My wife's weekend with Bill convinced me that I had best use her on my own as my slut lest she become too used to being one for Bill alone. It may have been true that Bill and I shared her extensively, but for one reason or another I had not yet had an experience with her that matched what she experienced with Bill in Washington. And it was that gap in her transformation that I sought to fill as quickly as possible. Bill, in fact, had asked if I planned on going out of town anytime soon since he had a number of out-of-town friends he'd like to invite to share her with if I didn't plan on bringing her with me. In the abstract I had no objection to that idea. But we don't live in the abstract and I decided that it was imperative that I first exert my own independent control over her training.
With that in mind I told Bill that yes, I had a upcoming trip planned... and that I could leave my wife behind at his disposal then. But first I wanted to take her on my own for a week-long and long-overdue 'vacation'. I explained that the past two months had been an intense experience for both of us and that we needed some time alone, if only to make certain that the were no issues in the marriage that might threaten its viability in the long run. I explained that once I felt totally secure in my position as a Dom with her that I'd have no trouble whatsoever leaving her behind under his 'care' on occasion when I traveled on business.
Bill readily accepted my thinking. Of course, when sharing one's wife one can never be certain that the unanticipated complexities of human relationships wouldn't enter to disrupt what I otherwise deemed a perfect arrangement... perfect from the perspective of having a wife who was a sub slut, who fucked other men whenever I wanted her to fuck them, who fucked Bill and who fucked both Bill and I together whenever I wished it, and who had surrendered to whatever use and humiliation pleased us. Thus, Bill's ready acceptance of my argument was, if not a surprise, at least reassuring.
My plan was first to take my wife back to the strip club that had been the scene of her debut as a stripper, and to do so without Bill if only to establish my position there as her 'owner'. Thus, a week before our planned trip I arranged for a motel room in the vicinity of the club, and informed my wife that we'd be paying the slut dress shop another visit beforehand.
My wife, needless to say, knew precisely what that meant... that I planed to whore her again to the store's owner. And indeed, when the time came for us to go there I specifically told her to wear the one dress she hadn't yet worn that I had bought her the first time we visited the shop... the skin tight micro-mini that didn't quite cover her ass. Of course, it and her heels were the only attire I allowed.
Unlike our previous visits, there were two, somewhat younger, couples there looking thru the dress racks, and, naturally enough, they immediately took notice of my wife. Nevertheless, I assumed it would be difficult if not impossible to whore my wife to the store's owner with them there. That was indeed a source of disappointment since whoring her again was half the reason I took her to the shop. I proceeded, then, to simply find and least two new salacious items for her to model, and imagined that having her model ever more slutty attire with two other couples there was some compensation for not having her fucked.
The first item was obviously intended to be worn only by a stripper... a long ankle length gown that had a slit up both sides to literally above her waist, a neckline that plunged to her waist, and a back that was wholly open so as to reveal enough cleavage of her ass that precluded the possibility it could ever be worn to any 'proper' public place. And although it came with a string thong, I insisted that she model it without the thong.
Somewhat surprisingly, the two girls there with their boyfriends (or husbands... I couldn't tell) heartily approved of what they say, with comments such as 'wow, wish I could wear that,' or 'that looks soooooo sexy!' whereas their male companions feigned innocence – no doubt because they didn't want to lust too openly. The store's owner, needless to say, said she looked 'delicious' (his word) and I could only imagine how much he wished he was alone in the shop with her then.
My second choice was again a blood red ankle length gown that was touch more conservative but nevertheless slutty in its own way. It fully covered all that had to be covered and offered a neckline that showed nothing more than the full cleavage of my wife's tits. However, it zippered fully in two directions from the base of the neckline to its hem, so it could be adjusted to reveal nothing or everything. But more interestingly, when fully zippered, it did more than merely fit my wife like a second skin – revealing every curve and cleavage of her body -- it did so essentially to her ankles so that she could walk in only the tiniest steps.
"Ahhh... that's our hobble gown," the owner commented, approvingly.
