Chapter 5

I opened my eyes when Jimmie parked in Gary's driveway. I sat up ready to get out. But Gary wasn't finished humiliating me. While we were waiting for Jimmie to get out and hold the door for us, Gary grabbed the back of my blouse and pulled it down and off. He intends to make me walk from the car to his front door in only the tiny skirt he bought for me last night.

My mind was numb as I climbed out after Gary. As soon as I stood up the reason I'm standing there topless became obvious. His next door neighbor and the man from across the street, the man who watched me undress in my doorway yesterday, were standing on the grass ten feet away talking. They might even have been talking about me.

If I wasn't the subject of their discussion when we pulled up I'm willing to bet that it became about me when they saw me getting out of the car with my breasts exposed. Gary took my arm before I could hurry to the house. He led me over to the two men and introduced himself to his new neighbors. When he learned from them that I haven't met them either he introduced me and then pointed out my husband who by that time was waiting by the door to the house.

The two men obviously enjoyed the view. But they were very confused. One of them asked why I'm allowing Gary to lead me around half naked.

Gary was all too happy to explain that my husband owes him a lot of money and in exchange for letting him stay out of jail he generously accepted us into his service as his slaves for the four months it will take us to work off our debt.

Tom, our neighbor from across the street, exclaimed, "No shit?! She'll do anything you want?!"

Gary laughed derisively and said, "She already has. I fucked the shit out of her last night. She's been married for two years but last night was the first time she got fucked by a real man. Her little sissy of a husband wasn't doing it for her. The poor girl didn't realize how much she likes cock until she met me."

They found that amusing. They were also amused when Gary explained why I'm dressed the way I am. He showed them the sheer top I wore all day at work today, or at least I wore it when I wasn't standing around naked. He bragged about how quickly his business picked up once word started getting out around town that I'm working for him.

While we were talking the two teenage boys who were treated to the sight of me undressing in my doorway yesterday evening came down the street on their bikes. They came to a screeching halt when they saw me.

I started to cover my breasts with my arms but a dirty look from Gary was all it took to get me to drop my arms.

I stood there while Gary talked with our neighbors for five or ten minutes before he said goodbye and we finally went inside. He left the front door open. But even so, I felt less self conscious once I was in the house. I don't think anyone outside can see me unless they came to the door.

Gary ordered me to finish undressing and find something to make for supper. I stripped off the tiny skirt and the thong. Then I bent down to unzip the boots.

Gary stopped me before I had the first zipper half way down. He ordered me to leave the boots on.

I almost cried. My feet are screaming to get out of those horrible boots. I looked up and pleaded, "Please, let me take them off. My feet hurt so much. I need time to get used to these things."

His face turned stony and he said to Jimmie, "Boy, go back out there and ask those two old farts if they'd like to come in here and fuck your wife."

He turned back to me as Jimmie went out the door. I was standing up now, staring at Gary in shocked disbelief. He glowered at me and calmly explained, "You didn't address me as sir. And you don't ever question an order from me. Not ever! Do you understand me, bitch?!"

I fell to my knees and covered my face with my hands. I've been on the verge of tears all day. There have been a few times throughout this incredibly long and humiliating day that my eyes grew moist as I was tormented by one stranger after another. But for the most part I managed to control it. The tears came now, though. I couldn't stop them. I was nearly hysterical.

Gary ignored me. He didn't care. If anything he was probably amused. And a moment later, when Jimmie returned with our two neighbors, they didn't care either.

Gary nudged me with his toes and said, "Get up! Let these nice men take a good look at you. I want them to make an informed decision about whether or not they want to fuck you."

I struggled to my feet. I was still crying, though more quietly now. I lowered my hands after wiping my eyes on my arms. It was obvious from their leering faces that my distress elicited absolutely no sympathy from either of them.

The two men drew closer and admired my naked body. They hovered over me and, after looking to Gary for permission, their hands began to explore.

While they groped me, Gary said, "It seems I need to do a little attitude adjustment on my new slave. She got a little uppity for a moment. Sometimes she forgets that nothing that happens to her now is up to her. I thought it would be nice if you gentlemen came in and knocked off a quick piece. Maybe that will teach her to mind her manners and it'll give me an opportunity to show a little hospitality to my neighbors."

Tom was squeezing my breast with one hand and one cheek of my butt with the other. One of his fingers began to probe my anus. Without taking his eyes from my body he asked, "Is it okay if she sucks my cock? My wife don't do that. I'd love a nice blowjob. I haven't had one of them in a long damn time."

