Chapter 7
"From Slave Wife to Slut Wife"
My name is Karen. I'm a slut wife. A real one. The kind who will do whatever my husband orders, whenever he orders it, to whomever he orders. Some on this forum have called me a fake. Some think I'm the work of a guy, just getting his jollies by pretending to be a woman who acts out his fantasies. I'm not. I am a married woman living in the Midwestern part of the United States. I have given birth to and raised two children. I have a job that allows me to work from home. I have two advanced degrees from respected universities. I am not fat, physically or mentally deformed, do not have low self esteem, and do not believe that I must subject myself to deviant behavior in order to keep my husband. I have selected this lifestyle because of the excitement it holds, the rush I get from extreme sex, and the satisfaction I get from satisfying my husband.
I have neighbors who know of my self-selected situation, and believe as I do, that what happens between consenting adults, as long as it is not harmful to themselves or to others in the community, is really none of their business. My children are grown and at college. As we live in a relatively small community, it's not unlikely that they know of my situation. If they do, they don't speak of it. We do not perform any of our sexual lifestyle in front of them, just as people who practice traditional sex would not do so in front of their children. We have raised our children to be tolerant of the beliefs and lifestyles of others. If they do know, and they are not mentioning it, then my husband and I are very proud of them. That is the essence of tolerance. The world could do with more of it.
My husband and I began practicing this lifestyle nearly two years ago. The first weekend, when he asked me to join him in this adventure, was a total surprise to me. I didn't know that he was interested in having me be a real slut wife. Not the play-acting kind, for which I have nothing but respect. But the kind that would be expected to submit to his orders at a moment's notice, with no hesitation, regardless of the humiliation it might cause me. During our first weekend, he had me do many things that left me embarrassed, humiliated and extremely horny. I came harder and more frequently than at any time in our marriage. The anticipation of knowing what was about to happen at times, coupled with the fear of not knowing what was about to happen, create in me the ultimate aphrodisiac. Just writing these words, I'm wet just thinking about what he may have in store for me this evening. It may be brutal. It may be tender. It may involve just us. It may involve friends, neighbors or strangers. I may end up helping someone to cum. Or I may end up cumming myself. Or even cruelly being denied an orgasm. My whole cunt is blazing hot.
So, believe me. Or not. Laugh at those who do. Or pity those that don't. There is little proof that I can give you. My husband takes photos and videos of my adventures all the time, but he only shares those with select friends and acquaintances. Unlike the rest of the world, people around here understand the benefits of relative secrecy. If I'm outed on Jerry Springer or whatever passes for confessional TV today, it's likely to mean the end of all the fringe benefits they enjoy. Like walking through the woods and coming across a nude woman who is eager to suck your cock. Or having a ready-made, safe-from-disease whore to give to your son on his eighteenth birthday as a special gift and rite of passage. Or even just having a willing ass for your husband to fuck when you're not in the mood for anal sex. I've done, and will likely continue to do, all of those.
A word about my relationship. I'm not a slave in the classic sense of the word. My husband is not my Master, though I sometimes call him that. We know some couples who are in Master/slave relationships and that is not how we live. There are many different types of Dominant/submissive relationships, just as there are many types of other relationships. If you think you're normal, I defy you to define what normal is. And then I defy you to find even 10 couples who have sex lives exactly like yours. Normal doesn't exist. But I digress. For the purposes of our sex lives, my husband is my Owner. I am his property. He uses me much like he would use any kind of property, like a watch or a shovel or a pencil. Like a shovel, sometimes he uses me in the regular way. Like shoving his cock in my pussy. (Sorry for the bad pun.) And like you might use a shovel to lever something out of the ground, or to pound in a fence post, he sometimes uses me in ways that are a little irregular. Like making me service a cock with each of my holes, at the same time.
I'm getting sidetracked again. I get so horny thinking about it, sometimes it's hard to concentrate. Anyway, the point is, he's only my Owner some of the time. When I'm not catering to his every whim, we have a normal marriage. We make decisions together. We go out to dinner. I mostly take care of the inside of the house, while he mostly takes care of the outside. I do the gardening. He fixes things. We skype with our kids at college. I make cookies, when asked, for the church and other organizations. We both work, pool our money, pay our bills, go on vacation when able, sit and read when we have a chance, watch sunsets and generally enjoy life as much as we can. Together.
If you've read my story from the beginning, you know all this. But sometimes it's worth getting the newbies up to speed. I'm real. I have a social security number. I pay taxes and grumble about it. The stories you're about to read are as real as I am. I'm writing them down because my Owner thinks it's a good idea. Maybe it will inspire someone to break the chains of their conformity. Maybe you'll read this and try something new. Or maybe my Owner knows that writing this gets me extra hot, so I'll be in a better place when he torments me next. You never know. He's really good at getting inside my head.
I tell most of the stories from my point of view. But sometimes I try and tell them from an outsider's view. Or even my Owner's. Or one of his friends. I'm trying new things with this because I think it would get boring to hear over and over about how it feels when I orgasm, or the way that cum drips down my tits, or what it tastes like when I lick his ass. So maybe setting the scene a different way helps tell the story. Or maybe not. Feel free to tell me what you think in the comments section. Prior to this, the most I'd ever written was academic papers to get my degree. This whole autobiography thing is still new to me.
So let's get started with a few key events that happened in the last two years...
I'M SITTING ON A KITCHEN CHAIR a few weeks after my Owner's failed experiment with the bondage coach. OK, so not entirely failed. He pushed us to try things that made me feel more vulnerable and helpless. But he was a creepy guy and I'm glad he's gone. So, I'm sitting on a kitchen chair, completely nude, my butt uncomfortable on the wooden seat. My hands are tied together behind me, behind the back of the chair.. My ankles are tied to the chair's front legs, and ropes run around my thighs to the stiles under the chair, ensuring that my legs are held wide apart. I have a gag in my mouth. They call it a cleave gag. It's really nothing more than one of my Owner's ties, knotted tight through my mouth and around the back of my head. I can talk, a little, though it sounds like when the dentist has his fingers in your mouth. I don't talk, however, because that would earn me a punishment. And I have no interest in having my Owner come over and swat my sensitive tits with a crop for such a breach of his orders.
