The Dissatisfied Wife

My husband and I married when he was 28 and I was 23. We'd known each other for a year beforehand and lived together for six months. We had similar educations, the same spending and saving habits. Religion, politics, everything checked all the boxes. It seemed that Jim and I were made for each other.

The first year of marriage was fun. The sex was still new and a nightly event. He easily brought me to orgasm. I felt satisfied and I think he did too.

After a few months the sex began to fade. I recognized this as normal, we were getting used to each other and the thrill was being replaced by a comfortable familiarity.

We inevitably began to rub against each other, small annoyances. He had this thing about always turning off lights and locking doors; I turned lights on but seldom off. I could sometimes remember to close the front door but locking it was a mystery.

We began to argue. Men aren't good at arguing; he would usually get all mad and storm off. I began to take a perverse pleasure in this, and without thinking about it I began to start arguments for no reason other than to win them, which in my mind was when Jim got all red and stormed away.

In another year I suddenly realized, we hadn't had sex in months. Jim just didn't seem interested and truthfully, I stopped making an effort to be attractive to him. It seemed like the less we spoke the better.

One evening after work he said, out of the blue, "I love you, but this marriage just isn't working for me. I think we should get a divorce."

This hit me like a ton of bricks! As we talked, I realized that I'd turned into a bitch, the kind of woman who only felt fulfilled when I made my husband miserable. I cried and told him that I was sorry, I would change.

And I really tried to change but I just couldn't! A week after our talk I was back to baiting him into another argument. This time when he stormed off he took some clothes and left in the car.

He was gone for three days. When he returned I smelled perfume on his clothes, but instead of throwing a jealous fit I cried and again promised to change.

This went on for several months. We tried counseling, a trial separation; nothing worked. I had resigned myself to a divorce before my thirtieth birthday.

One morning I was having coffee at a local coffee house. Saw a newspaper someone had left on a table. "How quaint," I thought. "I didn't know they made those any more."

The newspaper was one of those independent voice things, some articles, lots of ads. One caught my eye, in bold print: "Is your wife or girlfriend a bitch?"

The ad went on, "Its not her fault, modern society has filled women's brains with all sorts of things that are contrary to their nature. They want one thing but are forced into another."

"The good news," the ad continued, "is they can be retrained, modern programming removed so they regress to their more normal selves. You will be happier but she will be MUCH happier!"

It listed a phone number. "Call for enrollment in one of my six week girlfriend/wife training classes."

It sounded like trash to me and I put the paper down, finished my coffee, and left. That night Jim and I got into another screaming match; he stormed out of the house and drove off and I went to bed and cried myself to sleep.

The next morning I remembered the ad in the paper. I still remembered the phone number, and with shaking hands I dialed it.

"Hello, this is Doctor Pradle, how may I help you?" a soothing male voice said.

"I.. I saw your ad... I.. I.."

"Its ok, just relax, take your time."

"O.. ok.." I stammered. As I nervously described the problems in my marriage, he made soothing comments and I began to relax. Suddenly I realized that I'd been talking with this man for over an hour!

"I can help you if you're willing," he reassured me. "Let's make an appointment for tonight, seven PM, say? Of course you'll have to check with your husband and get his approval first."

I quickly agreed and got his address. After we hung up, the last part of what he'd said about getting my husband's approval sorta hit me. I thought that was an odd way to put things.

So I took off work early and rushed home. Jim got in around six as he usually did. I was so anxious, bubbling almost, as I described the ad and the phone call, and asked him if he'd be willing to go and check out the doctor.

Jim shrugged and said, "Whatever". We jumped in the car and drove to the address Doctor Pradle had given me.

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It was an ordinary-looking house in a semi-upscale part of town. Jim rang the doorbell, and a girl answered. She was in her early thirties, I'd guess, which wasn't as remarkable as the fact that she was wearing a half slip, high heels, and nothing else.

We almost ran off! I was shocked, and so was Jim, but I noticed his eyes firmly fixed on the girl's ample breasts. I noticed her nipples had been pierced and a small bell hung from each one. She was wearing a short half-slip which covered the top of her thighs, red pumps, and nothing else.

"Please, come in," the girl said in a quiet voice, and she stepped back and waved her arm in a sweeping gesture.

"Yes, please, come in, join me," said a hearty voice from inside the house. I don't quite know why, but the man's voice had a soothing tone. I stepped in without thinking, and Jim followed me into a medium-sized living room.

