Gender: Female Age: 55 Location: Midwest
|Introduction: Belle's new Master works out a deal with her husband|
Belle - or 'it' as John called her now - squirmed uncomfortably in her seat and slid herself closer to the car door. Even that slight movement sent a rush of desire through her belly. She closed her eyes and slid her hand up the inside of her right thigh.
John turned his head and watched. A smile broke slowly across his face. The skirt - short and diaphanous - slid upward and he saw the naked skin between the top of her stocking and the top of her leg. It was her right leg and the tattoo of the Chinese characters for "available whore" showed clearly.
"You may masturbate for three minutes, we are almost there," John said casually.
Belle perked up and smiled, joy flooding her face. "Thank you, Master!" she said, her hand darting to her crotch. She lifted the ring that hung from her clit hood and spread her legs wide. She rubbed fast and hard moaning and came immediately. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered whether she should be doing this while they were driving on a busy street in the middle of the day, but the thought was vague and unformed and went away quickly. Touching her cunt was all that mattered.
Her cunt. She smiled. She never called it her cunt before. Back when she was married. She frowned. She was still married. Wasn't she? It was hard to think and besides, it didn't matter. She came again.
John nodded toward her window and she turned her head. Two men in the next car were staring at her, eyes wide. She smiled and threw her head back, rubbing herself harder. She loved it when men watched.
The light changed and John turned the corner and onto the sidestreet. It was Maple. Belle used to live here. Roger still did.
Belle recognized the houses and stopped rubbing herself. She pushed her fingers in her mouth and licked them clean, enjoying the taste she'd hated just a few months ago. She squinted her eyes, trying to remember why she knew these houses, but couldn't.
"Here we are," John announced, pulling the car into the driveway.
Belle recognized it.
"I live here..." she said slowly, the memories rising inside her. "With Roger." She was puzzled. Why was she with this John man and not Roger? He was her husband, after all. And he'd liked the new haircut...
She closed her eyes and thought, but it was hard and she got more and more frustrated.
John watched her carefully. He'd been giving her steady doses of Complyoform regularly for the last several weeks -- since they started seeing each other regularly. For the last three weeks -- since she'd moved out of her home -- the doses were coming daily. The confusion was normal but he wanted to make sure she wasn't suffering any negative side effects.
"Who lives here, dear?" he asked softly.
"Roger," she said in a quiet voice.
"And who is Roger?" "Roger is my husband." She turned and stared at John. "But I'm here with you. Why is that?"
"You gave yourself to me, don't you remember?" John said calmly.
"Oh, yes," Belle nodded, still feeling puzzled.
"Roger doens't want you anymore."
Belle stared, confused.
"Do you remember what he said the last time he saw you?"
Belle searched her memory and finally found it. A scrap of conversation. Her standing naked in the kitchen, showing Roger her tattoos and piercings, opening her legs and pulling back her left cunt lip to show him the small tattoo that read 'slave'. Then, pulling off the wig to show him that John had shaved her head bald. Roger had turned to John dumbfounded and nearly fell over when John announced casually that he could pimp her out more easily if her hair color was adjustable. Roger had yelled and screamed and threatened and ultimately kicked her out of the house.
Since then, Belle had been living with a hooker John knew. Belle wasn't turning tricks, she was in strict training -- a daily regimen of exercise, pain, and porn. John would come by in the morning, inject Belle with the day's dose of Complyoform, then strap her to her 'education' chair and run loops of BDSM porn for three hours. Then, a short lunch followed by two hours of workout. Her body was amazing, even the hooker she lived with commented on it.
"What did he say?" John asked Belle.
"He told me that he ... " Belle began, the froze. A tear came to her eye. "...never wanted to see me again." The tear ran down her cheek but she wasn't sure why. Maybe she sensed John was upset with her about something.
"John? Did I do something wrong?"
John patted her leg. "No, dear. You didn't do anything wrong." He opened the car door and got out and walked around to her side. He opened her door.
"Come on, we have some paperwork to do."
He led her to the porch and rang the doorbell.
Roger answered a minute later. Belle saw the look on his face. Anger. She turned to John. "John, did I do something wrong?" John said, "it's fine, dear. Just fine." He turned to Roger. "May we come in."