Gary smiled obligingly and replied, "You can do anything but fuck her ass. I haven't broken her in for that yet. I thought I might knock off a piece tonight just to see how she feels. But then I'm gonna stretch her out with some butt plugs so she'll be an honest to god three holer. Maybe next time you can have some ass if you want to."

This was all too much for me. Two more men I don't even know are going to have sex with me. As if my day hasn't been bad enough already, my new master informs two of my neighbors that he's going to rape my virgin anus sometime this evening. And he's going to make me wear something inside of me so that at some later date anal sex will be easier. I don't know if he means it will be easier for me or for the men raping me. But I suppose it doesn't matter. It's just another form of sodomy I'm being forced to perform for the pleasure of the cruel man who now controls every aspect of my pitiful life. It's yet another perverted sex act to have on my conscience.

I suddenly realized that one way or another, Gary is going to destroy me. I've been too traumatized since yesterday evening to think that far ahead until just now. He has already changed me in ways I never thought possible. He has made me do terrible things, things I never imagined I would or could do.

And what's worse, I'm no longer certain now why I'm doing these things. I continue to go along, doing whatever I'm ordered to do. And yet I'm reasonably certain that I no longer love my husband or care what happens to him. Not after what he has brought me to. If he truly loved me he would never have asked me to do these things for him.

In the last twenty-four hours I've witnessed him meekly performing deviant acts I'm certain that no real man would perform under any circumstance. I can't respect him after the perverted acts I've witnessed. But the deal breaker is that he would permit the indignities to which I'm now being subjected. What kind of man would permit so many men to rape his wife and to put her on public display nearly naked and even naked? The answer is obvious to me. No real man. No real man I've ever known would allow a pervert like Gary to treat his wife this way.

So why then am I still doing whatever Gary orders me to do? Is it inertia? Do I just not know how to put a stop to it? My fear is that it's something more terrible than that. Can it be that somewhere deep inside of me some secret part of me of which I'm not even aware is drawing me into this lurid lifestyle of debauchery? Surely it can't be because of those orgasms I experienced last night when Gary raped me! Can it?!

Surely it isn't in me to willingly submit to the horrid life that Gary is building for me! And yet here I am, slowly sinking to my knees in front of a neighbor I met for the first time just ten minutes ago. I'm preparing to perform fellatio on yet another strange man to placate Gary.

Tom stood in front of me and slowly unbuckled his belt. The other three men in the room all watched as he slid his pants and underwear down and his hard penis sprang free only inches from my face.

Tom is a nondescript man with a nondescript sex organ. He's probably in his forties. It's hard to say for certain. He's deeply tanned from years of working in the sun and his skin is wrinkled prematurely. He probably works in construction or something similar. He must have just gotten home from work when we pulled into the driveway. I can smell the pleasant aroma of freshly cut wood on him. I can also smell fresh sweat. He must work hard at whatever it is he does. He's thin and wiry. There doesn't appear to be an ounce of fat on him.

The smell of a day's worth of sweat is unpleasant. But the smell of freshly cut wood is strangely pleasant and it all but overpowered the other smells.

However, I'm not on my knees about to perform fellatio on another strange man because it's what I want to do. I'm not here to please me. I'm down on my knees, leaning forward, extending my tongue towards his sweaty testicles because thanks to Gary and my weak husband I'm now a cocksucker.

COCKSUCKER!

I'd never even think that word to myself before now. I know what kind of woman does this sort of thing. I would never do something as nasty as allowing a man to put his drooling cock in my mouth. It's perverse. I'm a good girl. Except I'm not, not anymore. Now I'm a COCKSUCKER.

I let men put their cocks in my mouth and I suck on them and I masturbate them with my soft hands. I tease their testicles, their balls, until their hot cum shoots out of the end of their cocks and fills my mouth. I don't even have to know their names. And it doesn't matter when they last bathed or who's watching. None of that is my decision to make. I make no decisions. I only do what I am told.

I'm just a COCKSUCKER.

And when I'm not sucking a hard cock I prance around on six inch heels, baring my body whenever it amuses Gary or any of his anonymous customers.

I hate it. And yet I continue to do these things even after the reason I'm doing them has ceased to exist. I no longer care what happens to Jimmie. In fact, I'm so mad at him for sucking me down into this life of perversion and sexual degradation that I'm starting to get a feeling of satisfaction when he's forced to watch me submit to other men.