A large leather couch sat a couple of feet from one wall with matching leather chairs on either side. There was a TV, currently off, and two end tables between the couch and the chairs. One large tan fabric chair faced the couch, angled slightly. There were a few art reprints on the walls and a couple of lamps.

"Please, have a seat," the man said, waving toward the fabric chair. I moved to sit. "No, no, that's the spot for your husband," he chided me gently. "You may sit on one of the other chairs or, if you prefer, on the floor at his feet." He smiled, "I'm certain your husband would prefer that, but we're not quite there yet."

I thought about coming back with a snappy retort, something about how no woman should sit on the floor, but instead I blushed bright red, looked down, and sat in one of the chairs next to the couch as Jim seated himself facing the strange man.

"Greetings, I am Professor Praddle," he introduced himself. Looking at Jim, he said, "You may call me Edwin." Turning to me, he said, "I realize this may be strange, but all females in this house address me as Master. I ask that you do that while you are here."

I blushed even redder, and was now quite angry at being addressed in such a dismissive manner. I wanted to object, give him a piece of my mind, but for some reason couldn't get the words out, and I remained silent.

I noticed the girl had knelt against the wall opposite the couch, sitting back on her heels with her back straight, knees spread, and her hands resting on her thighs palms up. I later learned this was the 'nadu' pose, the default pose of slave girls when in the presence of men.

"Would you care for coffee? Girl just made a pot. Without waiting for an answer, he looked at the young lady kneeling against the wall. "Girl, coffee!" She jumped up and hurried off, returning with a tray containing a coffeepot, cups, spoons, napkins, sugar, and cream. We sat silently as she poured each of the men a cup of coffee, then left the tray containing an empty cup for me on the end table. Somewhat miffed at this, I poured myself a cup and sat back down.

"I know this may seem a bit odd to you," the Professor said. "But please bear with me. I assure you this will all soon begin to make sense." He glanced over to me. "Now, what seems to be the problem?"

I began to tell him about our marital difficulties, but I stopped as he held up his hand. "Let your husband speak, and please don't interrupt."

I was being put in my place by this stranger! I felt an instant flush of intense anger; how DARE he act this way to me! But at the same time I was amazed to feel a sudden burning deep down in the pit of my stomach, accompanied by feelings of desire. I felt my body begin to open, juices beginning to flow as it readied itself to be invaded by a male member. I began to feel wetness between my legs, and I realized that my panties would soon become very wet. Being put in my place was turning me on, exciting me sexually!

I listened as Jim told the Professor about our troubles, how everything he said turned into an argument, how nothing he did seemed to satisfy me, how our sex life had effectively ended months ago. The Professor sat quietly, nodding from time to time. I wanted to interrupt, add my part, but I'd already been chastised, and I didn't want to be silenced again.

Also, the fire in my gut continued to burn hotter as Jim spoke with the strange man. Why did being ignored by the two men excite me, I wondered.

Finally, Jim's dialog ended, and I thought it would now be my turn. I started to speak, but again the Professor held up his hand, silencing me. He looked directly into my eyes. I held his gaze for a second but then automatically looked down. "You may think I'm not interested in you," he said. "Quite the contrary; this is mostly about you and your behavior. I've heard this story many times, and I don't need your input to correct things."

He turned back to Jim. "Females are remarkable creatures," he explained in his calming tone. "They were created for male pleasure and want to give us that, but modern society is telling them that this is wrong, that they should be our equals. They try, but this makes them unhappy, and they don't know why, and so their behavior becomes more and more brittle. Soon they become unhappy bitches, and they don't even know why.

"I specialize in correcting this behavior, reprogramming the female mind, so to speak. I have two PhDs and an MD, and I have extensive experience in this field.

"Now here is what I suggest - and let me be clear, if you decide to go through with this treatment, you must each decide on your own to commit to it. This is the only instance in which your wife will be given a choice.

"The treatment will be six weeks in duration. During that time, your wife will live in my house as my slave. She will learn to serve me as a female should serve all men."

The burning became even more intense; I began to pant as the meaning of these words hit me. I still remained silent, my voice seeming paralyzed.

Jim was looking down now. The Professor continued, "During the first five weeks you will not be allowed contact with her. In the last week you will come here daily for a visit and some education of your own.

"If you are worried that she may be taken advantage of sexually, let me put your mind to rest. She will be used sexually by myself and several other people over the six weeks."

