Welcome to Chapter Seven of my still-developing story, which is completely true. This story won't make any sense unless you read the first six chapters first. Click my profile for the link to those chapters. Also, Chapter Six was in the "Loving Wives" section, so you may have missed it. Click on my name for a link to that chapter.
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The man on the TV screen wore a dress shirt, black suit pants, one shoe and on sock. One of his feet was bare, and a naked woman was on her knees, licking his feet and sucking his toes while begging him to fuck her. She was pleading, telling the man that he could have his way with her- she was desperately horny and "needed it".
It was a rainy, late summer morning. The kids were away, my husband was at work, and I was wearing nothing underneath my robe as I casually sipped a glass of wine and watched porn, slowly getting aroused. Of course, I was the woman in the film, and John was the man.
By this time, John and I had about six hours of pornographic footage filmed, and I was performing some of the most degrading acts imaginable. I was embarrassed enough having to masturbate on film by myself, but John always seemed to be able to take things one step further. One time he had me naked, crawling around on all fours and barking like a dog. Another time I had to lick his ass for close to a half an hour while he pleasured himself, and eventually spun around in time to cum in my face.
To add to the excitement, John started filming us having sex in my home. There was something unnerving about making a porn on the bed that my husband and I had slept in for over fifteen years, or on the couch that my family gathered upon.
The thing that made me most uneasy was when John filmed me naked, with my legs spread wide open, talking about our affair in every explicit detail. As I sat there in the most revealing pose imaginable, talking about the perverted things I had done and referring to myself as "John's Little Slut". The worst part was, I couldn't help but get incredibly horny while I was putting on this show for the camera, and by the end I'd be earnestly begging John to fuck me. My actions and words proved that I was, indeed, his slut.
One of the rules I had to follow was that if John called my cell phone, I was expected to pick up, no matter what. He understood that I couldn't always have a "real" conversation, but I was always to have it with me. One day I went out shopping and forgot to take it. John called to schedule an afternoon romp, but instead got my voicemail.
That night I had to go up to John's apartment. He had the camera pointing toward the couch, and he instructed me to walk over, take down my pants and underwear, and lay face down on his lap. I could barely hold back the tears of embarrassment as I did so, I crawled onto his lap and he slapped my ass with the palm of his hand- and it hurt. To make it worse, every time he spanked me, I had to say "Julie be a good girl and not forget her cell phone"- in baby talk. It was beyond humiliating, and I was sobbing as he did it. Yet I couldn't help but be turned on by the memory of it.
In addition to the films, John would take x-rated photographs of me. He and I actually went shopping together, and he had me buy an expensive digital video camera that we would not only make videos with, but John would be able to isolate frames for photos. He also had me buy a professional picture printer. The irony of my husband paying for these expensive items via our credit card was not lost on me.
Some of the poses were nothing short of shocking: in one of them, I was laying on my back while sucking his cock, and as I did so I was spreading the lips of my vagina apart. In another, I was on my elbows and knees spreading my asshole open, all while looking back and staring suggestively into the lens. Then there was me with my legs spread wide open, with cum leaking out of my freshly fucked pussy. Another had me squatting down naked while licking John's cock. There were humiliating close-ups of my anus and vagina, and countless photos of my breasts. If my husband of nineteen years had ever even suggested taking a sexual photo of me, I would have slapped him for it. But for John...well, some men have the magic, and some do not.
In addition to becoming John's sex toy, I had also become his maid. Five days a week, I had to go upstairs and clean, making sure that his apartment was immaculate in case he had another woman coming over. Despite having me under his thumb, ready and willing to do whatever he pleased, he was still dating and having sex with a steady stream of other women. I felt a pangs of jealousy, but it didn't matter in the end. I was happy with what I had.
On a Wednesday morning, John called and told me to come to his apartment that night to make another film. When I arrived, I was to seduce him on tape, eventually revealing writing on my behind that said "John, please fuck me in the ass". That presented a problem- I couldn't reach back and write it myself, and John made it clear that the words were to be written on my behind in black marker when I arrived.
So who could I have do it?
Laureen and Jenn were my two best friends. Like me, they were mid-30's suburban housewives. About once a month we'd all get dolled up and head out for a fancy lunch and an afternoon of shopping. Our husbands all knew each other as we'd all gone out multiple times, and we'd discussed all going on a cruise together. Although I trusted both of them, they were both fairly conservative. I thought better of letting either of them know I was having an affair, let alone being dominated to the point where I was being made to have someone write "John, please fuck me in the ass" on my derriere.
Then I thought of Caroline, who dated around and had a bit of a wild side. I thought it might even be a good idea to be able to talk to someone about what was going on in my life. At the same time, having to explain to a friend why I had to have "John, please fuck me in the ass" written on my ass seemed a bit too embarrassing.
Then it dawned on me- the shoe salesman (See Chapter Four)! He was harmless, yet I was sure I could get him to do it without asking questions. Problem solved! I picked up a thick laundry marker and headed to the mall.
