Ritual Breaking of The Suburban Wives
Chapter 3: Now it's Gerald's Turn with Brooke's Ass
Seven suburban wives, arranged in a row on a long leather-padded table.
Naked, save for the ball-gag harnesses around our heads.
Legs spread apart by spreader bars.
Arms stretched under and behind us, wrists cuffed to those bars.
Seven suburban slaves, arranged for punishment and then what comes next.
The first of us, Anass on my left, was a sobbing, sweaty mess. She was the first one punished by the Matriarch's heavy leather strap. I was the second, and also a sweaty mess. Only this was my first time under the strap, and it was pretty near traumatic for my poor ass.
My cheek rested in a pool of my own drool, watching Nicole to the right of me scream and cry and thrash and buck against her bonds.
Then it was Ashley's turn.
Then it was my best friend Margie's turn.
Then it was Janelle's turn.
Then it was that stuck-up bitch Victoria's turn. She was the queen of the passive-aggressive put-down at every school auction and bake sale you could think of. I'm not sure what I loved more: the horrific screams, the look of pain on her face with each strike, or the look on her husband's face as he looked at me more than her.
Then it was Lisette's turn.
And then it was over.
And thank fuck for that.
Seven suburban wives, beaten into submission by the leather strap. Punished for their misdeeds. Mine had been real. Had theirs? Seven sweaty, heaving, sobbing, twitching messes of mature slave-flesh all jammed together so we could feel, smell and just about taste each other on that table. So how's that for a picture?
It had been a first time for all of these wives once, and they'd since come back for more. I was the only virgin to the strap tonight. I couldn't imagine how anyone could come back for this again. The strap had obviously changed them. Would it change me, too?
Our towering dominatrix, the Matriarch, came around from behind Lisette's rear end. She wiped the tears, sweat, drool and snot from Lisette's face with a fresh towel. Then she arranged Lisette's face on her cheek, facing left to the rest of us. Lisette saw six punished women, all staring back at her. Then the Matriarch turned Lisette's face straight ahead, facing out. After that, the Matriarch worked her way down turning all our faces straight ahead. We stared out at the seven husbands, or masters, on the long leather couch facing across from us. They all nursed drinks and hard-ons. Some of them even had them out to stroke. My husband Dave hadn't gone that far, but he was definitely hard in there. Did not expect to see that.
"Is there any master who feels more punishment is in order?" asked the Matriarch.
More punishment!?! Yikes.
Luckily for my tender derriere, the room was silent.
"Ah, you're all just as warmed up as these lovely sluts, I see."
The Matriarch looked me in the eye as she ran her fingers through my fair.
" I know exactly how you all feel."
The Matriarch moved back around the table and gave Anass a great big smack on the ass with her hand. Anass yelped a little through her ball-gag.
"Right, this luscious piece of slave-flesh is up first. Who would like to own her for the night? Maybe even someone who's never sampled her before?"
Turned out she meant Dave by that crack. I found out later everyone was well acquainted with having Anass for the night. Dave's hand stayed down, along with the rest of them. I had the sinking feeling they were all interested in the new toy. My head was in a funny place now. The rational part of me wanted to cut and run. But another, deeper part of me was starting to get turned on. There was an atmosphere in the air generated by our seven sweaty bodies. Maybe the thing I needed most after this ordeal was to be used by a man. I would have chosen Dave, of course, but apparently I wasn't on his menu tonight.
"Come now," said the Matriarch, "I realize that darkened meat like Anass isn't for everyone, and nearly everyone's had a turn training her now. But I know from experience how badly she needs to be fucked after her punishment. I even gave her extra to make her especially eager to please tonight. Doesn't anyone want to sink their cock in that gigantic ass tonight? I know I would if I had one."
