It was just a little mistake. I had just gotten a little greedy. Who doesn't once and a while? But the price I had had to pay for it hardly seemed fair. But I couldn't really blame anyone but myself. I was down on all fours at the foot of my husband's bed. An H-shaped steel frame held me with my forearms against the smooth carpet. Leather cuffs were locked to the frame at my wrists, elbows, knees, and ankles; so I wasn't going anywhere.
My heavy breasts hung between my elbows. The DD implants I had gotten several months ago were large enough that my nipples brushed against the floor supporting the weight of the large steel ring in each nipple. My head was wrapped in a tight leather hood with openings at the eyes, nostrils and mouth. Clipped to a D-ring at the top of the hood was a thin chain that ran down between my ass checks, through my slit, and was connected to the cross piece of the frame beneath me. The taught chain held my head up so I was forced to stare at myself in the mirror in front of me. It let me rest my head, but only by painfully cutting into my tender sex and clit. Where it ran between my cheeks, it held a small butt plug in place so I could not expel it.
Several wires ran from the plug to the laptop sitting on the floor near me. The computer also had several wires that ran to the thick penis gag that was strapped into my mouth. This was one of my "training gags". Inside the thick shaft of the gag were several pressure and vacuum sensors. If I didn't regularly stroke the bottom of the shaft with my tongue or suck on the shaft, a little signal went to the computer. This would send a pulse to the butt plug and I would receive a painful shock to the inside of my stretched ass.
The first few times I had been put into this contraption, I had had a vibrator in my pussy buzzing away to distract me. But it had been insisted upon that I should be trained to lick and suck without receiving any pleasure of my own. The worst part of it was that I was the person who had insisted on this.
How it began:
I've always been told I was "cute" and should use this to my advantage with men. But I always chose to stand on my own two feet. I went to business school right after college, graduated and got a job with a major international bank. I rose rapidly and was placed in charge of international fund transfers by my late twenties. Every day I oversaw the movement of millions of dollars around the world. This system is very closely watched and so I was surprised when I kept noticing small errors. Money would leave one bank, a bank in another country would acknowledge receipt of the transfer, but the amounts wouldn't match. A small error in exchange rates meant the hundreds of dollars a day would just "disappear".
I did a little research and discovered this had been going on for years, but no one had noticed. I should have taken the discovery to my boss. I'm sure I would have gotten a bonus and promotion, but I got greedy. Now it gives me something to imagine as I while away the hours, suffering at my own request, imagining what my life would have been like.
I watched in the mirror as my husband walked into our room and dug around in the closet. Distracted, I neglected to keep my mouth working and got a painful shock. My muffled cry got his attention and he walked over to stand behind me, looking at my face in the mirror.
"Are you lonely?" he asked.
I nodded with the small amount of movement the chain allowed. He reached down and unclipped the chain at the top of my hood. My head hung down and I could finally relax my neck. He kneeled down behind me and gently pried the chain from between my lower lips. Although sore, the pressure of the chain had kept me a little wet and his finger slid easily into me. He stroked me for a minute to get my juices flowing and then unbuckled his pants. As he fucked me slowly from behind he leaned forward and took my breasts into his hands. He had protested that I didn't need any help when I proposed implants, but I could tell he loved them.
I got shocked twice before he came and the pain was enough to stop me from going over the edge. He could tell I hadn't come, but knew better than to ask if he should keep stimulating me. As he wiped himself clean he asked if I had had enough and wanted to be set free. When I nodded again, he stopped and stared at me.
"Why do you do this to yourself?" he asked.
I winced, remembering the strict request I had given him about what to do if I ever asked to be released early from a "training" session. He thought for a moment and then picked up the chain from my hood. He fed it back over my plug and through my slit. But instead of clipping it back to the metal frame, he reached under me and grabbed one of my nipple rings. He slowly pulled my tit down and back until he could clip the chain to one nipple piercing. Squeezing my tits together he got the other nipple ring hooked to the same clip.
Now I was in really tough shape. Even with my new huge breasts, my nipples were painfully stretched to reach the short chain. I strained to keep my shoulders as low as possible to give my nipples any relief I could. What little bit of movement I had before was now gone and my whole body shook gently as my mouth worked away.
