I rose extra early Friday morning hoping to get ready in good time, but Ruth had already seized the bathroom and seemingly set up a permanent camp in there. After waiting in vain for the better part of an hour I succumbed to inevitability and settled for doing my morning routine in the small crummy guest-bathroom downstairs. You know, the one where the water goes ice cold every time somebody turns on the hot faucet in the upstairs master bathroom. But on the positive side, a cold shower can be quite refreshing in the morning.
Seriously though. What the hell is the deal with girls and bathrooms anyway? How long can one spend on taking a shit and a shower? I could shower, masturbate, bathe the dog AND wash my car and STILL be done in less than half the time of the average female doing her daily maintenance.
But when Ruth finally emerged, I almost chocked on my coffee. However long she had spent in there, it was totally worth it.
"Holy guacamole Ruthie! I don't quite know what to say. You look..."
"Like a slut? Like a whore? Like a cheating bitch?" she probed suspiciously.
"If you put it that way, I would say you are all of those plus a few more I could mention. But the words I actually had in mind was amazing, fantastic and awesome."
She lit up with a big smile and did a pirouette.
"Like what you see honey?"
"Better believe it!"
And I wasn't exaggerating.
My wife was decked out in some sort of buckled black leather corset and matching black silk stockings held in place by a garter belt. Her entire cock-provoking outfit was covered by the most transparent silken negligee I had ever seen anybody almost wearing, and the entire outfit had effectively turned Ruth from a stylish housewife into a fetish lover's wet dream come true.
As if that wasn't enough to put the Viagra manufacturers out of business, she wore a set of panties that looked as if they were made from chains held together in the front by a wrestling championship belt. Her long blonde hair pulled tightly back in a utilitarian ponytail was the final touch and clearly signalled that this girl meant business.
And cleavage!
Oh yes there was serious cleavage too. Thanks to the lift of the corset my wife suddenly sported a lot more boobage than I was used to seeing on her. Definitely not a bad look for her. She really ought to slut-up more often.
And I could have had THIS for twenty friggin years? Oh Master -- we were SO gonna have words!
"Will you help me with this please?" Ruth asked rhetorically and handed me an honest to god plush-lined dog collar. I snapped it in place, fighting a sudden impulse to bark.
"So what's the deal with the armoured panties anyway?"
"Oh, it's a chastity belt."
"A chawhatsyasay?"
"A chastity belt, Steve. Master has a firm rule that he wants his girls to arrive fresh when called upon so I snap this on after I shave and wash myself. Only he has the key that will unlock it. That way he knows for sure that I am fresh for him."
I didn't know what to say, so rather than breaking something expensive in a fit of rage I walked downstairs to calm myself with another cup of mocha. The sheer audacity of that prick was mind numbing!
Eventually Ruth descended too, now wearing her red coat in order to avoid getting us both arrested for indecent exposure on the trip. She greeted me with a loving peck on the cheek in passing. I returned the gesture by grabbing her ponytail and using it as a handle to hold her in place while bending her over the table.
"AUW! What are you doing Steve? Stop that. You're messing me up!"
"Sue me," I growled and snapped off the chastity belt with a pair of wire-cutters. The blasted thing rattled to the floor in a tangled mesh of shiny metal chains.
"STEVE! NO! Please! Master doesn't allow sex before attending him."
"Tough," I replied and shoved my cock inside her without further ado.
I reached around to her pubic area and was astounded to feel her complete hairlessness. A strange sensation, being used to Ruth at least sporting a landing strip. But my probing finger also revealed that she was wet as a rainstorm and more than ready to be fucked full force. Probably after fantasising about her ass-Master while getting ready. Well, if I couldn't get the dude completely eliminated from my life and my marriage, he might as well get used to enjoy my leftovers.
So with a solid grip in that handy ponytail of hers I started banging Ruth like a drum. At first she kept flailing her arms and yapping away about "Master this" and "Master that," but soon the oscillating hardness between her legs cauterised her mind of anything not relevant to her impending release. She clung to the table moaning with delight as the erotic tension between us grew with each thrust, and when I felt myself getting close, I wetted my thumb and squeezed it inside her ass. This pushed her over the edge and her very vocal climax pulled me along as well. With a triumphant roar I came deep inside her and held the position until my ejaculation was completely done. A little cream for the Masters coffee courtesy of his dear friend Steve.
