you this to. He couldn't undo what has been done. I'm still, oh I'm still a little lesbian slut; I don't get hot for men. " She pressed her face against the tent in my shorts for a moment and pulled back. "But guilt makes me so hot honey. Being guilty makes my cunt just melt, and my heart melt for you to. And oh honey, I have a lot of guilt."

I didn't mean to be rough with her, but I had spent so much time being passive, so out of character, it was like being free after captivity. I silenced her with my jutting erection. She rolled my foreskin back, and slid my length into her hot, warm mouth.

She had never been big on blowing me; not said no, but obviously not into it either. She was now. She must have taken notes from Amy (oh, there's guilt there); she jacked my firmly with one hand, fondled my balls with gentle love with the other and made her mouth a smooth, wet cunt for me. When my peak neared I grabbed her head and thrust into my wife's face. I came, jerking violently into her throat, I tried to hold back with part of me, but the animal part of me wanted deeper, harder.

Spent, I pulled out and looked down. Erin was blinking, swallowing and running her tongue around her lips; she had both her hands in her red satin panties. She didn't finish herself off though, she got up and helped me roll my feet onto the bed and put her face in my crotch, peeling my dick again to make sure it was clean with her tongue.

She snuggled up against me. "Did that feel good honey?" she asked as she hugged herself to me, genuine concern in her voice.

"Yea. Yea, that felt very good." I slid my arm over hers and she squeezed me tight.

"I feel so, so 'good' right now. I just feel warm and I feel your love and approval for me honey, and oh I love you. I always did love you, I was just lost for a while. Honey, I am going to make it up to you so good, be what you want me to be, please you and take care off you." I felt her moving against me, I realized that other hand was busy between her legs. "I love making you happy honey, I just want to show you, show you with my actions, that I love you and want to be good for you." She kept up this pleasant devotional while she worked to a climax. I turned over to look at her, reached out and tweaked her nipples through the negligee while she spoke words of atonement and devotion to me. She came, shuddering at her own hands and mine. As she came down she opened her eyes and looked at me as she dutifully licked her hands clean, this time for me.

We rested for a while, catnapped, and went to work again re-aquatinting ourselves with each other's bodies. I lay down and she took great pleasure in oiling my cock up and stroking it, gazing raptly at my dick, talking nasty as background music to this scene:

"Do you like this honey?"

"Does it feel good?"

"God I love stroking your dick like this; it makes me feel like your little hand maiden. You know anytime you get hard you don't have to wait or ask; just grab me. You know that, right honey? That I'll do anything for you, do anything you want because I love you and want only to make you happy?"

"Do you want to come on my face honey, and see me look like a whore for you? Or should I let you spray and then BE a whore and lick up every drop 'cause I'm a slut for you?"

I didn't answer, but true to her word, she licked up every drop from my chest and belly, asking permission to frig herself, sounding like she wouldn't mind all that much if I tormented her and didn't let her play with herself.

So things were better, certainly better, although not perfect. What has been done can't be undone. Erin looks at girls harder than I do; she loves it when I let her watch a porn movie, especially girl on girl action. She is still a lesbian; but she is also my wife.

One thing we found out after a few nights "back together" is that we invariably ended up having oral or manual sex. By unspoken mutual consent, I never penetrated her. The sex was still good; her white hot passion in pleasing me, in expiating her guilt satisfied me deeply, but again, some things can't be undone.

It had been almost a month then, when the past came back to haunt us in a way I had never imagined.

Things were better. Everyone in the battalion was happy that "me and Erin were back together," her obvious devotion to me made what was by its nature awkward a little less awkward. My soldiers were upbeat; the suspicion that maybe, just maybe I had been a little hard on them during my time of woe crossed my mind. But things were better.

Then on a crisp, fall Saturday the door rang, and there was Sarah. I was stunned, but as stunned, as my mind was, the action part of me was moving to hit her, kill her before a word of corruption spilled from her lips. But I couldn't. Somethings can't be undone. Unable to hurt her (she was so beautiful; in a moment of heart infidelity I compared them and found Erin lacking), I stared instead. I stared as she sank gracefully to her knees before me.

