Continuing from The Runaway Slave.
Red got up to speed on California slave laws when it came to slave wife’s.
The law states that the wife/slave can be naked in public if collard and at her husband or owners side.
Collard naked slaves otherwise would be referred to as Free Use slaves. Meaning they were open for public use.
Red sort of laid down the law to me. Meaning that I could only be slave naked when he was with me.
He just hadn’t got to that point yet that he was willing to share my holes with other men.
But I was cool with it. Being slave naked in public with your husband at the restaurant movie theater or going shopping is an experience like no other. I loved every second of it.
A few weeks later Red surprised me by bringing his CO Drake home with him.
As usual I was collared naked on my knees waiting when the door opened.
Surprised I was looking up to my husband for directions.
“ Suck Drakes cock! “
Red said demanding tone.
I didn’t hesitate to satisfy and please this man.
In our living room I had my first MFM three way. Having a dick in your ass and cunt at the same time was amazing.
I was learning quickly that I just wasn’t a size queen but also a cum dumpster.
And this three way wasn’t the only one in the weeks that followed Red invited the men over that was in his squad and they brought there wives who also had collars like me.
Over time there was over a dozen of us. We called ourselves the swinging sex slave wife club. Yeah I learned swinging was a thing men sharing there wives with other men, and of course the women getting different cocks.
I’ve come to the belief that this is what true marriage is about. If married couples did things like this there would be far less divorces.
This is the main reason that after my husbands death I would never marry again cause I could never find a man that was open to this type of lifestyle.
This went on for several weeks getting fucked by different and multiple cocks making me com multiple times every night.
But as life goes the saying all good things must come to an end. And that end was with my husbands deployment orders.
It was sad we both she’d lots of tears. He said he’d be gone for just over a year. But that was gonna feel like an eternity for me. Then there was the dread that he might not come back.
A trying time it was gonna be especially for me.
Our only communication was by letters we’d write and I can’t read or write.
So I’d have to take the letters to the girl next door. She’d read them to me. She’d then hug and cry with me. As I broke down missing him so badly.
The California slave wife
Re: The California slave wife
The Educated Slave
The lady next door who red me my letters also got me to school that first night.
I walked into the classroom not knowing what to expect but when I laid eyes on the teacher behind the desk I was relieved to see she was wearing a collar. Though I was without my collar she saw right through me immediately she knew I was a slave and it was like fait that we met. She would be the one that would help me to the next level of free life.
Her name was Amanda. She spoke with an Appalachian accent. She was from the mountains of West Virginia like me she was a working slave. She spent her youth shoveling coal in the coal mines.
At the time she ran she jumped from a building into a slow moving westbound train car hauling coal. She explained it in a way that there was a network of people along the way that would help you with nightly shelter clothes food and directions making sure your on the next train or truck.
Just like me the further west you got the better chance of freedom you would have.
She was blonde and her paperwork she showed me said she was 40 years old but again like me she didn’t truly know.
When she stepped from behind her desk her legs and feet were always bare. She wore low heels or flats when she’d leave the classroom.
For myself I was barefoot I discovered these long bellbottom pants hid my feet well.
Cheryl would be furious about this cause free women are supposed to wear shoes.
The lady next door who red me my letters also got me to school that first night.
I walked into the classroom not knowing what to expect but when I laid eyes on the teacher behind the desk I was relieved to see she was wearing a collar. Though I was without my collar she saw right through me immediately she knew I was a slave and it was like fait that we met. She would be the one that would help me to the next level of free life.
Her name was Amanda. She spoke with an Appalachian accent. She was from the mountains of West Virginia like me she was a working slave. She spent her youth shoveling coal in the coal mines.
At the time she ran she jumped from a building into a slow moving westbound train car hauling coal. She explained it in a way that there was a network of people along the way that would help you with nightly shelter clothes food and directions making sure your on the next train or truck.
Just like me the further west you got the better chance of freedom you would have.
She was blonde and her paperwork she showed me said she was 40 years old but again like me she didn’t truly know.
When she stepped from behind her desk her legs and feet were always bare. She wore low heels or flats when she’d leave the classroom.
For myself I was barefoot I discovered these long bellbottom pants hid my feet well.
Cheryl would be furious about this cause free women are supposed to wear shoes.
Re: The California slave wife
Unfortunately for me though at the time I was the only slave currently in the class. In all there was 30 of us ranging in ages between late teens to senior citizens.
All had some degree of education. I learned it was common for people to drop out of school around 16. For all different kinds of reasons.
Some girls get pregnant.
Some people have one parent or disabled parents and have to go to work to support families.
Then there are some that are just punks and get kicked out.
But for myself I had no education and this was very intimidating.
Amanda assured me there was nothing to be ashamed of and she’d been right where I was at. She also had lots of former students that also were slaves and she got me in touch with some of them and they’d tutor me during the day, to help me get caught up a little.
Reading writing and math, just the basics.
I learned that former slaves are supposed to help slaves out as they or we move on with our journeys of freedom.
I was also motivated to learn so that helped to energize me to concentrate and not be distracted by stuff that shouldn’t be distracting me.
The class also went into other directions also social studies economics and history.
Of course slavery came up in the history class but not the slavery like I had experienced. Or maybe it was but it all was focused on the black people being freed after the Civil War.
At the point in time that I was in that class black people had only been freed just barely over a hundred years. So the black people in my class were descendants from those slaves.