Jim looked up, shocked. My mouth hung open; surely he wasn't serious!

"This is necessary to ground her mind on her primary purpose in life, as a sex object whose sole purpose is for male pleasure and amusement. Your pleasure and amusement when you are with her, or other men's if you choose."

Jim was shaking his head now. The professor waved toward the girl, "Girl, come here, on your knees before this man. Show him what you've learned."

The girl had resumed her nadu position against the wall; now she scrambled up and quickly knelt in front of Jim. As the Professor continued to speak, she unzipped Jim's pants, reached inside, and pulled out his cock.

I was amazed; Jim was rock hard! He is a little larger than average; the girl took him in her mouth and descended, taking the entire length of his swollen cock down her throat!

Jim leaned back a bit as the girl's head began to slowly bob up and down on him. I saw his eyes half close and knew he was enjoying this.

The Professor looked over at me. "You can take over if you want."

I shook my head, watching in amazement as the girl swiftly brought my husband to completion. With a loud groan, he stiffened, and I saw a little of his cum leak out around her lips as he spurted inside her mouth.

"This girl is completing her fifth week. Next week her husband will begin his visits. I'm sure he will enjoy what you just had, he informed Jim.

"It will be a nice change for them. When they began, her behavior was terrible, quite the little feminist."

Jim zipped his pants, the girl returned to the wall and her nadu pose. I knew that my husband, denied sex for a long time, had just pumped a gallon of sperm down the girl's mouth, but now it was as if nothing had happened!

I knew I would never do such a thing; I hated giving oral and hadn't done it since we'd married. "Anyway, thank you for listening. I hope you will allow me to correct things for you. As I said, Alexandrea here - or as I refer to her, 'girl' - will be with me for one more week. I can begin with you the week after next; call me to book the training."

We rose; Jim and the Professor shook hands. "I hope to hear from you. You seem like a nice couple, and you deserve a happy marriage." He walked with us to the door, held it open for us. "Have a good evening," he said in parting.

Jim grunted in response. I glanced up at the professor, but my eyes immediately fell to the floor. Without thinking, I quietly responded, "Thank you, Master."

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During the next week, Jim and I talked about the strange man and his training program. In fact, that was just about the only thing we talked about. Argued about would be more accurate.

Jim kept insisting that, while it was an interesting concept, he wasn't ready to farm his wife out to be fucked by strangers. I said that there was just no way that I would allow any man to order me around, no matter what he thought I'd gain from the experience.

We would go around and around, getting more heated each time, until I would storm off to the bedroom in a huff or Jim would clam up. Finally, around Thursday, it suddenly dawned on us that we were in agreement.

"So, why all the arguing?" Jim asked. Then we calmed down, and for the first time we began to actually discuss things in a rational manner. I pointed out that unless something was done to save our marriage, we would wind up divorced or each having affairs; in either case, I would be having sex with other men. Since that was inevitable, I told Jim that he should just make peace with it.

Jim said that he was getting so riled up and frustrated that he was afraid he'd snap and hit me, do something he'd regret; and so, as with my sex-with-others explanation, I should just accept that I would soon experience some pain.

Once we got past those things, the solution seemed obvious. Neither of us wanted to admit it, but we realized that we needed to try the professor's training program. If it didn't work, then we'd have lost some money and six weeks' time.

And so Jim phoned the professor and made an appointment for us to meet with him again. This time he gave us the address of a downtown office.

The office looked like a lawyer's office. A receptionist greeted us, pressed some buttons on her headset, and announced that we were here. In a few minutes, the Professor came out and greeted us.

He looked entirely different. He wore an expensive-looking suit and tie, and I saw a gold watch on his wrist. He led us to a large office with a huge desk, a couch, and two chairs. Behind the desk, a picture window looked out on the city skyline.

This time there was no half-naked girl kneeling against the wall either.

"So, you have decided to enroll in my training program," he said. "That's a wise decision, one you will not regret." Turning to me, he added, "Although you may have some second thoughts for the first week or two - but we'll soon get you past all that."

I looked down and blushed. Although I had a lot of questions, I felt suddenly tongue-tied and listened as Jim and the Professor discussed the six-week training program.

The Professor handed Jim what looked like a legal document, printed on legal-sized paper anyway. "This is the training agreement. Read through it carefully, then when you're done, let me know, and I will call in a notary to witness your signatures and notarize the agreement."

