She knew that she was to keep everything to herself, telling nothing to her husband, and even keeping silent to Those that she would come into contact with. She was to be the submissive, completely. And she was. It was more than just an act...it was now who she was; and she knew it.She watched as her husband fell into a deep slumber. Watched as the two men came around to strip him of his clothing, bind him up carefully, and then carry him out to their car that was now in the garage. She then obediently stripped off her own clothing, and knelt down before Doc, holding her arm out willingly to accept her own d**gging. It almost seemed euphoric, the whole situation, as she felt the haze come over her, fogging her mind into a driftless void.Voices haunted my 'sleep'. Pictures were painted in my mind, pictures of my wife as a slave, serving as a submissive sexual slut. Pictures of Cocks flooded my mind, their power over my wife as well as myself, images of myself kneeling and worshipping. There were two boys in particular that she just didn’t seem to be able to pick between, yet they were very different. One of the boys was named Bobby. He clearly still looked like a little boy and I don’t know if he’d even started puberty by then. I remember one day in particular; the phone rang and I answered it. This light, little voice asked for Cathy so I called out the Cathy that one of her girlfriends was on the phone for her. After she got off the phone, Cathy came to me and said, “Daddy, that wasn’t one of my girlfriends. It was Bobby.” His voice hasn’t even begun to change yet.The other boyfriend was the opposite of Bobby. He was a tall, good-looking kid named Christian. At twelve, he was probably at least 5”8” with a mop of dark, curly hair. His uncle was a professional football and played quarterback in the NFL for a few years. His mother was smoking hot. I’d met her a few times at functions at their school. A simply stunningly beautiful woman. Christian.
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