And I had to admit that despite being covered, except for the keyhole neckline, from neck to ankle, much like the training collar used on sub sluts, my wife offered the image of a wholly submissive slut encased and controlled by her gown.
With two other couples in the shop I expected, naturally enough, to have to pay full price for both dresses, but the owner surprised me. "I think the first gown needs a few alterations, which I can perform quickly in the back room if you don't mind. Would you care to put it back on for me, dear?" he suggested with a wink.
Alterations? That had to be about as transparent a suggestion as possible, since there wasn't that much to the gown to alter or to in any way be 'ill fitting'. Nevertheless, my wife knew what was required and she immediately returned to the dressing room to change. By then and sadly for them one of the two couples had left whereas the second continued to poke thru the clothing racks while wandering off occasionally to the store's shoe section.
When my wife reappeared, wearing a gown that merely had to be brushed aside to render her wholly fuckable, the owner announced to the other couple that this would only take a few minutes, whereupon he led my wife directly to the back storage room where I doubt anything had ever been altered other than some woman's virginity.
The owner, no doubt, knew that the best he could hope for was the proverbial 'quickie'... but if that was all he could have, then he would take what he could get. And judging from the moan that soon came from behind the door, he must have acted quickly in shoving his cock into my wife's waiting cunt (and yes... he didn't have to be reminded about the necessity for wearing a condom). Did the other couple in the store know my wife was being fucked in the back room? Well, I never asked them directly, but the only circumstance under which they would not have known is if they were deaf. In less than a minute I could hear my wife's rhythmic ohhhhhhh's as the owner pumped her cunt. I could tell she was attempting to be somewhat discrete and more muted than normal when being fucked, but there's only so much a woman can do in that respect until there's the unmistakable gasping "arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..."
Thirty seconds later they both reappeared with the owner commenting simply "the dress fits her perfectly now."
What of the reaction of the other couple who, as my wife was being fucked in the back room, pretended for the most part to be wholly unaware of what was occurring? At another time and another place I might have gotten to fuck her and he my wife, which was an idea I hardly regarded as objectionable. Alas, that was neither the time nor the place. Perhaps the store's owner was able to make his own arrangements after we left. I suspected, in fact, that by making only a minimal effort at disguising the fact that he had taken my wife into the back room to fuck her, he was advertising his willingness to consider another such arrangement. I wondered then how many such arrangements he did get to enjoy in the course of his business. Minimally, that thought caused me to make a mental note to make certain that I carried a supply of condoms whenever I visited his shop.
Whatever the case, when it came time to pay for the dresses, only the second was listed on the bill. The dress Betty wore when he fucked her was once again free.
"Shall I change now?" my wife asked as I handed the owner my credit card.
"No... wear what you've just been fucked in," I said, deliberately making reference to what had just occurred and not attempting in the least to hide my words from the other couple.
Fortunate for my wife, our car was parked only a few feet from the entrance to the shop, and the drive home was largely without conversation. But once back in our house I cooly asked "tell me, how did he fuck you?"
"He had me bend forward over a box."
"And into what hole did he shove his cock?"
"Into my pussy."
"Sluts don't have pussies... that's a cat... sluts have cunts! Where did he shove his cock?"
"Into my cunt, Sir"
I rather enjoyed having her explicitly assume the role of sub slut, using the word 'Sir'. But I also needed my own sexual release. After all, one can hardly listen to one's wife getting fucked without needing to fuck her yourself at some point. "Bend over the table then like you did for him!" "Yes Sir," she dutifully replied, placing her hands on our kitchen table.
Pushing aside what little there was to her gown, I lowered my pants to release a cock that had been throbbing and hard for far too long. Pushing her up higher onto the table and slipping my cock quickly into her, I asked "and did his cock slide in as easily as mine just did?"
"Yes Sir, it did."
"As was that because your cunt was wet knowing you were being fucked as a whore?"
"Yes Sir, my cunt was wet."
"And did you cum for him?"
"No Sir.. I pretended to but he came fast and didn't fuck me long."