We held that tableau for a few minutes before I said,

"Sarah, come in before someone sees you." She rose, stepped in, and again fell to her knees in a position of complete supplication. I heard a stifled gasp behind me, and Erin call out

"Sarah!" One word that held hope, lust, love and genuine fear all wrapped up.

"Why are you here Sarah?" Still examining my shoes, she said,

"I know who I love now Master. I love you. He helped to understand all the things I had done wrong, and he helped me to see who really, truly was made to love and serve. You are my Lord, my Master, and I beg you please to let me serve you the rest of my days. I know who I love, and it's you Master Rob."

Wow,

"Ok, Sarah, get up, and don't call me Master. That's just fucking stupid.

Call me Bob or Rob." She rose again, graceful and though I had mixed emotions about this (fear, lust, anger, astonishment), lust was strong in me. Sarah was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, lovely, perfect and stunning to me. I loved Erin, but I wanted to Sarah.

She knelt at my side, and it seemed symmetrical and sensible when Erin did so at the other side. Sarah gazed up at me, and I realized she was dead serious. Her face shone with adoration and love; I was the light of her eyes. I leaned in and kissed her, the most galvanizing and electric kiss I have ever experienced. It went straight to my dick. Suddenly I remembered I was married and my wife was next to me, I pulled back and looked at her, but her eyes said 'clearly go for it;' she was openly fingering herself. She leaned forward and kissed my knee and murmured

"I love you so much honey." I turned back to my curvy wet dream, Sarah. Our hands found each other's clothes, and soon we were mostly undressed, kissing and writhing on the couch. I was playing with her gorgeous breasts through her bar, so much fuller than Erin's, her tiny hands had found my cock, hard like re-bar jutting from my body. Every time she rubbed my dick it jumped and threatened to go off.

We tussled back and forth, she in passion for me and I in fulfillment of my treasured fantasy. It didn't matter what she had done to me, she was still the most beautiful, sexually exciting woman in the world, and she was moaning in her urgency to please me.

"Wait, wait," she murmured and slipped off the coach, blonde, tan, wearing only white cotton panties and bra. She looked up at me. "Please let me look at it."

She stared in rapt fascination at my dick, still firmly pumping my cock with both hands. "God, I can't believe I'm going to have this in me. Ma - Rob, you know I have never had a man before?"

"Yea, I guessed." I could still smile at that.

"This (looking at my dick), you, are going to be my first. I guess you figured out I have a thing for fake cocks? Ever since I first knew I was gay I always made girls do what I want, and then I saw this dirty magazine that showed a woman fucking another woman with a dildo. It was a layout, with some stupid captions, but the layout was so hot. It showed a cruel looking brunette woman with a dildo on, and she just fucked the shit out of this gorgeous blonde girl who was all dolled up for her lover. She made her beg for it too, suck it...ever since then I have been fascinated with dicks, or with my strap-on dick. I always felt it was the way to be closest to a girl, or to be the most in charge of her, to have her happily impale herself on my dick, err to make her beg for it actually." She stopped for a moment, got closer to my dick, peeled the foreskin all the way down and brought her nose a millimeter from my dickhead and inhaled deeply. "Oh," was all she murmured, and then slowly engulfed my cock. Erin was watching us with shining eyes, obviously excited.

"Erin, I want you to really fuck yourself while I use Sarah...is that all right?" She closed her eyes for a second as she forced four fingers into her cunt, and then looked back.

"God you two look so beautiful. It makes me hot to see my husband playing with the girl who helped me be so guilty." Her voice trailed off as she really went to work on herself, eyes fixed on that blonde head pumping my dick again and again.

Sarah came off me though, and looked up.

"Rob, please tell me where you want to come, where you want me this first time. My mouth, my pussy or my ass? Because they're yours to use however you want. Please Rob, use me and oh please let me please you. I have this burning in my pussy and this feeling in my stomach every time I think of you. Every night, he wouldn't, I, I played with myself. He wouldn't let me do anything, I couldn't, I was there to make amends and try and fix all the things I had done wrong, and oh god I never kept any notes or track of stuff, but I tried everywhere I could and every night I dreamed of you, he showed my just how obsessed I am with you and I had planned this out so many times." The words came out in a torrent. She was almost crying now. "Please use me Rob, so I can feel good and loved? I love you so much!

