Priceless

Priceless

by Velvetglove

Part Six

Sally reluctantly dragged herself over to where Tom was sitting in a grey wreath of tobacco smoke. Her bare tits hung down as she crawled while Leon, Anthony, Phuket, Charles and I encouraged her with wolf whistles, laughter and ribald comments.

Tom sat in his jeans and sweater grinning at us, Marlboro wedged in the side of his mouth while he refilled his shot glass with vodka.

I watched her unzip him, tug down his baggy jeans and grubby, grey underpants. There is a certain pride that any Master reading this will recognise, watching your slave servicing your mates. I know quite a few dom guys even enjoy sharing their own sub wives. Personally, that’s not for me, but I sure as hell get a kick chipping in somebody else’s wife !

Tom glanced up at me appreciatively.

I mean, he’s not the kind of guy who often gets blowjobs, with his thinning ginger curls, freckles, almost white skin and unkempt clothes.

As I’ve already said, I’m a stickler for great oral. Some vanilla gals can do it right but, let’s be honest here, the best head usually comes from slaves.

Sally wasn’t any great shakes yet but it’s a question of attitude as much as skill. Before I took over she had the wrong mind-set and Gordon wasn’t the guy to put her right. Now, for a start, she was on her knees and Tom was in a chair. She was doing him and he was just sat there puffing away. There was no sense of equality, or foreplay or reciprocation. She just concentrated on treating his dick like it was meant to be treated and ignored us all sat around watching, commenting, the smell of tobacco and weed in the air.

I had my camera out, of course, snapping some nice digital images for posterity. Close-ups of her face and lips slurping on another anonymous erection for my ‘Sally Album’.

After Tom blew his load onto her tongue, Phuket took his place. He’s one of those ‘hard as nails’ Asians with a washboard stomach and wiry muscles. His dick isn’t that big but he keeps himself waxed hairless so it looks kind of impressive jutting out of his smooth groin.

Sally groaned out a ‘mmff’ sound as Anthony knelt behind her, flipped up her skirt and plunged his black meat into her from behind. She was still unbathed from our session in the morning and he began spit roasting her easily.

By now, Leon and Charles had unzipped themselves and each placed their dicks in Sally’s hands so she could prepare them while she used her mouth on Phuket and accommodated Anthony in her cunt. I managed to take a great shot that showed her in all her glory without revealing a single one of the guys’ faces. She looked like a pro hooker in a Swedish orgy mag from the 1980s.

The action continued apace; Anthony blew his wad and was replaced by Leon, Charles tipped the contents of Anthony’s condom into Sally’s platinum blonde hair, Phuket jacked his load over her face, then Leon shot his bolt, Charles turned Sally over onto the carpet and mounted her, Tom sat his butt down on her face for rimming, while I kept filming.

After each guy had cum twice, we ordered pizza. While waiting for the delivery guy, Leon and I escorted Sally through to the bathroom.

“Fuck you.” She muttered to me insolently. Her first words other than grunts and moans for ages.

“Who’s talking ?” I answered. Sometimes you just have to humour them. You can’t get pissed off every time they show a bit of spirit.

She stared at me, unable to think of a retort.

“Get in the shower.”

While she washed, Leon fetched a piece of equipment he’d borrowed. I was surprised it had fitted in his car. It was made of light but strong aluminium, wood and leather. We set it up in the bathroom.

Sally emerged shivering from the cold shower and I handed her a towel.

“What’s that ?” she whispered.

We didn’t respond. We showed her instead.

We fixed her into the box frame with her arm and wrists in the four leather straps. Then Leon strapped the punishment collar round her neck, forcing her head up, and I wedged the dental brace into her mouth. Finally, we closed the wooden semi-circles round her collar.

The result was she was squatting in an open sided box with her head poking out of the wooden top. Her neck was nicely rigid and her mouth was stretched wide open due to the steel ring-gag. Her hair hung damp from the shower and she couldn’t move or speak.

“Sal,” I said, unzipping my fly. “You’ve already drunk my piss on day one, so you really can’t object.”

Her blue eyes blazed and she emitted a gutteral objection.

I held the tip of my dick an inch from her mouth and aimed.

“Ummmm.”

I needed to lose a few hours worth of tea, water and beer. I’d eaten salad for lunch with a load of raw beetroot and my piss flowed pale red.

“Every good party needs a urinal.”

She’d screwed her eyes shut and her face was contorted.

I peed for 54 seconds. Leon was timing me. A lot ended up on the tiled floor but plenty went down her throat.

Then Leon unzipped himself and stepped forward.

We partied for ages, eating pizza and ice cream, drinking, watching a soccer match, then ogling some of the footage I had of Sally and Gordon.

