Slave Wife

 

 

Slave Wife

Chapter 3:  Becoming Property

 

The rest of the week was, to say the least, enlightening for Donna and gave her a considerable amount of insight as to what she had to look forward to if we both went through with this.  Unless I had somewhere for her to go, she spent her time naked and chained to the toilet by a leather collar I’d padlocked around her neck.  When I was home, she spent her time either working – cooking, cleaning and the like -, or sucking my cock, getting fucked, or diddling herself while I watched.  Mostly diddling herself, since I’d decided that whenever her hands weren’t occupied elsewhere, they’d be busy playing with the swollen, wet slit between her legs.  That week, I made sure her sexual horizons were expanded considerably, though not as much as they would be later on.

 

The first night, I invited her cousin – who she detested with a passion – over for dinner.  Donna hated him because he’d tried to get in her pants when they were in high school – he was older by two years – and when he was rebuffed, lied to all his friends how he’d fucked her.  High schools being what they are, word got around almost immediately, and even though there was no truth to Will’s claims, many of her fellow students began treating Donna like a slut, either making crude, hateful comments or avoiding her altogether.  Will would be the perfect person to help me start Donna on her long road to slavery.

 

I said I invited Will over, which is the truth, but I let Donna make the actual phone call.  Okay, I didn’t really let her…more like made her…but only after the first of what would be many beatings on her bare ass with a chunk of 1”x4” pine I made her go fetch from the shed. 

 

“Hello, Will?” she said on the phone while I listened in on her side of the conversation.   “Um…I was wondering if you’d mind coming over for dinner tonight?  I have something to tell you…actually, to show you, and it’s important.  Well, really, Mike has something to show you, actually.  No, it’s no joke.  Mike asked me to call and invite you.  Just the three of us, and I’d really appreciate it.  Yes, I know we’ve never really treated each other nicely, but it’s no trick, I promise.  I mean, we’re family, and I think it’s time to forgive and forget, and start being a family again.  Yes, about seven would be great.  No, you don’t need to bring anything.  Okay, see you then,” she finished, hanging up the phone. 

 

“You did a good job, slut,” I said, patting my little slave on the head.  She was almost in tears, knowing I was going to force her to humiliate herself before the one person she hated the most.  I then put her to work cleaning the house and preparing dinner, finally stopping her about a half hour before Will’s expected arrival in order to get herself ready.

 

“Red fishnets, garter belt and your fuckme heels,” I ordered, pointing to the “clothing” I’d laid purchased that afternoon for her.  “Just a hint of makeup.  I think your dear cousin would  like the idea of seeing an innocent face wearing slut clothing.”

 

“Please, Master…” she began to beg.

 

“Do it,” I said coldly, “Unless you want another beating first?  One way or the other, you’re going to show your cousin that you really are the slut he wanted you to be.  The only question is how red your ass will be when he gets here.”  She looked up at me from her place on the floor – she’d fallen to her knees at my ankles – and nodded resignedly.  I left her there and went out to the living room, made myself a drink, and relaxed to await Will’s arrival.  Donna stayed in the bathroom until the doorbell rang.

 

“Answer the door, slut!” I ordered from the couch. 

 

I half-expected more protests from Donna, but surprisingly, she walked out of the bathroom erect, mustering whatever pride she had left, and strutted across the floor.  She looked like the perfect slut, lights gleaming off the shiny gold rings in her nipples. The “fuckme’s” I’d referred to were a pair of red patent leather shoes with eight inch spiked heels, and she tottered precariously on them, the backs of her calves straining with each step.  The fishnet stockings and matching garter belt served to accentuate her bald pussy, which was already visibly wet.  She walked straight to the door and opened it widely, greeting her cousin who just stood there dumbfounded, staring at her naked body.

 

“Welcome.  Please come in, Sir,” she invited with a gracious sweep of her arm, as though standing in the doorway like a whore peddling her wares was the most common thing in the world.

 

“What the fuck is this?” Will asked incredulously.  “Shaved cunt, tit rings?  What the fuck is going on?”

 

“Sir, I’m sure my Master will answer all your questions but please come in first?  Please, so I can close the door?”  The neighbor across the street had just pulled up into the driveway, and Donna was looking over Will’s shoulder, hoping nobody would glance her way.

