Prenup 02

[Carl Bradford]

(Jim Fuller’s perspective)

Some joker once defined the “OhNoMoment” as the split second where you realize that you’ve just done something very stupid, like slamming the locked car door shut with the engine running and the key in the ignition, but it’s too late to correct that mistake. I’d been having four continuous DAYS of “OhNoMoments” lately, and it was all self-inflicted. I had deliberately confessed (complete with a photograph) to my wife that I had a cute little slave girl suck my dick. When I first proposed to my second wife Jeanie, she had made it clear that she couldn’t tolerate philandering with slaves or anyone else, and had insisted that I sign a special prenuptial agreement that, in the event I ever had slave sex again without her permission, I would voluntarily become her Free In Name Only contractual slave for a five year period. Ever since she raised this possibility, my mind had been fascinated with the possibility of being her submissive slave boy as a means of escaping the pressures of my life as a surgeon, dreaming about days and weeks of sex-filled service to my gorgeous wife.

The reality, however, sucked. And not in a fun way. Mistress Jeanie had registered my FINO contract by running me through the Longhorn Slave Market, complete with having the wranglers there first install a shiny ring into the head of my dick (aka a Prince Albert) and then BRAND her initials in 3-inch letters across both of my tender buttocks. “Ouch” doesn’t even begin to describe the suffering involved, but I figured I deserved it for making my darling unhappy.
Anyway, that was four days ago, after which I had been kept (naked and usually bound) around the market to give my wounds time to at least begin healing. Now I was kneeling inside the kind of wire-mesh cage often used to transport large dogs (aka “Poodle Express,” a standard method of shipping human property here in Slave Texas.) My knees were on a foam pad (thank you, Mistress, for small favors), with another such pad between the backs of my upper and lower legs, cushioning my bandaged rear cheeks. I was also gagged, collared, “butt nekkid,” with my ankles zip-tied to the rear corners of the cage; the short chain between my handcuffs (installed behind my back) was zip-tied to the center of the back wall of my cage, making it difficult for me to shift my position and take pressure off my branded bottom. As if I weren’t sufficiently restrained, one of the wranglers had—at the direction of my mistress, he pointed out—stuffed a VERY large butt plug WAY beyond where the sun’s rays can reach, apparently to remind me that my conduct had qualified me as a flaming a**hole in the eyes of the woman I loved.

For over an hour (I guestimate) I knelt in this humiliating and uncomfortable situation while contemplating my destination, the “Cougar Club.” As the name suggests, urban legend has it that club was operated by older and very dominant women who enjoyed subjugating male slaves, making them perform in the sexual service role traditionally attributed to females. My owner and sometime wife had decided I needed that kind of training in how to please her for the next five years, and Cougar Club was a logical site to “put misbehaving little boys in their places.”

I had thought the female wranglers at the Long Horn were imposing and built like masonry restrooms, but the three women who greeted my cage when I was finally delivered were both domineering and statuesque beyond anything I had ever imagined. In moments, I had been cut free and ordered to crawl out of the cage. The most imposing of the three women, a six foot, muscular yet arousingly-attractive brunette who introduced herself as Mistress Sally, took charge of me. She was not only a gorgeous amazon but also possessed of a supreme confidence that was incredibly alluring (at least, alluring to submissive guys like me.) The condescending sneer that she leveled at my drooping dick made my appendage immediately perk up, as if I WANTED to be beneath her contempt. After compelling me to urinate into a piss grate—a humiliating experience all by itself, made far more difficult by the extra hole in my dick coupled with my insistent erection when watched by these clothed, dominant, beautiful women—Mistress Sally allowed me to rise, but only long enough to bend over a padded bench where I was again restrained. There, she leisurely ran her gloved hands all over my mid-section, toying roughly with my balls and dick, extracting that damned plug and then goosing her finger several inches inside my rectum, and so on. I must confess to enjoying this intimate attention, since (as the reader knows) I did have submissive sexual fantasies. Or at least I DID enjoy it before she abruptly pressed an ice bag against my genitals, causing my erection to shrink to child size while my testicles frantically attempted to retreat back inside of my body.

