Pre Nup 01

Prenup, Part 01

Nikki Sheldon here. Frequent readers in this forum will know that, for the past few years, I've been working as a slave shrink in East Texas. The population of legal slaves in the (mostly southern) United States has grown so rapidly since the 34th Amendment that my field is swamped with work. Although my mentor and partner, Harold (Hal) Walker, is now semi-retired, we have so many patients that we've taken two additional slave psychiatrists into our firm. (Finding qualified partners is easier said than done—as I explained in my original story, "Learning Slave Psychiatry," a Slave Psychiatrist in most states must be an MD and Ph.D. with at least six months wearing a slave collar. Oh, well, at least my time as a sex slave gave me plenty to talk about during Freudian analysis!!)

Why do we have so many patients? Well, even if a slave is not mistreated physically, the experience of having no control over your own body is so shocking that many slaves, especially new ones, need significant help and advice to handle it, which is why I'm on retainer at several slave markets. Then there's the entire phenomenon of FINO (Free In Name Only), a kind of personal services contract that the Texas legislature invented to regularize the number of legally free, primarily female, adults who choose to enter into a contract that requires them, for up to five years, to act AS A SLAVE in serving that individual's significant other, often a spouse, without losing their basic identity and property. I and some of my friends get a lot of giggles, not to mention orgasms, out of playing slaves to our spouses on evening and weekends. Not that it was a new sensation in my case—heck, the first time I met my future hubby, Philip ("Paul") Sousa, he had just purchased my cheerleader butt at auction and was about to use me as a submissive at his BDSM club. ANYWAY, for once Austin (which has a deplorable tendency to practice medicine without a license) did things correctly, and required that anyone who wanted to sign a FINO contract must first be counseled by a licensed slave shrink, with said shrink then appearing on the individual's National Slave Registry entry as guardian ad litem. At least two dozen times over the past several years, I've been summoned to emergency rooms where one of my FINO patients was physically or mentally wrecked. Just the possibility of such midnight calls means that I have to spread my patients out with my new partners. (By contrast, no one receives such counseling before assigning their freedom to a creditor or committing a crime that leads to legal enslavement.)

But lately, the use of FINO Prenuptial Agreements has just swamped us. Some background: with the flood of young people, often bankrupted by college or credit card debt, slaves have become much more common in the "service" industries. Young people in particular don't regard sex with a slave as any form of adultery or infidelity because the slave is more like a smart canine (the B-word!) than an actual human being. Lots of up-and-coming young businessmen and professionals like to end a weekend round of golf with a visit to the Tenth Hole—only now, that should be called the Tenth, Eleventh, and Twelfth Holes. Yeah, you got the image: many upscale golf courses have what amounts to a slave brothel in the clubhouse, so that by the time that the (mostly male) golfers make it home to their spouses, they've all discharged their libidos AND their balls into one or more nubile young slaves.

Now, for myself, that isn't such a big deal. Since I'm already on a FINO contract with my beloved Paul, I like to spend Saturdays as his ball-girl, in both senses. First, dressed in a bikini and tennis shoes, I'm the caddy for his match, getting a lot of sun and a little exercise hauling his clubs around. It gives Paul a thrill to bet ME (or at least my openings) on the game, with the winner in his foursome getting his choice of my holes to "ball" while Paul (and sometimes the other golfers) used me as well. Nothing is off-limits so long as they use condoms. This gets everybody off, after which Paul pushes me into the shower, plugs both of my lower openings, and leads me out to his sports car with my hands cuffed and my neck (or sometimes nipples—ouch!) on a leash. Then we get round two of balling at home.

For most women, however, the idea that their young, virile husbands are railing golf slaves instead of their wives is, to put it mildly, irritating—not to mention frustrating when hubby can't get it up for his wife. Nor are the women entirely innocent themselves—they tend to go to high-end spas that offer slave amenities such as a naked, kneeling young woman licking the patrons' labia or an equally naked, slave masseur who gives the woman a "happy ending" after he gets her completely relaxed with a massage. Perhaps even TWO masseurs taking care of both ends simultaneously.

