It had been four years since Bill left the neighborhood and it fell largely to me to keep the wife active as a slut and in the D/s lifestyle she'd adopted. In what follows it should be appreciated that by this time I no longer cared who in the neighborhood knew she'd been Bill's slut, that Bill let other men fuck her and that she was still active as a slut. I realized that some of the neighbors might have assumed I was little more than a cuckold, but frankly I didn't care as long as other men fucked her as regularly as possible. Fortunately, given my attitudes and her total surrender to being a shameless slut, the annual neighborhood New Years Eve parties always provided me with an opportunity to put the wife on display in a context where she might find one or more unattached males to fuck. The couple that ran those parties invited everyone from the neighborhood along with a dozen or so other friends. And those friends were free to bring whomever they wished to the party with them. So out of the 15 or so couples that commonly attended these parties, it wasn't unusual for several of them to bring a third person with them... generally a male who for one reason or another didn't have a New Years Eve date.
New Years Eve was also always a wonderful opportunity to have the wife dress more salaciously than she might otherwise dress in and around the neighborhood, if only because women like to dress sexy for New Years Eve. So the party across the street was one opportunity to take advantage of the considerable slut dress wardrobe she'd acquired at Bill's expense over the years... long skin tight gowns with plunging necklines that barely covered her tits, high slits up the front that threatened to expose her cunt, and plunging backs that invited men to slide a finger into the crack of her ass when they danced with her. I think it reached the point where the neighbors wondered from one year to the next how erotically and scandalously she'd dare to dress at the next party.
The party I have in mind this time was, as I said, four years after Bill had left, and it was my prerogative to choose what she wore. Some things, of course, were standard... large dangling earrings of the sort prostitutes wore and pumps with a full 6" heel, again suitable for a stripper or a whore. If she was going to be a whore and I intended her to be, then surely it was appropriate for everyone at the party know it. Her dress... or rather gown... in this instance was skin tight, ankle length, a deep crimson red, with a neckline that plunged to her waist. One wrong move and one or both of her tits would be wholly uncovered. But in addition, it had a slit up the front that came to within 6 or 8 inches of her neckline where it was attached by two easily disconnected snaps. Thus, when she walked you had a view of one leg or the other in its entirety to within and inch or so of her cunt. Needless to say, since she was prohibited from wearing any undergarments under such clothing, when she sat she had to be careful in the extreme not to expose her cunt. One thing her gown did accomplish, other than displaying her as a slut, was make her supremely easy to fuck.
This New Years Eve was no different than any other in one additional respect... she went to the party alone, leaving me at home. Not only did I not want to dissuade men by my presence from hitting on her, I did all I could short of hanging out a sign that read "married slut available for a night of fucking". We'd also pretty much agreed on what, in the best circumstances, would follow: She'd stay at the party until shortly after midnight at which point, if there was someone there who clearly was eager to fuck her that night, she'd invite him to leave with her to come to our house. Thus, I knew no one would be coming over until the new year, and I could only hope it would be more than one voice I'd hear after moving to a bedroom when someone entered thereafter. And on this particular night I immediately heard two voices in conversation and I knew it would be only a matter of minutes before I'd be able to listen to someone driving his cock into my wife.
"Your husband is upstairs and doesn't mind that you've brought me here?"
"Not at all... he loves it when I'm with other men. As a matter of fact, if someone hasn't already told you, with his encouragement, I was a collared slut for eight years for someone who lived down the street until he moved to Europe."
The acoustics of our house were such that even with my bedroom door closed (it was actually slightly open to that point) I could hear them clearly and I immediately began forming images in my head of what her new friend might look like. Of course I had nothing to go on except for my imagination... an imagination who liked to think she was about to get brutally fucked by some truly athletic guy with a huge cock. In any event, he was clearly taken back a bit by being told she'd been a collared slut for someone other than me and that being fucked by other men with me squirreled away upstairs was nothing new for her.
"A collared slut? So he owned you... owned you in the D/s or BDSM sense?"
"Yes. I'm strictly sub and crave serving the men who fuck me as their sub slut."
Clearly, my slut of a wife had chosen in this instance to immediately reveal her taste for BDSM sex, which of course only encouraged me to imagine her "friend" as some hulking over six foot tall lover.
"Does that include being tied, whipped, and all those other things we associate with BDSM sex?"
With no hesitation whatsoever to her reply, she boldly tells him "Oh yes, definitely... and more than that even if a man wants to use me that way."
"And your husband approves of all this... encourages it even?"
"Yes, definitely. His greatest regret is that my previous owner moved away and I am no longer collared and owned by anyone."
Clearly the wife was doing everything she could to encourage her friend to imagine himself as her new owner. I knew of course that she was desperate to find a Dom in Bill's mold as unlikely as that might be, but if she was encouraging her unseen friend to imagine himself as a replacement, then he was surely someone who turned her on by his mere physical appearance. And needless to say, as my cock grew harder still, I hoped he'd take full advantage of her invitation to treat her as a BDSM slut.
"Did your previous owner share you with other men?"
By this point in her 'career' as a wanton slut, she was hardly unwilling to reveal everything about herself sexually to other men. The last this she wanted was some vanilla quickie sex and if she could say or do anything to encourage a night or unrestrained passion... perversion even... she'd say or do it: "Yes, often... and he used me as a whore with his business clients as well." How many wives, after all, would admit to someone they'd just met that she'd worked as a whore? Well, although there may be only a few such wives, mine was one of them. I also knew that she knew I could hear every word that was spoken, and that it turned me on to have her tell men she was a whore as well as a sub slut. So whatever she was telling her friend was intended not only to encourage him to use her to fulfill whatever fantasies he had about sex with another man's wife, but to turn me on too. She not only wanted a good hard ravishing fuck, but she wanted me sitting upstairs with a cock as hard as a rock and ready to explode with the slightest encouragement. Indeed, I knew she'd be disappointed if I couldn't resist jerking off upstairs, cumming more than once while she performed as a total slut downstairs.
"Wow... I thought women like you existed only in fictional stories."
"Well, I'm very much real so why don't we stop talking and have you fuck me." [a description of their actions now are only what I imagine would happen since I remained upstairs throughout such liaisons]
With a pause in their conversation, I knew her new friend had stepped up to her to give her a deep tongue probing kiss which, of course, she'd respond to by pushing her tongue back into his mouth as far as she could. And since what she wore that evening so as to have her advertised as available could be readily removed with the unsnapping of a clasp. Thus, it took little imagination on my part to visualize her then as standing before him naked except for her shoes before their kiss had ended. I also knew that whenever someone fucked her in the living room... me, Bill, Bill's friends, etc... she preferred to be bent forward over the back of our sofa so that the man would have easy access to either of her holes... cunt or ass. The silence and shuffle of feet told me then that she was leading him to the sofa, bending over its back so as to encourage him to get on with fucking her. Indeed, the next voice I heard was hers: "fuck me .. fuck me hard .. fuck me like the shameless married slut that I am."
Stepping behind her, pulling his already rock hard cock from out of his pants, the only decision he had to make at that point is which hole to stuff with his swollen manhood. But since this was the first time he'd fucked her, he choose the obvious one, plunging his cock deep into her eager dripping wet cunt. "Yes, shove it in me... shove it in me deep... " she cried out in a voice loud enough to make certain I heard her. She not only wanted her new lover's cock to be as hard as she can make it, she wanted mine swollen, straining and aching at the same time.
Driving his cock hard into her, she then moaned out "Yessssss... fuck meeeeee... make me your whore... fuck meeee... "
