Cubs Win! I Lose. - Part 1
Part 1
Cubs Win! Cubs Win! Cubs Win the World Series. Game 7 of the series and as a reward mistress made my wife nurse my cock through the entire game. She gave me another beer at the top of each inning and told me to sit and enjoy the game while my wife served as my urinal. I pissed in her mouth three times during the game and fed her my semen twice and when the game was over and we’d watch the boys celebrate their miracle mistress made her beg me to **** her in the ass. That night we all slept in the same bed. We fell asleep with me sucking on mistress titties and my wife’s head nestled between my legs with her mouth on my nuts. I woke up a couple of time through the night and stroked her face until she woke up and took me in her mouth. Pissing in her mouth so casually in the middle of the night was the most intimate act I’ve ever experienced. In the morning we showered together and I felt not only like a real man. I felt like a king.
After breakfast mistress told us that she’d grown up in Cleveland (complete news to both of us) and that she’d been betting on the Indians to win. The bet was with a man she’d met in college who was from Chicago. She handed my wife a bus ticket and told her that she was the bet. She was to leave in two hours and would be gone for some time (she didn’t say how long). She was to give the man her total and complete obedience and devotion. She was to worship him as her god and master. Regardless of her obedience she would be punished often simply for his enjoyment and amusement. Mistress told my wife that no matter what abuse was inflicted she must never forget to thank her master for his attention and beg for more and harder use and abuse.
My wife made one attempt to plead with mistress to arrange some other form of payment but mistress simply slapped her hard across the face and told her to “shut the fuck up and do as you’re told.” Two hours latter, I took her to the bus station dressed in only a light overcoat with no clothing or underwear beneath. Her largest buttplug was in her ass and her id was safety pinned to her nipple. A one hundred dollar bill was safety pinned to her other nipple. Her only makeup was bright red lipstick and some eye shadow. The lipstick tube was pushed into her cunt and mistress told her to be sure to re-apply once she arrived in Chicago. I kissed my wife good bye not knowing how long she would be gone.
Friday, dec. 2nd, mistress called me at work and said that I could pick up my wife at the bus station when I got off work. She also let me know that my wife would actually be arriving before noon, but that I was not allowed to leave work early. In fact, Mistress told me to work an extra 5 hours and not leave until 10 pm. Mistress said that she would be in one of the stalls in the mens room at the bus station and that I should go find her. After four weeks, I was going to see my wife again and I could hardly wait.
I made the best of a bad situation and simply worked as hard as I could and actually managed to get a good week ahead in my routine work. Without the work, I couldn’t have done it. As it was, I was a nervous wreck when I finally walked out of my office. The bus stop is all the way across town and it was nearly 11 when I walked to the end stall in the men’s run. A hand written sign was taped to the door. It said, “Blow Jobs 25¢.”
As I pushed open the door I was confronted with my wife, sitting on a toilet d****d with her overcoat. Her only garment. Safety pinned to one nipple was her id, with the other nipple again pinned with cash. This time however it was a sizable stack of 100 dollar bills. It was clearly quite a few hundred dollars and yet it was still there, dripping with semen. As was her face of course, with quite a lot dripping down onto her titties and even running down her belly. Looking at the bucket between her feet I immediately understood what an enormous quantity of semen must be in her belly. There were hundreds of quarters in the bucket.
But that was by no means the most startling sight. I expected to see a woman ravaged, despondent, in dire need of relief. What confronted me was a woman with a look of utter relaxation and contentment coupled with an intent focus. The focus was my zipper. The moment I stepped into the stall she’d began leaning forward with her hands stretching toward my trousers. Before I had time to even breathe, let alone say a word, she had my belt undone, my zipper run down and was pulling down both my trousers and briefs.
She leaned back and laughed and as she did, the pointed tip of her shoe came slamming directly into my nutsack. “It’s just you dickwad.”
She stood up, shrugged on her coat, grabbed my caged cock and slammed me sideways against the stall wall. “They started r****g me as I got off the bus. They ****d me around the clock, every day, seven days a week. They ****d me, hundreds, maybe thousands of men ****d me constantly from the time I got off the bus until they hosed me down with cold water and put me back on the bus. Do you really understand how little manhood is left in you?”
She was pulling so hard on my cock and she felt so strong pinning me against the wall that I thought she might actually lift me off the ground. By my cock!