Jim held the paper, and I read over his shoulder. I read faster than Jim, and so this worked. There were about five pages in all, a lot of 'legalese'. The important parts were the payment agreement, a section called 'acceptable limits', and an early termination section.

The payment agreement was relatively simple: For six weeks' 'domestic instruction' we would pay $30,000, or $5000 a week, due in advance. The early termination section specified that if the recipient of the training chose not to continue, we would be refunded half the $30,000 payment if this happened during the first two weeks. If I left after two weeks, there would be no refund.

"Don't worry about that," the Professor chuckled. "I've never had anyone last more than two weeks and not finish the entire six-week program."

I shivered a bit as he said that.

The acceptable limits section was very wordy. Basically, it said that the recipient of the training - me - would not be physically harmed to the extent of any permanent damage, injury, or permanent marking; that food, water, prescribed medications, and medical attention would not be withheld. There was a stipulation that food may be withheld from time to time as an incentive, but in no case would this be for more than three days.

There was a place for an addendum. "I will call in a secretary, and you will tell her any sexual or other acts that you will absolutely not permit. I suggest you keep those to a minimum. If there are too many or they are too restrictive, then I will not be able to help you."

So this took about a half hour, and then I indicated that I was ready to list my limits. The Professor rose and escorted me into a separate room. An efficient-looking woman came in and told me she was ready to list my limits.

This was better; I didn't have to embarrass myself in front of the men. It only took a few minutes; I didn't have many hard limits. When I'd finished, the secretary left and typed them up, then handed the addendum to me for review. I nodded my approval, and then she escorted me back into the other office. I handed the Professor the neatly typed sheet. Again, my strange behavior surprised me; I looked down and smiled shyly as I handed him the paper.

He read it quickly. "Good, good. Now just make out a check and give it to the secretary. And I'll see you Monday morning at eight AM promptly, at my house."

Jim scribbled out a check and handed it to the secretary. Jim and the Professor shook hands, and we left. I was shivering uncontrollably, realizing that I'd just signed the next six weeks of my life over to this man.

****************************************************************************

After I (somewhat) voluntarily entered training last month, many of my attitudes toward myself and my place in life have changed. I always recognized that men were larger and stronger than women and could impose their will on us, but I also believed that women could control them. The urge for sexual gratification is stronger in men than in women, and we can and do use that against them.

I've begun to realize that any man can just take what he wants from me or from any female. Legally, we can make them pay (maybe), protesting after the fact that we didn't consent, we were raped, physically forced to have sex with someone when we didn't agree - but the fact remains: if the man wants one of us, then he can have us.

Master has been reeducating me during the last month. He has driven home the fact that I am an inferior object whose existence is solely for male use, breeding, and amusement. I recognized this in the past, but it has sunk so deeply into my psyche that it has become part of who I am.

Physical punishment was an integral part of training from the beginning. Master does not overuse this; he aims to instruct rather than torture. When my husband first dropped me off at Master's house, he was asked to witness my first instructional punishment.

"Not because she'd done anything wrong," Master explained to us. "Rather, I must instill in her a healthy fear of the whip, so she knows what will happen if she fails." He smiled. "When she fails, I should say."

He looked over at me. "Remove your clothes, fold them neatly," he told me in a soft but commanding tone. Shivering, I hurried to comply. As I stood naked before Master and my husband, I instinctively covered my breasts with an arm, my crotch with my hand.

Master smiled and gently took my hand. He led me over to a wooden device, which looked like a board mounted edgewise on a sawhorse. The board was about stomach height.

Master stood in front of me, the sawhorse between us. He took one of my wrists in each hand and slowly pulled me toward the board, then pulled me down so I was bent over it. At the bottom were leather wrist cuffs attached by short chains.

Kneeling, he cuffed each of my wrists. I moaned a bit as I realized I was bent over, my ass exposed, helpless.

Standing, he patted my ass reassuringly. "Don't worry, this will be over soon." Kneeling again, he cuffed my ankles to the other side of the sawhorse, securing my legs in an upright but spread position.

I realized that I was helpless, naked, spread. The men could do anything they wanted with me, and there was nothing that I could do to prevent it. This was humiliating, but along with the humiliation came that familiar slow-burning feeling deep down in my gut, and I realized I was becoming aroused. I felt my body beginning to open, secretions flowing as I instinctively prepared myself to be taken, invaded by a male member.