Ruth pushed me away and desperately wiped her crotch with a dishtowel.
"Oh no. I am sticky and messy now. I need to go back up and rinse off."
"The hell you do! Go slip on a normal pair of panties and get your ass out in the car. We are late and we are leaving now."
"Master will not be pleased."
"My heart bleeds."
**********
It was a solid two-hour drive with a sulking and leaky wife at my side before we finally pulled up in front of the Masters mansion.
And yes, "mansion" was the only word to adequately describe it. The place was huge. A massive multi-storey elizabethan style building surrounded by a well-maintained park and a small beech forest. It was situated a fair distance from the main road, at the end of a long winding driveway that fanned out into a spacious gravel-covered yard and parking area in front of the main entrance. The centrepiece of the yard was a marble fountain featuring several life-size statues of nude women making out.
Yeah, I was pretty sure we had the correct address.
I brought the car to a stop at the foot of a stairway so wide you could have driven a truck up it. As soon as we came to a halt a goddamned uniformed valet showed up and opened the door for me. I felt like a VIP at the Ritz.
"Your pimp's got class Ruthie," I remarked. "Gotta give him that.
"Please Steve. Could you at least stop disrespecting Master in public?"
"Whatever. Fuck you both."
We ascended the stairs and were lead through a set of heavy wooden doors at least eight feet tall with brass fittings and entered the eighteenth century.
Yeah, seriously. The guy was evidently an avid fan of medieval European castles or at least shared interior decorator with the duke of Wellington or something like that. The lobby was large and spacious with a polished tile floor in an intricate pattern that I guessed was a stylised coat of arms. The walls were bare granite stone but lined with richly embroidered tapestries and paintings, mostly featuring motives of sexual acts or naked women in highly suggestive posings. Towards the rear of the room a wide carpeted staircase with polished brass handrails lead up to a first floor landing and the lighting was supplied by four massive chandeliers hanging from the ceiling that must have been at least twenty feet above us.
A dozen people -- mostly girls in outfits similar to Ruth's -- were lounging in chesterfield style couches and seating arrangements. A few of them looked up curiously when we entered but otherwise nobody seemed to make a big deal of the fact that newcomers had entered the premises. Guess they were used to a certain level of traffic in this place.
Compared to the picturesque scenery, the man that came walking down the stairs to meet us looked almost benign. His smile was broad when he came over to greet us with a firm handshake for me and a hug for Ruth.
"Welcome to both of you. I hope you had a nice trip down here. As always you are a vision to behold Ruth."
"As it pleases you Master," she mumbled with her head bent demurely down.
"And it is so great to finally meet you Steve. I have heard a lot about you of course, but nothing beats meeting people face to face."
I took a second to gauge the man shaking my hand. Tall, sixty or maybe sixty-five, with a full head of grizzled dark hair and a well-groomed beard. Obviously a man who took care of himself, as was evident from the slim waist and the broad shoulders. His strongest features though were his eyes. Ice-blue with a piercing gaze that seemed to draw you in and read you like a book. I quickly revised my first impression; this man was a lot more dangerous than he initially appeared.
"That makes one of us Mr..?"
"M... just call me M."
"I see. M as in Master?"
"No, I don't believe you would be comfortable with that Steve. Let us just say it's M as the character in James Bond, shall we?"
I had to smile at that one and he laughed with a deep resonant rumble. I don't know what I had expected, but this guy wasn't it. If the situation had been different I might even have liked him. As things were though, I could not allow myself to let my guards down even for one second in this mans presence.
"As you wish M, though you should know that we wont be imposing on your hospitality for long. We are just here to inform you in person that Ruth will cease to be a member of your little stable of prostitutes. In the future we are going to work on rebuilding our marriage and that includes cutting you and your cult out of her life for good. I am sure you understand."
M let go of my hand and his expression turned from radiantly jovial to somber.
"You will need to discuss that with your wife at a later time Steve. But for this weekend she has certain obligations to fulfil..."
"Customers," I injected.
"If you prefer to put it that way, yes. Ruth has a circle of gentlemen who have been fans of hers for decades and are counting on her services on a regular basis. Some of them are booked for this weekend, and they are not the type of men you stand up."
