Pay-per-view porn: Diary of a Slutwife

I browsed for a while until a title jumped out at me. The description promised a steamy look into the life of a married woman with a certain lifestyle. The plot centers on a woman whose husband has declared her to be free use for all his friends, colleagues, and guests in his home. The cast list included precisely zero names I recognized which was fine with me; it was the subject matter that I cared about.

Accepting the charge for the movie, I turned the volume up enough that Jane may have been able to hear it from the bathroom, and just lay back to enjoy and contemplate. The movie didn't waste any time setting the stage or introducing the characters. Within minutes, the lovely, professional woman on screen had been roughly stripped by two men and was being spit-roasted on the coffee table while her husband watched and chatted casually with a third man.

I could live this life, I realized, if I wanted it.

Jane wandered slowly into the room, naked and glorious. Her damp hair was clipped up on her head with one of those large toothy things. She had a curious expression on her face as she looked at the T.V. "Are... are you watching porn?"

I simply pointed to the space on the couch by my hip. "Sit. Watch. Don't interrupt."

Looking more unsure of herself than I'd perhaps ever seen her, she complied. Obeying me was quickly becoming second nature to her, which was good. I laid my hand to rest on her thigh, caressing her soft skin idly.

While Jane watched in silence, figuring out the nature of the relationship dynamics of everyone on screen, I watched her. She was a smart woman, and she quickly realized I was trying to tell her something. She watched as the woman, whose wedding ring was frequently and prominently displayed throughout her debasement, would look to her husband for guidance or mercy only for him to calmy direct her attention back to her guests with a dismissive gesture. On his command, she would return to her duties until all the men, her husband included, were fully satisfied and she was a naked, cum-covered mess. All the men remained pristinely dressed in their suits.

Jane was transfixed by all of it. I couldn't tell if she was excited or mortified, but I made her watch the entire scene, which ended with the husband commanding the wife to serve the men drinks and then clean up her mess, and to go tidy herself up in case anyone wanted to use her again, stating that her sloppy appearance isn't enticing anyone. The wife obeys it all dutifully.

I paused the film, expecting breakfast to show up any minute.

Jane turned to look at me, eyes slightly wide. She was breathing a little faster than usual and I still couldn't make out her mood. "Why did you show me this?"

"Isn't it obvious, love? That's going to be you. That obedient cock-sleeve whore of a wife. The perfect hostess who gives her all to her man and anyone else he wants her to. That's going to be you." I spoke firmly, with supreme confidence. I almost wanted her to defy me and give me a reason to punish her.