Chapter 2

"Jack, we're so glad you decided to join us this evening. I'm Brother Smith and this is Brother Jones."

In dim glow of subdued lighting, I could finally see the face of the men who had not only raped and humiliated me, but convinced my husband that I'd cheated on him dozens of times and even gone so far as to pose for pornographic pictures. The two men stood there smirking at me, knowing full well there was nothing I could possibly do to convince my husband of what they'd done.

I looked past them and felt my face go red. Along the hall was a bulletin board and displayed there were the photos of me, but no longer small instant photos, no these were enlarged so that every detail was visible from several feet away.

Brother Smith's smile grew broader. "I see your slut wife recognizes herself on our wall of shame. I hope you don't mind, but it's our practice to post these. Reminds the others of the consequences of wanton behavior."

Jack looked the photos over. "Why should I mind? It's just truth in advertising."

They all laughed. I stared at Smith, tanned, just graying at the temples, well over six feet, and he turned his pale blue eyes on me. "And now she's been reminded who the goods belong to. I take it you followed our suggestions on discipline."

"Some," said Jack. "But I pretty much just fucked her brains out. My little slut has swallowed more of her husband's cum this past couple of weeks than all the time we've been married."

"As it should be," intoned Brother Jones with a smug smile. In appearance, he looked so much like Smith I suspected they were related, perhaps even brothers. "I see you've allowed her clothing. Not that a slut cares about modesty. But, we're about to get started, if you'd take a comfortable seat over there. Will your slut remain clothed?"

I quailed at the way said it, as if I were no more than an object of discussion. To my dismay, Jack looked at me with disdain and said, "Do the other men allow their sluts to wear anything at the meeting?"

Brother Jones shook his head. "Honestly, no. Once a married female has reasonably redeemed herself in the eyes of our congregation, her ranking is upgraded from time to time, and she may be permitted some degree of modesty."

"Ranking?"

"All females carry a sort of classification," explained Brother Smith. "In our congregation, the lowest station is that of "cunt," signifying the female's status as quite literally of no more value than an orifice a man uses to pleasure himself. Accordingly, those of cunt status are never allowed to cover themselves during the meeting, and may be freely handled, humiliated, and used as a receptacle by any of your brothers. Cunts are also blindfolded, and securely tied to our ingenious cunt-stool so as to be completely accessible. We add earplugs, so they cannot hear what is said, or imagine themselves as participants in our meetings. Think of it as new spin on the glory hole, or a living, breathing masturbation device."

He moved to one side and pointed to an odd piece of furniture, somewhat like a half moon lying on its flat side. At one end were parts that looked suspiciously like stirrups.

"Hmm," said Jack, and I blanched. "He was smiling broadly. "And the other rankings?"

Slightly above that is "bitch." They are also blindfolded, and wear a collar and leash. But they are not restrained in one place which allows them to move from one man to another as ordered. But they remain on all fours, like any female animal, and are treated as such. They are only fucked doggie-style, in any hole, and drink their refreshment from bowls. At this stage they are acknowledged to be animate, but no more so than a dog, cow, or brood mare. And we provide tight bands for the base of the tits, which makes them bigger and more obvious."

"That would be interesting to see," said Jack, "since they're already the size of udders."

My face got hotter and hotter.

"We know," interjected Brother Jones. "Don't forget we had the honor of returning your property, and have seen what no man should see without the permission of the one who owns it." His eyes were fixed on my breasts, visible beneath the beige silk blouse Jack had ordered me to wear.

"Clearly lots of men have not only seen them, but handled them as well. Hardly worth covering, now are they?" Jack moved behind me, reached around, and ripped open my blouse. Every button was torn loose. He held my breasts in his hands, pointing the nipples toward the two Brothers. I was stunned to feel those nipples turning hard instantly. "Tell me more about the rankings."

Brother Jones obliged. "Next, is "slut," or "fuckslut"... still a shameful ranking, but it indicates some progress toward proper humility and obedience. Sluts are allowed to walk upright with permission, and they are not blindfolded. Their owners choose other members throughout the evening, and the slut must immediately attend to the chosen man's but only after begging for him to use her. This is the first status level at which she is allowed to speak.

"Then, after that we have "whore" and here we acknowledge that whores at least have the slim justification that being wanton is how they make their living. And any member who wishes to use a whore hands the husband a token amount of money, in full sight of the others, as payment for usage. An alternative form of this obedience training is for the husband to set a price for services by marking the merchandise. For example, he might print on her body an amount for cunt-fucking, ass-fucking, cocksucking, and so forth.

"Once the whore has proved herself obedient and aware of her place, to the satisfaction of her husband, she may finally be elevated to the rank of "woman" and kneel at her husband's side during meetings, prepared to be of service. With enough work, she may eventually be acknowledged as a "wife," and permitted clothing and a low stool at her husband's feet. Of course, all promotions, as well as demotions, are at the husband's sole discretion."

"Demotions?" asked Jack, roughly fondling my breasts though in an absent minded way, as if he were petting a dog.

Brother Smith nodded. "Yes, it happens, and we consider a relapse so serious a concern that demotions are carried out at our Sabbath celebration. But at his is one of our private rituals, I'm not a liberty to describe it unless you should choose to become a full member. For now, though, you are welcome at these meetings. What is your choice of status for this," he pointed his chin in my direction.

Jack seemed to be giving it some thought, and for a moment, I hoped he would come to his senses, and say 'never mind, I just wanted to teach a lesson. We're going home.' But that isn't at all what he chose.

I think we would all agree, looking at those pictures, that she really likes playing the slut. So why don't start right at the bottom and see what kind of cunt she is." He shoved me toward them. "Since I don't know the procedure, would you two gentleman take care of it for me?"