The attached work of fiction is intended to be entertainment for adults in locations in which it is
legal.  If it is illegal in your location, DO NOT read.  This is a copyrighted work.  Reposting or
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except may be posted as part of a  review or posted to free-access, noncommercial archive sites.
                      
Copyright 1998 by E. Z. Riter.
                      
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E-mail address: ezriter@hotmail.com
                      
                      
                      
MY BOSS' SLUT
                          
Part Four
                          
Becky, my slut wife, had been telling me about her weekend with my boss, Mr. Williams. It
made   me so hard listening to her, she was going to let me fuck her. She was on her back on our
bed, our marital bed.  I didn't mind she was my boss' slut. She was much better in bed with me,
too.  My sex life was good now. And she was going to have the baby I could not give her.  My
boss was going to make her pregnant. 
                          
"Come on, Bobby. Stick that little thing in me.  Fuck me, Bobby.  Fuck me."  
                          
I crawled between Becky's spread legs, those beautiful legs she'dd wrapped around my boss just
hours ago as he fucked her in the limo in front of my house. Now, she wrapped those legs around
me and guided me into her.
                          
I couldn't feel any difference.  She didn't feel stretched to me. Was she? Was she so stretched
from his big cock that she could barely feel me in her? How did it feel to her?  How? 
                          
Becky's legs were tight around me. I could feel her tighten her pussy.  Tighten.  I'd hold back.
She said sometimes I could make her cum when I fucked her. Sometimes. Maybe if I tried harder
to hold back. 
                          
"Ummm, Bobby, fuck me.  Come on, honey."  
                          
She was starting to sweat. I could feel the heat pouring off her. Feel her muscles start to tighten. 
                          
"Bobby, so close, honey. Faster, baby. No. Dammit, no.  Damn you, can't you learn to hold it?
Oh, God. Get down there. Make me cum with your mouth.  Hurry, Bobby. I need to cum.  Yes.
Oh, yes. Come on, you pussy eater. Eat me. Eat me!"
                          
Yes, I'd make her cum. Her hands held my head tightly against her pussy.  I was sucking her clit,
sucking and licking.  

"Yes. YES!" she screamed. 
                          
She wrapped her legs around my head, crushing it, squeezing, squeezing my head as she came.  I
continued to lick her, continued eating her as the aftershocks floated through her. I stayed
between her legs, licking at her delicious pussy, as she rested. I felt her stir, then she moved to sit
up again. She patted my hand patronizingly.
                          
"Well, Bobby, you almost made me cum with your dick.  Maybe next time. It's a good thing you
love to suck cum from my pussy while you eat it or you'd never make me orgasm.  Do you want
to hear about the rest of my weekend?"

"Yes, Becky. I'd like that." 

"Well, come sit by me."  She scooted up so her back was resting on the pillows and  patted the
bed beside her.  She yawned and stretched. 

"Where was I? Remember when you were a kid, a little kid maybe five or six and you went to the
playground to ride the swings? You'd kick your legs and go higher, and kick and higher.
Remember?  Then, you'd get way high, kicking your legs to the sky. Right at the top, your head
would be so far back you were looking at the ground. Then, movement would cease for an instant
and you'd feel weightless. Down you went again, swinging backwards toward the ground.
Remember how good it felt?
                          
This was ten times better.  Better. My feet weren't swinging much, just the inches the straps in
the limo moved, just the inches the rope would allow. But my pussy, oh, my  pussy, moved back
and forth, back and forth, almost weightless, Bobby.  And, my head was back all the time. Oh,
Bobby, the best part though was my pussy ring. His finger was through it. With each swing, the
tension on the ring tightened. It'd pull. Then it'd be painful and I was afraid I would tear. Just
when I thought the pain would make me scream, back I'd swing and the bolts of electricity would
fire through me. 
                          
Bolts, Bobby, of pleasure, firing from my pussy all through me, making me tingle.  
           
Oh, I wanted to cum, but he wouldn't let me. Mr. Williams is a good lover, Bobby, real good.
You should take lessons from him. He knows how to make a girl beg for it, especially if the girl
is a slut like me. 
                          
Then he let go of the ring. He stopped touching me. He wouldn't talk. I swung there in the air,
needing to cum. I was so open, so available, my pussy in his face, but he didn't touch me.   
   
'Mr. Williams?  Please, say something,' I finally asked, but he was silent.  You know, Bobby, that
is when I felt the sluttiest. Just hanging there, my legs spread as wide as they could go, my pussy
so open and exposed and him ignoring me, letting me hang.  My arms were hurting and my legs
ached. I felt my excitement ease away. 
                          
