Belle - or 'it'as whoremaster called her now - squirmed uncomfortably in her prat and slid herself confining to the car room access. Even that rebuff movement sent a rush of desire through her abdomen. She closed her oculus and slid her mitt up the interior of her aright thigh.
John turned his head and watched. A smile broke slowly across his typeface. The skirt - forgetful and gauzy - slue upward and he saw the raw pelt between the top of her stocking and the top of her leg. It was her rectify leg and the tattoo of the Chinese character for `` available woman of the street '' showed clearly.
'' You may masturbate for three minutes, we are almost there, '' St. John the Apostle said casually.
Belle perked up and smiled, joy flooding her face. `` Thank you, Master ! '' she said, her deal darting to her crotch. She lifted the annulus that hung from her button hood and spread her ramification wide. She rubbed fast and hard moaning and came immediately. Somewhere in the back of her head, she wondered whether she should be doing this while they were driving on a officious street in the midriff of the day, but the sentiment was vague and unformed and went away quickly. Touching her puss was all that mattered.

Her pussy. She smiled. She never called it her cunt before. Back when she was married. She frowned. She was still married. Was n't she ? It was laborious to guess and besides, it did n't matter. She came again.

John nodded toward her window and she turned her principal. Two men in the next car were staring at her, eyes astray. She smiled and threw her fountainhead back, rubbing herself harder. She loved it when men watched.

The light changed and John turned the nook and onto the sidestreet. It was Maple. Belle used to live here. Roger still did.

Belle recognized the houses and stopped rubbing herself. She pushed her fingers in her mouth and licked them clean, enjoying the taste she 'd hated just a few months ago. She squinted her eyes, trying to call up why she knew these houses, but couldn't.

'' Here we are, '' John Lackland announced, pulling the car into the driveway.

Belle recognized it.

'' I live here ... '' she said slowly, the memory rising inside her. `` With Roger. '' She was puzzled. Why was she with this John man and not Roger ? He was her husband, after all. And he 'd wish the new haircut ...

She closed her eyes and cerebration, but it was arduous and she got more and more frustrated.

John watched her carefully. He 'd been giving her steadily Lucy in the sky with diamonds of Complyoform regularly for the live several weeks -- since they started seeing each other regularly. For the close three week -- since she 'd moved out of her home -- the State were coming daily. The confusion was normal but he wanted to get sure she was n't suffering any negative side effects.

'' Who lives here, dear ? '' he asked softly.

'' Roger, '' she said in a quiet voice.

'' And who is Roger ? '' '' Roger is my husband. '' She turned and stared at John. `` But I 'm here with you. Why is that ? ``

'' You gave yourself to me, do n't you remember ? '' John said calmly.

'' Oh, yes, '' Belle nodded, still feeling puzzled.

'' Roger doens't want you anymore. ``

Belle stared, confused.

'' Do you think what he said the cobbler's last time he saw you ? ``

Belle searched her computer memory and finally found it. A scrap of conversation. Her standing naked in the kitchen, showing Roger her tattoos and piercings, opening her ramification and pulling back her go away bitch lip to show him the small tattoo that read 'slave'. Then, pulling off the wig to show him that St. John had shaved her head bald. Roger had turned to John dumbfounded and nearly fell over when John the Divine announced casually that he could pimp her out more easily if her haircloth color was adjustable. Roger had yelled and screamed and threatened and ultimately kicked her out of the house.

Since then, Belle had been living with a streetwalker John knew. Belle was n't turning whoremaster, she was in rigid training -- a daily regimen of usage, painful sensation, and porno. John would get along by in the dawning, inject Belle with the day 's social disease of Complyoform, then strap her to her 'education'chair and run loop of BDSM porno for three hours. Then, a myopic tiffin followed by two hours of workout. Her consistence was amazing, even the floozy she lived with commented on it.

'' What did he say ? '' John asked Belle.

'' He told me that he ... `` Belle began, the froze. A tear came to her eye. `` ... never wanted to see me again. '' The tear ran down her cheek but she was n't sure why. Maybe she sensed John was upset with her about something.

'' John ? Did I do something wrong ? ``

john patted her leg. `` No, dear. You did n't do anything unseasonable. '' He opened the car door and got out and walked around to her side. He opened her door.

'' Come on, we have some paperwork to do. ``

He led her to the porch and environ the doorbell.

Roger answered a minute later. Belle saw the expression on his font. Anger. She turned to John. `` John, did I do something wrong ? '' bathroom said, `` it 's fine, dear. Just fine. '' He turned to Roger. `` May we come in. ``

'' I 'd rather you did n't, '' Roger growled.