“Cocks are sometimes nice to play with, but we prefer our sluts to use their tongues when entertaining their mistresses; your future service is all about tonguing and being pegged,” she observed as if she were describing some routine rule such as meal hours. I was still gasping from the sudden cold when she installed a rather tight chastity cage around my junk. “Besides,” she continued with a contemptuous grin, “ having their tiny dicks caged ensures that our slaves stay focused on serving their owners, not their own filthy dicks.”

(I discovered she was serious about that. That damned cage remained installed on me almost constantly while I was at the club, except (see below) when they used my cock as a training aid. Otherwise, at the end of each week I would be strapped down on a rack inside an echoing shower room, then given two gut-stretching enemas (one cold salt water, one warm) to flush my lower colon. Then and only then my keeper/mistress would remove the chastity belt, fondle me to a quick erection, and vigorously pump what felt like a foot-long, 4-inch wide lubricated dildo in and out of my anus until it triggered an ejaculation that dribbled out of me without much if any pleasure. Yeah, there are a lot of nerve endings down there that MIGHT have given me some pleasure, however perverse, if something rubbed against them, and yeah, I told you I was submissive to women, but not when this well-endowed giantess was reaming me without any concern or empathy, as if she were milking a horse or dog to obtain sperm. She appeared determined to ensure that my anus had been destroyed—and she darn near succeeded. Talk about pleasure/pain and frustration all at once.)

This anal pummeling also reminded me of how poorly I had treated many a slave girl when I was free, plowing her ass and other openings unconcerned for her pleasure or pain. I had just used her hole as a cumdump for my own enjoyment while enjoying the thrilling pleasure of dominating the helpless slave. Now I was on the receiving end of things, and not enjoying it one bit.

Every day, I had to spend hours on a treadmill or lifting weights. Still, the majority of my time at the Cougar Club was devoted to two training goals: ensuring eager and attentive service to any female who deigned to notice me, and perfecting my tongue techniques to titillate both females and (regrettably) males. Fortunately, all the male cock-sucking demanded of me was performed on either plastic training dummies or other male slaves, who usually had to reciprocate on each other in a way that at least reduced the embarrassment! The ignominy of this act, which most men are trained to avoid even contemplating, was bad enough between slaves; it would have been even more repulsive if I had to suck off a free man. As it was, the female trainers watched and giggled, making derogatory comments about our insufficient size and questionable sexual orientation. They also never missed a chance to point out that free men enjoyed watching two women make love, but they found mutual dick-swallowing unimpressive. Some of them even considered any mouth on male fellatio as being disgusting because it reminded them of how many men wanted women to suck them off. I don’t know whether I was fortunate or not—Mistress Sally would sometimes pretend to give me a blow-job, but after a few slow strokes of her lips along my dick she would pull back and laugh at my frustration.

No matter how long we males maintained an erection, we were severely punished whenever we came without permission. The women kept demanding that we be able to control ourselves, only cumming after the female was fully satisfied.

If I could barely tolerate having to suck dick under such circumstances, I have to confess that the rest of the training really worked—I became completely attuned to serving women, learning to know instinctively what she most desired. Eliciting a climax from a powerful woman by serving her orally was often the high point of my day. If I had been permitted to serve my owner/wife, I would have thought I was in heaven; instead I just pretended as often as possible that SHE was playing with me and deriving pleasure from my tongue, just as I had imagined when I put myself into this mess.
After about three weeks of FemDom hell (or heaven, depending on one’s viewpoint), Mistress Sally tied me face up on a padded bench and, one more time, rode my tongue until I brought her to orgasm and nearly drowned in her fluids. During a leisurely shower in which I respectfully worshipped her body by soaping, rinsing, and drying her, she allowed as how I met the basic standard for Cougar Club boy sluts, so I could go back to my mistress “until she wants you trained to the next level of submission. How do you feel about cross-dressing and getting butt-fucked by a man, by the way?”
I inwardly shuddered at the idea but dutifully proclaimed my willingness to do whatever she asked of me. Although I knew that the Cougar Club really did recruit and train males to act as “sissy slaves,” I had to conclude that this casual threat was meant to motivate me even more to eager service of my owner. It worked.