I could only turn my head a bit; I couldn't really see what was happening in the room. I heard a swishing sound behind me. I jerked in response as I felt a smooth, cool object rubbing up the backs of my legs, onto my ass. Smooth, cool, round, like a stick.

"Now this will hurt a bit," Master laughed, "but don't worry, it will hurt you a lot more than it'll hurt me."

I began to shiver, trying to imagine what he was going to do. Suddenly I felt a hot burning on my ass, and at the same time I heard a smacking sound. I tensed and yelped in pain, jumping instinctively against the ankle restraints. It was burning, more painful than anything I'd imagined!

I began to rock on my feet, raising one foot then the other, writhing to escape the pain, but there was no escape! I moaned in pain and felt tears pouring from my eyes as the heat slowly subsided.

"Good reaction; she feels it," I heard Master say to my husband. He spoke as though I wasn't even there, as someone would speak about an inanimate object. As for my husband, he made no objection to this man abusing his wife this way.

Just as the pain was beginning to subside a bit, I heard a faint whoosh and felt the burning pain again, and heard the loud smack. This time I screamed, writhing, moaning, crying. "Stop, stop, please, no more, please," I begged.

"I think this cunt is gonna need a gag; all this screaming is hurting my ears." I heard my husband laugh and agree.

As I panted and moaned from the burning in my ass, he pulled my head up a bit. I felt a round object being forced into my mouth. Then a strap was behind my head. Master latched it. This was my first experience with a ball gag.

It would not be my last.

He straightened and resumed whipping my ass. Each stroke was intensely painful, more than I could bear. He spaced them out several seconds apart, allowing the pain to begin to subside between strokes. My world became intense, burning, awful, unbearable pain.

I don't know how long it went on, but finally there were no more strokes and I remained bent over the sawhorse, tears flowing, my body still writhing in pain, effectively silenced by the gag.

I heard Master say to my husband, "Take her now, it'll be the best piece of ass you've had in a long while." As intensely humiliating as it was to be called a piece of ass, his words barely registered.

I jerked as I felt a hand on my ass, and then I felt a man rubbing his cock on the entrance to my pussy. "Damn, she's wet!" I heard my husband exclaim as he pushed himself inside me. The pain from the whipping I'd just received was just beginning to leave, and suddenly he felt so good, and I gasped as I came! I moaned as I felt my body jerk, my muscles contract and loosen over and over around his rigid member, trying to milk it, to bring his ejaculation. My body wanted to be filled, used, impregnated!

It went on and on and on, the most intense orgasm I'd ever experienced! Finally, panting, I began to move my ass as much as my bindings would allow. I had no conscious thought; I was just reacting. I became an animal in heat, wanting nothing more than to feel his own orgasm.

Suddenly I came again! I was now a wild animal, begging into the gag for him to fuck me, to take me, to go harder, deeper, faster! Again and again my body responded in helpless female orgasm!

Finally, I heard him moan and stiffen, and I knew he was spurting inside me! Groaning like an bitch in heat, I came one last time!

He stayed inside me for a few seconds, then slowly pulled out. "You were right," he said, "that was the best fuck I've ever had!"

"It will take a few weeks," Master said, "but I will have her trained and ready. You won't be sorry you've brought her to me."

A few minutes later I heard the door open and close, and I knew my Jim had left me. I shivered as I lay secured to the device, the sweat slowly cooling from my body as I felt his cum leaking out of me and running down my thigh.

Master walked up behind me and patted my ass gently. "That's the best piece of ass your husband's had," he said, "but you are capable of being an even finer fuck for a man."

I felt wetness on my anus and his finger began to rub around it. I realized he was putting lube on my asshole, and his fingers began to work it into me also. "Please, please no!" I begged into the ball gag as I realized what he was preparing me for. "Please don't do that!"

He just chuckled and kept working the lube into my ass. I felt him move into position, and I steeled myself for the pain I knew was coming. He eased himself into my helpless ass as I moaned and shook. "Don't tense up, you'll make it worse for yourself and better for me," he ordered. "Just take it; it's gonna happen, you can't stop it."

He was right, of course, but I couldn't make myself relax. After a couple of minutes, he was totally inside me, and then he slowly began to pull out. This hurt more than when he went in, although in a different way.

Out just a bit, then in. In, out, in, out. I moaned in pain and humiliation with each stroke!

