As I knelt sucking my owner's cock, I could hear my wife noisily rimming out his asshole a few inches away. He liked it to be noisy when he had his ass eaten. Liked to hear a lot of slurping. She was trained well and was going at it like a champ.

Our master had stopped over our house un-announced earlier that morning wanting "a little sport," with his slaves. Fifteen minutes later, my wife and I, both, collared, naked and plugged, were on our knees attending to our present task of oral entertainment.

We had played this game before. Periodically, master would snap his fingers, which was our signal to switch places. The slave who was slowest reconnecting mouth to master-cock or master-ass would receive a hard swat on the ass from the crop. This morning, I seemed to be winning; I had only felt the sting three times. We had been sucking and slurping for about 30 minutes.

So, the obvious question is: "How did it come to this?" How did a married suburban couple in their forties come to be owned by a 33 year-old man who lived down the street? To understand how we got here, you have to first understand where we came from.

I am a forty-four year-old physician. My wife of 20 years is forty-two. We met in college and were married right after she graduated. She was with me through medical school, residency and fellowship. I now work as an attending physician at a major academic medical center.

We are both fit and athletic. My wife would definitely be classified as a MILF in the current vernacular. We live in a large brick colonial home in an affluent suburb. Our two k**s are grown and in college. Up until our owner took possession of us six months ago, we were a successful, happy, loving couple with a solid marriage and a mildly kinky sex life.

The kink in our marriage always revolved around BDSM, which had been a long-time hobby of mine. Ever since I was a k**, I fantasized about tying women up an using them for my pleasure. Throughout college, all my girlfriends eventually wore a collar in the bedroom. This was my kink. This is what I liked.

When I met my wife, things were no different. Well before we were married, she was aware of my proclivities. She became a willing participant in my kinky games. She wore my collar long before she wore my ring.

And so it went throughout our marriage. We had fun. We raised our k**s. I climbed the ranks of academic medicine. We had plenty of vanilla sex, but always made time for the darker pursuits of slave-training, bondage and role-play. I was always the master. She was always the slave.

When our second c***d went off to college two years ago, our BDSM kink re-emerged to the fore-front because we now had the house to ourselves. I took to filming our "sessions" with my iPhone and carefully photographing the "money shot." I had dozens of pictures of my collared wife smiling through a thick gloppy mask of cum.

Years ago, I had given her the slave-name of "slavecunt." I had a large dog tag made with her pet name and she wore it on her collar proudly. In her pictures, her name tag was always displayed prominently for all to see. I joked with her that my new favorite hobby was participatory bondage photography. This, it turned out, would be our downfall.

It's funny how a single act of absent mindedness can change your life. I was at the local Starbucks in town. I never go to Starbucks. I hate their coffee, but here I was. I was on my cell phone with my wife trying to get her order straight when I got to the front of the line. I put the phone down on the counter and stumbled through my order.

It wasn't until I pulled in to our driveway ten minutes later that I realized I didn't have my phone. Desperately, I checked my pockets, holding the tray of cooling coffees in one hand, but to no avail. The phone was gone. I retraced by my steps in my mind. It quickly became apparent that I must have left the phone on the counter at Starbucks. I drove back as fast as I could, but it was too late. The phone was gone.

I had a momentary flash of panic about my lost phone when I thought about the x-rated pictures and videos of my wife in various stages of sexual use and degradation stored in its digital memory, but I was re-assured by the fact that the iPhone was password-protected. You couldn't open the phone to view the files if you didn't know the four-digit password. I felt pretty secure that my password would hold up.

So the phone was gone, so what? All my data was backed up on the cloud and would be easy to transfer to my new phone. I even became a little excited about the prospect of buying the new and latest iPhone. Maybe I would go a little flashy and pick up the gold model this time. All was right with the world.

Or so I thought until there was a knock at our door two weeks later.

It's rare nowadays for your doorbell to ring. Think about it. When was the last time someone besides the UPS guy actually walked up to your house and rang the bell. It was a Saturday morning. My wife and I were both reading the paper, drinking coffee and generally looking forward to a lazy day with no plans or commitments. We both looked at each other with something like alarm when we heard the sound of the bell.

She stayed seated while I walked to the door and looked out the window on to the front porch. I saw a pleasant looking man in his early thirties smiling back at me through the glass. He was clean-cut and fit with a kind, open face. He stood with an easy and confident grace. He was pointing at my iPhone which he held in hand.

Smiling myself, I opened the door.

"Hello," I said. "Is that my phone?"