Several weeks earlier, I had found being shipped as a bound, hairless dog incredibly uncomfortable and humiliating when I had first arrived at the Cougar Club, but now I could barely contain my joy at leaving that place and returning to serve my love again.

(Jeanie Harrison’s perspective)
I couldn’t get (and still can’t!) over the thrill of owning my very own FINO slave, whom I really loved but would now do whatever I told him. Imagine, if you will, having a loving partner who at a simple command would kneel down between my legs so that I could pull his face into my groin and demand that he bring me to orgasm after orgasm until I was too exhausted to continue. Not only that, but he really seemed to enjoy serving me almost as much as I enjoyed using him, especially his tongue! And he was so much better at it now, almost as if he were reading my mind to know exactly what I needed him to do to enhance my pleasure. Every evening seemed to end with me tying his collared body face up and spread-eagled to our king-sized bed, after which I would ride first his tongue and then his dick (one of the few times I allowed that treacherous limb out of bondage, at least for half an hour.) The final act was to demand that he lick all his disgusting cum out of my body. A seemingly-perfect union of slave and free that gave both of us tremendous pleasure.
Still, before Jim’s extended vacation from his medical practice came to an end, I wanted to show him off to my intimate friends while at the same time imprinting upon him his complete submission to me. So, on the Saturday evening following his return from training, I blindfolded and hog-tied him in the dark trunk of our larger car, warning him in advance that we were going to the Fort Worth BDSM club operated by Dr. Nikki’s husband, Paul Sousa. When we got there, I parked in the underground garage and led him, naked, cuffed, and leashed, into the club.
While riding up in the elevator I decided to turn up the humiliation to “10,” telling him that three good-looking female colleagues were about to see him. Turning to my slave husband I snickered, "Jim, I invited Dr. Callahan and Dr. Wright from your office to observe your first pegging. Oh yeah, and that cute bubbly nurse Becky. She had so many questions. I could tell she was enthusiastically bouncing on her feet when I described what I was going to do to you. She even asked me for my lawyer's info so she can get a prenup set up with her fiancé." If that audience wasn’t sufficiently daunting to him, as an added bonus I had gotten a guest pass for my 20-year-old daughter, Suzanne, who had been begging, almost salivating for details ever since I told her that her step-dad had become my FINO sex toy.

Slave Jim was already turning 50 shades of pink even before I led him into the club and club and paraded his naked ass before my guests and the other men and women in attendance. The good doctors, as a professional courtesy mind you, examined the initials I had burned into Jim’s cute buns, ostensibly to check the healing. That included tracing their fingers along the letters, admiring the high quality of the Longhorn blacksmith.

Becky and Suzanne were more interested in Jim’s reverse Prince Albert piercing that went out of the top of his cock instead of the bottom. For the jewelry I had selected a thick black curved barbell with beads at each end, one sticking out his pee hole and the other protruding from the top right behind his big mushroom head. Becky was so cute with her head tilted just a little to one side as she examined the piercing, even running her finger over it.

With a hint of mischief in her eyes like she already knew the answer, Becky giggled, “They screwed up and put it in backwards.”
‘
“Oh my God mom, are you going to have them take it out and do it right?” asked my daughter, shocked by the mistake.

Blushing with embarrassment I gushed, “No, it’s not a mistake. Let’s just say it hits my G spot better that was when I ride my slave boy while looking down at him. I just like it better this way, especially with the razzleball beads at the ends that are hollow with smaller balls inside that create delicious vibrations. Kind of a personal preference thing. About a third of the Cougar Club members prefer this configuration. Go on, give it a shake.”

Becky didn’t hesitate, her eyes lighting up she delicately secured Jim’s cock between her thumb and forefinger and gave it a little shake. “You can hear the balls moving about,” she giggled. Doing it again she cupped Jim’s tormented cockhead in her hand, her eyes got big, and she cooed, “They do vibrate. I bet that feels good.”

