My Wife. His Whore.

My Wife. His Whore. Part III.

Leena arrived in the kitchen wearing her usual housecoat. She sat down.

"Let's talk Leena," Lon said.

"OK, Lonny," Leena said, "But first let me talk without you interrupting, OK?" This sounded like the feminist Leena, who was ultra-sensitive about being interrupted by a man:

"I am deeply submissive and I am a masochist. I guess if you've read my

writings you know what I mean. I've tried to avoid men like Alton all my life. I had really not wanted to succumb to the seduction of this, because for me it is so incredibly strong. The kids kept me centered and I had fantasized and masturbated over the years, but I was able to keep away from it. When the kids

left I just felt irresistibly drawn to it. I started reading things on the internet and learning how many women and men are involved in this kind of exploration.

Finally, I arrived at Alton Drave's website.

Alton Drave's website was a display of pure sexism, and perhaps that is why it hit me sexually like a thunderbolt. It was pure unadulterated audacity. My hand was trembling when I wrote my first message to him. He was cultured, brilliant, very well educated and a man who knew exactly, precisely what he wanted from a woman and there was no question that he would get it. Do you know how erotic that can be for a certain kind of woman?"

Lon nodded his head, "I read your story about Bobby. I never knew, Leena, about any of this. I would never have dreamed it possible."

"I'm a fucking bitch, Lonny. A hypocritical bitch. I didn't expect you to figure it out; I didn't want you to. But now you know. And I've gotten away with my bullshit front for years, because I was careful to avoid any man who could see through it. I bet I was as young as 8 years old, when I knew what kind of male would see to the core of me. I can spot them across a room. I can sense them in a place when I can't even see them. Maybe I shouldn't have been so affected by Bobby. I ran away like a scared little pussy and spent 30 years jacking myself off in the ladies' room with my fantasies, when…" Leena realized that she was treading on dangerous ground.

"No, Lonny, this has been a good marriage. I don't regret it. But I'm involved with a MAN now, who doesn't apologize for being a man. I know it's got to hurt you badly, Lonny, but Alton is calling the shots in my life now. I want to stay married for the sake of appearances and I'm bitch enough to want to have you to fall back on if it doesn't work out, but I'm getting what I need now, however it looks."

"So this fucking bastard can just whip you and cane you, and you don't think twice about it?

Leena looked at Lon with an anger in her eyes he had usually seen when she was going to launch into one of her feminist rants, "I think about it every chance I get, Lonny! I bowed to his man boots, licked them like a woman, and I begged him for the harsh pleasure of his hand. I kissed that whip and I kissed that fucking cane before he used them on me and those kisses were the purest kisses I've ever made. I love that 'bastard' you talk so stupidly about."

"You're in love with him?" Lon said in a trembling voice.

"I the most primal and total way. He's not afraid to take EVERYTHING that a woman has to offer…"

Leena got the dreamiest look in her eyes that he had ever seen. She was like a teenaged girl in love with Johnny Depp. Leena was lost to him, it really seemed, and yet, in a contradictory gesture she took his hand and kissed it.

"You shoved your prick in me and made me with child, twice. I'm a bitch, but I am a submissive bitch and I do respect you for your fatherhood in this marriage and for the way that you have made a home for us. It's extremely selfish, Lonny, but I love you deeply and I want you in my life. I think Alton might allow it."

"Allow it?" Lon said, fear striking his coward's heart.

"Well, I know he lets Trina go home to fuck her husband once a month."

"Trina was married?" Lon said in amazement.

"She's still married, though she really doesn't want it," Leena said.

"But what does her husband say?"

"He's in limbo like you, but, personally, I think he likes Trina better the way she is now. She knows how to serve a man now and Alton makes certain she truly serves her husband, when she goes home. Even a weak man can take pleasure in an obedient cunt…" Leena realized once again she'd crossed the line into insulting Lon, but she

didn't try to correct her statement.

"So basically you're telling me that Alton Drave is going to decide to what extent

we stay together?"

"Wake up and smell the coffee, Lonny. I'm your wife, but I'm his obedient WHORE. I have no control over this relationship and I don't want control, but it seems like Alton enjoys humiliating husbands and boyfriends. He likes to play mind games with them and often keeps them in contact with his 'bitches,' just so he can lord it over both them and their 'boys.' He even brings them into his house so they can watch what he does. It's just an aspect of his dominance. But he also likes variety in his cunts and has rarely kept one bitch alone with him for long. So—I have to be realistic too. I want him, I love him and he has me any way he wants me. You have to know that, Lonny. But he's a real man, he will do as he pleases."

Lon looked at Leena closely. He had always seen her as a truly good person. She was always the champion of the oppressed. The woman he saw before him, her face still blotchy from the sexual abuse of Alton Drave, her posture severely affected by the assault that her buttocks and back had taken, was just a selfish, manipulative bitch. He should have been revolted, but he knew now that he was emotionally and sexually already entangled in hers and Alton Drave's perverse relationship. He decided to utter his own truths now that might be shocking themselves.