Somehow in a moment of weakness I let it slip that I’d been a slave. They all looked at me with daggers in their eyes as if I was mocking them or something. They were suspicious of me anyway because of being from the south.
They just assumed that I was ignorant a bigot or racist because that’s what the entire country thinks of people from the south.
“ Shiiiiiit!….Damn white girl don’t know nothing about being a slave! “
That was the first insult hurled at me.
Amanda wore her slave collar all the time but they didn’t attack her they attacked me.
So I get up from my desk and go straight to the front next to Amanda’s desk.
She looks at me seeing the tears streaming down my face as I reach for the bottom of my shirt.
She placed her hand over mine.
“ Deborah you don’t have to do what I know you’re gonna do. “
I pushed her hand away then raised and took off my shirt.
I heard loud gasps of shock behind me. I then took off my pants and panties and heard more gasps.As they took in the sight of my branded ass.
I then wiped the tears from my face and confidently turned around to face them. Stepping out of my jeans and panties I walked slave naked back to my desk and I remained slave naked for the rest of the class.
I wanted them to see it for what it was. And it didn’t just happen to them but it was alive and well a hundred years later, happening to almost everybody else but them.
At least after that night they looked at me differently. Treated me maybe a little better but not really. I wasn’t asking for an apology and I wasn’t wanting sympathy. I’ve never thought of myself as a victim of it. It’s just something that happens that people have to come to grips with and move on.
After class I got dressed and Amanda asked me to follow her into the restroom.
“ You didn’t have to do what you did. But I’m glad you did it. They needed to see it. “
She then unbuttoned and slipped off her dress. Unhooked her bra and dropped it. Then slipped off her panties and turned away from me so I could see her back.
Her backside was just as hideous as mine was. We was one of the same just 20 something years apart.
She had a better looking brand than mine. She was branded by The Big Bear Coal company. And her brand had an outline of a big black bear.
“ You don’t know how many times I wanted to do what you just did tonight. It happens every quarter when a new class comes through.
Us slave girls don’t get the respect we deserve. “
I let that soak in for a moment as she dressed herself.
“ A slave is a slave. Slaves don’t get respect they get owned. “
Amanda looked at me and nods in agreement.
All had some degree of education. I learned it was common for people to drop out of school around 16. For all different kinds of reasons.
Some girls get pregnant.
Some people have one parent or disabled parents and have to go to work to support families.
Then there are some that are just punks and get kicked out.
But for myself I had no education and this was very intimidating.
Amanda assured me there was nothing to be ashamed of and she’d been right where I was at. She also had lots of former students that also were slaves and she got me in touch with some of them and they’d tutor me during the day, to help me get caught up a little.
Reading writing and math, just the basics.
I learned that former slaves are supposed to help slaves out as they or we move on with our journeys of freedom.
I was also motivated to learn so that helped to energize me to concentrate and not be distracted by stuff that shouldn’t be distracting me.
The class also went into other directions also social studies economics and history.
Of course slavery came up in the history class but not the slavery like I had experienced. Or maybe it was but it all was focused on the black people being freed after the Civil War.
At the point in time that I was in that class black people had only been freed just barely over a hundred years. So the black people in my class were descendants from those slaves.
Somehow in a moment of weakness I let it slip that I’d been a slave. They all looked at me with daggers in their eyes as if I was mocking them or something. They were suspicious of me anyway because of being from the south.
They just assumed that I was ignorant a bigot or racist because that’s what the entire country thinks of people from the south.
“ Shiiiiiit!….Damn white girl don’t know nothing about being a slave! “
That was the first insult hurled at me.
Amanda wore her slave collar all the time but they didn’t attack her they attacked me.
So I get up from my desk and go straight to the front next to Amanda’s desk.
She looks at me seeing the tears streaming down my face as I reach for the bottom of my shirt.
She placed her hand over mine.
“ Deborah you don’t have to do what I know you’re gonna do. “
I pushed her hand away then raised and took off my shirt.
I heard loud gasps of shock behind me. I then took off my pants and panties and heard more gasps.As they took in the sight of my branded ass.
I then wiped the tears from my face and confidently turned around to face them. Stepping out of my jeans and panties I walked slave naked back to my desk and I remained slave naked for the rest of the class.
I wanted them to see it for what it was. And it didn’t just happen to them but it was alive and well a hundred years later, happening to almost everybody else but them.
At least after that night they looked at me differently. Treated me maybe a little better but not really. I wasn’t asking for an apology and I wasn’t wanting sympathy. I’ve never thought of myself as a victim of it. It’s just something that happens that people have to come to grips with and move on.
After class I got dressed and Amanda asked me to follow her into the restroom.
“ You didn’t have to do what you did. But I’m glad you did it. They needed to see it. “
She then unbuttoned and slipped off her dress. Unhooked her bra and dropped it. Then slipped off her panties and turned away from me so I could see her back.
Her backside was just as hideous as mine was. We was one of the same just 20 something years apart.
She had a better looking brand than mine. She was branded by The Big Bear Coal company. And her brand had an outline of a big black bear.
“ You don’t know how many times I wanted to do what you just did tonight. It happens every quarter when a new class comes through.
Us slave girls don’t get the respect we deserve. “
I let that soak in for a moment as she dressed herself.
“ A slave is a slave. Slaves don’t get respect they get owned. “
Amanda looked at me and nods in agreement.