My Wife the Womanizer

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“Miss Stacy,” Stacy said, tilting my head up by my chin. “I rather like that. I don’t recall you ever being that respectful while we were going out.”

“Ugh – ugh – Slut Stacy is very courteous now Miss.” I wish my Mistress would stop fucking me, it made it so hard to talk.

“But Adam,” she said. “Or whatever you call yourself now. When we talked of marriage, you were supposed to have money. That was part of the deal. You were going to take care of me.”

“I’m afraid she’s nothing but a maid now,” Mistress Amanda said, as she ran her hands through my hair, mussing it up. I hated it when she did that. It was so hard to get it back together again. “No judge would ever believe this was my husband. She could bring in some extra money from cleaning. She’s quite the housekeeper, this one.”

“Yes, Miss Stacy,” I agreed. “Slut Stacy could work. She doesn’t eat very much.”

“But where would you sleep?” she asked.

“With you?” I volunteered. However her eyes clearly said no. I thought she loved me. “Anywere.”

“I don’t think so,” Stacy said.

“Please,” I begged. “Please take me.”

“See how eager she is,” Amanda said, pulling down on the rings in my nipples until I was once again on my hands and knees. “Always begging to be taken. Just keep a strap-on handy and you’ve got one happy little . . . fuck . . . toy.”

She started fucking me again. Not playful like before, but hard. My strength vanished with every thrust. I couldn’t stop myself from reacting, and soon I was fucking her back, wiggling, crying, and grunting. My body was betraying me. I tried to fight it, but couldn’t keep from becoming the happy, eager, submissive lesbian slave I had been trained to be. Her fuck toy.

I watched in horror as Stacy’s eyes grew distant. She didn’t even look at me, instead turning to my Mistress, my former wife. “Well, I’m sure that ahh. . . Stacy would be fun to play with for awhile,” she said. “It looks like *she* would be quite good at pleasing me in a way that the man that I’m currently dating doesn’t do nearly enough.”

Oh, she was going to take me. I wanted to kiss her. Pledge to her my undying love. If she would only get me away from here and out of the chastity tube, I would show here just how good I was pleasing her with my mouth.

“But, then what would I do with her?” she continued. “You see how soft she is. How easily persuaded into things. Surely you can see that for yourself. God, look how she reacts to you fucking her. How could I leave her with a man? With my man.”

Spurred on by these comments, my wife fucked me harder. And Stacy stood up from the couch. Oh no no no. Stacy had it all wrong. I would never do such a thing unless she asked me to. “Ugh-Oh God, please Stacy. Ugh-Ugh, baby please. Slut Stacy will do anything for you,” I gasped, while my arse was violated.

Don’t you remember me? I’m Adam. I made love to you on the couch, in bed, even took you on the dining room table. Please take me home and free me from this prison. I’ll do anything. I’ll pay. I’ll work. Buy you presents somehow. I’ll pleasure you five times a day. Spank me if you want. Just get me out of here and get this chastity tube off of my cock.

God, it all went through my head, and I tried to bring it to the surface, but I couldn’t. I could only be the happy, submissive, lesbian slave. My wife’s eager fuck toy.

I watched in helpless horror as Stacy picked up her purse. “Please,” I begged, bending down and taking her big toe in my mouth. I sucked on it. In and out, like on a small cock. In the way my Mistress adored.

Stacy pulled it free and hastily turned. I heard her heels clack on the floor as she was leaving. I willed myself to stop reacting, but I could no more stop from playing the role than I could stop breathing. Of its own volition my body was pushing back against my Mistress, ass wriggling, and squealing like a good little fuck toy.

God, I couldn’t even stop myself anymore. I had played the role too long. I wondered how long before I forgot that I was even playing a role. How long before I thought I was really Slut Stacy.

One last chance. I’ve got to do it. I summoned all my will power and called out after Stacy. My former lover and my one chance to get free. “Please-take me-take me-” I cried, only to hear the front door slam.

“Oh, I’m taking you alright you greedy little slut,” Amanda said, thrusting even harder.

Fuck, it was over. My one chance had left. My one hope was gone. I slumped down and submitted to the anal assault.

It should have been the worst moment of my life. Instead, I’m not sure when it happened, but I noticed something unusual. The cock in my ass felt different, almost like it was hitting me in a slightly different place. I arched my back and spread my legs wider so that I could experience it even more.

“Oh, you are really deep in Slut Stacy’s pussy. Ugh – ugh – you are – oh shit her little girl is so *hot*,” I grunted. Oh it was so surprising. I could feel it deep inside me. Deeper than ever before. It hurt, but it felt good at the same time. This was usual. But what was unusual, was the warm glow I felt growing in my loins as my wife continued to fuck me. God, it was growing stronger.

“Gonna cum – gonna cum. Oh fuck fuck fuck, gonna cum.” My cock strained at the tube. It hurt, but I could care less.

Suddenly, I noticed that Mistress Amanda was slowing her thrusts. Not yet! I wasn’t finished. “Oh don’t stop. Please don’t stop. Slut – ah – Slut Stacy needs it.”

“Tell me what her little girl needs.”

I couldn’t see her, but I could hear the smile in her voice. So arrogant . . . so cocky . . .but I could care less. “Oh please – Stacy’s little girl needs cock. Hard cock – oh please fuck her hard as you can.”

She was almost out and she thrust hard, spearing me with one hard brutal thrust. At one time it would have killed me, but now, now it was heaven.

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