I pulled her hands, those pretty little hands off my cock before I blew and had her stand up.

"Erin, go get that KY Jelly you had." While she scurried off, I bent Sarah over in front of me. I traced the curve of her ass cheeks, then traced my fingers down between her legs. She was open and lubricating; I could smell her excitement. It was her ass I wanted now though. I pushed first one then two fingers into her cunt; she pushed back with a small mewl of approval. I began to trace Sarah's wetness around the brown pucker of her anus, teasing her and then slowly pushing in.

"Oh god Rob, how many fingers is that?"

"Just one," I said jauntily.

"Ohhhhhh," she whispered in a throaty voice of disbelief. That made my dick throb again; if one finger made her feel that full, what would my dick do? Two fingers, and Sarah was panting.

"Does it hurt too much?"

"Oh no. It hurts a little but I like the way it feels, oh god I know what they felt now. Please fuck my ass Rob, please use your pretty Sarah the way she is supposed to." Erin had come back with the KY, and we made a little ritual of preparing for Sarah's first fuck. Sarah covered my cock with KY, stroking and coating it, marveling out loud that it would be inside her, that she was being taught to worship my cock, that she was scared and that made her cunt soaking wet. Sarah looked in my eyes as she reached back in self-penetration, pushing her fingers into herself, greasing herself up for me. "I'm ready Rob." But before she could turn around Erin shuffled forward and caught those fingers in her mouth, sucking and cleaning her former (current?) mistress' fingers. She came, hard, sucking and bucking her hips, fingers deep inside her.

"You still love her, don't you Erin?"

"Yes honey, I'm so sorry I love her and I love you and I feel so worthless." I felt around my feelings and found I didn't mind; it was exciting in fact.

"I understand honey. I love Sarah too. I guess we are just one screwed up love triangle. Now Sarah, bend over the ottoman on your knees and spread your pretty behind for me."

She did so, head down on one side, submissive, the antithesis of the Sarah I new, yet the same person now inside out. She had those white cheeks spread, tan fingers pulling, her ass lubed for me. I held my cock in one hand and slowly covered her petite body with mine. The contrast that had struck me between Sarah and Erin struck me again as I slowly pushed the blunt head of my dick into her rectum. Now it was me, hairy, muscular, deep farmers tan on my arms as I covered that soft, petite body. Erin's body was tight, well muscled and lean, rangy and sexy. Sarah was so feminine, so soft, rounded buttocks, lovely tan skin and blonde hair. I lay on top of her, slowly pushing in. I didn't want to hurt the girl I loved, but I wasn't going to be denied. Her little hands curled into balled fists as I got in deeper, she was panting hoarsely, groaning in discomfort but I sensed a complete surrender; her body-English cried 'More.'

I was breathing hoarsely now as well, overwrought with passion as I plied deeper into her backside, so different from vaginal sex. Not the smooth wetness of Erin's pussy, but hot and tight and so primal and nasty it made us both dizzy with lust. I came into her quickly, jerking my hips as if I could get in deeper as I came in three waves. Sarah as babbling, thanking me.

"Oh god yes, oh Rob, oh oh that was so, oh please stay in me, please just lay on me in be inside me. Oh Rob that felt so good, it hurt and it was rough but I feel so good right now, feel so good for you. God I feel like a woman right now, I feel full, I never knew, oh I never knew what it was like to have someone in you, I can still feel you pulse inside me." Groped back with her left hand to touch my arm. "Please tell me that I was good, that I made you happy Rob." I leaned back down, fully on her, and whispered in her ear, still loud enough that Erin could hear,

"I love you Sarah."

I let her masturbate beneath me, lifting up enough for her to get a hand to her crotch; she was quick after all that work-up.

We separated; I lay back, spent. Erin and Sarah both attended to me, cooing over me, feeling my pecs, my biceps, Sarah seemed fascinated by the thick muscles of my trapezeus. I felt good, lionized by these beauties, and even though my cock was down for right now, my new harem roiled me with lust. I felt free; I knew I could do whatever I wanted and they would love it. Sarah moved down between my legs, staring at my now tiny dick, slick and dirty from her hole. I realized she was about to clean me with her mouth.

