Friday - Time to Start

Eric hops in his car and punches the address into the GPS, then drives off. “I wonder what this is all about?” he asks himself as he loosens up his tie. After about a 1/2 hour drive, he pulls up to the house, noticing a few cars parked in the suburban street, and gets out and somewhat nervously rings the doorbell.

He’s greeted by two large black men, dressed in black, studded leather straps across their chests, chaps, and g-strings. They grab him by the arms and close the door, leading him down a set of stairs. “What the FUCK?!” Eric thinks to himself. They take him to the basement, and the only thing he can make out is a large, red leathered covered bench in the middle of the dark room that stands a few feet off the floor, several overhead lights shining directly on it. The men take him to a chair and shove him into it, then one takes his arms and puts them around his back and handcuffs him to the back legs of the chair. They then do the same to his legs, and Eric finds himself unable to move as the men back away into the darkness of the room. “What the hell?” he thinks to himself. “I wanted Sam to get dominated, not ME.” He hears the doorbell chime, and then some light footsteps coming down the stairs.

Samantha slowly emerges, walking into the basement, looking fantastic. She’s wearing a short blue dress with white polka dots on it, along with white stockings and high heels, her long raven hair up in a ponytail. She looks around, wide eyed, and sees Eric cuffed to the chair. “Wha-what’s going on?” she asks timidly, starting the show for her husband. “Come forward, slut!” a woman’s voice rings out harshly, and Samantha steps forward into the room. “You are a slut. You love being a nasty little slut, and now you will be treated like the slut that you are.” the woman’s voice says. “What is going on?” Samantha asks, pretending to be a little afraid. “Silence! You will not talk unless I tell you you can! Is that understood, slut?” the woman’s voice rings out. “Y-yes,” Samantha answers, only to be met with “No! You are a naughty slut who doesn’t listen! Try again or you will be SEVERELY punished!” Samantha fake cowers a bit at this, and then replies, “Y-yes, Mistress.”

“Good. That was a good little slut,” the woman says. “You are a slut. And now you will be treated like the slut that you are. Boys, put her in position.” The two black men from earlier step into the light of the room, missing their g-strings so now their large black cocks are hanging out, and grab Samantha and drag her over towards the bench. “C-can I see you, Mistress?” “What for, slut?” the woman says, irritated. “I want to see you. And I am NOT a slut!” Samantha says, and quickly gets slapped across the face by one of the black men. “THAT’S what happens when you don’t do as you’re told,” the woman’s voice barks out. “And you ARE a slut. You are a cum guzzling little married slut, and we’re going to prove what a slut you are starting RIGHT NOW. Boys . . .”