A lone hand went up at the end of the couch. It was Lisette's husband Trevor. He stood, stripped off all his clothes, and neatly folded them on his place on the couch. Then he picked up a leash, strap, and cuffs from the end table and walked across the room. Trevor undid Anass's bonds and commanded her off the table. She slowly crawled down. Trevor leashed her, commanded her to stretch her muscles, gave her some more commands I didn't hear, and led her out of the room. I got a great view of her ass on the way out. It was redder than a stoplight, with some welts, but the skin wasn't broken. The Matriarch was pretty skilled in her chosen vocation.
I was next.
"Now then, who would --?"
Every hand but Dave's shot straight up. The Matriarch smirked at me.
"All the sharks love tender fresh meat", she said to me, and then went back to addressing the masters.
"Gerald, since your slave-wife Anass was chosen first, I think you should have the honors. Do with this what thou wilt."
Gerald was a tall red Scotsman with thinly cropped hair that was starting to recede, and a neat, closely maintained beard. With his quiet and commanding attitude as he stood and stripped, he actually seemed like a master among masters. He definitely worked out, and watched his diet. This was an interesting contrast to his soft and rounded wife. Gerald picked up a leash, strap and cuffs, and came confidently striding over, with his cock waving out in front of him. What a sight that was. He stared straight at my eyes, but I had a hard time looking up into his. Maybe it was just the hard swinging cock distracting me.
"You'll love this, slut" the Matriarch said to me conspiratorially. "Gerald lives to break new meat in. You're in good hands."
I'd known Gerald for years, but wasn't sure I'd ever spoken with him. He and Anass were a constant presence at school functions. I'd certainly never entertained the notion of fucking him. I was now, and I wasn't sure how I felt about that. Gerald grabbed my hair, and tilted my head up slightly. This made me move my eyes up from his cock up to his eyes.
"Obey my commands, or you get the strap.", Gerald said. "If you know what's good for you, you'll agree you've already had enough of that tonight."
Gerald laid his things down and got to work on me. He removed the ball-gag harness first. I started to say something, but he gripped my jaw.
"Slaves only speak when spoken to."
Got it. Message received. Gerald then uncuffed my wrists and ankles from the spreader bar. He helped me pull my arms up so I could get up on my elbows. He then did a quick massage of some muscles in my arms and legs. I have to admit, it felt good. Gerald knew what he was doing. He picked up his things and stepped back.
"On your knees, with your cheek on the floor facing my foot. Hands up in back for cuffing."
Oh God. I slowly worked my way off that table. My muscles weren't as sore and stiff as they would have been without Gerald's ministrations, but it was still a hard slog. And my ass felt like it was on fire. But I dutifully tried to remember his commands. Gerald was so specific. I got down on my knees, lowered my cheek to the floor, and put my hands together behind my back. Gerald stepped up, with his foot right in front of my face.
"Lick."
Oh. My. God. He wanted his foot licked? Seriously? Ewwwww. No way I would ever do something so gross. No way!
So what was my tongue doing out of my mouth then? I actually stuck it out and...and...tasted his foot. It tasted exactly like I expected it to taste, like a foot.
"Better than that, cunt. Lick."
Ok, then. I'd had my taste. I guess I knew what I was in for here. So I started licking, in a slow, steady rhythm. Gerald didn't say anything, which meant I must be doing something right. After about a minute of nothing but licking his foot, Gerald leaned down. While I licked, I felt my wrists being cuffed. Then my hair was pulled up.
"Rise."
I struggled to rise fast enough from off the floor and then off my knees and onto my feet as Gerald pulled me up by the hair. It felt rough, and brutal. Once I was standing straight up, he leashed my collar. Then he knelt in front of me. He put matching black leather cuffs around my ankles, and fastened a thin, short chain between them. Then he stood up and looked me in the eye. He was a good inch-and-a-half taller than me. Not as tall as the Matriarch, but tall enough. Gerald gave me a thin, cruel smile, pulled the leash taught, turned around, and started walking. I struggled to keep up with him, with my hands cuffed together in back and the ankle chain severely limiting my step-length. I prayed I wouldn't trip and fall.