 

“Yeah, sure,” he replied, shaking his head incredulously as he walked in.

 

“Please, sir, may I remove your shoes?  I’m sure you’ll be more comfortable,” she said, kneeling down.  Will had come straight from a business meeting, and was still dressed in a suit and wingtips.  Donna carefully untied the shoes and slipped them off one at a time, then knelt down and gently kissed her cousin’s feet.

 

“Hi, Will.  Glad you could make it,” I said, walking into the foyer with a scotch in my hand.  “Can I have my slut make you something?”  Donna blanched at my words, but knelt back and looked up at her cousin.

 

“Uh…yeah, I guess.  Whatever you’re having,” he said, almost stuttering.

 

“Scotch, soda, rocks, now, slut,” I ordered, watching Donna scamper into the living room.

 

“What the fuck is going on, Mike?” he asked again.

 

“Why don’t we just relax on the sofa, and let Donna explain it all to you?”  I motioned towards the living room.

 

“Slut, explain to Will what’s going on,” I instructed her once she’d returned with the drink.  “Speak properly,” I added, meaning that she would be permitted to talk only in the third person once again.

 

“Sir,” she began, kneeling her nearly naked form in front of her cousin, “This slut has asked to become its husband’s property, to become his slave, Sir.  Its Master has agreed to a period of training, and has invited…Master, this slave doesn’t know how to address its cousin, Master…”

 

“You may refer to him as Sir, and to me as Master, just so we both know who you’re addressing.”

 

“Yes, Master, thank you, Master.  Sir, this slut’s Master has agreed to test it to see if it would be a suitable slave, Sir, and has invited Sir to assist in its training, Sir.”

 

“Are you shitting me?” Will asked skeptically.  “I mean, she hates me.”

 

“Yes, she told me all about that, and the reason why you two never got along,” I explained.  “She said you cornered her at a family party and gave her a French kiss, tried to feel her up.  She slapped your face and told your parents about it, didn’t she?”

 

“Yeah, she did.  She was always a little cock-tease, even back then.”

 

“Well, she wants to make amends tonight.  Actually, I don’t think she really does, but I want her to as part of her training.  She’s going to beg your forgiveness, accept your punishment, and give you what she wouldn’t back then.  Isn’t that right, slut?”

 

“Master, yes, Master.  Sir, this slut begs forgiveness and is willing to do whatever Sir believes necessary to make amends, Sir,” she whimpered.

 

“Exactly what does that mean?” Will asked, still somewhat unbelieving.

 

“Sir, Sir may do whatever he wishes with the slut, Sir.  If he wishes to punish it with a beating, or use its body or any purpose, or humiliate it however he wishes, the slave will accept and obey.”

 

“This is an interesting turn of events,” Will commented.  “Well, I think you can start by giving me that kiss I wanted.”

 

“Sir, yes, Sir,” she said, getting up from her knees and approaching him.

 

“Wait!” I ordered.  Donna halted halfway up, and Will looked at me questioningly.

 

“I suggest you have the slut remove your pants first, Will, unless you want them to end up stained.  The little slut tends to leave slime trails, if you know what I mean.”

 

“Gotcha,” he replied, grinning.  “Well?  Get to it, slut!” he ordered, finally getting into the game.

 

Using only her mouth – Will ordered her hold her hands behind her neck – Donna scooted forward and carefully bent over Will’s lap to unfasten his trousers.  Then, taking the waistband in her teeth, she gently pulled them down over his hips while Will raised his ass up off the couch slightly.  Finally, she got them down far enough so that he could raise his feet while she took each cuff and pulled them completely off.

 

“Stand and go hang them up, slut,” I ordered, waiting while she scampered to the closet and carefully smoothed the pants over a coat hanger and then returned to Will’s feet.

 

“Well, where’s my kiss, whore?” he asked, patting his thigh to indicate she should straddle his leg for the kiss.  Their make-out session lasted about ten minutes, during which Will’s shirt became unbuttoned so Donna could lavish kisses on his bare chest while he played with her newly-pierced nipples.  It would have lasted longer, but the timer went off in the kitchen, indicating that dinner was ready.  Donna had worked most of the day on it, and I didn’t feel providing anything but the best for our guest would be appropriate, so I broke the loving couple apart.