He stared at me for a few minutes with a worried look on his face before kissing one upturned butt cheek and leaving the room. The ironic thing is that I was just about to stop when it all happened. I had been secretly stashing away the extra money for a couple months. Nothing huge, but even a hundred or so a day added up. When my coworkers started to comment about my new clothes and car I knew I had to stop before I got caught.
I almost deleted the first email I got from M. All it said was "I know what you've been doing."
I immediately stopped transferring the money and try to clear up my tracks. But a couple days later he contacted me again. At first they were just gently threatening. He made it clear he knew exactly how I had been stealing. He sent documentation from the bank and my personal accounts so I knew that he could prove it even if I cleaned everything up. Finally, after a couple weeks, he said, "I want in."
He told me I should send him half of anything I took and gave me instructions on where to send the money. I tried desperately to track him down, but with no success. He clearly knew the international banking system as well or better than me. I couldn't trace his emails, accounts, or anything. Facing humiliation and jail, I saw no choice.
At first he was content to get a piece of the small stream of extra "income" I had been pocketing, but that didn't last. After a couple months he sent me instructions for a complex scheme to steal much larger amounts. It was brilliant and I didn't see how I could get caught. But after each theft, he would send me more documents to show that he could easily turn me in. I was getting pulled in deeper and deeper with no way out.
Within 6 months I had stolen almost a $100,000 with most of it going to my mysterious conspirator. That's when his demands started to change. I was driving like crazy trying to get home in time, but I could tell I wasn't going to make it. My evening routine was busy enough without the extra punishment for being late. I pulled into the garage at 6:05, close, but not quite. I headed into the house and changed into my evening clothes. The sheer black body suit didn't really hide anything and the big stainless steel rings in my nipples glittered in the light. I had been at this long enough to know what was coming eventually and wondered how long it would be before I had matching rings between my legs.
My husband wasn't home yet, but he would check the logs on the alarm system so I had to make amends. There were several items I could wear as punishment for lateness. Since I had a lot to do I decided against the ones that limited my arm or leg movement. My sore jaw from last night's training session made me skip the gags. I picked up a tall, black, leather posture collar. I carefully wrapped it around my throat and buckled it at the back. A small padlock assured that I wasn't taking it off myself. I paused to look at myself in the mirror. I did have to admit that the collar gave my neck a long elegant look and really emphasized my straight blond hair. It also made it clear I wasn't just some young wife in sexy lingerie waiting for her husband to come home, but a trained and disciplined slave who willingly humiliated herself.
After some quick cleaning and a tiny low calorie meal that kept my waist at the slim 24" I hadn't had since I was a teenager, I put together the fancy meal my husband enjoyed every night. My mouth watered and my nearly empty stomach grumbled as I laid out his food and poured him a glass of wine. He would be home any minute so I assumed my position kneeling in front of the door, back arched, arms folded behind me, eyes cast down.
M's emails began to include rants about the proper role of women. He would go on at great length about how we should all be at home serving our husbands instead of getting in trouble working. Finally he informed me that stealing for him was no longer enough and I now needed to change how I lived. His first instructions were that I must throw out any underwear I owned made of cotton and that I immediately begin a strict diet to get the body that my husband deserved. He informed me that I should send him photos of myself in all the lingerie that I owned and that I would send him weekly photo updates of my weight and measurements so he could track my progress. I instantly sensed that his demands were about to take off in an entirely new direction and ignored his contacts for about a week.
The next Friday I received a package at my office that contained detailed documentation of all my crimes and a list of addresses that included all my friends, family, coworkers, and several law enforcement agencies. The enclosed letter made it clear that I had two choices, full compliance or complete destruction of my life. I was apologetic in my next email to him, hoping to lessen whatever damage I had done.
He struck a firm, but conciliatory tone. He stated that he believed firmly in marriage and that I would never be forced to do anything to break that bond. But he also stated that he intended to turn me into the wife that every husband secretly dreams of. My husband commented appreciatively at my new wardrobe choices and it did help to reinvigorate our love life which had started to dwindle after a couple years of marriage. But I knew in my heart that this wasn't going to end with my choice in underwear.