The limo slowed. When it did, he removed the ropes, letting me down. I sat for a second, my legs
throbbing. I rubbed my arms to get circulation back in them.
                          
'Slut,'  he said.  'I have a date tonight.  I'm leaving you here.  This is a retirement home. Go to
apartment 2312, which is my father's unit.  Do whatever he says.  You're his slut tonight. I'll pick
you up at ten in the morning. Be wearing this.'
                          
He handed me a small bag.  Did I feel like a slut? Oh, Bobby, it was so delicious. It seemed Mr.
Williams was making me more slutty with everything he did. I loved it.  
                    
Well, I went through security.  As I was looking for the apartment, several of the residents were
sitting outside. As I walked by, I heard one say, 'slut'. That was me. Slut. 
                          
Can I have some water, Bobby?"
                          
I got Becky the glass of water. She was looking down at her shaven snatch when I returned. I saw
her gently stroking the clit ring.  Little goose bumps broke on her breasts and chest.
                          
"Oh, thanks, Bobby.  Well, I knocked on the door and it opened in a second. A man was standing 
there. He looked like Mr. Williams, but older.  I guess he was seventy-five or so. His face was
wrinkled like a cotton dress thrown in a pile, but he had a big smile as he looked at me up and
down.  Really, Bobby, I was so disappointed.  I was looking forward to some action with Mr.
Williams and he sends me to an old folks home.  But I smiled and tried  to act happy. 
                          
'I'm Charles Williams. Call me Horse. All my friends do.'  the man said. 
                          
I shook his hand, but he didn't let go, pulling me into the room and closing the door behind me.
Bobby, there were three other old men sitting on the couch and a man in a wheel chair.  He
introduced them.  Dutch, the man in the wheelchair, said he was ninety-one.  I noticed a video
camera in his lap and I knew they were going to photograph me. 
                    
Barton was next to him. Barton was eighty-three. He was only about five four and did not weigh
any more than I do. He was so scrawny. Bobby, I was afraid he might break. Then, Ed. Ed was
way stooped over, with one of those humps on his backs like real old men get.  He was leaning
on his cane, his head up, peering at me over trifocals.  Chick was last. Chick had a huge belly. 
He was wearing his house slippers.  
                          
Oh, Bobby, I was getting really down now. I wanted some fun. What fun could I have with these
old men?  Well, let me tell you, they had some fun planned! 
                          
Horse pointed to a straight chair, sitting about a foot away from the wall.                           

"Sit there, girly girl,' he said with a grin. 

I sat down. Horse put a hand on each of my thighs and pulled me to the edge of the chair, so I
was hanging off it.  He picked up my feet and brought them back so the long high heels were
hooked behind the chair legs. I could not unhook them without sliding back in the chair, so I was
trapped there.  That brought my knees out at an angle like this and really spread my legs.
Suddenly, all five of them were looking into my shaved pussy. 
                          
'Should I take off my dress?' I asked. 
                          
Ed replied, "Leave it on, You look like more of a slut with it flopped open like that.'
                          
Oh, Bobby, I did look like a slut, a real cheap slut, with my knees so wide and my heels locked
behind the chair legs. Horse pulled me forward a little more. I was so open in front of them. 
Horse went into the kitchen.  He came back in a minute with a fishing pole and a zucchini.  Look,
Bobby, my pussy is dripping just from telling you about this!"
                          
She was dripping, too. Becky, my little slut wife, was dripping like a faucet.  She dipped her
finger in her pussy and licked it clean. Then, she dipped again and offered it to me. Of course, I
opened my  mouth. Her pussy tasted great.
                          
"Well, Bobby, Horse pulled some line from the pole. It was clear line.  Whatyacallit?"
                          
"Monofilament line."
                          
"And it had a little thing on the end. He showed it to me, said it was for attaching lures. He called
it a spinner. It had a catch. He clipped it onto the ring in my clit hood. 
                          
'Ole Horse done caught himself some real fish now,' Ed said.
                          
'Now, honey, you masturbate on this veggie here while we watch.'
                          
The zucchini was cold, very cold. I shivered when he handed it to me. I put the cold veggie to my
pussy lips, moving it around to lubricate it.  Horse sat down with the fishing pole in his hand. He
pulled the line tight and it tugged my ring. Oh, Bobby, I was still so horny from swinging in the
limo, when he started pulling on that ring, I just about came!
                          
'Don't touch your pretty little twat, girly girl. Just use the veggie,'  Horse said to me. 
                          