"OK, Leena. I've done a lot of thinking about this…"

She looked at him expectantly.

"I'm totally devoted to you. I just am. But more than that…"

"Go ahead, Lonny, puke it up!" Leena said in her coldest bitchy tone. She sensed that he was about to reveal his own "disgusting" secret.

"I was incredibly turned on by what Alton was doing to you…"

Leena laughed the first truly cynical laugh he'd ever heard from him. "So you're a submissive little cunt, too?" She spit out.

"Submissive?" Lon gave her look of puzzlement. He wasn't strong enough to refute her insult or to recognize its truth. "All I know is that all of this has turned me on incredibly. I can't say I approve. I can't bring myself to that. But I can accept it. To be honest—and I've thought about this in tears and deep anguish for a while now, I admire Alton Drave. The balls! I just don't have them. Not like that. So—just to see what's happening to you, it is such a mystery to me. I'm just drawn in—I would never, ever imagined it."

"Well I'm glad you feel that way, Lonny. Because you have no choice in the matter and neither do I." She said this very, very coldly, but then relented and took Lon's hand in hers. "I'll never serve you, Lonny, it's just not possible. But we've been man and wife for a long time. I love you in such a different way. Let's both hope that we can continue together. I do need someone to understand me. Alton can be very, very harsh

and your openness and kindness is a real balm." Leena's statement trailed off into silence.

They had crossed the threshold now, he and Leena. Lon was relieved to have come out in the open, finally, but he also could see that for all the "deep love" that Leena professed for him, the unrestrained passion she felt for Alton Drave was by far the stronger force. He was going to be a spectator to what unfolded next, he would have no control (and his own fierce passion was spurred on here.) He could feel the pain and torment of his heart twist there in a perverse, exquisite pleasure of denial and expectation. He had not lost Leena. But, somehow, by a perversely thin thread she still was connected to him. "My wife. His whore," Lon thought quietly to himself, "My wife. His whore." It made his prick hard to think of it.

The next three days Leena let Lon minister to the wounds that had been inflicted on her, the painful rake marks on her back, and the cane stripes. And she abstractedly let him assist her, as she prepared herself for her next visit to Mr. Drave. Most often she treated him, in this, like a ghost, hardly acknowledging his existence. She had clear instructions from her Master, as to how she was to groom and care for herself, when waiting to serve him-- that is, between her visits to him. Leena, abstractedly allowed Lon the now required duty of shaving her cunt perfectly clean every morning, as, the abuse to her back did not allow her easily do this. Of course, her armpits and legs too now were to be shaved closely everyday, something that Leena had never done since he had met her. He did this also. He also took care of affixing the new, long false fingernails she was to wear, and painted them carefully for her every morning, after her bath. He plucked her eyebrows, too, now, in their new shape and learned how to make them up, along with her eyes. The rest of Leena's make-up, which now never left her face bare, she preferred to do herself, fussing obsessively over the old-fashioned easily fading lipstick that was to perfectly adorn her mouth during all waking hours. He managed for her the new permanent with strikingly feminine curls, which she primped constantly. Leena didn't assume the role of dominant with him. She was too abstracted and distant for anything like that. Her prodigious powers of concentration and will that Lon so admired in her, were now totally focused on pleasing Alton Drave. In all this, Lon realized that he fit frighteningly naturally into the role that had been dealt him. He said little about it, but it was obvious that this thankless role to prepare his wife for Master Alton Drave excited him incredibly.

Leena began to talk to Lon like she might talk to her girlfriend Lillian. But where the old Leena had been emotionally completely in control, the Leena that had come forward to be claimed by Alton Drave was very different. Indeed, it was cruel of her to be so open and gushing about her experiences with Alton. Leena certainly knew what a bitch this made her, but the important thing for her to have Lon know, was that is was precisely this aspect of her that called her to Alton Drave.

"That little bitch, Trina," Leena would say. "Alton says that she sleeps in the bed

and I sleep the floor next to the bed where I belong. Before I'm through that cunt will be out of the house. I'll show him who knows how to serve."

Lon knew there was no logic at work her and nothing for him to say. In any case,

as always, he was intimidated by Leena's ferocity, though he had never heard her make a catty remark in her life about another female. Her rule had been solidarity.

But this sort of comment was easier to bear. It was when she waxed rhapsodic about Alton that he felt the color raise in his face and felt the buzz of his own perverse passion. She was touching up her foundation, complaining about how the blotches on her face were hard to cover:

"I got a fierce fucking after Alton was finished 'teaching' me, as he calls it,

after he was done with his whip and cane. He tied me over a padded horse he

has in his dungeon and dildoed and fucked me until I had to scream."