His smile got even brighter as he said, "It is indeed, sir, if your name is Stephen Langdon, that is. I'm sorry, Dr. Langdon."

"Yes, that's me," I said. "Please come in."

He stepped in to the foyer and I closed the door behind him.

He handed me the phone and I turned it on. Somehow it was still charged. I saw the familiar password screen and punched in my code. Everything was as it should be.

"I don't know how to thank you enough," I said. "Mr..."

"Mike Stratton," he said. "I live right down the road. As soon as I figured out the address, I knew exactly where to bring it."

"I don't know how to thank you, Mr. Stratton, " I said shaking his hand.
By now, my wife had heard the commotion and was standing in the hall smiling at the two of us.
I gestured at the man. "Honey, this is Mr. Stratton. He found my phone. Mike, This is my wife Nicole."

He looked at my wife and smiled. He paused for a beat until he had our full attention. "That's funny. I thought her name was slavecunt," he said evenly.

I froze. Out of the corner of my eye I saw my wife put her hand to her mouth. Time seemed to stand still.

"How do you know...I mean what the hell are you talking about?" I said calmly, but I was already starting to panic. Alarm bells were going off in my head.

He changed before us. Not the earnest young man now. There was an edge to his voice when he spoke, almost a tone of menace.

"Oh, I know a lot about you, Dr. Langdon," he said. "For example, I know you are 44 years old. I know this because, unbelievably, you used the year of your birth as your iPhone password, 1970. Incredibly lame. Not very good security if you ask me."

He walked past me in to the kitchen. My wife moved out of his path. He kept talking as he walked.
"I know you work at the University Medical Center and that you are chairman of your department. I know you have two k**s in college and that both you and your wife are considered pillars of the community."

Both my wife and I trailed him in to the kitchen. He opened a cabinet and took down a coffee cup, which he filled from the pot. He sipped. "Oh, that's good coffee," he said. "Did you make it, slavecunt?"

My wife looked stunned. "Yes," she said, then added absurdly, "Thank you."

He looked at my wife as he continued, "And I know, Dr. Langdon, that you and your wife like to dress up and play silly bondage games. I have the pictures to prove it."

My wife and I looked at each other. So there it was. Out in the open now.

My wife spoke, her voice a hoarse whisper. "What do you want?" she said.

"Nicole, be quiet," I said. "We didn't do anything wrong. We're two consenting adults. We're married for God's sake."

I looked at Stratton. "Now, if you don't mind, I would like you to leave our house."

"Fine with me," said Stratton. As he walked to the door, he took his phone out of his pocket and turned it on. "I have the email cued up and ready to go. Would you like to watch me send it to your k**s and colleagues? I think I picked a good snapshot to start. Many more will follow, of course."

He held the phone up so both my wife and I could see the image. It showed my wife naked and collared on her knees with her hands cuffed behind her back. Her face was covered in cum. She was cleaning the head of my cock. The name, "slavecunt" was clearly visible on her dog tag. There were tears in her eyes. I recalled the session when the photo was taken. Her eyes were tearing not because she was crying, but because we had been working on her deep-throat training which made her gag, but looking at the picture it just looked like she was sobbing.

"You wouldn't dare," I said. "I would call the police."

"Call whoever you want," said Stratton. No crime is being committed here. These emails will be sent from your wife's email account, along with a rambling and desperate narrative about how she was f***ed to participate in these activities against her will because you threatened to beat her if she didn't."

I stared at him, my hands opening and closing at my sides.

"I also have all the doctors in your department on the email list. I'm sure your colleagues will rally around your wife and leap to her defense."

"You know it's not true!," I snapped.

"I don't know anything of the sort. To me, your wife certainly looks coerced in many of the those images," said Stratton. "In any event, I'm sure all the facts will eventually come out during the very thorough and very public investigation. Universities are very touchy about domestic v******e nowadays, especially when they involve a prominent member of the faculty. I'm sure they will leave no stone unturned."

I stood pondering my position. In my mind, I reviewed the catalog of stolen images. I considered what would happen if those images were made public. We would be ruined socially, of course, but I thought we could survive that and eventually move on. The professional consequences, on the other hand, would be swift and devastating. I had been involved in academic politics for my entire professional life and I knew how things worked. If those pictures were sent to the physicians I worked with, my career would be over. I would never work in academic medicine again.

I sighed. "What do you want?" I said.

"I thought you were kicking me out of your house," said Stratton.

"What do you want?" I said again.

"I'm not sure I want anything. I think I'm just going to send the pictures and be on my way." He reached for the door knob.

"Please don't go," I said. My tone was getting plaintive. "I'm sure we can work something out."