All the while, the guys were nipping into the bathroom to leak. The beer flowed and so did the piss. There barely seemed to be a minute without somebody getting up to go. I made a pot of coffee and we sat smoking, telling jokes.

Suddenly I was aware that Tom had been gone a while. Five, maybe ten minutes. Charlie needed a piss and he looked around.

“Where’s Tomato ?”

Leon and Anthony giggled like schoolboys.

I got up, went to the bathroom and knocked on the door.

“Tom ?”

“Just coming.” He answered, in a voice trying not to laugh.

Everybody was gathered round. Finally the bolt slid over on the door.

The stench hit me immediately.

Tom shrugged sheepishly. “Sorry. Got caught short.”

I couldn’t help chuckling. There was a steaming mound of excrement on the wooden top obscuring the lower half of Sally’s face. Her eyes peered over it at me. Tom must have done his business squatting over her and let it pile up under her chin.

Everybody squeezed into the bathroom.

“Well, she is a toilet, after all.” Charles opined, in his barrister-tone. “May I ?” he asked, unzipping himself to use the normal pan.

“Hey man, use the urinal.” Leon said.

Everybody looked at me for a decision. I shrugged.

“Sure. Why not ?”

“Phfew.” Anthony said. “Hurry man, I want to get outta here.”

Charles shifted position and started pissing. His urine splashed into the brown pile, spattering coffee-coloured droplets all over Sally’s face.

Her eyes were shut and she couldn’t speak, but I could hear the indignation and rage in her helpless gurgle.

I was glad I’d taken out the extra insurance, given the state she was in.

I was in good hands in all states.

My extra ‘insurance’ was a DVD of Gordon. While we’d been partying with Sally, he’d paid £1,000 to a black hooker and her boyfriend to film him licking out her oozing pussy and ass. I watched it later and it wasn’t the sort of footage a respectable, middle class white guy would want his wife, colleagues, friends and the whole world to see.

He arrived at midnight in his car to hand over the DVD and collect Sally. She didn’t know about his evening and I’d told Gordon his ‘infidelity’ would remain our little secret so long as he behaved.

She’d showered for the second time, eaten some cold pizza and recovered her composure but was still mighty pissed.

“You can have tomorrow off.” I told them. “I’m seeing Jan. But I’ve got to work Friday and you can do another stretch at Vittorio’s.”

She shrugged her shoulders, suggesting no commitment.

“Gordon, I was going to let you have an orgasm. Now I won’t. Sally’s insolence just cost you another few days.”

“Sally !” he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut in frustration.

She shook her head. “This is bullshit. The game’s over.”

“Tell her Gordon. Is the game over ?”

He put his arm around her. “Darling, it’s not over. It can’t be.”

She looked at him, eyes shining with tears. “We can leave the country.”

He made a face. “We can’t. He even has our passports now.”

“But …”

“Trust me, darling. It’s not that simple. We have to do everything he says. That’s what we wanted. Remember.”

She was crying softly. “Not … everything.”

“Yes. Everything.” He replied.

I leaned forward and kissed her wet cheeks.

“Go home. Get some rest.”

I rang them at five to seven the next morning.

“Jan had to cancel. She’s working today. Both of you get here within an hour.”

“But …” Gordon replied. “I’ve got a meeting at nine.”

“Cancel it.” I snapped. “And the rest of the day.”

I was cheesed off. I’d wanted to see Jan, not my ‘owned couple’.

“Yes … er, okay.”

50 minutes later my doorbell rang.

I gave Gordon a note in an envelope.

“Read this. I’ll see you later.”

He took it and watched me pull Sally into my house and shut the door.

I beamed. “Morning, Sal.”

“Hello.” She replied in a surly tone.

I slapped her across the face. Not hard, but enough.

She clasped her cheek in shock.

“Take everything off. Now !”

She paused just a second, then hurried to obey. She quickly removed her sweater, boots, socks, denim jeans, top, bra and thong.

I walked around her, studying her nakedness.

“I don’t see anything wrong. No harm done. No marks. You are making a lot of fuss about last night for no reason.”

“It’s not here …”. She pointed to her head. “It’s in here.”

“That’s where it’s meant to hurt, Sally. Your pride. Your ego. Your over inflated sense of your own fucking worth. You are a pussy, an ass, and pair of tits, a fucktoy, a cumbucket. That’s all. Get that into your bimbo brain.”

“You’re a … monster !”

“No. I’m just a guy. A penis. A pair of balls. But I own your ass.”

“Please.”

“This is getting boring. Bend over and touch your toes.”

She stared at me, trying to read my eyes, I guess looking for mercy.

“Now !” I barked.

I gave her a thrashing with a cane. It was light and thin, the kind that stings dreadfully without doing any serious damage. She howled and hopped from one leg to the other, doing all that apologising and begging crap. By the time I’d finished, her ass was super-red and nicely tram-lined.