“You put your wife, naked, on a bus to an unknown destination and a certainly dangerous environment. You did it with nothing more than an instruction from the bitch who owns us. Any fucking worthless piece of shit fuckwad with at least a microgram of manliness would not have done that. But you did. You are a complete and total pussy.”
As she talked she’d been fumbling with both hands around my cock and her pussy and I was stunned when I felt her remove the lock from my cage and free my cock and balls. She did it with practiced speed and as I heard the cage fall to the bathroom floor, she grabbed my nutsack and yanked hard.
“It was in the bottom of my lipstick. The key I mean. I think maybe mistress anticipated that I might want to have you by the nuts the next time I saw you. Maybe she just figured I would castrate you right now. She’s probably thinking I’ll rip these things off and feed them to you.”
Using both hands, she twisted my nutsack around a full three turns, just like a twist tie on a garbage bag.
“I’m not gonna take these pussy eggs now. That’s right faggot, you don’t even have testicles. These are just pussy eggs and I’m gonna beg mistress every day to let me crush em and cut em off. I want you to listen to me begging mistress to let me do it. And she will eventually. She’ll let me do it. Now take me home fuckwad.”
She turned and walked out past me. I hurriedly picked up the bucket of quarters, making sure to retrieve the dozen or more laying on the floor around the bucket.
With quarter bucket in hand I caught up with my wife - she hadn’t bothered to button her coat and led her to the car. Once inside she gave me and earful on the way home.
She told me that the money pinned to her breast was mine. Twelve one hundred dollar bills. It turns out the guys kept a big jar near her and the guys would toss in money every time they fucked her. Most often it was a quarter and the guy would say, “you can tell your hubby that you’re worth at least a quarter.” But some guys would throw in a buck or two. The guy with the biggest cock. She said it was actually a white guy, but he was the size of Shaquille O’Neil. After he’d sodomized her, stuffed her throat full of his cock and then deposited his sperm in her belly, he’d tossed a five in the jar. He said, “now that I stretched out those fuck holes, they’ll only be worth three bucks next time.” That was her biggest payment.
They really had never let her sleep or rest. After the first few days, she said she would often pass out and lose consciousness, but she always awakened to find herself being still ****d or beaten or pissed on or in. She said she was quite certain that all of that had continued regardless of the responsiveness of her body.
Most of it was unorganized, but there were at least a dozen or more times when she’d been systematically ****d and beaten for the amusement of an audience. She had a good idea of the number because they all began with the hose cleaning. The showers were in a barn with a rope around her neck that forced her on tips toes. They used an actual fire hose. An actual gate valve that was pulled wide open with one pull of the lever. She had to grab the rope around her neck and pull herself up as her feet were knocked out from under her. A hard five minutes with the fire hose and then they’d bring out two regular garden hoses with huge butt plugs connected to the ends. The went up into cunt and anus. They only came out after they’d pumped a full gallon of water into her holes.
She didn’t go on any more about the ****s that night, but she did share one other note. For the entire month that she was gone her diet consisted of piss, beer, cum and dog food mixed with master’s shit. He made her watch as he prepared her only daily dish. He’d shit in her bowl, dump in a cup of dry dog food and then stir it up. He’d hand her the spoon and make her lick it clean before he’d push the bowl in front of her. She was on hands and knees during feeding and while she ate, her ass was caned. One stroke every two or three seconds, until she was done. And not just with the shit. She had to lick the bowl until it was spotlessly clean and then do the same with her fingers. The she’d get down even further and lick the floor all around her, making sure that every last speck of daddy’s shit was truly cleaned up and in her belly. She could only ask them to stop if she were certain everything was clean. Because they would stop immediately when she asks. And they will check. And if she was right, they’d just go back to r****g her. But if she missed a speck. Like she did when her Chicago master farted a fleck of shit onto her forehead and she hadn’t noticed it being there. Then they would cane her breasts for 30 minutes while the guys just kept using her throat and pussy and asshole. She said she quickly became a very meticulous shit eater.
