My Wife, My Slave

It's in the seat next to me: my wife. It's clad in a skin-tight full body suit, appearing as a statue of black latex. In fact, with its arms folded flat against its back, and wrapped so tightly in the bodysuit as to be immobile, it very nearly resembles the armless Venus. The only discontinuity in the image of a latex statue is the chin-length dark hair, carefully groomed to fall naturally around the otherwise encased head; the red cloth covering the slave's eyes; and its mouth, held invitingly open by a ring gag.

From the neck of the slave's suit dangles an elegant leash, which dips over the seat between us, and ends in my hand, holding the wheel of my car. My wife and I are on a special trip, and it wouldn't do to take my pet out without keeping it on a leash.
My eyes stray from the road a moment, fixating on my slave. I linger briefly, admiring how tightly its arms are folded back—that must be quite painful by now. We've already been on the road for several hours. After checking the road, I look back again. The suit was custom made to fit my slave, and its small breasts are each wrapped individually. The craftsmanship is so fine, that even though its left breast is slightly larger, each fits perfectly into the suit.

I make note of an exit about a mile down the road. There are other exits, much closer to my destination. But after hours of freeway driving, I could use some time on a nice, underused, country road. I merge into the appropriate lane and steal one last glance at my slave. Its open mouth gives me a lovely view of my wife's throat and tongue. The view tempts me.

As I pull onto the empty road which runs parallel to the freeway, I calmly move the leash to my other hand, and use my now-free right hand to reach across the seat between it and I. The cloth over my slave's face does not completely obstruct its vision, but merely renders everything it sees as a blotchy red haze. It recoils a bit, uncertain of what is approaching its face. Then the slave feels me take hold of the hair at the back of its head, and relaxes. It doesn't fight me as I push its head down into my crotch.

I hold my wife's face there for awhile, pressing its mouth and nose against my pants, and letting it inhale my scent. Through my pants I can feel it desperately grasping at my already firm member with its tongue and lips, futily trying to gain purchase. It whimpers a bit, frustrated by its inability to fulfill its purpose. I'm proud of my slave's enthusiasm, and ruffle its hair a bit before I reach down to unfasten the hook on my slacks.

Quick as a lick, the slave manages to get its mouth around my shaft. My wife has been well trained, using its lips, tongue, and throat to great effect. I've sometimes left the ring gag in its mouth for days at a time, and its become extremely deft at using what mobility the gag leaves it to perform a slave's duties better than most women could if they had four tongues, and a friend tending to their master's scrotum.

I keep one hand on the wheel, still gripping the leash, while I rest the other on the soft hair at the back of my slave's head. It has some difficulty moving its head at first, due to the awkward angle afforded by the seats of a car. It tries turning at the hip, sitting sideways, and kneeling on the passenger seat in order to find the best angle. Without the use of its arms, my slave sometimes has difficulty raising itself off of my cock once it's gone down. So while it tries to figure out the best positioning, I do my best to help my wife by gripping its hair and guiding it on and off of my shaft.

Finally it settles on kneeling on the passenger side floor, and starts to find a rhythm. I've spent months training my wife, and it's a good learner. It's only been a year as of last week since I took my wife's virginity, and now my slave was bobbing, slurping, and licking like it had been doing so for every boy since Jr. High. It truly has a talent for its work, and I quickly find myself holding back lest things end too soon. I've told it before that it's too enthusiastic at the start, that it should slow down and allow its master to enjoy the experience longer.
It needs to be reminded.

I adjust the leash in my hand, finding the small button affixed to the end. I depress it, and my slave stiffens and twitches as a small electric shock is delivered to its erogenous zones. I feel its jaw attempting to snap closed, but the rubber-cased ring gag stops that reaction from causing any harm.

My wife remembers its lessons, and slows its movements accordingly. It pays greater attention to my testicles, rolling them over its tongue and attempting to engulf my entire scrotum in its mouth. The slave knows better than to completely neglect my shaft of course, but relegates itself to gentle teasings with its tongue, twisting the head across its palette, or making a line from the base to the crown with only the tip of its tongue.

Fifteen minutes later, a glance at the nearby roadsigns tells me that we've only got another few miles to go, so I decide to wrap things up. I take hold of the slave's hair, as it tantalizes the head of my phallus with a slow, deliberate lick, and force its down around my cock. As I said, my wife is a very well trained slave, and despite its surprise by my sudden action, it doesn't gag as I force myself past the tonsils and deep into its throat. My slave even retains the presence of mind to tease my scrotum with its tongue as I force its lips to kiss my pubic bone.

Still gripping its hair, I pull it back up, and push it down again. This time it's prepared. On the way up it's got its lips locked around my shaft, suckling like a calf, and on the way down its tongue dances around my member. I continue to masturbate with my wife's head for a third, fourth, and fifth stroke before I'm unable to suppress my release any longer.

With my shaft burred up to its stiff curly hair in my wife's mouth, I depress the button on my wife's leash a second time. It spasms as electricity jolts its most sensitive areas. The slave's throat muscles contract around my phallus, and I empty myself into it, shooting my seed directly into my wife's belly. My wife coos with satisfaction as its master's sperm splashes into its stomach.

Thusly spent, I extract myself from its throat, and allow my wife to clean me. It attentively laps the remaining goo from my scrotum and penis, still stiff after my exertions. My slave giggles giddily as it does so, smiling as much as the ring gag will allow.

When it's done, it leans its head against my shoulder and sighs contentedly, engulfed in the afterglow of its service. I put my arm around my wife. She has been a good slave thus far, has learned her place well. Now I must test my slave's devotion to her place. I'm not worried, there's not a doubt in my mind that it will pass this test, but it won't truly understand its place until the test is complete.

I bring the car to a stop, having reached my intended destination.

“Alright,” I tell my slave. “Lets go say hello to your parents!”