It was so cold, but my pussy felt like a gaping hole. I had to have something up me. I started to
squirm from the coldness. Then Horse pulled the line. He was really making me dance with that
fishing pole. I started inching the zucchini up my pussy. I was so wet, Bobby. Can you see me,
fucking myself on a zucchini with my clit tethered to a fishing pole while five dirty old men
watch?  I mean, is that world class slut or what!
                          
Oh, Bobby, you're so hard again. Well, this time you'll have to wait!"
                          
"I don't want to wait.  I want to fuck you."
                          
"Fuck yourself, wimp!"
                          
"Mr. Williams'll punish you for that, Becky."
                          
She stared at me, a nasty, demeaning stare.
                          
"Well, if that isn't the wimpiest, queerest sounding thing anybody ever said to me. Real
masculine, Bobby.  What a man!  Threatening me with your boss! Like a three-year-old. Why
don't you be a man, you worthless wimp?  Why don't you take me! A real man would. But then a
real man wouldn't let his woman be the slut of his boss, would he?"
                          
I didn't like that.  I didn't like it one bit.  After all, she wanted to be his slut.  She wanted Mr.
Williams to fuck her and make her pregnant.  I was trying to be understanding, to be loving!  I
was trying to make the bitch happy!  
                          
She rolled over, exposing the back of her thighs.
                          
"See where I was whipped, Bobby.  See how a real man treats a woman who belongs to him. 
But, you would not know anything about what a real man does, would you?"
                          
I was so angry I thought I might hit her, so I left the room.  I went into the kitchen, got a beer and
went out on the patio.   It was ten minutes before I heard the door open.  She knelt by the chair.     
                      
"Look, Bobby. I'm sorry.  Come on back inside.  I'll fuck you and then I'll finish telling you 
about my weekend."
                          
I followed her back to my bedroom.  I was hurt and angry.  She spread her legs for  me, those
legs she spread for Mr. Williams. 
                    
"Come on, Bobby," she said softly.
                          
"No.  You get on top."
                          
"All right."
                          
She had a funny little smile on her face as I lay back on the bed. She swung her leg over me and
eased my raging cock into her pussy.  She started to move, move up and down.
                          
What would Mr. Williams do? I thought.  What would my boss do to satisfy his hot slut? His slut
that was my wife.  She said she liked being a slut and she was my slut, too.                

Well, let her satisfy me!
                          
Up and down.  She was sweating, starting to moan.  Pussy ring! I slipped my little finger through
the ring in her clit hood.  When she moved, it pulled. Her eyes flew open and she gasped. 

"Yes," she moaned.
                          
Fuck yourself on my cock, slut! I thought.  I didn't care if I ever came, but she cared if she did. 
Faster, faster.  The ring was pulling.  She was riding my cock.
                          
"Now! Now! Oh.  Oh.  Yes, Bobby. YES! YES!"
                          
She collapsed on me, gasping, her breathing ragged and hot on my chest, her juices dripping
down my cock onto my balls.  When she rolled off me, she had an expression on her face I hadn't
seen in years.  I think it was satisfaction.  Sexual satisfaction. 

From me.  From me!
                          
"Bobby, I came from you fucking me.  Do you know how long it's been since I did that? And, 
you didn't cum at all, did you?" 
                          
"No, I didn't.  Now, tell me the rest of your story."
                          
She whispered, "Bobby. I'm exhausted. Let me go to sleep."
                          
"Not until you finish telling me about your weekend."
                          
"Okay. Oh, yes.  I felt so slutty as they all watched me masturbate on the zucchini.  I moved it in
and out. It was so slick from my juices I could barely hold on to it. Horse pulled my clit ring.  He
must be a hell of a fisherman.  His touch was perfect, tight when I needed it, light when I needed
that.  I felt my orgasm building. I was almost there. Almost.  I started to cum.  He yanked the line
hard. Then, again. Again.  I was cumming and I couldn't stop.  I passed out and fell out of the
chair."
                          
"Becky!  Were you hurt?"
                          
"No, but I felt very foolish.  Horse detached the spinner from my clit ring.  He picked me up and
carried me into his bedroom.  They put cold packs on my head and let me cool down. 

Then one of them said, "Show her why they call you Horse."
                          
Becky shivered remembering it.
                          
"Bobby, the old man unzipped his pants and pulled out the biggest cock I'd ever seen.  Much
bigger than his son's cock.  Bobby, it was huge. I'd never seen anything like it.  I was afraid it'd
stretch my pussy until it never would be the same.  
                          
'You don't plan to fuck me with that?' I asked.
                          
'Girly-girl, I plan to fuck you all night with this,'  Horse replied."
                          