As we were nearing home she confided that the day she’d just spent (it had actually been 17 hours, she had arrived at 6 am) sucking cock and swallowing cum had been a delight. Servicing cock after cock at her own fast pace and for her own enjoyment had been a welcome treat after her ordeal. She told me that she’d come to love the taste of semen. She would never be able to get enough. The taste of semen had come to mean relief. The cock r****g her throat would stop and it would be at least a few moments, maybe even a minute or two before the next one would begin. And she would of course suck that cock with wild abandon trying desperately to get it’s eruption of molten sperm just as quickly as she could. She learned to open her throat and let the r****t have his way. She learned to let her throat relax and be nothing more than a cock sleeve. A fleshlight to use as a jack off tool. While they used her, she would dream of the wonderful explosion of man juice directly into her mouth that she could savor and then swallow as she earned her next moment of peace. She told me all of this in the dreamiest voice I’ve ever heard. My wife had changed and I didn’t know what was in store for me.
When we arrived home, my wife gave mistress a quick repeat of the outline of her visit and then dug deep into her pussy and pulled out a wad of condoms, tied at the end. It was actually four condoms, one inside the other, inside all of which was the zip drive. She told mistress that it was a 128 GB drive and that it was full of over 60 hours of her time spent in Chicago. She said her Chicago master was pretty sure that mistress would agree that he got his money’s worth out of their bet. I would see much more of the video the next night. In Samsung VR vision goggles.
The only other thing that happened that night is that my wife kept her promise and she began pleading with mistress to castrate me. She said she couldn’t live with a fake man in the house. She said I’m just a pussy boy ready to take cock in my shitpussy or mouth whenever I’m told. She didn’t want to ever have to service me again. Her body was meant to be used my real men and real women. Not by faggots. Not by me.
Mistress laughed and said she couldn’t do that. She didn’t want her favorite bitch whore thrown in jail for de-nutting her bitch hubby. But my wife was ready for her and she said, “that’s just it mistress. I’m not going to do it. I’m going to make him do it. I’m going to make my little fagboy cut off his own pussy eggs and give them to me.”
She then went on in great detail as to just how it would transpire. It was crystal clear to both mistress and me that she had spent much of her time during the last month, imagining just the scenario she was describing to mistress. As she was ****d mercilessly for nearly a month she had obviously spent much of the time dreaming about castrating me. I was there licking mistress feet, but they ignored me completely. It was a though they were discussing the castration of a dog out in the back yard.
But that will be detailed later. Part 2 soon. I promise.
Cubs Win! Cubs Win! Cubs Win the World Series. Game 7 of the series and as a reward mistress made my wife nurse my cock through the entire game. She gave me another beer at the top of each inning and told me to sit and enjoy the game while my wife served as my urinal. I pissed in her mouth three times during the game and fed her my semen twice and when the game was over and we’d watch the boys celebrate their miracle mistress made her beg me to **** her in the ass. That night we all slept in the same bed. We fell asleep with me sucking on mistress titties and my wife’s head nestled between my legs with her mouth on my nuts. I woke up a couple of time through the night and stroked her face until she woke up and took me in her mouth. Pissing in her mouth so casually in the middle of the night was the most intimate act I’ve ever experienced. In the morning we showered together and I felt not only like a real man. I felt like a king.
After breakfast mistress told us that she’d grown up in Cleveland (complete news to both of us) and that she’d been betting on the Indians to win. The bet was with a man she’d met in college who was from Chicago. She handed my wife a bus ticket and told her that she was the bet. She was to leave in two hours and would be gone for some time (she didn’t say how long). She was to give the man her total and complete obedience and devotion. She was to worship him as her god and master. Regardless of her obedience she would be punished often simply for his enjoyment and amusement. Mistress told my wife that no matter what abuse was inflicted she must never forget to thank her master for his attention and beg for more and harder use and abuse.
My wife made one attempt to plead with mistress to arrange some other form of payment but mistress simply slapped her hard across the face and told her to “shut the fuck up and do as you’re told.” Two hours latter, I took her to the bus station dressed in only a light overcoat with no clothing or underwear beneath. Her largest buttplug was in her ass and her id was safety pinned to her nipple. A one hundred dollar bill was safety pinned to her other nipple. Her only makeup was bright red lipstick and some eye shadow. The lipstick tube was pushed into her cunt and mistress told her to be sure to re-apply once she arrived in Chicago. I kissed my wife good bye not knowing how long she would be gone.