 

Dinner was fantastic; roast beef with a thick gravy, homemade mashed potatoes, and fresh vegetables, followed by fresh, homemade cherry pie for desert.  Well, for the first desert anyway.  Or maybe that was just was the second desert, since Donna spent the entire time kneeling under the table with Will’s dick in her mouth.  I have to admit that boy had fantastic staying power, because we sat there for nearly an hour with Donna sucking frantically on his cock, but he wouldn’t cum.  I knew she was trying to bring him to orgasm, because she hadn’t eaten all day and knew I wouldn’t let her until she ate his cum.  I told Will this, and he just laughed.

 

“Well, I guess she’ll go hungry then, because I have no intention of cumming in her mouth.  At least not until I’ve shoved my cock up her ass, anyway.”

 

“No, that’s okay.  She’ll just have to wait until after we’re through with her for her dinner, then,” I replied, grinning.  “Okay, cunt, unhook your slutty mouth from that cock and get this shit cleaned up!” I ordered.

 

Will and I had a great time that night, though I can’t say the same for Donna.  She didn’t seem to be enjoying herself at all, particularly when her cousin tried to teach her the old ass-to-mouth trick.  I’m not all that certain that she wanted to be ass-fucked at all, but she really didn’t have much of a choice, either.  We made her splay herself out on a dirty towel on the living room floor (I didn’t want my carpet stained) and diddle herself until she needed to cum so bad that she was begging to be fucked up the ass.  Will finally acceded to her request, however, to ensure she was lubed up enough, had her slather saliva on his dick while covered her own fingers with cunt juice and then crammed them up her ass.  Will took her slow at first, making her moan in pain as the head of his rather largish dick slowly forced its way past her anal ring, and then, when he impaled her fully with a single forceful shove, she screamed like she’d never done before.  I nearly came on the spot as she flopped around on Will’s cock like a rag doll, bellowing out moans of pain and pleasure simultaneously as she finally achieved the orgasm that had been denied her through so many hours of abuse.

 

After Will finally shot his own load, Donna balked at sucking him clean.  I couldn’t really blame her, since the dick being waved in front of her face was covered in cum and streaked with shit.  Just because I didn’t blame her for not wanting to do it didn’t mean I wasn’t going to make her anyway, and after a very short session with a metal yardstick, she was begging to be permitted to take Will’s cock in her mouth.  She still showed some recalcitrance, though, and clamped her mouth shut once his cock – now with the shit starting to dry on it – touched her lips.  The problem was quickly solved, though, once I took my place behind the slut and rammed my own cock up her ass.  Her mouth opened in a scream, and Will quickly took advantage of it, pulling on her hair and warning that if he felt her teeth so much as scrape him, she’d wish she was never born. 

 

I found the act of ass-fucking my slut of a wife - something I hadn’t done since a trip to a Thai whorehouse many years earlier, and never with my wife – an extremely enjoyable experience.  Her cunt had become loose over the years, and she’d never been all that responsive in bed.  However, with Will throat-fucking her from the front, her gags and gasps as she struggled for air caused her back door to spasm and squeeze my cock like a baby suckling at her mama’s tit.  And, although I’d never done sloppy seconds with anyone before, having her asshole pre-lubricated with Will’s load made it nice and slippery, yet still among the tightest holes I’d ever fucked.   All three of us came nearly simultaneously, Donna with a strange gurgling sound and a huge full-body spasm, Will’s cock imbedded deeply in her throat so that her face actually turned purple.  Strangely enough, she wasn’t nearly as reluctant to clean my cock off as she was Will’s.  Perhaps that’s because I gave her the option of gently licking and sucking it, or being brutally throat-fucked again.