My point is that young wealthy couples in particular both enjoy the benefits of sex slaves yet resent it when such slaves service their spouses, depriving the free people of some of that wedded bliss they so treasure—or at least some of the spouse's cum. Too many divorces and unhappy marriages ensued until my friend, attorney Jing Stevens, came up with a solution: The FINO prenup. Cutting out all the lawyerese, this is an agreement that if, at any time during the first 20 years of a marriage, one spouse discovers that the other is,

without permission,

having slave sex, then the offending spouse agrees in advance to become the injured spouse's FINO slave for five years; he/she can still act normally and conduct business in public, but in private his/her body belongs to the owner. Provided the spouse cooperates, no divorce would be possible. To add salt to the wound, these agreements explicitly state that the FINO slave must willingly perform any sex act specified by the other. (In many marriages, there's some form of sex, whether oral or anal sodomy, that one person, usually the male, wants while the other doesn't. Now of the FINO is invoked, that type of sex becomes fair game. For example, the guy who always wanted a blowjob may find himself sucking a strap-on or even an actual dick on the instructions of his wife! Let's not forget the guys who wanted to use their pricks on their wives' rear ends.)

Legally, the arrangement was easy to specify. To satisfy Texas statutes concerning FINO contracts, however, a slave shrink like me has to counsel both partners before they sign the agreement and the shrink receive a retainer to serve, if necessary, as guardian ad litem. So, what follows is the first of several examples of how the FINO pre-nup worked out in practice. This first one involves a male submitting to his wife, but that's by no means the only outcome.

*****

(

Jeanie Harrison's viewpoint

)

So there I was—for the second time in my life, a guy I really cared about was offering me a ring and a marriage. Jim Fuller was, like me, a widow(er) with kids in college, and we had common experiences and beliefs in life. At 44, he was smart, funny, empathetic, and successful, not to mention an absolute stud in bed (I'm embarrassed to say it but, after years of often-involuntary celibacy, getting regularly stuffed with his monster dick had a certain appeal.) And I really wished I could say "yes" again. Trouble was, my first hubby (who had died four years earlier) had made me leery of guys, no matter how great they might seem—most men just couldn't seem to keep it in their pants, and the availability of young female slaves in Texas made it even more frustrating for wives who wanted true love and commitment. I sighed.

"Look, Jim—I love you, and I'd like to say yes . . ."

His face fell. "I hear a 'but' coming, sweetheart. What's wrong?"

"Yeah, there is, and I hope you'll hear me out." I patted the sofa right beside me, encouraging him to sit so close that our (clothed) thighs were pressed against each other. I wrapped my arm around his waist and kissed his cheek to soften the rejection. "You may have noticed that I never talk much about my first husband, Adam."

"I had noticed, but I thought you were just being polite to avoid comparisons to him." Jim replied, looking even more puzzled. "Look, Jeanie, I know I can never fill the void from a lost love; I have sort of the same problem with my own wife's death. But that doesn't mean we can't be happy together, does it?"

Another sigh. "No, it doesn't, but . . . OK: promise you won't discuss this with other people?" He nodded. "The truth is, Adam cheated on me. Constantly. Beginning when I couldn't 'put out' during the last two months of my pregnancy with Chrissy and becoming increasingly frequent as time went on. I don't mean he was screwing the women in his office or even the mothers in the PTA, but he still deposited most of his sperm in other women's bodies, usually the slave girls at brothels, glory holes, and the Nineteenth Hole at the club. I know, I know, most guys claim that boffing slaves isn't really adultery, but it sure felt like that to me. If nothing else, every load he shot into a slave slut just made him less interested in intimacy with me. No wife can provide the variety you guys can find or hire any day you want it."

"Well, I have to admit that I've used a few slave girls in my time, and for that matter you've told me about getting your pussy licked by slaves of both genders while you were at the salon. But, come on, I find you so gorgeous that I can't imagine ever wanting to 'dip my wick' somewhere else."

I smiled. "Thanks for the kind words, and I really enjoy making love with you." I kissed his cheek and then leaned back so I could look at his face. "But that's how you feel now, and three years after we got married, you'd probably get the itch to try some other woman out. I only know one sure-fire way to discourage that wandering eye, but it's so extreme that I'll understand if you can't agree. Have you heard about the new book on marriage in a slave society?"