He patted my side, steadying me as he would steady a horse. I felt his strokes get shorter and faster, and then finally I felt him stiffen and I knew he was pouring his jizz deep into my ass.

He stayed completely in me for a couple of minutes as I groaned and cried, then slowly pulled out. He patted my ass again and told me I was a "good girl".

This was the beginning of my six weeks of training. Master didn't use the riding crop on me often; from this moment I had an intense fear of being disciplined.

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So now I was four weeks into training. Around the house, I was mostly naked except when cooking meals. He would sit at the table, and I would serve him breakfast, lunch, or dinner, and then I would kneel beside him. Master would feed me by hand from his plate, or occasionally not at all. I was not allowed to feed myself or consume any food other than what he fed me.

I'd learned the slave poses. We would practice for an hour each morning and an hour each evening. Whenever I made a mistake, I'd get a swat on the ass from his riding crop, his favorite discipline instrument. It was light, easy to use, and unpleasant for me. I worked hard to learn the poses and please him, and after a couple of weeks I had them all down.

"Today we will shop for a new riding crop," he announced at breakfast. He laid out my outfit, a simple white top, short skirt, and panties. I knew that my nipples would show through the white material. A few weeks ago, I would have been mortified to go out in public dressed like that, but after four weeks of training, I knew not to question anything.

We drove to a local saddle and tack shop. It was late morning on a weekday, and there were no cars in the parking lot. When we entered the store, we were greeted by a cute brunette salesgirl wearing a matching top and skirt. It was apparent that, unlike me, she was wearing a full complement of underwear.

"Where are your riding crops?" Master asked the girl. "I need a new one, one that really hurts."

She looked at us oddly, seeming to notice my nipples for the first time. "This way."

She showed us to a display of riding crops and short whips hanging from a display near the wall. "Could you recommend one that hurts a female butt without requiring too much effort?" Master asked the girl.

I saw her eyes widen, and she began to breathe faster. She reached up and selected one, handed it to Master, then looked down. He swished it back and forth a couple of times. "Nice balance. Now another, please."

The girl was visibly panting now, and I could see that even though she wore a bra, her nipples were very hard. She selected a couple more.

"Now I need to test them," he said. This was my turn to shiver and pant, as I knew what was coming next. "Bend over this table," he said to me. As I bent over, I felt him pull my panties down until they lay around my ankles.

He moved into position and let me shiver for a few seconds, then I heard a swoosh and felt that intense burning pain as the leather riding crop landed on my ass. I clenched my teeth so nothing escaped but a low groan and a quiet hiss. This was the way I'd been trained, not to make noise when I was cropped.

He let me recover for a bit, then I heard another swoosh and felt another burning, unbearable pain. "Now slut," he asked, "which hurt more, the first or the second?"

"T-the second, Master," I stammered.

"Hmmm, but you may be biased; you know this will be used on you, and so you picked the one I that didn't hurt as much. I need an impartial judge."

He turned to the poor salesgirl, standing wide-eyed, observing something I'm sure she'd never imagined. "Bend over the table," he told her.

Of course, a rational person would have refused, and probably told him something about where he could stick the riding crop, but the girl seemed mesmerized. As though in a trance, she bent over the display table next to me. I heard her groan and knew Master had pulled her panties down.

WHAP! The crop sounded much louder on someone else's ass. The girl let out a blood-curdling scream as she writhed in pain.

"Well, we can't have all that racket, can we?" Master said. Looking back and down, I saw him pull her panties down to her ankles; she obediently stepped out of them. Then he wadded them up and stuffed them into the salesgirl's mouth.

"Good, that should do it. Now number two." He said. I saw her shiver, her eyes squeezed tightly shut, and in a minute I heard another loud WHAP and saw her body jerk and stiffen as the pain became unbearable. She moaned into her gag but didn't scream, which seemed to please Master.

He pulled my panties up and laid the two riding crops beside the sobbing salesgirl, still with her panties stuffed in her mouth. Using a ballpoint pen, he wrote his address on her bare ass, now marked by two red stripes. "Pay for both of these and bring them to this address at seven this evening", he ordered the girl.

Then he walked out of the store as I hurried to keep up.

***************************************************************************

I thought Master had finally overestimated the control that he was able to exert over females, but sure enough, at seven PM sharp there was a tentative knock on the front door.