 

Once the second part of desert was done, we allowed Donna to scrape the uneaten portions of our dinner plates onto the kitchen floor and watched in amusement as she slurped and sucked the remains of our meals up as her dinner, her ass stuck up in the air as cum dripped out of her and onto the floor (we made her lick that up, too, as her own desert).  There really wasn’t much there for her; some congealed gravy and a few bits of gristle and fatty meat, but she devoured it like she was starving.  In reality, she wasn’t, but I’m sure she felt like it.  As my wife, Donna had eaten heartily, at least three meals a day and several snacks (but still managed to retain most of her figure for some reason); the way I estimated it, she’d been permitted maybe 500 calories each day since becoming my slave.  That didn’t include the caloric content of the semen she’d been swallowing, of course.  I’d only learned recently learned that cum had just five calories per load.  I’d wondered about that, because I thought it would be fun to see what would happen if she were fed nothing but cum.   A 2,000 calorie diet would mean sucking off 400 men a day, though, which equated to one blow job every 3.6 minutes, around the clock.  An interesting thought, and something I’d like to try, but not at all practical for anything but a day or so..

 

We each fucked Donna’s cunt twice that evening, me going first this time.  It wasn’t nearly as enjoyable as her asshole, but much nicer than when she’d been my wife.  Now, as my slave, she was much more responsive probably owing in part to the fact that I told her she’d get another beating if she came without permission – which neither of us were about to give her.  Then, after we both came inside her for the second time – or fourth, if you include each of us cumming in her ass and mouth once – I allowed her to slither on the floor, rubbing her wet cunt on the filthy towel until she finally came.  By that time, we were all exhausted and neither of us could get it up again, so Will got dressed and left, saying he enjoyed the visit and hoped he’d be able to stop by often.  I assured him that he was welcome to come by and use the slut whenever she was available.  As for Donna, I just wrapped a length of chain around the base of the toilet and locked it to her collar, leaving her to sleep on the cold bathroom floor for the night.

 

I guess I must have felt sorry for my wife the next day, because I hardly abused her at all.  I even let her eat a full breakfast – a large bowl of cold oatmeal – which I set on the floor between my feet while I sat on the toilet taking my morning crap.  I don’t really think she enjoyed it all the much (she hated oatmeal anyway), but she managed to gobble it all down before I was done.  I’d warned her that she might not get anything else to eat that day, except maybe what she could suck out of me.  I think that helped, you know? 

 

I would have enjoyed staying home, but I did have a lot of work to finish up before the end of the week, so I decided Donna could spend the day cleaning the garage.  There was so much clutter in the garage that there wasn’t room to park a car.  The floor was covered with boxes and tools that I’d used and neglected to put away, and it hadn’t been swept out in over a year.  So that would be Donna’s chore for the day: to stack everything neatly, clean my tools and put them away, sweep and mop the floor, and make sure I had a safe place to park my car by the time I got home.  To that end, I chained her by the ankle to my work bench, making sure the chain was long enough so she could cover the entire garage, and gave her the necessary tools for cleaning.  I also spread the day’s newspaper out in one corner, telling her this was her toilet if she needed it.  She was, of course, naked.  The ambient temperature in the garage couldn’t have been above 50 degrees, and I left her no food or water.  When I returned home that evening, I found a clean garage and a cold, hungry, thirsty slave who was completely compliant.

 

The rest of our evening was fairly uneventful, as far as things had been going lately.  Donna scampered around the house on all fours, taking care of chores like cleaning the toilet, scrubbing the kitchen floor on her hands and knees (using a pair of her old panties as a rag), and hand-laundering my soiled undershorts.  Whenever I felt like a blow job – just three times that evening – she’d find herself kneeling between my feet with her mouth filled with cock.  I ordered Chinese that night, making Donna answer the door naked and on her knees, but this time at least gave her enough money to pay for it.  The young man who delivered my dinner was wide-eyed, to say the least, but kept his composure and simply handed her the boxes, took his money and left.  I thoroughly enjoyed my dinner, eating leisurely while Donna licked my toes and the occasional bit of rice that I dropped on the floor.

 

It wasn’t until later that night, while I was browsing porn sites on the web, that I realized what a money-maker my new slave slut could become for me.   At worst, there were a few pay-sites who would give me free access in return for photos or videos of my slave; at best, I could set up a site of my own and just let the money roll in.  Unfortunately, I had no idea how to build a web site.  I still thought the idea had merit – I could either learn how to do it myself, or find someone who could – so I went ahead and registered a domain name, slavebitchdonna.com.  I told Donna about my plans the following morning, as I gave her the day’s instructions.