"What do you have to offer?" said Stratton.
"Is it money you want?" I said.
He laughed. "I have more money than you will make in your lifetime, Dr. Langdon. I sold my hedge fund, two years ago for $40 million. I don't want your money."

Then it dawned on me. I looked over at my wife. "Would you like to use my wife?" I said.

"Steve!" Nicole shouted. "What are you saying?"

I turned to face her. "Honey, what's the big deal? He is a nice looking guy, let's just give him what he wants and he will give us the pictures, right Mr. Stratton?"

"I don't want your wife," he said.

"There must be something you want, or you wouldn't be here," I said.

"Well, now that you mention it, I do have a hobby you could help me out with," he said.
"What kind of hobby?" I said.

He looked me straight in the eye and said, "I train couples to be my sex slaves."

I heard my wife gasp. I stood blinking with my mouth open.

"What?" I said.

"Sex slaves," he said conversationally. "I've been doing it for a long time, since college actually. It's quite fun to take a normal vanilla couple and turn them in to first class sex slaves. I've trained six couples so far. The married ones are the best. I love to make one spouse participate in the degradation of the other. I find the humiliation to be exquisite. Of course, all my other couples came to me voluntarily. You two would be my first non-consensual slaves. I'm quite looking forward to it."

My wife and I looked at each other. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I looked at Stratton. He looked so normal. I couldn't believe he was seriously proposing that my wife and I become his slaves.

"Why are you doing this to us?" my wife wailed.

"Because I can, you dumb cunt," he said.

I had been standing stock still, trying to make sense of what I just heard.

"Both of us?" I said.

"Oh yes. It's a package deal. I would own you both."

"But I'm not gay or bi or whatever you call it," I said.

"Neither am I actually," he said. "But I do like to use my male slaves. That's the whole point, right? I have found that straight males can become excellent cocksuckers when given the proper motivation and training. Don't be such a homophobe, Steve."

It was my wife who spoke next. She was looking straight ahead. Her tone was detached. "For how long, Mr. Stratton? How long would we have to... participate."

"That's an excellent question, slavecunt," he said. "I've given it a lot of thought and I think that one year should be enough. After that, you can choose to continue to serve or you can go on your way and never see me again. I'm not a monster, after all. I'm not looking to ruin your lives. Just having a little fun."

He turned to me. "Think of it as a great sexual adventure, Steve. Who knows? You might enjoy yourself. You've been playing your little pretend bondage games for years. I'm offering you a chance to try the real thing, albeit from a different angle. I'll tell you what. Why don't you two lovebirds talk about it for a few minutes and let me know your decision. I'll be in the kitchen."

With that, he turned and walked back to the kitchen and sat down at the marble counter. He was humming to himself.

My wife turned to me and whispered fiercely, "We have to do it."

"Are you crazy?" I said. "I'm not going to suck some guy's cock. No way!"

"Shut up, Steve. You just offered to give me to him, so I don't want to hear your bullshit. This is all your fault!" she hissed. "You and your stupid bondage games. I told you not to take those pictures. And your pass code? 1970? Really? You deserve everything you get for your stupidity. No matter what happens, remember it was YOU who did this to us. Not me."

I was stunned. Was she really considering taking him up on his obscene offer?

Before I could speak, she went on. "We both know those pictures can't come out. Listen, be practical. I know you're not gay and this is not going to make you gay. We just have to do whatever it takes to keep him happy for one year. Then we get our lives back."

"I can't do it," I said.

"You have to. If you don't do it, our life is over, don't you see that? This is your mess and it's up to you to clean it up. We are going to march in there and accept his terms and that's all there is to it. If not, I'm leaving you today. I for one do not intend to hang around and face the consequences if those pictures are sent to our friends."

Again, I pondered my options. I realized there was no way out.

And that was basically it.

My wife and I walked in to the kitchen and stood in front of our new master.

"I have a couple questions," I said.

"Ask away, Steve-o," he said.

"How does it work? I asked.

"I'm glad you asked, Steve. First and foremost, both you and your wife will be safe and healthy. d**g and disease-free all the way. You will not be permanently marked during your service. Also, your identity will always be protected. Nobody will ever know that you served me."

"What are the rules?" I asked.

"There is only one real rule, Steve: Obey me at all times. Any hesitation or disobedience will be met with swift punishment," he said.

"Okay, we'll do it," I said.

"Do what?" he said.

"We will be your slaves for one year," I said.

"Not good enough, Steve. Why don't you both get on your knees and ask me nicely if I will train you as my sex slaves. And from now on, call me "sir."

