Part 2
The Slut Begins to Emerge
(Suzanne our little suburban housewife with a Submissive desire continues her story here for you. I am writing it, as if I were her much to her dismay, her fear that her Husband might see it and in it her. That is of course exactly what this slut wants, to be humiliated and used. . (I can write this because Suzanne is now my slut as well as Robert's but my story with her will come later.) Now let me tell you what happened next -- K)
It had been days since the last time I'd been with Robert, yet the memories of my being used in that warehouse remain strong and keep me wet almost constantly. I pace the floors when my husband is at work, hoping to hear from Him, wanting what only he has been able to give me. Then in the next minute I feel embarrassed and ashamed of what I seem to want so much. 'Isn't the sex with your husband enough' I ask myself over and over and the answer is still the same, no DAMN IT.
That night I learned that Tim, my husband would have to go to Atlantic City for a week- long conference, he was leaving in the morning, a last second replacement for someone. I helped Tim pack and assured him I understood, that I'd miss him and then that night fucked him, and drained him. He left me the next morning with a smiled burned into his face and I too felt pretty good. I showered after he left then sat naked at my computer and chatted on line with some folk I've come to know, well maybe I know them! We just passed inane stories, humorous events and silly chatter until I could take it no longer. I'd been idly using my left hand between my legs, thinking of last night with Tim, thinking of one of the men I chatted with on line but mostly thinking about a week without my husband and wishing I'd hear from Robert. I hoped that by not getting dressed and wandering my home naked the gods might send me Robert, but by lunchtime, I gave up and dressed.
I took a page from Roberts's book though and left my bra in the drawer with my panties. I found a garter and usable hose and slipped them on, standing now in front of a mirror and seeing how the garter belt framed both my ass and pussy. I went to my closet and looked for just the right dress and soon found it in the back. It was a dress I'd not worn in years; somehow I felt too old for it and abandoned it to the dark reaches of the closet. But today it seemed as if it was the right age for me and I slipped it on.
I am pretty much unchangeable in size, weight is always only a pound or two one-way or the other, fantastic metabolism and decent diet. So the dress fit and without a bra it looked sexy as my eraser-sized nips popped out and pushed the soft fabric creating identical dents on my chest, just on top of the small B cup mounds. My long legs looked great in the hose and the hem of the dress came to mid thigh, so while I was without panties the length generally would cover my puss. Unless of course I wanted it seen, then it would just be a matter of how I sat and where I sat and where my legs went. I felt myself moisten as I looked at the woman in the mirror.
Depending on how I looked I saw a demure housewife on her way to the mall or a hot sexy woman looking for sex. I giggled at the dual images and decided I looked decent enough and it was only my knowledge of my naked puss that made me seem seductive. So I headed to the car and off to the mall. I had sex on my mind and so Victoria's Secrets were shared and placed in a bag for me, a new blouse I could never wear in public and some shoes that would require practice before I used them. As for the event in the shoe store when I tried on the shoes? Well I wanted to show the young man my naked puss but he wasn't interested, maybe he was gay. He never even looked. Don't these guys have a course or something to tell them the possibilities of a woman in a dress? Depressed at having failed to expose myself, feeling cheap and unwanted I headed home hoping the secrets Victoria sold me would prove special. It would be days before I would figure that out. A package was on my front step addressed to me with no return address, my pussy twitched, I just knew it was form Robert.
I hurried inside knowing that his packages always contained instructions and times. I was afraid I'd no time to spare and was right; the first line of his note told me to be ready in what was now only twenty minutes away. Panicked I went through the note and saw that only the make up was time consuming and hurried to my room to do that, not yet looking at the outfit. I was so excited I had to force myself to calm down just to get the make up on. Dark red lipstick, rouge on the cheeks, eyeliner and face powder, I was to look like an over made up whore and that thought made me wet.
I looked into the box and saw four packages numbered one thru four, I was told to do this in order. The first contained a pair of black fishnet stockings and a very pale blue garter belt. I strapped it on and pulled the hose on. I felt cheap and tawdry, and then I opened the second package and gasped. It looked like a pair of 'daisy dukes' but so tiny. I pulled them up and only a thin strip of denim covered my wet pussy lips, I knew it would soon ride between those lips. The shorts barely covered my mound and I knew both of my ass cheeks were exposed. The straps of the garter were well below the hem of the shorts. The top was a tube style in soft, blue cotton, thin and did nothing to hide even my small tits. My nipples were trying to tear the fabric. In the third package was a pair of six inch black heels and I slipped them on. I only had a few more minutes and I used a couple of them to see myself. In the mirror stood the inner slut there was no hint of the housewife. I smiled at the image and cringed at the thought that I'd be leaving my house like this. I went to the last package and found a small jewelry box. Inside there was one beautiful earring, the long dangling kind, pendulum in shape and another note.