“Mom, can I try?” asked my excited daughter. I’m sure Jim felt as if he were in show and tell in kindergarten.

As the women discussed the different male piercing options and how each location benefited the woman during intercourse, I made my escape and moved Jim into the center of the mattress in the main exhibition hall.

Grabbing Jim by the hair I whispered into his ear, “I’m not going to tie you down just now. Don’t embarrass me and move without permission. You will not like me when I am embarrassed and angry.”

I took my time showing him off, giving the regulars and occasional gawkers time to gather before ordering, “Kneel slut!”

As the crowd watched, I pushed Jim's head face down into the mattress, knowing how much of a turnon it was for him to be degraded like a slutty little whore, sexually used by me in front of a crowd like a common pleasure slut who didn't have any choice in the matter. My throbbing pussy gripped the bulb embedded in my womb as I rammed the head of the bright pink dildo back into his ass; he grunted in response. I held it there briefly for him to adapt to it until I pulled most of the rod back out, eliciting a moan of pleasure as I drove it deeper on the next thrust. I kept repeating the process, carefully stretching his colon until I had the whole shaft buried deep inside his muscular ass.

My body was quivering with power as my core throbbed around the bulb in my pussy while I ground my clit into the pad stimulating both of us, thereby thrusting the strap-on even deeper into him. Taunting Jim, I loudly asked, "Bitch, tell me, do you want it fast and hard or slow and deep to start with?"

"Slow and deep, please, Mistress," Jim whispered.

I slapped his ass once to get his attention. "Speak up, I want everyone to hear you, slut; ESPECIALLY your colleagues and my daughter."

"Slow and deep, Mistress," he squealed loudly, and I complied, pushing my big dildo "balls deep" into his ass until my thighs made contact with his newly-branded butt. Doctors Callahan and Wright giggled, reminding him of the witnesses to his submission. Nurse Becky and step-daughter Suzanne had really bonded in this experience—without intended to be mean, they couldn’t resist commenting on how he had been laid (pun intended) low, and noting that his squeals and moans reminded them of barnyard animals being ravaged.

I was fucking Jim with firm deep strokes as the strap-on became an extension of me making love to my helpless husband who willingly, almost joyfully submitted. For a moment, it seemed perfectly natural for ME to be invading HIS body with a rigid shaft. It seemed so natural and loving that I wondered if this was similar to the “Phantom limb” sensations some people report after amputations.

Jim was really enjoying himself now, his relaxed hole was taking my cock as I picked up the pace to a crescendo of sweet and sexy moans as I took full possession of his body, making him unquestionably mine. I was surprised by how much work it was keeping up this rate of fucking as beads of sweat formed on my forehead while I worked over my husband's ass.

I was in total control now, my hands alternately clutching his buttocks or reaching forward, dragging my boobs across his back, to hold his shoulders. I felt so powerful knowing that I was going to make Jim cum by penetrating him, fucking him thoroughly with my permanently-erect cock in front of his colleagues. My delightfully squealing husband's hands-free orgasm in front of the audience was inevitable ... and he knew it.

Gripping his head by the hair I pulled it back. Leaning forward I whispered in his ear, "You're mine now bitch! Everyone here knows it."

Acknowledging the reality of his changed status, he moaned or perhaps mooed, "Yes, my love."

Grinning happily I proved that possession, thrusting my hips forward forcefully, driving that dildo deep into his ass while eliciting more sexy squeals of pain and delight. While gripping Jim by the hips I saw my initials burned into his ass every time I pulled back and thrust forward between his cheeks. God, that looked hot, I thought as I started pummeling him hard, the slap, slap, slap of my hips against his buttocks letting everyone know how forcefully I was giving it to him. Beads of sweat dripped down my face landing on his back as I fucked him good with my cock. As a woman, I had often enjoyed being the recipient of a man pounding into me; now I got to be the aggressor and he became the happy recipient of similar thrusting. I wondered if there were a means to use this pumping action as a deliberate form of exercise, a sort of cardio thrusting that benefitted both participants.

