For a period of time after it seemed that my wife's transformation into a sub slut and part time stripper and whore was complete our sexual life became somewhat routine. Bill and I continued to use her, separately and together, and occasionally we'd take her to the strip club to allow her to perform with Sally and Nancy. On those occasions, Sally would take Betty as her sub slut to her apartment, letting Alan and Nancy play with her from time to time. My wife's experiences as a whore at the club, on the other hand, were more limited, especially after I learned that she'd allowed herself to be fucked without protection when Sally pimped her. Nevertheless, she was pimped a few times to remind her that she could be made a whore whenever I wished it and we acquired one additional evening gown from our favorite slut dress shop – again at zero financial cost, but a good hard fuck in the back room by the store's owner. It wasn't that my wife needed another slut gown, but I rather enjoyed bringing her to the shop to dry on dresses, knowing that the transaction would end with her being used as a whore.
I suppose its difficult to imagine it becoming routine for a housewife to be a slut, stripper and whore ... especially one who otherwise maintained the image of wholesome propriety. Certainly none of my colleagues nor any of our friends ever imagined my wife was a sub slut. I often got pleasure from taking her to a faculty party knowing that no one there could possibly imagine that she had a ring in her cunt, a tattoo on her tit, and unashamedly achieved total sexual fulfillment when made a whore. If anyone had taken a poll to guess which wife was least likely to have had a man's cock up her ass other than her husband's or who got off by being abused by a lesbian lover, my wife almost certainly would have topped the list. What else could you think of a women who seemingly considered a skirt that showed a knee as daring, who never wore a blouse that wasn't buttoned to the neck, whose "high heels" never exceeded 2" and who seemed interested only in talking about the latest fashions at the mall or the quality of public education? More often than not, however, she wore such clothes and engaged in such banal conversations with a butt plug stuffed up her ass, knowing that someone, not necessarily other than myself, was going to suck on her tits and fuck her later that night.
Our routine was broken, however, months after her week with Sally when I went out of town for three days. I could have taken her but Bill asked me to leave her since he wanted to arrange for some out-of-town friends to use her. In part he wanted to brag about his training another man's wife (he may have taken more credit than deserved, given Sally's contribution, but far be it for me to split hairs). And since his friends were also Doms, he wanted to share her in a context where she would be more than a 'simple' whore, as she had been when he took her to Washington. At this point she was strictly 100% sub with few limits, and Bill wanted to use her with others as someone for whom there were no lines that couldn't be crossed.
I agreed to Bill's request even though I couldn't impose the same stipulation I imposed when he took her on his business trip ... namely to be fully informed over the phone as to how she was used. My business was taking me out of the country for two days, plus a day and a half of 'living' at airports so my ability to participate in any way was essentially nil. I'd have to satisfy myself with learning how she was used only after the fact. Perhaps for this reason, and unlike other instances in which she was to be shared without my presence, I told her of our plans several weeks in advance. Of course, there was a tinge of nastiness in my decision: I wanted her to let her imagination run wild as to how a sub slut might be made to serve three or four Doms simultaneously. But aside from that, nothing was mentioned of her impending service until the day of my departure, and even then all I told her as I left the house for the airport was that Bill would call to tell her what was expected of her.
Bill called late that afternoon and told her to come to his house before dinner ... after bathing and giving herself an enema, naked under a coat wearing only a pair of fuck me heels. She was to bring her posture collar and corset in a bag, but nothing else. These things she did, and when ushered into his house around 6 PM, she found herself alone with him ... his guests, who were to be three in number, would be arriving shortly. "Are you prepared to be a sub slut for four Doms this weekend?"
"Yes, I am," she replied, adding the obligatory "Sir" to signal her acceptance of things. She admitted beforehand to me, of course, to being somewhat apprehensive about how she would be compelled to serve a party of Doms and how she would be used. But it was apprehension mixed with an equal degree of excitement ... excitement about the prospect of experiencing new pleasures. And in any event, she had committed herself to being a wholly trained and experienced sub slut and surely she couldn't be that until she served several Doms simultaneously.
"Good," Bill told her. "Now take off your coat and lie on your back on the dining room table."
She followed this somewhat curious instruction, whereupon Bill, after attaching her ankle and wrist cuffs, attached each to a rope tied beneath each corner of the table. Spread eagled, vulnerable and admittedly with a dripping wet cunt with the ropes pulled tight so that she was essentially unable to move anything but her head or to raise her hips slightly off the table, Bill proceeded to set the table for four people ... knives, plates, forks, etc as if she weren't there. "You are going to be our centerpiece this evening and doubtlessly the dessert."
One can safely assume that my wife's cunt began dripping almost immediately after being told her role for dinner. But no sooner had Bill completed his preliminary arrangements than the front door bell rang, announcing the simultaneous arrival of three fellow Doms. Ushering his guests into the dining room, Bill cooly announced "this is our fuck toy for the weekend. She has been loaned to us by her husband, who is out of town on business. I can tell you she's a true pain slut, although I haven't yet fully tested her tolerance there. She's also bi and on occasion has served a lesbian lover. Her sexual tastes are totally unknown to family and her husband's business associates, but she has been a stripper and a paid whore. As far as her husband is concerned, she is ours to use as we please provided only that we do no permanent damage and maintain being discrete ... no one outside of this house is to know how she is used this weekend. No pictures will be allowed and I will accept your promise that none of you will under any circumstances reveal her identity to anyone."
One of the men commented that the conditions were of course wholly reasonable, while one of the men, while doubtlessly focused on my wife's wet cunt or heaving tits simply offered the lament "Delicious, though I suppose we don't get to play with the slut until after dinner?"
"Yes, that's partially true ... I'm not sure my dining room table could withstand having us fuck her there. But once dinner ends, we all will have full access to her. In the meantime, pull up a chair and let me serve the dinner, which I had delivered a short while ago."
At that point, with my wife's cunt continuing to drip, the men attended to their meal and only occasionally made reference to the tied and spread slut before them. Periodically one of them would touch her ... a tit or her thigh near her cunt ... but other than that their preoccupation seemed to be the food Bill had set before them. Nearing the end of the meal, however, one of the men commented "I bet the little slut would cum from this wine bottle."
"You're right," Bill commented, as if offering an invitation for her to be fucked by the bottle.
By this time, of course, my wife would have cum from having nearly anything pushed into her cunt. She'd laid there, largely unable to move and never talked to directly, knowing that all this was but a prelude to her being a fuck toy for four men who were planning to use her in ways she couldn't imagine. Bill's comment about being a pain slut whose limits had not yet been tested sent a shiver of anxiety through her, but aside from that she found herself becoming increasingly excited as the dinner progressed and wished only that the food would quickly disappear. The mention of the wine bottle, though, sent another shiver thru her and she let out an involuntary moan of pleasure when she felt its neck sliding into her ... into her to the point where she could feel the bottle stretching her more than even an overly large cock.