DB: I still don't see why you're going to such extreme measures, CumBunnyHoney. You can't possibly deserve this.
Me: Listen Darling, you wouldn't know this because you haven't experienced it, but let me tell you what marital sex is. You close your eyes and watch while your memory and your imagination project a porn video on the dark side of your eyelids and while you bump and grind with a man who wears the same slowly aging face that you wake up to every day. In less than 6 years, that has already been thousands of days. You realize that he's doing the same thing you're doing but with an aging woman and it's probably just as boring for him as it is for you.
You ride the same cock that you are so familiar with and he pumps his cum into the same pussy. After 20 years, even if you believe you really are a sex goddess, you can't help but believe your lover needs change as much as you do. But if he's basically a good man, you've grown so attached that you really don't want to lose him and hit the companionship market with a decreased book value.
By adopting the role of slave, I will be adding three fresh young female faces to the video library along with all the new sensations that come with them. New tricks will be added to the bump-and-grind repertoire. I will be undoing a lot of damage and buying a lot of forgiveness. It really doesn't matter if I actually deserve this humiliation, because frankly we're both too close to the conflict to be trusted on our opinions on that, but I crossed the line. I dissolved the glue between us. It might be good for us, because we could have gone on in this soul-eating limbo for the rest of our lives, but if he had done that to me, I can't imagine how angry I would feel. I think I can salvage something good from this tragedy and eventually I hope to earn the privelege of adding a newer cock; younger, stronger, faster and I'm thinking a bit larger. :p
DB: Ohmigod, CumBunnyHoney, I think I actually get it now! I still think you're being too hard on yourself and that he's been denying you something that you deserve, but if this will help, then you go girl.
Me: Thanks, Darling_Bitch. I gotta go now. Hugs.
Charles' first choice for a woman to humiliate me was quite surprising. She was younger than me by 15 years, but she was the oldest of the five volunteers. She was quite pretty, but so were the others. Her submitted photos were swimsuit photos and the least daring. She had red hair and I thought maybe that was the reason he chose her first. He had often mentioned his fondness for gingers. But what was most pleasantly surprising was that her boobs were the smallest of all the volunteers and were even smaller than mine. Not that they were tiny, but mine are a B cup and I had never believed Charles when he told me that mine were more than big enough. I mentally kicked myself again because I knew that he always meant what he said and yet I had been unnecessarily insecure despite his reassurance.
That insecurity was one of the things that had so frustrated him and caused him to think I was an "attention hound". So I actually felt good about his choice of Sandra as the first of the three women who would help me become someone that my husband could respect. And truth be told, after talking with her, I was a little smitten by her.
Sandra was delighted when I informed her by email that my husband had chosen her to be first. I had interviewed her by webcam, but we would now interview her together at dinner on a Saturday evening and if Charles and Sandra were both willing, she would come to our home where I would become their servant. I did not have a vote in the matter. The only condition I could place on the arrangement was that I would watch them as they had sex. That was only fair because I wanted to require Charles to be present when I fucked another man.
Dinner went well and Charles was clearly turning on the charm that he once had reserved for me. By dessert, it was clear that both of them would become a couple, at least for a while, that night. When it came time to leave, Sandra surprised me by asking me to ride with her to our house. During the short ride, we talked about my desires and limits for the evening. I told her that my desires didn't matter, but she told me that was ridiculous.
"Being submissive is not about going without. It's about getting your submissive needs fulfilled. The dominant person gives the commands that the submissive person has a need to fulfill. If I knew you better, I would know what those commands are, but you know what you need better than I do." So I told her the one thing that I hoped she would order me to do later and to my delight, she agreed.
Just before we entered the house, I told her that I would need a few minutes to prepare and that I would become their slave when I returned from the bedroom. She pulled a cheap-looking dog collar from her purse and asked me if I would wear it for the evening. I gladly accepted it, since Charles wouldn't have thought to give me one.
I excused myself and went into our bedroom while Charles opened a dessert wine. I lit the candles that I had pre-placed around the room and then dressed in my new maid costume, which Charles had never seen. It was little more than a sleeved pink frilly apron that tied at the back of my neck and waist with about a 4" gap down the back. Under it I wore black lace thong panties and thigh stockings. Before I put Sandra's collar around my neck, I read the inscription on it. It said, "Ex-Bitch In Training -- Spank Me When I Misbehave". I put it on and with a final touch-up to my harlot lipstick, I pronounced myself ready to serve.
When I entered the living room, Charles was seated next to Sandra with a wine glass in one hand and her knee in the other. That he had initiated physical contact with her while I was absent startled me unpleasantly. They were talking very quietly, so I assumed they didn't want me to hear. I moved to where I could be seen by Charles and waited. As they sipped their wine, each used their free hand to touch the other, and my heart ached with each caress. When they finished conversing, Charles looked over at me and I could tell that my outfit impressed him. I stepped directly in front of him. "Slave Janice, reporting for inspection, Sir."
I had told Charles before we went to the restaurant that I deserved to be humiliated. He had given me a devious grin and said that he would do his best on that.
"Step closer, slave, and turn around slowly."
As my bare backside came into their view, I heard a whispered murmur and then from Charles, "I agree. Slave, remove that feeble excuse for a dress. Bitches have no need for modesty." I untied the dress and placed it neatly on a chair.
"Take off the panties too, Bitch."
As I pulled the thong away from my pussy lips, it was already quite wet. I had shaved my pussy bare and when they caught sight of it, both of them smiled.
"How appropriate for a wannabe tramp," Sandra said. "Come over here and turn away from us, Bitch." She pulled something from her purse and I heard the sound of a small plastic bottle cap being opened and then a squeezey farty sound.
"Bend over and pull your ass cheeks apart."
When I complied, I felt a cold wet sensation against my anus and then a hard round object was pushed into it. I grunted and tried to relax as its diameter slowly increased until it suddenly decreased. My first butt plug. The humiliation I felt then was so bad I thought I would run crying from the room, but I somehow endured it.
"This is what you will wear for the rest of the evening and don't let that toy slip out.