Leena took forever getting ready in her room for school. When she came into the bedroom where he lay looking at the ceiling he smelled the thick perfume that had been a forbidden substance in their house for their entire marriage. Leena was dressed in a ridiculous costume. She wore all black with a see-through black blouse and a black, frilly bra. She had on her black leather skirt, black seamed hose and her difficult black high-heeled pumps. She had spent a lot of time on her face, but particularly unexpected were the long, false eyelashes she wore, thickly made up. The bright slash of lipslicker on her lips was almost shocking.

"You're going to school, looking like that?" Lon said, shocked.

"Alton decides how I dress, now, on a daily basis."

Leena continued, almost seeming to relish rubbing the salt into Lon's tender wounds: "These high heels hurt from the moment I put them on. They are one clear sign of Alton's control of me. As a feminist, I have always said that high heels are designed by men, for men, for the hobbling and control of women and that opinion has not changed. But I take deep pleasure in feeling this pain, knowing that Alton is proud enough to demand it of me. Alton wants me dressed and looking like a whore, because he knows what I really am."

Leena went to the door and opened it. She turned to look at Lon with a perverse look that seemed to meld pride, surprise at herself, and wonder that he was willing to just be a bystander to this new Leena. Leena slammed the door hard. Lon jumped at the loud noise, surprised at this violent expression of hers. He knew that there was an element of contempt in it—he knew.

Lon couldn't even imagine the reception Leena would have at school. She'd clearly thrown caution to the winds. There hadn't been a frilly dress in that department for 15 years and now Leena was going to show up like this? Lon's cock was hard.

With the strong whiff Leena's new perfume in his nose, he went directly to her computer to satisfy his craven appetite for knowledge of her transformation. I

He went directly to Alton Drave's website and looked further.

He found a gallerny entitled, "Woman Art." Mr. Drave's pictures were astonishingly kinky. All of the pictures in this gallery showed women completely depersonalized. All were exquisitely dressed in what Lon now saw was Mr. Drave's preferred style. The fabrics were most always satin, velvet or silk, occasionally leather or wool.. They were all in the colors black, red and white. Nearly always the colors were solid, but occasionally there were patterns and prints with these three colors only. Mr. Drave liked corsets and corselets. He liked frilly lingerie of obscene sorts with open crotches and open tit nipples. He liked seamed stockings and garterbelts. He liked very high heeled pumps in black, red and white leather only with closed, pointed toes and long thin heels. He liked make-up, particularly bright lipslicker. He liked long painted nails. He liked lots of jewelry, particularly long, heavy, glamour style earrings.

The set of pictures in "Woman Art" showed several women in what was termed "utilitarian" poses. The women were of various shapes and sizes, one extremely beautiful, one rather largish and unpretty, the others in between. The first picture was a woman standing in heels, hose, garterbelt, special panties and bra, in red and black colors, nicely made up, lots of jewelry on, with her wrists and anklets tied with black satin rope. In her mouth was a light bulb that by some trick was fully lit. Next to her on a table was a large lampshade. This picture was sardonically entitled, "Standing Lamp." She stood in the corner of an elegant livingroom with a fireplace, standing over a large stuffed chair. A second picture showed her with the lampshade on her head like a hat, obscuring her face.

A third picture showed a woman similarly clothed with a specially designed gag in her mouth with a silver hat hook on it. She wore very large glamour style earrings that jutted out with silver hooks to the side. The third picture showed hats on all three of the hooks. This picture was entitled, "Hat Rack ," not so subtly punning to make clear that she had very large, rather firm breasts that strained at their pretty black, obscene bra.

Another picture was entitled, "Glamourous Coffee Table," a kneeling woman, dressed to the nines, with magazines and a steaming cup of coffee on her back.

Lon was astonished. These were not simple art pictures, but pictures that revealed the dynamics of Mr. Drave's own personal life. All the pictures were well-lighted and were quite beautiful on their surface. But Lon was stunned by the contempt and misogyny they seemed to display. How could any man control a woman to the point where she was willing to be completely humiliated this way? Lon was not turned on by the pictures in and of themselves, but he found himself fascinated, against his will, by the diabolical mind of the man who made them. That would have been all, had he not looked at a final picture, "Comfortable Hassock," of a crouching woman, high heeled, the usual frilly lingerie on, with a picture of a man's lower legs and feet resting comfortably on her back. The shoes looked like the shined black shoes of Alton Drave , and only Lon would have been able to see, because her face was looking away from the camera, that this "Hassock" was his own dear wife, Leena.

Now Lon could feel his face flush and his cock get rigid. He felt the churning of fear in his stomach and the nauseating rush of sexual pleasure overtaking his body. He was fascinated by Alton Drave's power over the generic "woman," but he was completely overwhelmed by this presumption of his wife. He knew now that this humiliation of her he felt as a direct humiliation of himself. To his surprise and horror it turned him on in the deepest and most perverse way. His confusion was deep, but there was an element of clarity in it. He wanted to see this in person. He was ready to "accept(?)" it. He knew for sure, in any case, that the old Leena was gone. Perhaps, in his own perversion, he could share in that of Leena?