My husband leaned down to give me a long kiss while cupping one prominent breast. He made no comment on the collar that kept me from tilting my head back to kiss him properly. As he went into the bedroom to change I crawled to the dining room and assumed my position; kneeling under the table directly in front of its only chair. He returned wearing his robe, sat down and began to eat.
Between bites he stated, "Balls only tonight, and don't make me come. I want to fuck you later."
I gently parted his robe and took his scrotum fully into my mouth. My training sessions had done the trick and I had no problem slowly sucking and stroking his balls with my tongue for the 45 minutes he spent eating and going through his mail at the table. The rest of the evening was uneventful. After cleaning up and giving him his regular back and foot massage he led me to the bedroom. He made the kind of slow, gentle love to me that reminded me of the days when I was just his wife. After resting briefly in our afterglow, that illusion of my old life vanished though. As always, I got on my knees in front of him and proceeded to work my fingers deep into my wet pussy. Once my hand was covered with the mix of my juices and his cum, I brought it to my mouth to suck it clean. I stared into his eyes as I continued to work my fingers in our juices and then suck them off. We had both agreed that this would be a particularly humiliating way to end any session of normal sex.and it certainly was.
At first it was just pictures of me nude and in lingerie that M. demanded. But not long after, he instructed me to get a small digital video camera and start recording me and my husband having sex. My husband was reluctant at first, but gave in after I told him how much it would turn me on and how I would do "anything" he wanted while we were taping. M. had correctly predicted this speech would convince him. After taping the first few sessions and emailing the files off, I got back an email with a link and password. Clicking on the link took me to a website called "Slave - Slut - Wife".
Once I logged in with the password I was greeted with close up shots of me getting fucked doggy style by my husband. The page was full of all the photos and videos I had been forced to take of myself. An email the next day made it clear that failure to obey instructions wouldn't just mean jail, but also that this site would be made free to the public and advertised on every porn site M. could find. He made it clear that he would be adding to his collection of embarrassing photos of me and I was about to be "tested". He gave me my next assignment. I was to take video of myself in garter belt and stockings, down on all fours, getting fucked up the ass for the first time. He specified that there should be audio and that I should be clearly heard begging for my husband's cock to be shoved up my ass.
My husband was a little surprised at my request that night. But it took him less convincing than I had expected. My loud begging for his cock mixed with my whimpers of pain, moans of pleasure, and the slurping sounds of my well-lubed ass as he took my last virgin hole.
My training tonight was giving my mouth a rest but working my other holes. M. had said that all women should train their pussy and ass to stay tight for their men. I walked slowly and carefully as I did my evening chores. I was naked from the waist down making it easy to see the two large orange dildos between my legs. Each was about 2 feet long so most of the shaft dangled between my thighs. They were smooth and untapered, so I had to keep my pussy and ass contracted to keep them from sliding out of my slick holes. Despite my best efforts, every once and a while the shafts would slide out of me and drop on the floor with an obscene plop. Unfortunately, I couldn't just reach down to slide them back in. The short chains that ran from my wrists to my collar meant I couldn't reach anything below my belly button. When the plugs fell on the floor I had to carefully get down on my knees and bend forward until I could pick up the slippery shaft.
This maneuver usually caused the other shaft to slip from its warm hole as well. I padded back to the study where my husband was reading. First he would punish me for disturbing him. I turned and bent over so he could give me five firm slaps on each ass cheek. He was being gentle, but by the third time we had gone through this my ass was on fire. I turned to face him. Since we couldn't risk damaging the ass and pussy he loved to use so much, I couldn't shove something dirty in there. That meant the dildos had to be cleaned. I took each one deep into my mouth to suck of the bitter mix of lube, my juices, and dirt from the floor.
As instructed, I stared into the camera he had turned on when I walked in; sucking the long orange shafts like they were lovers. Now clean, my husband re-greased the two plugs and slid them back into their waiting holes. Grunting, I gripped as tight as I could with my stretched pussy and ass. I walked slowly from the room, praying I could avoid another spanking and cleaning session before the night was over.
