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A little over a year since I had been adopted into Tom
and Merrilee's wonderful world, Tom came up to me at work one day
and said, "Look, if your wife is bowling again this weekend, do
me a favor, will ya? My photography club in La Habra (Tom was
a joiner from the word go.) has a meeting, and I told them that I
had a friend who ran a modeling agency. They have never seen
Merrilee, and don't know she is my wife, so, would you take her
there, and let's see what develops?"
Let me describe Merrilee a bit. She's nice, not skinny, but
not fat either. Just let's say fleshy, without an angular
feature in face or body. Cute face, not pretty or beautiful -
just cute.
The appointed evening I went over to Tom's house, and
dressed Merrilee in what I thought would be middle America's idea of
an up-and-coming model. You know, all the paraphanalia: high
heels, net stockings, loose white blouse (no bra), and what was
then the rage--a micro-skirt. I took her to the meeting at
La Habra, at some dude's home, and we were introduced by Tom as
his agent friend and one of the models from my stable.
Well, we sat there in the living room for a while, doing the
usual things - eating snacks, small talk, etc., when Tom said,
"Okay, gang, I'm paying big bucks for an hour with this lady, so
let's do what we came to do." With that, we adjourned to the
basement, where the owner had set up a little studio.
Merrilee was magnificent. There were about eight men there,
and she posed (fully dressed), as sexily as she possibly could.
None of the members was breathing normally. They must have
snapped a thousand shots before Tom asked, "Hey, Steve, does
the lady pose in the nude?"
"Well, Tom, she probably will, but it will cost you a
little more. Besides, I don't like for my models to pose for
amatures, as I sometimes have difficulty controlling them."
Well, a little good natured haggling, and an extraction of a
promise of good behavior from the members ensued (I think by this
time, I could have gotten a promise of castration from them), and
I turned to Merrilee. "Well, hon, take off your clothes." Merrilee
demurred a little, and I turned angrily to her. "Look, bitch," I
said, "If you want to make it in this business, you take what
comes along!"
Finally, she agreed to take off her clothes and pose in the
nude. I took out my little bottle of salad oil, and started
rubbing it into her skin. "What are you doing?" one of the
photographers asked?
"Most photographers don't like their subjects to have these
skirt and panty wrinkles, and rubbing helps the flesh get smooth
again. Wanna help?"
Merrilee just stood there, and, as most of the members were
more than eager to touch her, was vigorously rubbed down by many
hands. I could see that she was getting excited, she was
flushing as she always did whenever Tom and I did something
pleasurable to her, and she practically begged for more of the
"accidental" brushes against her nipples and mons venus. We set
a dinette table up in the middle of the studio, and I had Merrilee
lie on it, while the photographers took whatever shots they
wanted. Merrilee was getting more and more excited, as were the
shutter-bugs.
"Merrilee, play with yourself," I ordered, and she gladly
complied. By this time, the air in the basement was stifling,
and there wasn't a dry shirt (or pants, I might add) in the
little studio. I cannot forget the scene there. Merrilee lay on
the old dinette, wet with perspiration and excitement, writing
and undulating under the gaze of eight pairs of hungry eyes. The
cameras had long since been forgotten. One of the men took me
aside, and asked me how much it would cost for a private session,
and I quoted him a price. "But," I added, "I will have to be
there, as that is the custom, and I want to protect my investment
in her!" He quickly agreed, and we set a date for his session,
but that is another story.
I know Tom was enjoying the attention his wife was
getting from his club-mates. He was ready to explode, but I
wanted to tease him a little longer. "Merrilee, would you like to
make love to some of these men?" You should have seen the hungry
looks some of the men had then, including Tom. Merrilee just
laid there, and begged me with her eyes to let it happen. I just
laughed, and told her to get dressed, that I would take her back
to the agency and pay her off. I told Tom I would bill him
later.
Merrilee was almost staggering from exhaustion and frustration.
I told her to just put on the skirt and blouse, she could get
dressed back at the agency, when she'd calmed down a little. As
we got to the car, which was parked in the alley, I forced her
back against the trunk, and kissed her deeply. "Oh, Steve, I'm so
hot and bothered, please, please, make love to me," she
whispered, begging. I laughed, and taking out my penis, I
ordered her to service me, which she gladly did. Just before
climaxing in her mouth, I withdrew, and told her to lay back
against the trunk while I masturbated against her pubic hair.
She squirmed and tried to make me enter and satisfy her, but
I felt that was a matter for her master to either do or deny. I
climaxed all over her lower belly, and ordered her not to clean
up, but wait and show Tom just how naughty she had been.
We both knew that although Tom was utterly devoted to
her, he could and would be a hard taskmaster whenever she did
something naughty without having been ordered to do so. I could
see the fear in her eyes, as I told her that tonight she would
probably be hanging on the rack again, and that Tom would
belabor her with voice and whip. "You deserve everything you
get!" I teased, "You knew your master was present tonight, yet
you deliberately enticed and excited a group of strangers--how
common can you get! You know Tom demands and expects decorum
from his wife."