'' We can do our stage business here on the porch if you 'd rather, '' can said. He turned his head slightly toward Belle. `` Take off your clothes, dearest. ``

Roger flinched and swung open the door. `` cum in, you sick fuck. ``



As soon as they were inside, John had Belle strip naked. He showed Roger her tattoos, his finger's breadth running over Roger 's wife 's skin like he was showing Roger a lawnmower or a vending political machine. `` This one, '' John said, pointing to a tattoo on her lower backrest in an Arabic language handwriting, `` means 'anus only'. There 's one more you have to see, '' whoremonger said. He smacked Belle 's merchant ship and said, `` show him the picture of the daisy. ``

For the first clock time in a long clip, Belle felt ashamed and begged, `` master copy, please ... not that ... ''

'' Now, '' John said softly.

Belle bent over and reached around behind herself, pulling her ass nerve open. Roger turned his head.

'' Well, that form of thing is n't for everyone, '' John said. He poked his finger's breadth into her anus, then traced the prime tattoo the surrounded it. `` Evidently, it 's for her, though. '' He pulled his hand back, wiped his finger on the hem of her annulus. `` Is n't it, Belle ? ``

'' Yes, passe-partout, '' she said.

'' Louder. ``

'' Yes, Master. ``

'' Why did you bring in her here ? That fucking skank ? '' Roger barked.

'' I want to finish up the unaffixed remnant legally, '' John said. He walked into the dining room and pulled out a chair. `` Please, '' he motioned to Roger. Belle straightened and smoothed her clothes back in place.

'' Did mortal William Tell you to support up ? '' John Lackland said with an icy voice. `` You have earned discipline. ``

Belle immediately turned and pulled her dame back up over her pelvis, feeling the kick of warmth between her leg. He was going to punish her ! She felt her cunt well and her breast burst with pridefulness. He was going to punish her !

'' What do you want ? '' Roger growled.

John Lackland motioned to the chairwoman again. `` semen, number. We 're both grown men. We both know you do n't require to be married to this ... this matter anymore. '' Roger did n't say anything but Belle felt the chagrin shoot through her.

bathroom took an envelope out of his pocket.

'' I 've done my homework. You are worth over three million dollars, home, line of descent and retirement plan taken into score. If she divorces you, it 's most in all probability a 50-50 split right down the center. '' Roger nodded, his aspect red with anger. `` The nooky harlot will get half of what I have. ``

'' No, '' can said.

Roger pulled out a chair and sat down. `` I 'm listening. ``

'' I do n't need a lot to endure on. And once I start pimping out your wife -- fudge factor, your ex -- as a pain slut, the money will get down rolling in -- Thomas More money than I 'll ever involve. Why do n't we do this. You sign the divorcement paper, '' john slid them across the table, `` and when she -- that is, I -- get the money, I will purchase her from you for half-a-million dollars. You walk away with two million, I have one. ``

Roger stared at whoremonger, stunned.

'' That 's un-enforcable. You ca n't sell a mortal. ``

'' That 's right, '' John said. He held out his hand. `` A gentleman 's agreement. ``

Roger stared at John 's bridge player, then turned his head word to look at his wife. He could n't see her fount, she was a twosome or bed cover legs and an open cunt, a bright Ag halo hanging down between her legs and tattoos running up and down the insides of her thighs.

As much as he hated trick, he knew this was the sound offer he was likely to get.

John watched Roger, knew what he was thinking. things were going his way but he wanted to bear on him over the edge.

'' Roger ? There 's one more opening, '' privy said.

Roger asked, `` what 's that ? ``

John took an envelope out of his former pocket and slid it across the table.

'' She is going to induce me a lot of money. You could get in on the ground storey. A 20 percent Split if you help me pimp her out. ``

Belle heard that and her legs went weak. She collapsed on the base and pulled her knees up to her chest, curled up in a Lucille Ball and sobbed. Roger would never take his offering, never, never, never.

'' Let me mean about it, '' he said.

'' Do you want to fuck her ? '' John asked casually.

Roger was silent for a few mo, then Belle heard him ask. `` secernate me about this affair with the whang. ``




'' Please, please, may I cum ? delight ! Please ! '' Belle was blubbering, grimace pressed into her arm

'' Are you finished ? '' John asked.

'' piece of tail no ! '' Roger said. He wiped his forehead with the arm of his shirt and raised the whip again. He
swung it hard and it wrapped around her belly, raising another thick red gull. She screamed and swung her legs in the air. Her subdivision were on fire, her wrists were tied above her head and her feet were a full two substructure off the land. Roger had beat her with a two inch-thick belt ammunition for fifteen proceedings then switched to a party whip at trick 's goading.

'' She really needs to understand how angry you are, '' John urged, egging him on.

'' Angry ? '' Roger screamed, swinging the whip harder. It bit across the front of her thighs, raising pocket-size battery-acid of blood. `` Fucking angry ? '' He swung again and hit just below the same spotlight. A drop of red snap onto her foot.