"Get the door bitch," master ordered me, and although I was only wearing panties and high heels, I knew better than to hesitate. When I opened the door, there stood the little saddle and tack girl, nervously shifting from one foot to the other..

Her eyes widened as she saw me, nearly naked. "I... uh... I...," she stammered.

"Come in, shut the door," Master ordered. Eager to obey, she stepped inside, and I closed the door.

"Did you bring the two riding crops as I instructed you?"

"Y.. yes, yes." She was looking down at the floor, blushing bright red.

"Good, set them on the table over there and then remove your clothes, fold them neatly, and set them on the table also."

I could see the girl shake nervously as she hurried over to the table. She set two packages on the table, then, eyes firmly fixed on the floor, quickly removed her shirt, skirt, pantyhose, bra, and panties. Although the room was not cold, she stood naked, shivering, one arm around her ample breasts, the other hand covering her pussy.

Master walked over, put his hand under her chin, and pulled her face up so she looked into his eyes. "No need to be shy," Master told the girl. "Understand, you may put your clothes on any time and leave - but while you're here you are my property. I own you, and you will do as I say; is that clear?"

The girl nodded. I could see tears forming in her eyes, and from experience, I knew what she was thinking. She was amazed at herself, uncertain why she was surrendering to being controlled by this man whom she didn't even know.

Master stared back, then released her chin. Her gaze immediately dropped back to the floor. I knew this was a sign that she would do whatever Master wanted.

He took her forearms in each hand, pulled her arms to her sides. "Now that's better; don't cover yourself while you're here."

She nodded. "I won't ask your name," he said, "I prefer to give my slaves names myself." He waved his hand in my direction. "This is bitch. Say hello, bitch."

"Hello," I said.

"I think your name will be... hmmmm, I think 'cunt' fits you. You will be cunt while you're here."

I didn't think it was possible for the poor girl to get any redder, but she did, blushing furiously at the degrading name.

"All right bitch, cunt, let's go to the playroom." I turned and led the way; cunt followed close behind. Master had converted one of the bedrooms into a small dungeon. When we stepped inside the door, I saw cunt's eyes widen at the display of whips hanging along one wall, and the St. Andrew's cross on the opposite wall. There was the sawhorse device I'd spent time on and various vibrators, a whipping bench, and a Sybian.

A clothesline was attached to one wall, the other end to the opposite wall. It was plastic-coated and hung semi-tight across the room. Master opened a drawer and got out several wrist cuffs, Velcro with a ring for attachment. He handed four to me. "Do her wrists and ankles," he commanded.

As gently as possible, I took the girl's wrists one at a time and wrapped a cuff around each, securing the Velcro. I dropped down and did her ankles. When I was finished, Master did the same to me.

He led cunt over to the clothesline. Using carabiners on each wrist, he secured her to the clothesline. He waved me over and attached my wrist cuffs to the same two carabiners. The girl and I were facing each other now, bodies touching.

She was a little taller than me, and with my high heels on, we lined up perfectly. Our faces were only an inch apart, our bodies touching. I could feel the heat radiating off of her.

She was moaning softly as she realized what Master wanted.

He bent down and, using two more carabiners, clipped our ankle cuffs together on each side. He stood and admired his work.

"Not bad, not bad!" he said, laughing a bit. "You girls enjoy yourselves; I'll be back in a bit." With that, he turned, flipped the light off, and went out the door, closing it behind him.

I knew what was happening here; the girl obviously didn't. An experienced Dom like Master will always put a girl in some position or other, then leave for a while, forcing her to wait. The waiting is the most difficult part! Your mind whirls round and round, imagining what he is going to do, wondering if you can take it.

And I'd learned Master would make certain I couldn't take it. He would go just a bit past what I could stand. This is the way he'd been breaking me, and I had no doubt he was going to use that method on the girl.

She was moaning softly, her body writhing gently. This was beginning to turn me on, and after a while my body began to writhe against hers. Our lips were an inch apart; suddenly we were kissing, a deep, anxious kiss. I didn't think she was gay, but the whole situation was turning her on, and she was turning me on. Back and forth, soon we were kissing, bodies writhing against each other.

Suddenly the door opened, and the light went on. "Well, well," Master chuckled, "looks like I have a couple of wannabe lesbians. Would you girls like me to free you so you can lick each other's pussies?"

Cunt moaned loudly and shook her head. "No, nooo..." she begged, but I knew she'd do whatever Master wanted.