"I'd rather you didn't," Roger growled.
"We can do our business here on the porch if you'd rather," John said. He turned his head slightly toward Belle. "Take off your clothes, dear."
Roger flinched and swung open the door. "Come in, you sick fuck."
As soon as they were inside, John had Belle strip naked. He showed Roger her tattoos, his fingers running over Roger's wife's skin like he was showing Roger a lawnmower or a vending machine. "This one," John said, pointing to a tattoo on her lower back in an Arabic script, "means 'anus only'. There's one more you have to see," John said. He smacked Belle's bottom and said, "show him the picture of the daisy."
For the first time in a long time, Belle felt ashamed and begged, "Master, please...not that..."
"Now," John said softly.
Belle bent over and reached around behind herself, pulling her ass cheeks open. Roger turned his head.
"Well, that kind of thing isn't for everyone," John said. He poked his finger into her anus, then traced the flower tattoo the surrounded it. "Evidently, it's for her, though." He pulled his hand back, wiped his finger on the hem of her skirt. "Isn't it, Belle?"
"Yes, Master," she said.
"Why did you bring her here? That fucking skank?" Roger barked.
"I want to finish up the loose ends legally," John said. He walked into the dining room and pulled out a chair. "Please," he motioned to Roger. Belle straightened and smoothed her dress back in place.
"Did someone tell you to stand up?" John said with an icy voice. "You have earned discipline."
Belle immediately turned and pulled her skirt back up over her hips, feeling the rush of heat between her legs. He was going to punish her! She felt her cunt well and her chest burst with pride. He was going to punish her!
"What do you want?" Roger growled.
John motioned to the chair again. "Come, come. We're both grown men. We both know you don't want to be married to this...this thing anymore." Roger didn't say anything but Belle felt the humiliation shoot through her.
John took an envelope out of his pocket.
"I've done my homework. You are worth over three million dollars, home, stocks and retirement plan taken into account. If she divorces you, it's most likely a 50-50 split right down the middle." Roger nodded, his face red with anger. "The fucking whore will get half of what I have."
"No," John said.
Roger pulled out a chair and sat down. "I'm listening."
"I don't need a lot to live on. And once I start pimping out your wife -- correction, your EX-wife -- as a pain slut, the money will start rolling in -- more money than I'll ever need. Why don't we do this. You sign the divorce papers," John slid them across the table, "and when she -- that is, I -- get the money, I will purchase her from you for half-a-million dollars. You walk away with two million, I have one."
Roger stared at John, stunned.
"That's un-enforcable. You can't sell a person."
"That's right," John said. He held out his hand. "A gentleman's agreement."
Roger stared at John's hand, then turned his head to look at his wife. He couldn't see her face, she was a pair or spread legs and an open cunt, a bright silver ring hanging down between her legs and tattoos running up and down the insides of her thighs.
As much as he hated John, he knew this was the best offer he was likely to get.
John watched Roger, knew what he was thinking. Things were going his way but he wanted to push him over the edge.
"Roger? There's one more possibility," John said.
Roger asked, "what's that?"
John took an envelope out of his other pocket and slid it across the table.
"She is going to make me a lot of money. You could get in on the ground floor. A 20 percent split if you help me pimp her out."
Belle heard that and her legs went weak. She collapsed on the floor and pulled her knees up to her chest, curled up in a ball and sobbed. Roger would never take his offer, never, never, never.
"Let me think about it," he said.
"Do you want to fuck her?" John asked casually.
Roger was silent for a few minutes, then Belle heard him ask. "Tell me about this thing with the belts."
"Please, please, may I cum? Please! Please!" Belle was blubbering, face pressed into her arm
"Are you finished?" John asked.
"Fuck no!" Roger said. He wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt and raised the whip again. He
swung it hard and it wrapped around her belly, raising another thick red mark. She screamed and swung her legs in the air. Her arms were on fire, her wrists were tied above her head and her feet were a full two feet off the ground. Roger had beat her with a two inch-thick belt for fifteen minutes then switched to a whip at John's goading.
"She really needs to understand how angry you are," John urged, egging him on.
"Angry?" Roger screamed, swinging the whip harder. It bit across the fronts of her thighs, raising small dots of blood. "Fucking angry?" He swung again and hit just below the same spot. A drop of red flicked onto her foot.