At first, I had been the driving force in changing our marriage into a relationship between master and slave. Each time I proposed some new humiliation, he would protest that he loved me and didn't want to hurt me. Often I had to beg and plead with him to convince him to take my tasks to the next level. Of course, all of these conversations were taped. One of the worst that was posted on my website was the one where I begged for my husband to whip my tits because I had allowed some of his cum to drip out of my ass, staining the carpet. It wasn't many months though before my husband's reluctance faded and he became more enthusiastic of each new request. Within a year, he was the one usually coming up with the new ideas for training and punishment. Each time he came up with a new humiliation, we would tape him describing it and my reaction. That way it was well documented how "enthusiastically" I agreed to his suggestion and how I routinely begged to be subjected to each new horror.
The next package I received from M contained hundreds of pages of legal documents and it took me several hours to completely understand what he had sent. He had drawn papers for a complex legal arrangement for me and my husband to enter in to. It created a corporation of which my husband was sole owner and CEO and with me as its only employee. All of our assets, including our home and savings, would be transferred to the corporation. My employment agreement with the corporation included rents and fees I would have to pay to stay in my house, eat food, and serve the company. Combined, they far exceeded my salary. It stated that I could owe the company the unpaid balance, but that repayment would be due immediately if I ever left or was fired from the company. In short, even though we would still be married, my husband would have complete control and ownership of everything we owned and every dollar I ever made. He could "fire" me at any time, for any reason, and I would owe him thousands of dollars. If we divorced, I left without even the clothes on my back. In addition, the contracts contained a power of attorney which gave my husband the right to act as my legal guardian, sign papers on my behalf, make all legal decisions for me, and declared me "incompetent".
Once signed, I would officially be a child, with no rights, no property, and no control over my own life. I found a lawyer in a nearby city to review the documents. After some weird looks and a brief speech about how I would be crazy to ever sign these, he confirmed that it was all legal and would hold up in court. He stated the only way to challenge them would be to show I was coerced into signing. And I knew the only way to prove that was to reveal my theft scheme and face prison. M's letter spelled out exactly how I was to present this to my husband. That Friday I asked my husband if I could be relieved of my normal duties for the next day because I had something important I wanted to discuss with him.
After making him breakfast the next morning, I set up the video camera and got ready. I stripped down and kneeled in front of the camera alone to make the speech I had had to memorize from M's letter. I went on for about 15 minutes about how I had come up with the idea of turning myself into a slave, how much I loved serving my husband, and how I now wanted to complete my transformation. I went through the details of the legal agreement we would sign and described why I thought each part was important. Knowing what would happen if M was unhappy with my performance, I put my heart into it. Anyone watching this tape would be hard pressed to believe I wasn't sincere.
With the camera still running, I greased and slid in a thick butt plug with a small bell clipped to the end. I clipped similar bells to each nipple and the three kept up a steady tinkling as I went on with my preparations. I wrapped a wide leather posture collar around my neck and secured it with a lock. I ran a thin chain from the piercing in my septum, through a d-ring in the collar, through my belly button ring, and finally locked it to the thick ring in my clit. The chain was a little short and forced me to keep my head down to avoid pulling painfully on my nose or clit. I locked two short chains from my nipple rings to my collar, lifting my full tits and letting their full weight stretch each nipple. I locked a 12 inch hobble chain to the cuffs I placed around each ankle and locked each wrist cuff to my belly ring so I could only keep my hands together in front of me. I stood stooped over in front of the camera - naked, chained, and plugged - and announced that I was now going to give myself completely to my husband.
I brought my husband into the room and kneeled before him. Again I went through how much I wanted to complete my transformation into a complete slave. I said that I was no longer satisfied with the current arrangement since my "obedience" to him was really based on my choice. I said that I would only be truly happy as an actual slave to him with no power or control over my own life. Since slavery was not legal I had devised a way to give him as much power over me as was possible. I explained the legal documents that sat on the table next to us and what it would mean once we signed them.
Silence filled the room after my long speech. He silently stared down at me. The constant tinkling of the bells hooked to my body made me realize that I was breathing deeply. I shifted slightly to find a more comfortable position for the butt plug and felt the slick spot on the floor where my dripping pussy revealed my arousal. I realized that M had done more than find a way to force me to turn myself into my husband's slave. He had trained me to like it, even to love it. He had turned my husband from a kind and loving partner into a cruel and demanding master. I realized that before me lay a lifetime of pain and humiliation, that I could do nothing to stop it.and that I was happy.
12.07.07