It had been five minutes since Mrs. Holt left, but that felt like a lifetime ago. I was in Mr. Holt's bedroom impatiently waiting for him to come upstairs. I looked at myself in the mirror and examined what I saw. Long blonde hair, eye shadow that accented my blue eyes, blush that brought out my cheekbones, and red lipstick that made my lips look pouty. My black lace camisole and black leather skirt clung to my body, and my black thigh-high stockings completed the look.

Mrs. Holt had transformed me from a meek 18-year-old boy into a very attractive young woman. As pleased as I was at how I looked, I still wasn't sure this was who I was. Was this a passing fancy? Just a phase? Will I be 100% straight and married with two kids in 10 years? Or will I go through life dressed in women's clothing serving as a fuck doll for men? Did I want to spend the night pleasing Mr. Holt or spend the night getting pleased by Mrs. Holt?

My thoughts were interrupted by Mr. Holt calling out from downstairs, "Get your ass down here, bitch!"

My heart jumped, my caged cock tingled, and I felt a pit in my stomach. Not wanting to make Mr. Holt wait, I headed down the stairs. I went into the kitchen and saw Mr. Holt sitting on the sofa. He was wearing brown pants and a white shirt, his arms on either side of the back of the couch, legs spread.

"Get me a beer and get over here," he growled at me. I turned and opened the refrigerator. I saw an entire shelf filled with cans of Budweiser, but very little food. It was clear Mr. Holt's drinking took priority over proper nutrition for his family. I grabbed a can and brought it over to him.

Mr. Holt took the beer but didn't offer a thank you. He slowly looked me up and down. I wanted him to like what he saw. I wanted him to find me sexy. I wanted him to stand up, take me into his arms, whisper in my ear how pretty I was, and tell me how badly he wanted to make love to me.

"What the fuck are you waiting for?" Mr. Holt said. "Get on your knees and suck my dick, you stupid cunt."

Those words should have stung, but instead they excited me, and I wanted nothing more than to suck his dick. I obediently dropped to my knees. I reached for Mr. Holt's pants and unbuttoned them. I then unzipped his fly and tried to pull his dick out. The entire time, my hands were trembling. Was it fear or nerves? Probably both.

"God, you're fucking worthless, I'll do it myself," Mr. Holt snapped as he lifted up off the couch so he could pull his pants down. In front of me was his magnificent cock. It was 6 inches long, circumsiced, and had a nice mushroom head. My own dick strained against the cage, and I could feel my precum making my panties wet. A primal lust consumed me, and all I could think about was his cock.

I remembered how good it felt when Mrs. Holt put the head of my dick in her mouth and flicked the head with her tongue while she stroked me. I wanted to please Mr. Holt and have him feel the same way I had. I grabbed his cock with my right hand, put the head in my mouth, and started swirling my tongue around the tip while stroking him.

I was so proud of myself; I felt like a real woman pleasing her man. I felt Mr. Holt stir; was I so good he was going to cum already? He pulled me off his dick; I figured he didn't want to cum just yet.

I looked up at Mr. Holt and was immediately met with a slap across the face. I was stunned! Mr. Holt is a grown man, and he could easily hurt me. But this wasn't him trying to hurt me; this was a warning. I knew I shouldn't like the slap, but his power and dominance were intoxicating. I loved that he just slapped me, and he was welcome to do it again.

"What the fuck are you doing? Last time you were taking my dick down your throat. I don't know what that Bullshit was."

Mr. Holt was pissed. But I was only trying to please him. I was doing what I thought he wanted. Surely he would understand.

I quickly spoke, "Sorry, I was..."

My words were cut off when he slapped me across the face again. Yes! There was that dominance again that I craved.

"I'll show you sorry," Mr. Holt spat at me. "I'm going to give you a choice. Get the fuck out of my house and never come back, or learn to be my slut".

My brain said to leave, but my lust for his cock and need to serve him took over. My brain quickly acquiesced, and I knew I wanted to learn to be his slut.

I lowered my head and said, "Yes, Sir, please train me".

"Get up and go into the basement and wait for me," Mr. Holt barked.

I got up off my knees and hurried out of the room toward the basement. I went down the wooden stairs into the unfinished basement. The walls were concrete, and the room was dark and cold. There were shelves along the walls, a washer and dryer, a tool bench, and various items you would expect to find in a basement. Well, except for a wooden pillory in the middle of the room. It reminded me of the movies about pilgrims, where people were punished by being put into a stockade in the town square.

Was Mr. Holt going to put me in that and leave me here as punishment? I heard him come down the stairs, but I couldn't turn to look at him. He came up behind me and grabbed me by the neck. Mr. Holt walked me over to the pillory, opened the top, and said, "Put your head and hands in there now."

I did as I was told, and he lowered the top bar and locked it in place. I couldn't move, and Mr. Holt could now do whatever he wanted. As scared as I was of what was coming next, my dick was straining against its cage. My precum was flowing again. I was furious at how unfair it was for him to do this when I was only trying to please him. But the control he exerted, his masculinity, his raw power was intoxicating. I didn't care it was unfair; I wanted him to do whatever he wanted.

I couldn't see what Mr. Holt was doing behind me, but I heard what sounded like him talking off his belt. I felt him pull up my skirt and pull down my panties. I was helpless, exposed, and the man behind me didn't seem to be one who showed mercy.

"That's a sweet little ass. I'm going to have fun fucking it. But first you need to learn not to give me some bullshit blowjob. I'm not some stupid teenage boy who's just happy to get whatever I can. I'm a man. You're going to take it all down your throat. If I want to face fuck you, then that's what I'll do. I don't give a fuck what you want. I don't give a fuck if you like it. I'll do whatever the fuck I want."