Roger set the whip down on the table and picked up a smaller, slit leather monstrosity called a quirt. He looked at John who nodded.
"It's a motherfucker of pain. I'm not sure you want to try..."
Roger ignored him and swung around, swatting Belle across the tits. He sliced across the top, the leather raising big red stripes. After six swats, Roger stopped and stepped closer to his soon-to-be-ex wife.
"And these?" he sneered, running the tips of two fingers over her nipple piercings. "I don't think these were in the last time you came over to fuck me."
Belle tried to think but her body was all she could think -- she needed to cum, she needed him to hit her again and again until she came. She pushed her crotch forward and opened her legs, trying to rub again him. Roger laughed. "Look at this fucking pig!" He motioned to John who just grinned.
Roger turned back to his wife. Each of her titties was pierced twice, two two-inch long vertical stainless steel barbells, one on each side of her nipple. Roger slid his fingers between the titflesh and the piercings and started pulling forward.
Belle moaned, the pain shooting waves of desire through her. John watched carefully. She'd been conditioned to enjoy the pain of clamps and weights but he hadn't expected her to respond to the pain of rough pulling so thoroughly.
"Rubber bands," John said.
Roger turned. "What?"
John stood up. He reached in his pocket and produced two long rubber bands. He wound them around the barbell ends so they made a box around her nipple, then pulled and twisted again forming an X across the center.
"Go ahead," John said.
Belle felt her head swimming. She needed to cum and she knew this would do it. If the pain was enough, she could cum. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth, breathing softly
Roger pulled timidly on the rubber bands and snapped them. His wife moaned but didn't cry out. Her body needed more, she wanted to tell him but was afraid John would disapprove.
"I don't know," Roger said, turning to John and shrugging.
John pointed at Belle and said, "don't be afraid. You can't break her. I know. I've tried."
Roger tugged at the rubber bands that X'd both of her nipples. He pulled them back, watching his wife's body sway from the rope overhead. He swung her back and forth a few times, amused and intrigued. The next time her body swung backward the rubber bands stretched to five inches, then six. He let go of both of them at the same time and she screamed.
"Again! Again! Again!" she screamed, thighs shaking and eyes open wide, now staring at him, demanding. "Harder! Harder!" Roger reached for the rubber bands but grabbed a handful of nipple instead.
"uggggg" Belle moaned, the rush of pain giving her a small climax. Roger clamped down again on her nipples hard and pulled her forward two feet, then let go. She swung freely from the ceiling, legs limp, feet dangling. He crouched to the floor and picked up the belt again. When she swung closer, he stepped to the side and swung it across her belly, her body shaking, the pain turning her on.
When she started swinging slower, he grabbed her nipples again and pulled her further back, this time, when he let go, he kept the rubber bands between his fingers until she swung backward and he couldn't hold them any more.
"AAAAAHHHRRR!" she screamed as the rubber bands bit into her nipple meat.
John looked at his watch. "If you're about done, we have work to do," he said.
"Fuck you, asshole, this is my wife."
Roger turned back to her, watched her swing, then picked up the short whip again.
"THIS..." he swung it across her ass while she swung "...IS..." he hit her across the calves, "...MY..." again "...WIFE..." this time, he raised his arm higher and cut across her lower back "...AND I..." the next one sliced across her belly and opened a small cut "...WILL DO..." he pushed her again to keep her swinging "...THIS..." the whip cut across her thighs, opening another cut "...AS LONG..." this one was across the nipple piercings and she screamed and twisted then screamed again, louder, as her left shoulder dislocated with a POP! "...AS I..." another cut opened across her belly, making an X with the first "...PLEASE..." the whip cut across her left shin but she wasn't responding now, she just hung limp, her head lolling forward on her chest.
"Roger," John said, his hand touching Roger's shoulder lightly. "I think you're done for now."
Roger stood panting, sweat dripping down his face. He looked at his wife's limp body hanging from the rope, her shoulders and head at an odd angle because of the shoulder.
"Come on, let's get her down. I don't want any permanent damage to my investment," John said.
"Fuck you," Roger snarled.
END of Chapter 1
...what happens to Belle next? Send me your ideas...
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