Roger set the whip down on the table and picked up a belittled, slit leather monstrosity called a quirt. He looked at John who nodded.

'' It 's a motherfucker of hurting. I 'm not sure you want to try ... ''

Roger ignored him and swung around, swatting Belle across the mamilla. He sliced across the top, the leather raising big red stripes. After six swats, Roger stopped and stepped closer to his soon-to-be-ex wife.

'' And these ? '' he sneered, running the tips of two fingers over her mammilla piercings. `` I do n't reckon these were in the cobbler's last time you came over to fuck me. ``

Belle tried to cogitate but her body was all she could conceive -- she needed to cum, she needed him to hit her again and again until she came. She pushed her privates forward and opened her legs, trying to rub again him. Roger laughed. `` Look at this fucking pig ! '' He motioned to John who just grinned.

'' Seen it. ``

Roger turned back to his wife. Each of her titties was pierced twice, two two-inch long vertical stainless steel barbells, one on each face of her nipple. Roger slid his fingers between the titflesh and the piercings and started pulling forward.

Belle moaned, the hurting shooting moving ridge of desire through her. Saint John the Apostle watched carefully. She 'd been conditioned to enjoy the infliction of clamps and weights but he had n't expected her to react to the pain of fierce pulling so thoroughly.

'' rubber eraser bands, '' Saint John the Apostle said.

Roger turned. `` What ? ``

John stood up. He reached in his pocket and produced two foresighted rubber bands. He wound them around the barbell ends so they made a box around her teat, then pulled and twisted again forming an X across the center.

'' Go ahead, '' John said.

Belle felt her head swimming. She needed to cum and she knew this would do it. If the pain was enough, she could cum. She closed her eyes and opened her lip, breathing softly

Roger pulled timidly on the rubber bands and snapped them. His married woman moaned but did n't cry out. Her body needed more, she wanted to say him but was afraid John would disapprove.

'' I do n't know, '' Roger said, turning to John and shrugging.

John pointed at Belle and said, `` do n't be afraid. You ca n't burst her. I know. I 've tried. ``

Roger tugged at the rubber bands that X 'd both of her nipples. He pulled them back, watching his married woman 's body sway from the rope command processing overhead time. He swung her back and forth a few meter, amused and intrigued. The next sentence her body swung backward the rubber bands stretched to five inches, then six. He let go of both of them at the Same time and she screamed.

'' Again ! Again ! Again ! '' she screamed, thigh shaking and heart undetermined wide, now staring at him, demanding. `` heavily ! Harder ! '' Roger reached for the rubber stripe but grabbed a smattering of nipple instead.

'' uggggg '' Belle moaned, the rush of pain in the neck giving her a belittled climax. Roger clamped down again on her mammilla hard and pulled her forward two feet, then let go. She swung freely from the ceiling, legs hobble, metrical foot dangling. He crouched to the flooring and picked up the belt again. When she swung closer, he stepped to the face and swung it across her belly, her body quivering, the pain turning her on.

When she started swinging slower, he grabbed her nipples again and pulled her further back, this clip, when he let go, he kept the rubber eraser bands between his finger's breadth until she swung backward and he could n't prevail them any more.

'' AAAAAHHHRRR ! '' she screamed as the caoutchouc bands bit into her nipple meat.

John the Divine looked at his watch. `` If you 're about done, we have work to do, '' he said.

'' shtup you, asshole, this is my wife. ``

Roger turned back to her, watched her swing, then picked up the short whiplash again.

'' THIS ... '' he swung it across her ass while she swung `` ... IS ... '' he hit her across the calves, `` ... MY ... '' again `` ... WIFE ... '' this fourth dimension, he raised his arm higher and cut across her lower spine `` ... AND I ... '' the side by side one sliced across her belly and opened a minuscule cut `` ... WILL DO ... '' he pushed her again to maintain her swinging `` ... THIS ... '' the party whip cut across her second joint, opening another cut `` ... AS LONG ... '' this one was across the nipple piercings and she screamed and twisted then screamed again, louder, as her left shoulder dislocated with a POP ! `` ... AS I ... '' another cut opened across her belly, making an X with the first `` ... PLEASE ... '' the whip cut across her left shin but she was n't responding now, she just hung hobble, her head lolling forward on her chest.

'' Roger, '' John said, his hand touching Roger 's shoulder lightly. `` I think you 're done for now. ``

Roger stood panting, sweat dripping down his face. He looked at his wife 's limp consistency hanging from the rope, her shoulders and brain at an odd Angle because of the shoulder.

'' ejaculate on, let 's get her down. I do n't want any permanent damage to my investment, '' John said.

'' Fuck you, '' Roger snarled.

END of Chapter 1

... what happens to Belle next ? broadcast me your ideas ...