 

“I’m not going to leave you chained up today, cunt,” I told her.  “Consider this a test.  If you fail, it’s over.  Failure constitutes not doing everything I’ve given you to do, or doing anything that I didn’t specifically say you could do.  For instance, if I don’t say you can use the toilet during the day, that means you can’t.  Understand?”

 

“Yes, Sir,” she mumbled around my cock, the tip of which she was licking lightly.

 

“I’m going to give you one of our credit cards to use today, a shopping list, and enough cash so you can take the bus to the mall and back.  You’ll bring receipts for everything, including the bus, and you’re not to purchase anything I haven’t listed.  Here are your instructions and shopping list,” I said, handing her a folded sheet of paper.  “Now lets go pick out something for you to wear.”

 

Donna crawled quickly across the floor to the tiny guest room which I’d now designated as hers – and which she’d not been in since the few belongings I’d allowed her to keep were moved into it.  For today’s adventure, I picked out a pair of pink spandex shorts, a cropped white tee shirt, and a pair of flat sandals.  Dressed, she looked absolutely obscene.  The top hung straight down from her breasts, barely covering them, while the shorts were so tight that the outline of her cunt was clearly visible.   I’d already checked bus fares, and handed her a clear sandwich bag containing her identification, a single credit card, and the three dollars she’d need for her round trip transportation.  She’d worked in that mall until about a year ago, so I was certain someone would recognize her.  If anyone asked her about her appearance or what she was doing, she was simply to tell them that she’s embarked on a new lifestyle and was doing some shopping for her Master.  Once I was sure she understood exactly what was expected of her, I left for work.

 

It was a tedious day, like most of them, making phone calls and taking care of the little wildfires that occur in any business on a daily basis.  Twice I had to intervene in squabbles among staff, and all I could think about was how nice it would be if I could just order people around like I did my wife.  There wouldn’t be any problems, and arguments would be settled with the person who started it getting a sound, bare-bottomed spanking.  That’s not how life works in the business world, though, at least not in most businesses, so I spent my day mediating.

 

When I got home, Donna was waiting for me, kneeling naked just inside the door, and greeted me with a gentle kiss on each shoe while I set down my briefcase.

 

“Did you get everything on the list?” I asked.

 

“Yes, Master,” she answered.  “It’s all in your study, Sir.”

 

“Good.  Did you do everything I asked?  Did you obey me exactly?”  She hesitated a moment before answering.

 

“Yes, Master,” she said, averting her eyes.

 

“Are you sure, or do I need to check the receipts?”  I saw her face blanche.  She’d obviously done something.

 

“Master, I’m sorry,” she started to bawl, “But I was so hungry!  I knew you’d look at the receipts, so I used your credit card at McDonald’s and threw away the receipt!”

 

“I see,” I said, to the quivering woman who was now hugging my ankles.  “What exactly did you eat?”

 

“Just a Big Mac and a soda, Master. Please don’t punish me, I was so hungry!”

 

“Oh, you’ll be punished.  It’s just a matter of how I decide to do it.  For tonight, you go hungry, though, and you’ll sleep chained to the toilet for the rest of the week.  Go crawl into the bathroom and wait for me.”

 

“Yes, Master,” she sobbed, slowly crawling away.

 

I’d actually expected something like this, so already had a plan of sorts.  First, though, I’d let Donna stew for a while I got out all the items she’d purchased and set them up.  There was a compact digital video camera – the kind that uses mini-DVDs, so there’d be no problems uploading videos to her new web site; a state-of-the-art digital still camera; a web cam and a video surveillance kit that would be installed in her room, giving viewers a complete view, 24/7; and commercial-quality video imaging software suite that I could use to edit the movies she’d be making.  When I’d inventoried everything and compared them to the receipts, I called Donna into the living room again.

 

“Get your driver’s license and keys,” I commanded brusquely.

 

“Are we going somewhere?  Shouldn’t I get dressed?” she asked.

 

“Yes, we’re going somewhere.  No, you won’t be getting dressed.  This is part of your punishment.”

 

Her car was in the garage – a Mustang convertible I’d given her as a birthday gift two years ago.  She’d be driving,  so I got in the passenger seat and buckled up. 

 

“Where should I go, Master?” she asked.

 

“Well, since you like McDonald’s so much, how about the drive-through?  Unless you’d rather go order from the lobby?” I added when she appeared to hesitate.