I could see that he was beginning to get the idea. "You mean, that lawyer who's advocating pre-nuptial agreements to punish infidelity?"

I nodded.

"So, let me get this straight," he resumed. "If we got married you would expect me to sign a prenup that, if I ever stray, even with a slave, I agree in advance to become your Free In Name Only slave for five years, submitting to you whenever we're not working?"

Another nod, and I replied. "But if you wanted, I'd be willing to sign a similar agreement to become YOUR FINO if I ever had sex with someone else, even a pussy-licking slave. Think of it as an exclusivity contract."

That brought a grin to his face. "I gotta admit, the thought of you on your knees wearing a collar and giving me a blow-job any time I wanted, is fascinating."

"Silly," I said, digging my elbow into his side. "I'd do that for you anyway, starting right now. I can't get enough of your cock!" I slid to my knees between his legs, quickly freeing his impressive erection and proving my willingness. This instantly put a smile on his face, followed within three minutes by frosting MY face with white goo. I gave him one hell of a hum, along the way.

"Holy cow, I think I just died and went to heaven," gasped Jim, filling my mouth with the rest of his yummy semen.

Doing my best pleasure slut imitation I presented him with a ball of his slimy goo, holding it out on my tongue while waiting for permission to swallow.

"Swallow, my lovely slave girl," he commanded, grinning down at me.

I made a naughty show of it, rolling his sperm on my tongue like it was a prize before an exaggerated swallow with a smile. Staring at his cock I giggled, "Ready for some mouth to cock resuscitation?"

"Maybe later," he laughed, pulling me onto his lap for a long discussion interrupted by passionate necking. We basically set up an honor system that neither of us would lie about having fooled around, and sealed the deal with a frantic love-making session that involved my getting more sperm in my other two holes. Viagra is great for middle-aged horn dogs of all genders!

We got married and, over the next year, extended the love-making into a marathon bout, several times a day, EVERY day; any time one of us wasn't in the mood, the other partner would jokingly ask if we'd been getting some "strange" pussy or cock. And yes, we role-played being sex slaves to each other. Or, should I say our Mistress/slave boy playtime, since Jim seemed to gravitate to the slave boy role ever more frequently as we explored this fantasy. Jim, was a model slave, making me feel like a princess every time he wore the collar and treating me like a valued possession even when I wore it for him.

(

Jim Fuller's viewpoint

)

Fast forward two years. Being married to Jeanie gave me a new lease on life. As a thoracic surgeon, I have a lot of stress, and our marriage bed became the best method for dissipating that stress. For some odd reason, I noticed feeling especially liberated by my submission whenever I role-played as the sex slave of my gorgeous, brilliant wife. Being her "master" was always a fun change of pace—what guy wouldn't want a nekkid babe on her knees, willingly performing any sex act he wanted—but I started to REALLY anticipate the simplicity of serving as HER slave, obeying rather than deciding while pleasing my love. This was especially attractive after a long day of zero defects and contained stress in the operating room. All the bad jokes and old rock 'n roll songs could go only so far.

It was two years before I suddenly realized this—I was happiest when I played slave boy to her, being just a bimbo toy who got regular (and sometimes Irregular!) sex in all positions without any worries or decisions. Then I didn't know what to do about my epiphany or (whatever you want to call it). I mean, it's hard enough (pun intended) for any person, regardless of gender, to recognize that he/she wants to submit totally to another person no matter how much love they may share. Even when I acknowledged that bizarre idea to myself, I didn't think Jeanie, who seemed to enjoy having me ravish her several times a week, pinning her to the bed and vigorously ramming both of her lower holes, would respect me if I suddenly asked to be her FINO slave. For a while, I tried to just enjoy the rare times that she was in charge, but I finally began to contemplate that Prenup she had demanded to force the issue without actually confessing my weakness/subservience. In retrospect, it sound stupid that I surrendered my body and my freedom rather than admit that I was less than a take-charge Alpha male, but I wasn't thinking clearly. Duhh.