I relished the feeling of total control as I made love to my moaning, defenseless husband. His sexy little grunts told me how much he enjoyed it every time I drove that fucker home into my new favorite fuckee. The hall echoed with the “oohs” and “ahhs” of his colleagues and my daughter, who liked him enough to care about his pain but disliked male dominance sufficiently to enjoy it when a male finally became the recipient of a sexual bludgeoning. Soon I was wound tight, needing release, so I tapped my smart watch to activate the vibrators in the bulb in my pussy, the clitoral pad and my shaft that was by now buried deep in Jim's ass.

I must have hit his sweet spot when like a good slave boy he begged between moans, "Mistress ... may I ... cum, please. Oh ... God! Please ... let me ... CUM!"

"Not until I do, bitch!" I snarled as I pounded him harder, trying to trigger my own orgasm and it didn't take long. Just like a man climaxing, I drove my cock deep into his ass in short, desperate thrusts, trying to burrow as deeply into his ass as I could while screaming a profanity-laced stream of consciousness that would make a sailor blush as we blasted off together in the most intense climax of our lives.

When my frenzy waned, I had one more degradation in mind for Jim, to drive home his changed status as my owned bitch. Instead of gently pulling the vibrating strap-on out of Jim's ass, I left it in place deep up his rectum where, being bound, knowing he would never dislodge it until I granted permission. I unstrapped myself from the monstrous intruder and dismounted, leaving the vibrating bulb glistening with my juices out in the open for all to see. I released Jim briefly from his position, but only to have him shift from his front to his back, where I again ordered him to freeze in position. I noticed a grimace as his well-stretched bottom contacted the bench. Then I straddled his head, spreading my thighs with my drippy snatch right above his face. Grabbing him by the hair, I rubbed his face into my wet cunt, marking him as my own for all to see.

"Mouth, bitch," I loudly commanded, and he complied like the good little slut he had become. His female colleagues, for the moment free and clothed while he was a naked sex toy, made a number of remarks about how much he deserved it—apparently Jim, now aka “Doctor Slave,” had made a few chauvinistic remarks about professional women!

Damn, the money spent at the Cougar Club training Jim to eat pussy had been one hell of a good investment. His tongue slithered into my hole hitting all the right spots. That felt so fine that I reached back and toyed with his dick in compensation. In no time he had me panting on the cusp of another climax. Then, anticipating my needs, he penetrated my hole with his fingers quickly finding my G spot. In a synchronized assault he lashed my engorged clitty with his tongue while expertly stimulating my G spot, catapulting me into my climax, the intensity of which caused me to squirt all over his face.

When I recovered my breath, I looked behind me and noticed that his hyper-aroused dick had already recovered from his previous, dildo-induced discharge.

“You obviously enjoy being my naked slut,” I smiled, then straddled his hips and sank down, with a hearty groin, sheathing his magnificent cock. Riding him to a mutual climax, I almost forgot about the appreciative audience. Determined to reassert my dominance, I ended the scene by sitting on his face for him to clean up his mess, aka the cream pie. Again, in terms of justice between the genders, why shouldn’t the GUY end up with a mouthful of cum while still sleeping on the damp spot?

After catching my breath, I kissed his cheek tenderly and dismounted from my still-rampant stud. I asked Suzanne and Becky to help him up while I used a clean towel to wipe off the sweat and other fluids on his body. As his shaft finally drooped, I kissed its head once before re-installing his chastity cage.

I invited him to sit with the “real people” and have a drink. Over the next half hour, the flow of alcohol helped him relax. Gradually, both he and the visitors adjusted to his nudity so it didn’t seem to trouble them, although all four of the women teased the insides of his thighs as they talked. Suzanne in particular was clearly aroused by the idea, saying that she intended to demand that her fiancé, George, sign a similar prenup if not simply become her FINO outright. “Wouldn’t it be fun, Mom, to take our two slave husbands to the Breeding Barn and ride them together some time?”