"When you see the matching earring, earn it."
I could not help but wonder how I was to do that as I hurried downstairs to what I knew would be a doorbell ringing. Just as I came to the door the bell rang and my pussy clenched and dripped my juices onto my hose. I opened the door and saw my last driver and his dirty cab. Silently I followed him, opened my own door and sat on the soiled back seat as he put the cab in gear and pulled away. My adventure was beginning and I sat with my legs closed not wanting the driver to see how wet I was whenever he looked in his rearview mirror, angled just for that purpose. We hadn't gone a block when he said.
"Robert wants you to keep your legs spread. I know you are trying to please the man so I feel I have to tell you that he asks for a report."
The ride wasn't long and when the cab stopped the driver opened the door and reached in and held my hand as I stepped out. Then I was pushed back up against the now closed door of the cab and the driver was so close to me he was smashing my tits with his chest. I was shocked and a little scared as I first felt his breath then heard his words as he whispered in my ear.
"I know what kind of women Robert collects, slut."
I was trying to wiggle free of this man, when I heard him call me slut. I knew I was a slut but I was Robert's slut. I said.
"I'm Robert's and you should not call me slut, I am not your slut."
I heard him giggle and he said.
"Oh baby, a slut is a slut. You wanted to be Robert's slut; you wanted to be a slut."
As he said that his hand slid in between us and found the waiste band of my daisy dukes and slid between the material and my skin. By the time he'd said the word slut for the last time his fat finger was coated in my pussy juice and sliding in and out of me. When he added a second finger I shuddered but accepted this, as I was sure Robert was watching. The driver once again leaned in close as his fingers filled me he whispered.
"So tell me now what are you?"
I hesitated not wanting to have to admit to this man just exactly what he and I both knew and he took that time to hook his fingers inside me and pull me up so only the tips of my toes touched the ground. It hurt and I cried out
"I'm a slut! I'm Robert's slut. I'm your slut. I'm a slut."
As he eased me back to the ground I came and my whole body trembled as I coated the driver's fingers with my pussy juices. As the orgasm quieted he pulled his hand from my pants and put his big dirty fingers on my lips
"A good slut would lick these clean, Robert would expect that."
I still felt Robert was watching, evaluating me so I opened my mouth and cleaned my own cum from his fingers. When I was done I finally looked close at the area of the city we were in. It was a derelict section of the city and the driver now used his cleaned fingers to point to a run down building across the street.
"In there, the door number is on the note."
He smiled and then said.
"I'll be called to come and get you when it's time. Thanks for the tip."
I watched him pull away, frightened to be alone but excited at what Robert had planned. My pussy dripped constantly as I still felt the fat fingers of my driver, still had my own pussy on my tongue as I walked to the building. It stank of stale urine and beer as I took the stairs to the third floor. A few homeless drunks were sitting in various locations as I passed and all reached out to touch me. I let them. The last one pulled on my tube top and one of my tits popped free, I let it hang that way as I knocked on the door marked 311.
It took a few minutes before the door opened and I spent that time thinking. When the cab driver used his fingers on me that had been the first time I was a slut for anyone other then Robert, who I could see! My time in the warehouse I'd been blindfolded and could not see who was fucking me, whose pussy I was eating. Today there was no blindfold and I had no doubt that when this door opened my time with the driver would seem like child's play. I'd see the cocks and if there are any the pussies. I'd see the faces and know if they are white, Hispanic or Black whatever. I felt nervous and my stomach flipped as the sound of the doorknob turning filled my ears. If I'd had another minute I might have left, but the door opened and a large white man reached out and grabbed my hair and pulled me in saying.
"You're Roberts's woman and you're late."
This man was over six and half feet tall and must have weighed no less the three hundred pounds. He was young, probably in his late twenties and fairly good-looking. He was still holding me by my hair and I knew that if he lifted his hand my body would not tax his arms at all. So I tried to remain motionless as I said.
"The driver held me up a bit, please forgive me?"