She had a smile on her face remembering how fucking Mr. Williams' father felt.  She must have
enjoyed it.  Her eyes closed and she fell asleep.  I slapped her hard across the ass. She awakened
with a start.
                          
"Becky, tell me what happened!"
                          
"Oh, Bobby.  It was like being fist fucked it was so big.  He hit my cervix with every stroke. He
was still fucking me an hour later when I passed out.  They awakened me. I fucked or sucked all
of them before the night was over. What really hurt was Horse fucking my ass. Oh, God, it hurt! 
Bobby, please.  Let me sleep."
                          
She turned away and closed her eyes.
                          
I tried to awaken her, but she was so exhausted I couldn't.  I left her there, too tired to talk from
the fucking she had received over the weekend from my boss and his father. 
                          
I locked up the house for the night.  As I was turning out the lights, I remembered my instructions
from Mr. Williams about taking her someplace in the morning.  I found the note and read it.  
                          
It was the name and address of a hospital.
                          
I wondered what Mr. Williams' had planned for his slut.  
                          
For my wife.
                          
It was difficult awakening Becky in the morning, but I did it.  I carried her to the car and drove
her to the hospital, checked her in and waited as the doctor came out.  He told her to lie on the
Gurney. Then, a nurse gave her the preoperative anesthetic. 
                          
"You can leave now," he said to me.
                          
"What are you going to do to my wife?"
                          
"Exactly what Mr. Williams told me to do.  He'll explain it to you."
                          
I drove to the office and reported to Mr. Williams, as he had instructed me. I couldn't find his
secretary so I knocked on the door and identified myself.  He told me to come in. 
                          
Mr. Williams was sitting behind his desk.
                          
"Good morning, Bob.  What can I do for you?"  His voice sounded strained.
                          
"I was wondering what was going to happen to my wife?"
                          
Mr. Williams let out a small groan and his head went back.  He moved his hands under the desk. 
I saw his hips start to buck.  I thought he was masturbating.  Right here as I watched. He gasped
as his face turned red. He gave one powerful thrust.  It seemed an hour as he held that position. 
Then he relaxed.
                          
I didn't know what to do.  I stood there with my heart pounding.  I knew I had the hardest cock I
could remember.  
                          
"Good job, Trudy," he said.  "Now, give Bob one."
                          
He slid his chair back and his secretary climbed out from under his desk.  Her makeup was
smeared, her lipstick spread all over her face.  Her hair was in tangles.  Cum dripped down her
chin and her tongue snaked out to lick it away.  She had a wild, sexual look in her eyes.
                          
"Pull your pants down and have a seat, Bob," Mr. Williams said.
                          
I sat with my pants around my ankles.  Trudy wobbled over and collapsed between my legs.  She
wrapped her mouth around my cock. Nobody had ever seen me have sex before. Nobody but my
slut wife.  Nobody but her had ever sucked my cock.  But I was getting a blow job from my boss'
secretary as he watched me. She sucked cock a lot better than my wife. 
                          
I couldn't hold back.  I shot, filling her mouth with cum.  She swallowed.  She stayed between
my legs and rested, too tired to stand.
                          
"I'm sure you want to know what I'm having done to my slut,"  Mr. Williams said.  "I'll tell you. 
She's having extensive plastic surgery.  First, breast implants.  She's a B-cup, Bob.  They'll make
her a DD-cup. That's the size of Pamela Lee, if you were wondering. She's having liposuction
which will remove about three to four inches off her stomach and waist.  The combination of the
two will make her have an hourglass figure. I don't like her nose.  They'll rebuild that the way I
want it.
                          
I decided to have her pierced while she's there.  I wanted her to be able to feel it, so they'll do the
piercings separate from her surgery and without anesthesia.  It'll be painful and she'll remember
it.  It'll make her feel more slutty, Bob.  Don't think I'm cruel to her.  I really like Becky.  Sluts
like to be treated harshly."
                          
"Yes, sir.  Where will she be pierced?"
                          
"She'll have a small,  round brad in her tongue.  The brad's raised with bumps on it. It  feels
great when she sucks your cock. They're piercing her navel. I had some jewelry made for her."
                          
He handed me a small jewelry box. I opened it.  Inside was a charm like teenage girls wear
around their neck with their names dangling from a gold chain.  Except this was not a name. 
This said "slut."
                          
"Finally, her pussy. Three gold rings on each side, six in total.  Yes, she'll be well pierced."
                          
"That sounds like a lot," I said.
                          