Jim suddenly began to turn red again, and it was indirectly my fault. The only relationship I know of that’s more difficult than a parent dealing with an adolescent/adult child is a STEP-parent in the same situation, and here I had deliberately ensured that my daughter would lose all respect for her step-dad, even though he had gone out of his way to be friendly and yet respectful to her. So I stepped in to try to defuse that, or at least have the daughter understand the humiliation. “It could be fun, yes, but you need to try out being the submissive yourself, sweetie. Who knows, perhaps George would pimp you out to be bred for the floor show?” (I think I know my child well enough to suspect that she’s more submissive than dominant, by the way.) She didn’t argue with me, perhaps because she was suddenly imagining herself tacked up and bitt-gagged like a horse while George showed her off and lent her openings out to horny men! As a mother, I would always want to shield my daughter from bad experiences, but I couldn’t help thinking that she might profit from the combination of humility and sexual relief that she would get from playing a slave mare like that, in public.

*****
Before we left the club that evening, I did order my now-loyal slave to stay put, almost like a well-trained dog, while I took the two physicians and Nurse Becky aside to talk about what they had seen. Although I had enjoyed dominating him in public, I belatedly worried that I might have made it impossible for him to continue in his chosen field. Unbidden, all three of them thanked me for the opportunity to see this but voluntarily indicated that they had no intention of gossiping or otherwise bringing up the night’s adventures when they again worked with my husband. After all, he was one hell of a surgeon whom his colleagues couldn’t afford to lose.

Then I took my championship FINO slut home, gave him a warm, gentle shower, and allowed him to curl up in bed with me. The next day he was very quiet, so I insisted he talk about his concerns. Turns out he had absolutely loved the public subjugation of the previous evening, but couldn’t help worrying about how it might affect his future relationships with professional colleagues and his step-daughter. After a long discussion, he decided that it was worth the risk in return for the thrill both of us had experienced, and we could only hope for the best in the future.

By now, his long “vacation” was coming to an end. I made it clear that I would still expect him to serve and defer to me whenever he was not working, only insisting that he tell me his operating schedule in advance so that I didn’t decide on a marathon play session just before he had to perform surgery.

For the final romp before he returned to his practice, I decided to take my favorite pet-on-a-leash to
a Friday “couples” night at the Cougar Club—only in this instance, I should probably describe it as a “coupling” night. Which was a potential problem, since neither of us really wanted to have sex with a third party—that was the whole point of the prenup, after all, to ensure monogamy and exclusivity between two loving spouses. So, we discussed it a little and he agreed that, provided I as his mistress were willing, he would obey instructions to provide oral or other services to whomever I directed—it couldn’t be considered really adultery if his owner ordered him to do it. Beyond that, of course, as a loyal FINO slave he would willingly accept any form of submissive sex so long as I approved it and, by watching him get used, was fucking him by proxy.

*****
(Jim Fuller’s perspective)
Despite (or maybe even because) of the humiliation of my darling wife butt-fucking me in front of my colleagues and her own daughter, being a public slave slut at that BDSM club was a dream come true for me. I had loved the sight of her firm breasts swaying rhythmically as she rode my cock after having explored my rectum. I was convinced that I belonged to the most beautiful, most sensuous woman in the world, so it took all the edging techniques I had been taught to avoid shooting into my love/owner before she instructed me to do so. Therefore, despite the strong possibility of further public ignominy, I looked forward eagerly to the opportunity for Mistress Jeanie to use me as her toy at an open Friday night mixer at the Cougar Club. (Apparently, having paid for my training at that club made her an associate member who could attend most events for a modest fee—provided always that she brought her club-trained male slut along! My owner may have been less experienced as a domme than were the regular members of that club, but I found her so desirable that I was certain she would not only perform well but demand the ultimate submission from me. I couldn’t wait.