It's even better when I get to see him forced to suck the penis ... no, not the penis, when I watch him suck a cock clean after it's pulled from my body and then when he's forced to clean their vile fluids from my recently defiled opening with his mouth. I've seen how it affects him each time it happens. I watched him last night and again today and I no longer have any sympathy for him. Quite the opposite, I'm beginning to take satisfaction from his suffering.

But it's obvious to me that his suffering is nothing compared to what I'm being forced to experience. So why do I not walk right out of here? Why don't I return to my home, lock the door and tell Jimmie to go to hell? Why don't I tell him to pay for his own mistakes? Why don't I tell Gary that I don't care what happens to my wussy husband? Even as I took Tom's cock into my mouth and started sucking on it I continued to wonder why.

I didn't use my hands. I didn't need to. I rested my hands on his thighs and sucked his cock as if it's something I want to do. It almost doesn't matter anymore. It's just one more strange man's nasty cock. I slid my lips and tongue up and down his shaft faster and faster and it didn't seem like long at all before he filled my mouth with cum.

He groaned and gripped my head in his strong hands. He cried out, "Jesus Christ! Fuck me! Yeah, baby! Suck that thing!"

I felt the warm, bitter fluid coating my tongue, my cheeks, the back of my throat. It's just one more. It isn't that I no longer notice the disgusting taste. I most certainly do. It's awful. But it's just cum. I've swallowed so much of it in the last twenty-four hours that it hardly matters anymore.

I waited until he slowly eased his cock from between my lips and then I swallowed.

Let me see. That makes five different men whose cocks I've sucked since I went to work this morning. How many other women, or at least women who are not prostitutes, can make a statement like that today? But then, prostitutes make their customers use protection ... don't they? I'm not permitted that luxury.

As soon as Tom stepped back, the other man waiting to use me pushed me down onto my hands and knees with a lot more force than was necessary. He dropped to his knees between my legs and I felt his cock sliding back and forth over my moist slit ... my cunt. That's what I have now. I have a cunt. I don't have a vagina. Decent women have vaginas. I have a cunt. I am a cunt.

I'm even lower than a prostitute. I don't even make them pay for the use of my body. I submit like a mindless cunt. I let them use my body to satisfy their lust because some man I fear and despise tells me I must. No money changes hands. Instead I give to them. I give them my body and I pay them for the privilege by withdrawing from what little remains of my rapidly diminishing pool of self respect.

The head of the man's cock suddenly entered my vagina ... my cunt. He's apparently not very well hung. Not like Gary or Donk. I suppose his cock is average. In any case, despite the circumstances I have to admit that it feels very nice to have a cock inside of me. It doesn't stretch me out and fill me up like Gary's large cock does. But still, it's very pleasant. I can almost forget that I don't even know the name of the man who's raping me.

This man, the man who's using my body now, is older. He's probably in his mid to late fifties. Whether it's because of my youth or my tight vagi ... cunt, he must have been very excited. He came much too quickly. I was disappointed. He entered me and began to stroke his cock into me quickly. His belly slammed into my buttocks for a few short minutes and I was just starting to get into it when he cried out and stopped moving.

Under my breath I moaned, "Oh no! Not yet!"

But it was over. There was a brief moment of near panic when I wondered if anyone had heard my exclamation of disappointment. It would have added enormously to my humiliation if they realized that I wanted him to last a little longer so that I could cum too.

He pulled free and sat on the floor behind me. Gary snapped, "Hey! Wuss! Get your ass over there and clean that mess up!"

I remained in place and waited. Jimmie rushed over obediently and there was a brief pause while they decided whether or not he was going to suck the man's cock clean. He leaned over the man's cock. But our neighbor wasn't happy about having another man touching his cock. He started to push Jimmie away.

Gary chuckled and said, "It's okay, man. If you let the pussy clean your cock after you fuck his wife it doesn't mean you're gay. I make him do it because he hates it so much. But hell, it's up to you."

I guess he decided to give it a shot. I heard slurping sounds from behind me. Then I felt his mouth pressing up against my cunt. The slurping resumed as he vacuumed the man's cum out of me with his mouth. I think it best that I don't go into detail about what I was thinking of Jimmie at that point. I think I've reached a place in our relationship that it would be impossible for me to despise him any more than I already do.

Jimmie sucked the cum from my pussy and then ate me out for several more minutes until Gary told him to get up. I got up, too. Our two neighbors thanked Gary for his hospitality and left. Gary saw them out.