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I knew Tom would take her down to the "dungeon" as we
called his playroom, and extract a confession from her as to her
having been unduly excited, and even having been on the brink of
offering herself to a group of men. "Ah, my little love," I
said, as I playfully tweaked one of her nipples, "I'd hate to be
in your shoes tonight. Get in the car, and compose yourself,
I'll take you home."
Tom came home a little after we arrived, and I showed him
that I had partaken of the pleasures of his more than willing
slave. "You slut!" he bellowed at her. "Is this the thanks I
get for feeding you? Dressing you? Housing you? Get down to
the dungeon and prepare for your punishment!"
I almost felt sorry for Merrilee as she begged and pleaded for
forgiveness and compassion, but Tom would not listen to her
platitudes. "I'll go on home now, Tom," I said, "I can see
that this is a matter between a master and his slave."
"No, Steve, stay and see how a rebellious mind and body get
taken care of."
We went down to the playroom, where Merrilee had prepared
herself. She had already shackled herself to the wall, facing
the center of the room, hands high above her head, feet slightly
apart and also shackled. Tom placed the rack in the slots on
the wall behind her back. The rack forced her to arch her back,
and stretched her abdomen and breasts to their fullest. "Well,
slut!" Tom sneered, "Now tell me how much you enjoyed
tonight."
"Oh, love," she whimpered, "I didn't, honestly. I felt
exposed and dirty, really. Really!"
Tom got angry, and with the cat of nine tails, proceeded
to whip her breasts till welts appeared. "Tell the truth!" he
ordered, but she only moaned. "Damn you!"
He turned to me and added, "Stay here till she is ready to
confess, Steve. I'll be upstairs having a drink, come and get me
when she's ready."
I poured a little oil on her body to ease the pain of the
whip. "Oh, Steve," she cried. "I can't tell him how horny I
got....It was him I wanted in me, so bad I could cry, but the
mood he's in now....Steve, you're my friend and lover, calm him
down a little, please?"
I felt sorry for her and gently massaged her breasts, to
ease the pressure from the clothespins Tom had placed on her
nipples. "I'm sorry to have gotten you into this mess. I didn't
think Tom would be this upset. Let me go talk to him, and you
tell the truth--it's for the best."
With that I went upstairs and told Tom that Merrilee wanted
to confess and beg for his forgiveness.
"So, ready to tell the truth, eh?" Tom taunted when we
came back down the stairs. "Well, speak up!"
Merrilee's words just came pouring out - how much she had
enjoyed the attention - how randy she had gotten - how much she
had wanted a man or men to take her. With each sentence, Tom
got more and more angry, till finally he could not stand it
anymore. "You slut - you sex crazed creature, if it's sex you
want, by God, I'll give it to you!" He tore off his clothes and
savagely penetrated her.
There was nothing gentle in his moves. He brutally and
forcefully ground his pelvis against her in rough, erratic
strokes. I could see a slow flush develop and slowly rise from
Merrilee's breasts to her face, and her breathing became labored.
"Take that!" Tom grunted, "And that! And that, you bitch!
Oh, you horny bitch!"
Finally, Tom climaxed, and without so much as a loving
pat, withdrew, leaving Merrilee hanging, exhausted, on the rack.
"I'm going to bed, Steve," he stated, "Do what you want with the
wench, leave her hanging there, for all I care!"
I do have special feelings for her, and I was careful to
lower her from the rack. She was completely limp, and her
breathing was short and jagged. I kissed her softly on the mouth
and stroked her perspiring head.
"Oh, Steve, I wanted his body badly, and totally, this is
so unfair! I'm only human, and can't control all my emotions. I
came, but I'm not satisfied, I need some gentleness."
I continued to stroke and pet her stiffness and aches from
her body, and kissed her red and raw nipples, til she calmed down
a bit. "Look, Merrilee. Go take a hot bath, I'll scrub you down a
bit. Then go sprinkle perfume on yourself and go to Tom, and
cuddle up to him, You know how much he likes that, before I get
carried away again, and take you myself."
"Please Steve, make gentle love to me! I need that now,
just hug and kiss me!" It was with the greatest of effort that I
thrust her toward the bathroom. "C'mon now, Merrilee, you need to
patch things up with Tom. I'm sure he's waiting for you.
Make gentle love to him - all will be well. If I were to take
you now, Tom would never allow you to be with me again!"
I bathed and oiled her, and led her to the bedroom, where,
as I expected, Tom was waiting. His anger had subsided a bit,
and there was that loving look he had for her, that at times made
me green with jealousy. Merrilee gave me a long, lingering kiss,
and bade me go home to my wife, while she made up to, and with,
Tom.
I waited till I saw that my friend and his love slave were
gently curled up against each other, with sweet nothings being
spoken, before I softly closed the door and went home to face
another mundane and unimaginative night and morning.