And so did he!. He undid our ankles and wrists and ordered us to the floor. "Do it, sixty-nine, now!"

I was on top. I obediently turned so her pussy was in front of my mouth. I took a deep breath and prepared to bury my tongue in her glistening snatch when I felt her tongue in mine! It was like an electric shock; my body jerked as the girl expertly found my clit and began sucking and licking.

I felt a burning on my ass and jerked, realizing Master had swatted me with one of the riding crops. "Get in there bitch!" he ordered. I didn't want a beating, but I didn't need that threat anyway. I bent down, found her swollen clit, and began licking frantically.

Moaning and writhing, we rolled over, and now she was on top. We were each soaking wet, our tongues making obscene slurping noises in each other's twats. I felt her tense and knew she was close! I sucked her clit hard, licking it, as I felt her hips jerk and heard her moan. A rush of fluid filled my mouth; I realized she'd squirted a bit in a hard female orgasm.

My own climax followed, and we continued to writhe there, cumming over and over sometimes together, sometimes on our own.

Finally we were each exhausted. I moved around so my face was next to hers and kissed her long and hard, tasting myself on her face. We continued to kiss and hold each other, oblivious to anything else.

While we were occupied, Master locked a metal cuff on one of my legs, one of hers, and locked a short silver chain to each cuff, securing us together. He turned off the light and left us lying on the floor chained to each other and the wall.

We finally fell asleep, exhausted, in each other's arms.

***************************************************************************

I heard a knock on the door. Master nodded, indicating I should answer it.

I hustled to comply. I was wearing only a short half slip and red stiletto heels; other than that, I was naked. A few weeks ago I would never have dreamed of being in this almost-nude state even around my house, much less in the presence of strangers.

My attitudes had changed.

I pulled the door open; a man and woman stood on the porch, their eyes wide as they saw me. "Come in, come in," Master called from the couch. "Don't worry, she won't bite."

They entered, still staring at my body, then slowly turned and entered the living room. I went to the wall opposite the couch and knelt, sitting back on my heels, legs spread, hands resting on my thighs, palms up in the nadu pose I'd learned. I jumped up when Master loudly exclaimed, "Bitch, coffee!"

I hurried into the kitchen. I had the tray already ready: cups, saucers, milk, sugar, spoons. Master doesn't like to be kept waiting! I hurriedly poured the coffee from the pot into a carafe, then returned, set the tray on the end table, and poured coffee for the men.

As I'd been trained, I didn't pour coffee for the woman. Females could serve themselves, Master had taught me. I went back to the wall and again sat in nadu pose.

Master spoke with the man as the woman listened. I recognized the words; I'd listened to the same speech six weeks ago. After a few minutes, Master called and indicated I was to kneel at the man's feet. As expected, I unziped his pants, pulled his rigid cock out, and began to suck it.

He was very hard, obviously without sex for some time. I sucked and licked him, enjoying his man-taste in my mouth. In a couple of minutes he moaned and leaned back, and his warm ejaculation filled my mouth. It was a lot; I had to swallow frantically to keep from spilling any, but I managed.

Then I returned to the wall and knelt.

When the discussion was over, Master escorted them to the door. I noticed as they left the woman quietly said, "Thank you, Master."

He closed the door and smiled. "They'll be back; I know they'll book training for next week." Turning to me, he smiled and said, "And next week will be your final week. Your husband will visit every day if he wishes, to see for himself how well you've responded to my training.

"At the end of the six weeks he can take you home if he wants, or there are several other options he may choose. I have an acquaintance who owns a brothel; possibly he'll rent you out there. You should return a healthy profit for him.

"I also have an arrangement with an auction house. You could be sold at auction as a sex slave. Durations are negotiable; one year is common. I expect you'd bring a good price."

I kept my nadu pose as I'd been taught, but my breathing became faster, and I felt myself flush as I heard the things that might happen to me. Whatever my husband wanted.

My pussy was very wet. It was more or less wet all the time now; I was permanently excited, but it seemed extra stimulated.

Master roughly grabbed my hair, pulling me upright. He forced me roughly to the couch, pushing my head down so I was lying across the arm. He kicked my feet apart; I heard his pants hit the floor and he stepped up behind me, quickly mounting me. He felt so good, so right onside me; I was ready to cum as soon as he entered me, but I waited for permission.

Master pumped me a few times, then shouted, "Cum, Bitch!"

And I came, like a good girl.