And I was stiff as an iron bar.

I fucked her from behind, enjoying the feel of her scorching butt cheeks against my own skin, and wondered how Gordon was getting on.

*** *** ***

Out of hand.

Today’s blog entry could only be titled ‘out of hand’. I have spent this morning in a state of shock. Our Master has us eating out of his hand. We are like birds pecking at the few seeds he chooses to bestow upon us. More to the point, this situation has now got completely out of hand.

I suggested a payment of one hundred pounds a week. That’s a couple of hundred bucks, give or take, or a hundred thirty five Euros. Each and every week. Plenty, you would have thought as a decent ‘fee’ for his silence and our arrangement.

My heart was pumping for hours in a way that didn’t feel good for my health. There was that empty feeling in the pit of my stomach and I was short of breath.

He wasn’t satisfied with my proposal. Not by a long way. It wasn’t as if he wanted just to up the amount either. No, he wanted total control of my income.

I went to my bank and arranged to transfer out my entire net salary by standing order into his account each month from now on. He said he would consider applications by us for some cash back but they would be subject to our behaviour. Otherwise, we had to live frugally and off our savings.

The idea that I would be working effectively for nothing makes me nauseous. Having to hand over some money seemed erotic. But like a beating that’s too severe, excessive blackmail is pain, not pleasure.

On top of the monthly transfer, he wanted £10,000 by next Tuesday.

I called my broker and told him to sell two shareholdings we had.

After the financial arrangements, I went to the company address that was on the note. It was called SSMS Ltd; Safety, Security and Monitoring Systems. They did burglar and fire alarms and, in particular, CCTV systems around offices and homes.

There was a sketch on the back of the note, showing a rough lay-out of our house, with places marked in red pen for hidden cameras. Each room had at least two and some even more. For example, there were four in our main bedroom and five in our ensuite bathroom.

Even the SSMS Salesman said it was overkill and way too expensive. But I had to say we were very security conscious and I wanted to be able to monitor every inch of the house when we were out.

He smirked. I’m guessing the guy thought I wanted to spy on my wife, either for thrills or to check if she was being unfaithful.

Ironic, huh.

I handed over a £250 cheque as a ‘rush’ quotation fee so that they’d send a quote within 48 hours and do the work in 7 days if I accepted the quote.

Finally, I took out the blank American Express card application form and found a coffee bar where I could fill it in. I treated myself to a latte and a chocolate bar and sat outside in the chilly, winter sun, wondering how it had all gone so wrong, so quickly.

I sipped my coffee sadly and then had to give a weak smile.

I tore open the chocolate wrapper.

Apparently, there’s a smile in every bar.

*** *** ***

Gordon called after lunch to say he’d completed the list.

I was reading the newspaper while Sally was washing my underpants and socks by hand. She was wearing a small, tight top that reached her waist but I could watch her ass glowing as she did my domestic chores. She was humming happily as she worked.

“Hi Gord.” I said. “All go well ?”

“Yes … Sir. Everything is done as you instructed.”

“Good man. When do I get the ten grand ?”

“Monday … Tuesday latest.”

“Excellent. Easy come, easy go, hah ?”

“… yes.” His voice was surly. These two were starting to piss me off.

“In that case, add another ten grand to the deal.”

There was a long pause. “You’re kidding, right ?”

“No. I want twenty grand. And it’ll double again to forty if I hear another negative word or the wrong tone in your fucking voice. It’s the same with your slut wife. I had to thrash some sense into her. I want you both happy and obedient, at least on the surface. Not rude and insubordinate. Is that clear ?”

“Yes, Sir. Twenty thousand, ASAP, Sir.”

I grinned into the phone. “Better.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Okay. I’ll let you go and update your blog. Remember I want the whole truth; what happened and how you are feeling. And then I want you to type me out on paper a full confession of your crimes. Your theft, fraud and submissive, gay desires. Something juicy for the jury.”

“Ple … Yes Sir. Of course, Sir.”

“You want to cum, faggot ?”

“Er … no, Sir. This has all kind of destroyed my desire. You know, I guess only temporarily, but I don’t feel … horny.”

“That’s lucky for you. Because we’re going to make your chastity a lot stricter and a great deal less comfortable. There are a couple of new devices you’re going to invest in for us to try.”

“Yes Sir.”

“You can come by here at six o’clock to collect your missus.”

I glanced over at her. I fancied a little entertainment, featuring her and various kitchen implements and vegetables, followed by an extended rimming and a gargle blowjob. Wipe that fucking grin off her face.

“Yes Sir. Six o’clock.”

“Oh, and did you fill in that Amex Card form ?”

“Yes Sir, I’ll bring it with me.”

“Too right you will.” I replied.

Don’t leave home without it !

End of Part Six