My wife and I slowly knelt in front of the man who now controlled our lives.

"You first, Steve," he said.

I bowed my head, so I wouldn't have to look in to his eyes. "Please train me as your sex slave, sir."

"You'll do everything I say, Steve? No back-talk? No hesitation?" he asked.

"Yes sir."

"You want to learn to suck my cock, Steve? In front of your wife?"

I felt my face burning. "Yes sir," I said.

"Ask me, Steve. Ask me nicely to train you to suck cock."

I couldn't believe this was happening. Where was my quiet normal life? An hour ago, I was drinking coffee and reading the paper. Now I was on my knees in front a complete stranger begging him to let me suck his cock as my wife of twenty years looked on.

"Please, sir," I said. "Please teach me to suck your cock."

"Okay, Steve. You're in. I accept you for training. You may kiss my feet."

"Thank you, sir," I heard myself saying. Then I bent forward on my knees and kissed the top of each shoe.

He turned to my wife. "Your turn, slavecunt."

She didn't hesitate. Unlike me, she looked him directly in the eye. "Please, sir. Will you train me to be your sex slave?"

"Of course, slavecunt. I accept you for training."

"Thank you, sir," she said. Without being asked, she leaned forward and kissed his feet as well.

And that was all there was to it. From that point forward, my wife and I knew that our lives were no longer our own. We were now owned by another human being.

"Let's get started," he said. "Please strip so I can inspect my property."

My wife and I both stripped quickly and stood before him self-consciously. It was incredibly humiliating to be standing naked in front of another man with my wife at my side.

"Legs apart, hands behind your head," he said. "This is your inspection position. When you hear the command 'inspection,' this is the position you should assume..."

Thus began our first training session as an owned couple. Over the past six months, we had dozens of similar sessions. My wife and I were now well trained in the art of sexually pleasing our owner. I did indeed become an accomplished cocksucker. My ass was trained to please his cock as well. We were used at least three times a week by our owner. He also lent us out to his friends, both male and female. My wife learned to eat pussy. We served as entertainment at dinner parties and weekend retreats. My old life seemed like a distant memory.

I was snatched out of my reverie by a sharp swat on my ass. "Snap to it, cum-bucket," my owner barked.

I was still sucking his cock. My wife was still slurping his asshole. I looked up and re-doubled my efforts. I was deep-throating his eight inch length, breathing easily through my nose. My hands were cupping his balls gently, almost daintily.

"We have to finish up," he said curtly. "I have a tee time in an hour. I think I'll use your wife's ass today. Get her ready for me, cum-bucket."

Both my wife and I detached ourselves from our master. Dutifully, she got down on all fours facing away from our owner. I reached back and spread her ass cheeks. Her plug was firmly seated in her asshole. I removed the plug from her ass and inserted it in her open mouth. I inspected her asshole. It was dilated and well-lubricated.

Master knelt down behind my wife, his cock sticking straight out before him. "Lube her up a little more, cum-bucket," he said.

I leaned in and licked my wife's asshole. I laved around the edges and inserted my tongue in to the open hole. Before long, she was shiny with my spit.

"That's good enough," he said. "Put me in."

I reached out and gently grabbed master's cock and slowly guided the head in to my wife's waiting asshole. Her ass, like mine, was well trained, so his cock slid in easily without much resistance.

I remained kneeling, watching him piston in and out of my wife's asshole. I saw her clenching her ass cheeks as we had been trained to do help milk his cock.

"Oooh, so good slavecunt," he said. "It won't be long cum-bucket."

I watched our owner fuck my wife's ass for about 10 minutes. She was grunting quietly around the plug in her mouth. Her ass moved in rhythm with his thrusts. Finally, he pulled out and brought his cock to my mouth. My wife turned on her knees to face us.

"Finish me off, cum-bucket. Come and get your reward."

As my wife watched, I took him in to my mouth. I could taste my her ass on his cock. He fucked my throat for a solid minute, then pulled out and stroked his cock in front of my open mouth.

"Here it comes, cum-bucket ," he said. "Look at me and open wide."

I looked up into his eyes as he stroked himself. He grunted as he began to spurt his cum in to my mouth. I felt the gobs of semen land on the floor of my mouth, tasting the familiar saltiness.

Then he was done.

"Swallow," he said, still looking me in the eye.

I swallowed without breaking eye contact.

"Say it," he said.

"Thank you for your cum, master," I said.

Without being asked, I took him in my mouth and began cleaning him like the obedient cock-whore I had become.

I looked over at my wife. She was smiling.

To be continued...