"It is.  She'll recuperate for four weeks. During that time, you need to take good care of her for
me. Make sure you do everything the doctor says so she heals properly."
                          
I was insulted!  I mean, she may be his slut, but she was still my wife.  Of course, I'd take good
care of her.  She was my Becky and I loved her.
                          
"I won't see her until she's healed and ready to be used.  During that month, I have some things I
want you to do for me."
                          
"Certainly, Mr. Williams. Anything you want."
                          
What did he want?  What had I just agreed to do to his slut?  To my wife?  My heart was
pounding but, once again, I was real hard and my cock poked against my trousers.
                          
"Trudy. Get the package."
                          
His secretary stood, bracing herself on my thigh as she did.  She gave me a sexy smile. In a
moment, she returned with a box and a folder which she handed to Mr. Williams. He extracted a
sheet of paper from the folder and handed it to me.
                          
"That's a schedule of her whippings, Bob. She needs to be whipped each day, in the evening. It's
a matrix with the date down the left axis and the place where she is to be whipped across the top. 
The number of strokes is determined by reading the matrix.  Questions?"
                          
"Sir, to see if I'm reading this correctly?  No whippings until she has been out of the hospital for
two weeks. Then, for example, Tuesday she's to get three strokes across the inside of each thigh. 
On Thursday, one across each nipple.  Is that right?"
                          
"Yes, Bob.  You'll give her the punishment with this."
                    
He handed me a riding crop.
                          
"The stroke should be hard enough so it's visible two hours later, but not so hard that it can be
seen after twelve hours.  It'll take you a while to learn how to do it.  Don't be afraid to hurt her.
Better too strong than too weak.  Just experiment.  In addition, Bob, follow these instructions."     
                    
He handed me another piece of paper.  It was a detailed plan.  I was stunned when I read it.  I
could not believe this was going to happen to my wife, to my Becky.  It would be worse than the
whipping.  I guess he could read my face.
                          
"Don't worry.  She'll love it. I'll explain just to make sure you understand. Each morning before
you go to work, attach her wrist restraints to the corner of your bed, to spread her arms and keep
her from escaping. Her legs won't be bound.  Use the heavy chain in this box to bind her wrists
to the headboard.  Then, with these  small gold chains and clamps, attach her nipples to her wrist
restraints. That way, every movement she makes will pull on her nipples.  Lubricate the butt plug
and stick it up her ass. Insert the vibrator and turn it to high.  Finally, put the leathers around her
to hold the vibrator and butt plug in place."
                          
"And leave her that way all day?"
                          
"Yes, Bob.  She should be left that way for at least eight hours.  Now, as you can read, the first
week she'll be hospitalized.  The second week, use the smallest vibrator. The third week, you'll
use the medium vibrator.  The last week, the biggest one'll be used.  Understand?" 
                          
"Yes, sir."
                          
"Good.  Bob, thanks for helping me train my slut.  I appreciate it.  In fact, I have a little bonus for
you."
                          
"What's that, Mr. Williams?"
                          
"I'll be out of town for a week and I don't want Trudy neglected.   I want you to spend your lunch
hours in here with her each day."
                          
I glanced at Trudy.  She gave me a big sexy grin.   
                          
"You may fuck her all you want, but I want her to suck your cock for at least half an hour. Keeps 
her in training."
                          
I couldn't believe it.  My boss, Mr. Williams, had another slut besides my wife and he wanted her
to suck my cock during lunch hour!  He wanted me to help him train his sluts!  
                    
Me! Bobby! I was elated by the very thought of helping him.
                          
"And I want you to spend the night with Trudy this week.  She's available and Becky will be in
the hospital. There's no need for you to be alone."
                          
Mr. Williams gave a demanding smile to Trudy.  She blushed slightly and wiggled like a bitch in
heat. 
                          
"I want you to whip Trudy for me, too, Bobby."
                          
"No," Trudy said, both hands covering her ass.  Her lower lip was quivering. 
                          
"Yes, Trudy, my little slut. You need a few and Bobby needs the practice.  Tonight, show Bobby
how to hang you by your feet.  I want you to have ten across the back of your thighs tonight."
                          
"Please, no, Mr. Williams," she whined as a tear ran down her cheek.
                          
"Do it, Bob," he said to me. "Feel free to fuck Trudy any time you wish.  And you really should
fuck her ass since I know you can't have Becky that way.  Any other questions?"
                          
"No, sir."
                          
He gave me a big smile and shook my hand.
                          
"That's all.  You may leave."
                          
                          
To be continued . . . 
                          
Please!  Give me your comments.
                          
E-mail address: ezriter@hotmail.com
                          