Friday, dec. 2nd, mistress called me at work and said that I could pick up my wife at the bus station when I got off work. She also let me know that my wife would actually be arriving before noon, but that I was not allowed to leave work early. In fact, Mistress told me to work an extra 5 hours and not leave until 10 pm. Mistress said that she would be in one of the stalls in the mens room at the bus station and that I should go find her. After four weeks, I was going to see my wife again and I could hardly wait.
I made the best of a bad situation and simply worked as hard as I could and actually managed to get a good week ahead in my routine work. Without the work, I couldn’t have done it. As it was, I was a nervous wreck when I finally walked out of my office. The bus stop is all the way across town and it was nearly 11 when I walked to the end stall in the men’s run. A hand written sign was taped to the door. It said, “Blow Jobs 25¢.”
As I pushed open the door I was confronted with my wife, sitting on a toilet d****d with her overcoat. Her only garment. Safety pinned to one nipple was her id, with the other nipple again pinned with cash. This time however it was a sizable stack of 100 dollar bills. It was clearly quite a few hundred dollars and yet it was still there, dripping with semen. As was her face of course, with quite a lot dripping down onto her titties and even running down her belly. Looking at the bucket between her feet I immediately understood what an enormous quantity of semen must be in her belly. There were hundreds of quarters in the bucket.
But that was by no means the most startling sight. I expected to see a woman ravaged, despondent, in dire need of relief. What confronted me was a woman with a look of utter relaxation and contentment coupled with an intent focus. The focus was my zipper. The moment I stepped into the stall she’d began leaning forward with her hands stretching toward my trousers. Before I had time to even breathe, let alone say a word, she had my belt undone, my zipper run down and was pulling down both my trousers and briefs.
She leaned back and laughed and as she did, the pointed tip of her shoe came slamming directly into my nutsack. “It’s just you dickwad.”
She stood up, shrugged on her coat, grabbed my caged cock and slammed me sideways against the stall wall. “They started r****g me as I got off the bus. They ****d me around the clock, every day, seven days a week. They ****d me, hundreds, maybe thousands of men ****d me constantly from the time I got off the bus until they hosed me down with cold water and put me back on the bus. Do you really understand how little manhood is left in you?”
She was pulling so hard on my cock and she felt so strong pinning me against the wall that I thought she might actually lift me off the ground. By my cock!
“You put your wife, naked, on a bus to an unknown destination and a certainly dangerous environment. You did it with nothing more than an instruction from the bitch who owns us. Any fucking worthless piece of shit fuckwad with at least a microgram of manliness would not have done that. But you did. You are a complete and total pussy.”
As she talked she’d been fumbling with both hands around my cock and her pussy and I was stunned when I felt her remove the lock from my cage and free my cock and balls. She did it with practiced speed and as I heard the cage fall to the bathroom floor, she grabbed my nutsack and yanked hard.
“It was in the bottom of my lipstick. The key I mean. I think maybe mistress anticipated that I might want to have you by the nuts the next time I saw you. Maybe she just figured I would castrate you right now. She’s probably thinking I’ll rip these things off and feed them to you.”
Using both hands, she twisted my nutsack around a full three turns, just like a twist tie on a garbage bag.
“I’m not gonna take these pussy eggs now. That’s right faggot, you don’t even have testicles. These are just pussy eggs and I’m gonna beg mistress every day to let me crush em and cut em off. I want you to listen to me begging mistress to let me do it. And she will eventually. She’ll let me do it. Now take me home fuckwad.”
She turned and walked out past me. I hurriedly picked up the bucket of quarters, making sure to retrieve the dozen or more laying on the floor around the bucket.
With quarter bucket in hand I caught up with my wife - she hadn’t bothered to button her coat and led her to the car. Once inside she gave me and earful on the way home.
She told me that the money pinned to her breast was mine. Twelve one hundred dollar bills. It turns out the guys kept a big jar near her and the guys would toss in money every time they fucked her. Most often it was a quarter and the guy would say, “you can tell your hubby that you’re worth at least a quarter.” But some guys would throw in a buck or two. The guy with the biggest cock. She said it was actually a white guy, but he was the size of Shaquille O’Neil. After he’d sodomized her, stuffed her throat full of his cock and then deposited his sperm in her belly, he’d tossed a five in the jar. He said, “now that I stretched out those fuck holes, they’ll only be worth three bucks next time.” That was her biggest payment.
They really had never let her sleep or rest. After the first few days, she said she would often pass out and lose consciousness, but she always awakened to find herself being still ****d or beaten or pissed on or in. She said she was quite certain that all of that had continued regardless of the responsiveness of her body.