*****

Subconsciously, I guess, I deliberately screwed up; somehow a photograph of a young blonde woman, naked, collared, and on her knees, lasciviously tonguing my dick while smiling up at the camera, ended up on my cell phone and SOMEHOW I let Jeanie see that photo. Then when my wife reacted, I felt truly sorry to have caused her such disappointment and pain, but at the same time my cock became harder than a steel beam—I guess I really was thinking with my other head!

We had promised to be honest about any infidelity, so I humbly recognized my mistake and begged her to forgive me. Once she stopped yelling, she made me sit down and read me the riot act in that no-nonsense tone I had rarely heard directed at me.

"OK, you know what this means, right?" She asked, still visibly struggling to control herself. "I know you have a killer schedule, but tomorrow when you get to your office, I expect you to look hard at your appointments and block out a month or six weeks with no surgeries or consultations, starting no later than May first and preferably earlier. You keep telling me how good your new surgical resident—Alice?—is, so it's time to let her take over while you take some time off to serve me on your knees—got it, slave boy?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"And you need to consult with a slave psychologist who will sign on to be your guardian once we execute the Prenup." Fortunately, I had met the doyenne of slave shrinks, Doctor Nikki Sheldon, when I had to operate on one of her abused charges. Even on the phone, I turned 20 shades of red when I had to confess my crazy situation to her, but her matter-of-fact approach to the situation calmed me somewhat. Nikki told me that I'd be surprised how many upscale couples were going through this lately. She gently prodded me into admitting that I had WANTED to be a FINO when I transgressed, then reassured me by describing how many marriages, included her own, had been improved when one spouse quit pretending and just self-enslaved to another!

Meanwhile I managed to clear my schedule for a 35-day period, beginning three weeks after my crime, but in the interim Jeanie gave me the cold shoulder. I had literally fucked up and she had no intention of letting me forget it. She refused to share her bed with me, a stance softened only by her recognition that I needed a good night's sleep before scheduled surgeries. The other nights, I slept on the couch.

Imagine my surprise, then, when I awoke on the first day of my "sabbatical" to find my beautiful wife demonstrating her sword-swallowing abilities on my morning wood! At first, I thought I was dreaming a return to our newly-wed period, but soon realized that this was real. I was fully awake and fully erect in like 20 seconds, at which point she demanded that I "fuck the crap" out of her—the result was ten minutes of physical and mental bliss for both of us, me pinning her down and pumping madly into her, after which she suddenly turned cold again, telling me not to expect sex like that for the foreseeable future.

I thought I was prepared for the next step, a trip to the Longhorn Slave Market to in-process as a FINO, but it was still a shock. Seconds after she parked outside, I was nekkid in public, being led on a leash (secured to my scrotum, not my newly-installed collar!) as Mistress Jeanie implemented that damn prenup. Doctor Nikki and my new owner had already signed my voluntary enslavement, so once I signed it (handed down to me on a clip-board as I knelt at the concierge desk), the document went into effect. I remained on my knees, feeling incredibly exposed and dumb with my knees wide apart, while a towering (but stacked) Black wrangler carefully examined the documents and then notarized my contract to serve my wife as her FINO for the next five years, interrupted only by my medical responsibilities. Suddenly, that sounded like a life sentence; I couldn't decide whether to listen to my terrified mind or my still-rigid dick! I'm accustomed to being in charge at the hospital, but now I was a naked, bound animal kneeling at the feet of my wife (which was thrilling) and this muscular Venus whose nametag read "Josephine."

My new owner turned me over to Mistress Josephine for processing, remarking that the wrangler was free to discipline or play with me as she liked, but Jeanie would appreciate it if she avoided any damage to my hands while keeping that leash on my "junk." She explained that my treacherous dick had gotten me into this situation, so it was only right that I be jerked around by it. The sound of that huge Black lady chuckling was terrifying even though, in retrospect, she never abused or mistreated me in any way.

I thought we were done and I would finally be allowed to stand up and move away from public display, if only to be processed inside, but first the two women who controlled me fell into a discussion about branding! Mistress Jeanie said she wanted to be sure that, in future, I kept my pants on and remembered to whom I belonged. Her idea of a reminder was to have her initials burned indelibly, 3 inches high, into the cheeks of my gluteus maximus (buttocks!) I mentally shuddered, both alarmed and aroused. Something to look forward to . . .