Life Sentence Pt 4

LIFE SENTENCE Pt 4 By Throne. The four of us went to one of the bars they preferred, a rough place in a bad part of the city. Bridget had nothing on under her short skirt and, when she sat on a barstool, made no effort to keep her thighs together. Randy was next to her, but Patty and I were at a table against the opposite wall, so I could see that her pubes were half visible. Guys walking by turned their heads in her direction and I knew they were wondering if they were really seeing my wife's pussy. I cringed as more and more of them spotted the free show. It tormented me to see her put herself on display like that. Around the end of our first half hour there, she dropped some change -- on purpose -- got up, turned her back to the room, and bent from the waist to retrieve the coins. That tiny skirt rode up in the back and her hefty ass was completely revealed. A man at the next table knocked over his beer. A guy on the other side sat there with his jaw dropped while she unhurriedly picked up the money. It was agony to see my bride behave so sluttishly. Randy, however, got off on it and, when she resumed her seat, put his broad hand on her thigh and ran it up under her skirt. "You know what he's doing?" Patty said. "He's checking to see how wet she got from flashing herself at strange men." In the weeks that followed I had to devise other ways for my wife to act like a tramp. The second was for her to have sex in our car with Randy, in the parking lot of that bar. Several people on their way in or out got to see what was going on. I had to sit in the next car over with Patty and suffer the torment of Bridget's exhibitionism. After that I reluctantly suggested that they have sex in a dark area near the dumpster. It was hellish to see Randy shove my wife up against the wall and screw her standing. Several patrons got an eyeful of that as well. When I came up dry for ideas, Patty sat on my face for almost an entire evening, nearly smothering me several times, before I produced another suggestion. It was that Bridget should get a tattoo having to do with her trashy image. Within a week my wife had words printed above her trimmed pubic bush, saying "F**K ME HARD". She promised that there would be more later. Of course, everytime I went down on her I couldn't avoid reading it. There was a woman at the bar who had a tattoo of barbed wire around her upper arm. She was always there and I couldn't help stealing glances at her. I had been developing an unwanted desire to touch and even to taste Patty's ass. This woman was much phatter than Patty, with two huge globes stretching the fabric of her brief skirts. She also had full thighs, sturdy calves, and a substantial bust. From lack of shaving her underarms showed dark stubble. Open-toed, whorish heels showed off dirty feet. Her thick lips and dark eyes seemed to be fixed in a perpetual sneer. As much as I was attracted to her by my new appetites, I was even more repelled by her lack of hygine, and afraid because she had a threatening attitude. It appeared that even the rough men who frequented that place were inhibited by her. I heard someone say that she was called Crazy Martha. The second inspiration Patty had when she first made me perform analingus was that I would have to make up humiliations and punishments for myself. That got postponed while they enjoyed the new slutty activities, but then it was time for me to produce. Now it was Bridget's ass I had to munch while thinking, and she made sure there was some cum from her most recent sex with Randy that had run between her asscheeks. As she lay there purring while I held my tongue inside her and wiggled it, I thought furiously, desperate to come up with something that would allow me to stop what I was doing. At the same time, I didn't want to offer her a punishment to inflict on me that would be too severe. After almost three quarters of an hour of catering to her ass I finally came up with what I hoped would be a mutually acceptable idea. Withdrawing briefly, I told her, "I have something to suggest." Then I plugged back in, anxious not to displease her. She allowed me to keep my face buried between her hills for another ten minutes before she sleepily said, "Oh, all right. Stop for a few seconds to tell me." Red-faced, I drew a deep breath and explained, "I know how much you and Patty like to use your bamboo canes on my backside. I was thinking maybe you could hit me other places with them." She sighed and ordered me back to work. With my face back in the deep valley of her rear I heard her start talking on her cell phone. "Patty? Hi. Yeah, he's got his mouth there right now." She laughed, knowing how it added to my humiliation to have her talk to anyone else about what I had to do for her, even if it was Patty who I did it for as well. "I love how you taught him to use his lips and tongue at the same time. Really gives me an extra buzz. I'll be soooo hot for my date with Randy tonight." She rocked her hips slightly, rubbing against my features. "Anyway, the worm came up with a new way for us to hurt him." She explained and I gathered that Patty liked it. Then Bridget told me, "Give me another 20 minutes back there and then you can help me get ready for my date. I can't wait to give you a nice close look at what I just bought on your credit card, the one you're not allowed to use. I got some crotchless panties that are going to make Randy screw me really hard while I have them on. He'll make a huge mess down there and I'll make you lap it all up like a good little husband... while I'm still wearing the panties." She was true