"No Sarah, you don't have to do that. Get a washcloth." "Please Rob," said with melting fervor, "please, just this once. It makes me feel so hot to do nasty things for you." Fine. I pushed her down and she delicately, lovingly licked every bit of my dick clean, raising me up halfway again. She grinned at me, a ghost of the saucy, old Sarah. Sure she had my attention, she turned to Erin.

"Erin honey. Your beautiful, big strong husband needs a rest right now. But you know what would recharge his batteries, hmmm?" Erin swallowed, and answered with a quavering voice that almost cracked..

"I bet, I bet if he saw what a slut his wife is, if he saw her playing lesbian slut games he might get hard again. Then you could shove me away and make love to him like a real wife would. I'm, I'm worthless and you two are beautiful." Sarah's eyes flicked back to me, and then back to Erin with an evil smile.

"My mouth is all dirty, all dirty from getting the kind of good, hot fucking a wife should get. But you didn't get it, did you slut? "

"No, I'm a disloyal cunt!"

"So come over here and clean my mouth out, cunt-licker." They kissed deep and hard, Erin pushing her tongue in as far as she could, desperately clinging to her mistress. Their bodies molded together, Erin moved her hands down to gently stroke Sarah's pussy; Sarah pinched Erin's nipples and held her by the back of the head and kissed hard. God, what a wet dream they were. They didn't wait for you to get hard; they put on a fuck-show to make you ready. Sarah broke the kiss, Erin whining for more. "I kept something in the car, in case my Lord wants me to use it. Can I Rob? Can I fuck your pretty wife with my dick, and then when you're ready drop her and make love to a real man? I want to fuck her and then get fucked by your dick."

That became a regular part of our games; Erin got off on my rejection of her when we played with Sarah. Not every time; Sarah still lived across the street, and would until I left service or got orders. But sometimes we played games of frustration where Sarah fucked her almost to completion and then abandoned her for me. Erin's guilt fetish got fed by seeing Sarah be a "real woman" for me, while she was just a silly dyke. That was the word Sarah used when she fucked her, a "stupid, disloyal dyke who doesn't deserve a stud like Rob." It always drove her to self-pleasure that I knew was emotionally and sexually fulfilling for her.

I have two wives really; one incomplete, who lives in a tension between her desire to make up to me, and driven to wild lust by her conflicted desire. The other is not my real wife, but is the one I am closest to, most intimate with, she is the one who wraps her legs around me and loves me back with all her force and heart. She never tires of pleasing me, never tires of telling me how much she loves me and how lucky she was that she was rescued, and had a chance to make amends. She understands in a luminous, clarion way that she is all about opening herself up to me and being filled by me; the emotional and physical sense of being filled up makes her whole and happy in a way she never was. That part is true; Sarah my slave is happier by far than Sarah the predator ever was. She says she has been literally "redeemed," bought back for a price, and she weeps when she dwells on the price I paid.

There is an area I never delved into; afraid to face my own guilt. Without using so many words, I understood that Amy might have some chance at love one day, albeit some strange variation. I never spoke to her again; her father retired soon after Sarah came back. I don't know what else Sarah did to make amends; my impression is she left a trail of destroyed lives so wide and varied she could never fix even half of it.

As for me, what has been done can never be undone. It would be better if none of this had happened. I muse at times about what might have been; would Erin and I have grown on our own, to bridge whatever reserve she had?

Man is a resilient beast though, and I am no one to stay down. I'm just made that way, to see the cup half full. When I come home from the gym, broken blood vessels across my shoulders in parallel lines from repping out 315 lbs. squats, Sarah is duly impressed; it makes her want to be under me, feel the weight of my muscle on her. When I run my annual marathon at the Marine Corps Marathon she gets genuinely excited massaging my punished body afterwards. When I fight in a smoker or a local tuff man, even if I don't win the whole thing (most are single elimination over two or three nights) she is thrilled by the competitive ferocity I bring to it; she gets hotter and wetter than usual when I fulfill her expectations of a "real man." It makes her a "real woman."

I'm content.