 

“No. Master, the drive through will be fine,” she mumbled.

 

There were several McDonald’s in the area, all about an equal distance from the house.  As I expected, she selected the one in the least populated area.  It didn’t really matter to me, because the drive wasn’t really part of her punishment.

 

“Order forty Big Macs,” I told her as I climbed out of the car.

 

“Forty, Master?”

 

“Forty,” I reiterated, reaching over to the dashboard and pressing the button to lower the top.  “And don’t you dare put the top back up,” I warned.  “Pick me up on the street when you’re done.”  She just looked up at me horrified at what I was making her do.

 

From my vantage point on the sidewalk, I could see the pick-up window clearly.  Work must have completely stopped, because it appeared every employee was gathered around it, gawking at the totally naked woman in the convertible while she waited for her order.  I know Donna wanted to just curl up and die, but she kept her composure, and from what I could see, made it seem like being naked in public was as natural an act as breathing.  She was obviously upset, though, because she stalled her car twice while trying to pull away from the window.

 

“I can’t believe you made me do that!” she exclaimed angrily as I got back in the car.  It was her first outburst of this nature since she’d asked to become my slave.  I was willing to let her get it out of her system first, though, since it was her first actual public display of nudity.  Not that she wouldn’t be punished for it later, though.

 

“I’m willing to bet it got you excited, though,” I replied, pressing the button to raise the top back up.

 

“Like hell,” she retorted.

 

“I think you’re lying,” I said.  “I think displaying your body to those teenagers got you all hot and bothered, and your cunt is soaked from it.”

 

“Bullshit.  I hated it.”

 

“Fine.  Spread your legs and I’ll check.  If you’re not wet, then you can sleep in the bed tonight.  If you are, though, you get another punishment for being a lying bitch.”  I had her, and she knew it.  My fingers came up gleaming with cunt juice.

“I guess this means another punishment,” I commented almost absentmindedly.

 

I let her drive to the edge of our housing development – about six blocks from home – and told her to stop the car.

 

“Get out,” I ordered.  “I’ve decided that as punishment for lying to me, you can walk the rest of the way home.  After that, we’ll deal with your little outburst and lack of respect for me.”  It was well after dark, but the streets were fairly well lit, so it would be interesting for her.  I turned off the headlights and slowly followed her, watching her crouching along in the shadows, jumping behind bushes and trees every time a car approached.  It took her nearly an hour to make that half mile or so, but she did, and nobody apparently discovered her.

 

Once we were safely inside the house, I took half the hamburgers – there were eight bags of them – and laid them out in a row on the kitchen floor.  I left them there for a few minutes while I went into the bathroom, turned off the water supply to the toilet and flushed it twice to empty the tank.  Then I sat down and took a shit in the nearly empty bowl before returning to the kitchen.

 

“Eat,” I commanded.  “Since you like Big Macs so much, you get twenty for dinner tonight, and the rest you can eat for breakfast over the next few days.”  I was using the same sort of psychology as a parent would when their kid got caught smoking.  After I was through with her, I doubted she’d ever want to see a McDonald’s sandwich again.

 

She did the best she could, starting to look ill after the fifth, and finally running to the bathroom to puke about halfway through the seventh.  I didn’t let her off the hook though, and made her come right back and continue eating.  This was punishment, and she was going to take the full measure of it.  It took her nearly three hours and two more bouts of vomiting, but she finally finished.  She looked pleased, until I reminded her that there were still 20 burgers left, and until they were all gone, they were the only thing she’d be eating other than semen.  That comment caused one last bout of retching, and she ran into the bathroom once more, holding her hands over her mouth.

 

I didn’t use her at all that night, nor did I allow her to masturbate.  She spent the night chained to the toilet, but not simply by her collar as she’d been before.  Oh, no.  This was meant as punishment.  First I had her sit on her ass facing the toilet and wrap her legs around the base while I bound her ankles together with leather restraints attached to each other with a strong steel cable.  Then I made her hug the toilet so I could handcuff her wrists together between the tank and base.  In this position, she was bent forward with her face directly over the open bowl, and would remain there, breathing the mixed odors of my shit and her own vomit until I decided it was time to release her.  That wouldn’t be until after I woke up the next morning – at the earliest.