to her threat. And she and Patty used their bamboos on my thighs, front and back. They even tried them on the soles of my feet, which was agonizing, and left me hobbling around for the entire next day. My life went from bad to worse as the months passed. The women encouraged every sort of addiction to their bodies, clothing and footwear, and to each perverted act I had to perform. My involuntary celibacy led me to crave all those things until, as our second wedding anniversary approached, Bridget brought up the topic. "You know," she said as she sat on the couch and I knelt before her, licking the soles of her newest pair of boots, which she had worn all day. "Even if I stopped treating you like the wuss you are, even if I let you jerk off the way you want to, you would never be sexually normal again. You're so weak that you let yourself get totally hooked on every kinky thing we make you do. You really need that stuff now, don't you?" Between strokes of my tongue I admitted, "You're right. I hate what you've turned me into, but it's all I think about now. I get excited when you wag your bottom at me or Patty makes me kiss her thighs while she watches TV. And all really bad things, too. " I sobbed. "Please, Bridget. I'll never be normal again, but at least don't make it any worse." "No? How do you think I could do that? What would you really not want us to get you turned onto now? Hmmmm? Tell me, bootboy, or I'll have Randy turn you into his punching bag. What DON'T you want us to get you into next?" I whimpered and ran my tongue over the heel of her boot. Unbidden, a sickening idea blossomed in my mind and I had to tell her. Horrified by my own words, I blurted out, "I want you to take me to the bar and make me ask that woman for a date. Crazy Martha. I want to do everything for her that I do for you and Patty. And anything else she demands, no matter how disgusting it is." I groaned. "You've got me so screwed up that -- it makes me sick to think about it but -- I want you to let her have me... whenever she wants." Bridget put the sole of her boot in my face and shoved, pushing me over and onto my back. Naked, I gazed up at her, my vision blurred by tears. Was I losing my mind? She couldn't agree to my self-destructive wish. My wife grinned devilishly down at me. "That's perfect. You don't want it but you have to have it. You'll despise yourself but you won't be able to stop. The four of us are going to the bar tonight and you're going to ask Crazy Martha for a date. And I'm going to tell her to accept." That was three months ago. On our second wedding anniversary I was at the bar and had to approach Martha. She accepted at once. Bridget came over and explained that I was her husband but that she loved gradually destroying me. Randy and Patty blocked everyone else's view while Bridget made me show Martha my chastity. Then Patty told her how well trained I was at eating pussy -- and ass. Randy bought a round of drinks and added that I was simple to control because I had been denied sex for so long. "Stick out your tongue," Martha commanded. When I did, she ran two dirty fingers up and down it, not caring that others were watching. Then she wiped my own saliva on my cheeks, hawked up a gob of phlegm, and spat it into my still opened mouth. I gagged but swallowed it, sniffled, and tried not to cry. I had consigned myself to Hell. "Mind if I take him home for the weekend? He'll be real happy to get back to you after I'M done with him." Bridget agreed. Martha grabbed me by the ear and marched me out in front of the staring crowd. She got me into her car, which was beat up but had a powerful engine, and sped off to her house, far outside the city, in the middle of nowhere. Inside, it was filthy, with food wrappers and beer cans scattered everywhere. I had to strip and she locked up my clothes. Naked and not even knowing where I was, I became her prisoner. That night and the two days that followed I was her sex slave. My mouth had to serve every part of her unwashed body. I spent hours with my face engulfed by her enormous ass. She was quick to strike me and gleefully tied me to a fence post and used a wide belt to violently beat my back and bottom. Her appetite for sexual satisfaction was insatiable. My mouth was sore from catering to her demands. I was convinced that if I didn't obey without question she would permanently injure me. When she at last tossed me my clothes and drove me back to the city, I was broken. Since then I can't even make eye contact with my wife, I feel so inferior. Being used and abused now seems natural to me. When we go to the bar Martha openly fondles me and grabs my crotch to be sure my chastity is in place. I have at least one date with her a week. At her house she keeps me naked, tugs on my balls, and loves to ride my face hard, not even needing me to use my tongue, just grinding away until she triggers her orgasms, as if I'm not even a person. And all of it gets me hard -- or at least as hard as my chastity allows. My balls ache. My life is a nightmare. I am an object of amused scorn for my wife and her friends. Bridget has gotten two more tattoos that proclaim her sluttiness. Martha is endlessly inventive in taking pleasure and administering humiliation and suffering. I am obsessed by my needs and unable to deny them. If I go too many days without my face in Martha's gigantic, unclean ass, I get nervous, afraid I won't ever be with her again. But that won't be a problem right now. Bridget just told me she's giving me to Crazy Martha for an entire week. And that got me aroused. I am doomed. THE END. 4946 1.26/512345