Most of it was unorganized, but there were at least a dozen or more times when she’d been systematically ****d and beaten for the amusement of an audience. She had a good idea of the number because they all began with the hose cleaning. The showers were in a barn with a rope around her neck that forced her on tips toes. They used an actual fire hose. An actual gate valve that was pulled wide open with one pull of the lever. She had to grab the rope around her neck and pull herself up as her feet were knocked out from under her. A hard five minutes with the fire hose and then they’d bring out two regular garden hoses with huge butt plugs connected to the ends. The went up into cunt and anus. They only came out after they’d pumped a full gallon of water into her holes.
She didn’t go on any more about the ****s that night, but she did share one other note. For the entire month that she was gone her diet consisted of piss, beer, cum and dog food mixed with master’s shit. He made her watch as he prepared her only daily dish. He’d shit in her bowl, dump in a cup of dry dog food and then stir it up. He’d hand her the spoon and make her lick it clean before he’d push the bowl in front of her. She was on hands and knees during feeding and while she ate, her ass was caned. One stroke every two or three seconds, until she was done. And not just with the shit. She had to lick the bowl until it was spotlessly clean and then do the same with her fingers. The she’d get down even further and lick the floor all around her, making sure that every last speck of daddy’s shit was truly cleaned up and in her belly. She could only ask them to stop if she were certain everything was clean. Because they would stop immediately when she asks. And they will check. And if she was right, they’d just go back to r****g her. But if she missed a speck. Like she did when her Chicago master farted a fleck of shit onto her forehead and she hadn’t noticed it being there. Then they would cane her breasts for 30 minutes while the guys just kept using her throat and pussy and asshole. She said she quickly became a very meticulous shit eater.
As we were nearing home she confided that the day she’d just spent (it had actually been 17 hours, she had arrived at 6 am) sucking cock and swallowing cum had been a delight. Servicing cock after cock at her own fast pace and for her own enjoyment had been a welcome treat after her ordeal. She told me that she’d come to love the taste of semen. She would never be able to get enough. The taste of semen had come to mean relief. The cock r****g her throat would stop and it would be at least a few moments, maybe even a minute or two before the next one would begin. And she would of course suck that cock with wild abandon trying desperately to get it’s eruption of molten sperm just as quickly as she could. She learned to open her throat and let the r****t have his way. She learned to let her throat relax and be nothing more than a cock sleeve. A fleshlight to use as a jack off tool. While they used her, she would dream of the wonderful explosion of man juice directly into her mouth that she could savor and then swallow as she earned her next moment of peace. She told me all of this in the dreamiest voice I’ve ever heard. My wife had changed and I didn’t know what was in store for me.
When we arrived home, my wife gave mistress a quick repeat of the outline of her visit and then dug deep into her pussy and pulled out a wad of condoms, tied at the end. It was actually four condoms, one inside the other, inside all of which was the zip drive. She told mistress that it was a 128 GB drive and that it was full of over 60 hours of her time spent in Chicago. She said her Chicago master was pretty sure that mistress would agree that he got his money’s worth out of their bet. I would see much more of the video the next night. In Samsung VR vision goggles.
The only other thing that happened that night is that my wife kept her promise and she began pleading with mistress to castrate me. She said she couldn’t live with a fake man in the house. She said I’m just a pussy boy ready to take cock in my shitpussy or mouth whenever I’m told. She didn’t want to ever have to service me again. Her body was meant to be used my real men and real women. Not by faggots. Not by me.
Mistress laughed and said she couldn’t do that. She didn’t want her favorite bitch whore thrown in jail for de-nutting her bitch hubby. But my wife was ready for her and she said, “that’s just it mistress. I’m not going to do it. I’m going to make him do it. I’m going to make my little fagboy cut off his own pussy eggs and give them to me.”
She then went on in great detail as to just how it would transpire. It was crystal clear to both mistress and me that she had spent much of her time during the last month, imagining just the scenario she was describing to mistress. As she was ****d mercilessly for nearly a month she had obviously spent much of the time dreaming about castrating me. I was there licking mistress feet, but they ignored me completely. It was a though they were discussing the castration of a dog out in the back yard.
But that will be detailed later. Part 2 soon. I promise.
7 years ago