Those words should have stung, but they had the opposite effect. I wanted him to fuck my ass. I wanted him to fuck my throat. I wanted him to do whatever the fuck he wanted to.

With those thoughts running through my brain, I felt his belt slap across my ass. The sting was intense, and I instinctively yelped. He brought the belt back and then hit my ass again. Mr. Holt then settled into a rhythm and belted my ass 20-25 times over the next few minutes. Each time I yelped, and my ass was on fire. I felt tears running down my face, and I knew my mascara must be running. The pain was intense, but I wanted more. I loved that he had control, that I was his pain slut.

"Well, let's see if you learned your lesson," I heard Mr. Holt say.

I saw him out of the corner of my eye as he came around and faced me. My head was crotch level, so I couldn't see his face. What I did see was him unzip his pants and pull out his hard cock. He grabbed my hair, I opened my mouth, and he thrust his dick straight into the back of my throat. He held my head, his dick cutting off my ability to breathe. My eyes watered, and I started to panic, until finally he pulled out.

My saliva was everywhere. I was desperately trying to catch my breathe when he assaulted my mouth again. This time he thrust into my mouth, pulled out, then thrust again. As promised, he was face fucking me. It was degrading. He was treating my mouth like a toy. It was like I wasn't a person, rather just a hole for his pleasure. And I loved every minute of it.

"That's more like it. I guess you're too stupid to figure things out on your own, so I'll have to do all the work," said Mr. Holt.

The words barely registered with me. Between fighting to breathe and the humiliation of what was happening, I was concentrating on trying not to cry. Mr. Holt pulled his dick out of my throat and walked around behind me. I wasn't sure if he was going to hit me with his belt or fuck my ass, and I wasn't sure which I wanted more. As much as I hated Mr. Holt, I felt a need to allow him to do whatever he wanted. As my brain was processing, I heard a hissing sound of something moving through the air and then a sharp pain on my already sore ass. Sharp wasn't the right word, more like excruciating. It was the most pain I had ever felt, and my entire body jumped as I screamed in agony. This was different from the belt, and I loved it. I loved that Mr. Holt enjoyed using it on me. I loved that I wanted him to use it.

"I see you like the cane," he said with a chuckle. "My slut wife cries and begs me to stop when I use it, but she deserves it even more than you do. Besides, I know she secretly loves it"

Mr. Holt then proceeded to cane me nine more times. Each swat more painful than the one before. My screams of pain were gone, replaced by uncontrollable sobbing. All of my emotions were being released in one big tidal wave.

Mr. Holt finally stopped and said, "That's enough, my arm is getting tired. Now I just need to cum before I go to bed. Your ass is nice and red, just the way I like it. But it's your choice. Do you want me to let you out and kick you out of my house? Or do you want me to fuck your ass?"

The thought of leaving never crossed my mind. I wanted him to fuck me so badly...

"Fuck me, Sir, make me yours."

Mr. Holt chuckled, like he knew all along this would be my answer. He didn't speak, and I felt the head of his dick against my asshole. I steadied myself and tried to prepare for what was next. He pushed his mushroom head into my hole as I let out an audible gasp. The pain was quickly replaced by pleasure as he pushed all the way in. My ass felt full, and my cock was again leaking. My panties were so wet, I truly was a slut.

Mr. Holt didn't take his time. He started pumping, and it was clear he wanted a quick release. He could have taken his time, which would have led to me having a sissygasm in my cage. But it was clear Mr. Holt didn't care about my pleasure; it was all about him. I felt his dick thicken inside me and then a warm sensation inside my ass. I knew he was cumming.

"Yes, cum in my ass, make me your bitch. Use me as your cum dump," I cried.

I don't know where those words came from. I didn't think the words; they just came out. It was like it was in my DNA; a primal reaction out of my control. His cum was my reward for being a good girl. I wanted to please him, I wanted to make him happy, and I wanted him to love me.

Mr. Holt came back in front of me and thrust his dick into my mouth. He was still semi hard and it went to the back of my throat.

"Clean that cum off my dick, you dirty whore."

Did he really just go ass to mouth on me? I should have been repulsed, but instead I greedily slurped my cum off his dick. I wanted whatever Mr. Holt wanted. His control over me was complete, and I loved it.

"I'm done with you, I'm going to bed," said Mr. Holt. "You can stay here like this until morning. I'll be leaving early, but that cunt wife of mine will let you out when she gets back tomorrow."

With that, Mr. Holt walked upstairs and turned out the light. I was still locked in the pillory, ass bruised and welted, the taste of his cum in my mouth. I had been used, degraded, humiliated, and I loved every moment.

My thoughts then moved to Mrs. Holt. How many times had she endured this? Did she suffer the same indignities that I had? I wanted it, but did she? She didn't deserve this; she deserved so much better. Why did she stay with him? A slut like me deserved it, loved it, but not her. She was a lady, not a stupid cunt like me. Mrs. Holt deserved a kind, loving husband. I could love her. Maybe I could be a better husband to her?

I stayed locked in the pillory all night until morning finally came. It was uncomfortable, but there was no place I would rather be. I heard Mr. Holt leave early; he didn't even bother to come say goodbye. It was like he had forgotten about me, or maybe I wasn't worth the effort to come say goodbye. But as strange as it was, I longed for his return. I wanted him even more than before.

My thoughts were interrupted when I heard the sounds of someone coming down the stairs.

"Oh my God, what has he done to you?"

It was Mrs. Holt...