When he returned Gary said, "Okay, cunt, it's getting hungry in here. Make me something to eat. After we eat I want you and your faggot husband to go next door and pack up your stuff. You can put everything in the empty boxes I used when I was moving in. I want you to store your stuff in my garage. There ain't much sense in paying rent on two houses when you won't be using that one."

I looked through Gary's refrigerator and his cabinets. Unfortunately, he doesn't have much more food on hand than we do. But I've gotten used to making dinner out of next to nothing and I was able to cobble together a meal of sorts.

We ate in silence and then I cleaned up the kitchen while Jimmie went to our house and started packing using the empty boxes that Gary used to move his things into this house.

After I cleaned the kitchen I went out to the living room to get dressed so that I could go next door and pack. Gary was sitting back watching television. When he saw me reach for my clothes he said, "You don't need those."

He chuckled when he saw the consternation on my face and said, "Do you still not get it? Humiliating you is foreplay for me. It turns me the fuck on. I hope there are dozens of people out there and they all see you naked. And if they hold you down and rape you, so much the better. Now get going."

I thought about asking if I could at least use the back door. But I realized that would defeat the purpose, his purpose. And it wouldn't matter. Our back door will be locked. I'd still have to go around front to get into our house.

I went to the door, took a deep breath and stepped outside without even looking. It's nearly eight o'clock on a Wednesday evening. It isn't quite dark yet, but almost. I glanced around quickly as I hurried across the lawn in only those torture devices that the shoe salesman called boots.

My feet hurt so badly I wanted to cry. Well, to be honest I wanted to cry for a lot of reasons. But if I had to rate my problems at that moment my sore feet and legs would have rated above the humiliation I'm experiencing and the fact that I no longer love my husband. I might even have rated my sore feet above the fact that I'm now property and that my body is no longer my own. I cannot adequately describe the pain those boots are causing me after an entire day on my feet.

As far as I can tell I made it to the house without anyone seeing me. Jimmie had piled a bunch of empty boxes in the middle of the living room floor. I picked one up and started to unfold it.

He came out of the bedroom and took it from me. He put it together for me and quietly said, "I'm sorry, Kendra."

I didn't even bother to respond. I reached for the box but he tried to pull me into his arms.

I held my arm out between us and hissed, "Don't touch me! Don't talk to me and don't touch me. I don't care if you're sorry. I don't ... just leave me the hell alone!

"You're a thief and you're a spineless bastard. And now you and I apparently have something in common for the first time. We're both cocksuckers. All these terrible things that are happening to us ... to me are your fault. You did this to me. I've been raped and forced to commit sodomy with so many men that I can't even keep track of them any longer. I'm forced to spend my entire day parading around naked or nearly naked. All anyone has to do if they want to see me naked is ask. And I have to wear these fucking heels! Surely you don't think that we can go back to the life we had at the end of four months and all will be forgotten?!

"Let me make this as clear as I possibly can, Jimmie. I despise you. Does that put everything in perspective for you?"

He looked down and with tears in his eyes he whispered once more, "I'm sorry."

I looked at him for a moment. Maybe I should pity him. But it didn't take a lot of soul searching to know that I feel nothing. Or at least I feel nothing good. I responded, "I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry I'm naked and I'm sorry I'm wearing these boots and I'm sorry that when we go to bed tonight that well hung bastard next door is probably going to fuck my ass. All this because you felt the need to steal a stapler! What the fuck is wrong with you, Jimmie?!!"

His shoulders slumped. He grabbed another folded up box from the stack on the floor and turned to slink out of the room without another word. I picked up my box and went to the kitchen.

There isn't that much to be boxed up. We don't own much. We've been poor for a long time. We grew up poor and that didn't change when we got married. If anything it got worse. Some of our things are still in boxes from our move here. It had always been my hope that we wouldn't stay in this smelly old house for very long. Now it looks like my wish is coming true. Lucky me!

I forced myself to concentrate on the task at hand and not think about Jimmie or what's going to happen to me when we return to Gary's house. I took stock of our small pile of possessions. It only added to my depression. The things that are still in boxes in the spare bedroom aren't even things that we need. We have very few items of furniture. This house came furnished. Our meager possessions boil down to a few boxes of clothing, in my case they're clothes I'm no longer allowed to wear, and a few pots and pans. We basically have almost nothing to show for two years of marriage. In my case I have nothing left but regrets.