Of course, almost the first thing she did was order me to my knees and elbows, followed by a sleep mask so I couldn’t be distracted by the sight of any unclothed female dominants. It took a remarkable amount of trust for me to docilly crawl wherever that leash led me, unable to see where I was going. On the other hand, as I’m sure most people know, being deprived of one of my senses made me even more sensitive to the others. Laughing, slightly contemptuous female voices commented on every move I made, and my nostrils were assailed by the sweet scents worn by such women, mixed occasionally with the smell of a woman in heat! Occasionally, Mistress Jeanie would direct me to suck on a nipple or clit; I could only imagine these beauties, but their skin all tasted marvelously soft and desirable, and sometimes the female owner of my “snack food” jerked suddenly and flooded me with their arousal fluids. At least once I knew I was servicing my own mistress, whom I eagerly tongued to climax.

The most enjoyable and yet most frustrating sensory experience was being fondled by all these unseen dominatrices. Sometimes it was just a hand casually cupping my buttock or goosing the cleft in my ass as I crawled past. I must confess that, by that point, I had become so eager for sexual friction that I pushed backwards, trying to impale my winking sphincter on some woman’s middle finger. Alas, she usually gave me only a few gentle strokes before withdrawing. Eventually, thank heavens, my owner took pity on my frustration and removed the chastity belt and Prince Albert snap-hook that routinely restrained my “wedding tackle”—restrained, you understand, so that I was never in any doubt about my wife’s ownership of those organs. Once my genitals were free, my dick was finally able to extend to full size while my overheated gonads swung low inside my stretched scrotum. NOW my unseen female tormenters had full access to toy with me, gently massaging my balls or (depending on whose unseen hand was involved) casually jacking me off, being careful to halt just before I ejaculated all over the unseen carpet on which I knelt.

By that point, I had multiple women—including what sounded like my former trainer, Mistress Sally—mocking me, using fake baby talk, inquiring such lewd ideas as “Does the widdle boy want to shoot off for Mommy?” Fortunately for my sanity (and my butt), I recognized the trap involved here, so instead of simply agreeing that I should come, I rather loudly begged my unseen mistress to permit me to climax. She must have been waiting for that signal, for in moments I found myself once again on my back, looking up at my smiling owner as she removed the blindfold mask and then ordered me to swing my legs up past my head so I could seize my ankles, holding myself open for the next act, or perhaps I should say the next intrusion? You guessed it, a well-lubricated rubber phallus, strapped to my owner’s waist, was soon pounding away vigorously past my tender rectum. After she came (loudly and repeatedly) from doing that, she dismounted, allowed me to relax my legs, and then offered Mistress Sally a mustache ride!

I lost track of what went on after that—or rather, who fucked whom in what manner. I do know that only my owner got to use my “boi pussy” OR my dick, maintaining (barely) my monogamy to her, but I certainly licked a LOT of juicy pussy and more than a few bodacious boobs that night until I passed out from sensual overload. I woke up to the sound of our garage door closing with our car inside, and Mistress Jeanie urging me out of the car, followed by glasses of cold water and a warm shower before I once again found myself wrapped around the woman I loved to serve.

For the rest of the weekend, she was affectionate but demanding. In particular, she told me that, every time I come home from the hospital, I must give myself an enema. Likewise, if I see her wearing her strap-on harness around the house, or even if she leaves it out in open view, I must immediately strip down, don my collar, spread a thick towel across our bed and kneel on it, butt high and face on the towel, to await serving her.

I have to go back to work tomorrow, but I keep thinking about how, 59 months from now, I can make a deal with my owner to extend my FINO contract for even longer. I’m already addicted to being her slave, and I hope somehow to convince her that she can’t do without her eager, subservient slut. Perhaps I should begin by confessing to her why I deliberately allowed her to “catch” me getting sex from a slave?

[Mr. Smith]

I really enjoyed the development of the relationship between Jim and Jeanie. Maybe they might go on a second honeymoon with more of a slavecation theme. Now that Carl has described the plight of a fallen male who violates a prenup he could describe the fall of Nurse Becky and or even his step-daughter Suzanne. I confess, I'm dreaming of Nurse Becky naked wearing a collar.