Starting again is never easy. It is not even easy when you have many good friends to help.

There are some things you never forget. Your first man. The one who makes you a woman. Your first woman. The forbidden kiss that opens a whole new world like a flower. The man you love with all your heart. When he bends down on one knee to let you know he wants to spend his life with you. Your first betrayal. When heady feelings of lust and want and selfishness push you to risk all for mere minutes of heart thumping pleasure. The shame when you’re caught. That elevator dropping feeling of loss and guilt. The exuberance when you’re forgiven. Pleasure beyond your wildest dreams. The death of your soul. When when you hear the news the man who is your life is gone.

“At 10:37 your husband left us. Do you believe in God, Mrs. Henderson?” the doctor said. I could see the concern in her eyes.

I nodded.

“I pray then that it gives you some consolation that after the initial impact when he lost consciousness that you husband likely did not suffer. He was unaware of what happened and passed without pain and suffering. Sometimes that is the best that can be offered.”

I could not speak. I could not breath. How could the Lord be so unfair? I had almost lost him once. Lost him due to my own actions. My own affairs.

I heard my lover answer her, “Thank you doctor, I’m sure you’all did everything you could.”

I could not cry. I was numb. The lights were so harsh. The world was so harsh. I buried my face in my hands. I did not see the doctor leave.

I was alone now, for all that a man I dearly loved was right next to me. But he was not my man. He belonged to someone else. He belonged to more than just one someone else. It was time to move on. Perhaps this was my punishment. My punishment for all the betrayals. My punishment for all the pleasure I had found in arms other than my husband’s.

I turned to my lover. “Take me home Chance.”

I had been a naughty girl for a very long time. I had cuckold my husband before he was even my husband. I had not set out to do it, but I did. When I met Matt I thought he could be my everything. No one had ever been my everything. At the girls boarding school I had attended I had moved from lover to lover, from the time one of the older girls had taken my sapphic cherry, until I had seduced froshes the week of graduation. At college I had collected lovers of both genders like boys use to collect baseball cards in my grandmother’s day.

Then had come Matt. Strong. Domineering. So handsome in his ROTC uniform. He made me believe he could be my everything, and for awhile he was. But it was not easy being an officer’s fiancee. It was not easy being an officer’s wife. Particularly when that officer was often called away on missions he could not speak about to places he could not reveal.

After my wedding I had promised myself no more. No more men in smelly dorm rooms. No more woman in alcohol fueled passion. For a while I actually kept that promise.

The first indiscretion was small. A kiss between officer’s wives that was too intimate. The next not so harmless. An affair with a brother officer, which destroyed a marriage. The final indignity. An affair much too public to be overlooked.

“How many?” Matt asked.

“Too many,” I replied, crushed by the look of defeat and loss I could see in his eyes.

When he left that night I felt abandoned. Later I realized that I was feeling only a fraction of what he must be feeling. I had a lover then, but revelation caused that relationship to implode.

“No more, Victoria,” she said. “Phillip has not forgiven me, but he has agreed to keep me, but only if I end it. Goodbye.”

So I sat in humility and fear for a week. On Friday Matt finally contacted me.

“Victoria, Do you want our marriage to continue, or are ready to move on?”

“Oh Matt. I want to be forgiven. I want us to be together. I want you to be my everything.”

“Bitch! Make me no promises that you can not keep. I already know how much a vow from you is worth. Do you want to stay married?”

“Yes,” I croaked out.

“Then there is something you must do. I’ll be there to pick you up at nine.”

When he drove up he was driving a black SUV. It was not his car, nor one I had ever seen before. When he stepped out I saw there was something in his hand. A long strip of dark fabric.

“I don’t want or need your empty promises,” he said coming up to me. “I only need your compliance. This is a blindfold. You will agree to wear it, not attempt to remove it and be silent. Is this agreeable to you?”

I had some small idea what Matt did in the military. I knew it was not something nice. Not something most people would consider properly martial. I felt fear, but shame was stronger.

“Yes. I agree.”

I stood in our driveway in the dark while Matt tied the blindfold around my head.

“Put your hands up. Wrists together.”

That was the first time I felt it.

The Rope.

He bound my hands before me and then helped me get into the SUV. I should have been terrified. The husband who I had betrayed had just blindfolded me and restrained me before putting me into a black vehicle that was not his own. Was I to be murdered? Dumped in a ditch or waterway, never to be seen again. Strangely, none of those thoughts went through my mind.

Why? Because as the rope touched me and I realized I was bound and helpless before him I could think of nothing but the fact that my nipples were hard and my panties wet. I felt such a warmth in my genitals, like a drug was running through my body. Unbound euphoria.

I do not remember how long the ride was. My thoughts were muddled with a lust that even now I know was unnatural. Finally I felt the vehicle come to a halt.

I did not know what came next. I felt hands help me out of the vehicle. More than two hands. Matt and I were not alone. I could not possible imagine what could come next. Nothing could have prepared me for what was about to happen.

I thought perhaps that Matt might leave me. For a handful of seconds I thought he might kill me. What he did I never saw coming. He crucified me.

I felt myself being pressed against something cold. My hands were momentarily released, only to be tied above my head. Strong hands captured my ankles. I found them also bound. Soon I could feel myself suspended. The rope holding me. The Rope.

Did I feel fear? Did I feel terror over what was about to happen to me? God help me no. No.

What I felt was deviant. I was aroused. More aroused than I had ever been up to that time. More aroused than when Josh Feenie had taken my cherry in his basement. More than when Oliva Barsom had introduced me to the pleasures of Sappho. More than when Matt had taken me for the first time. More than on my wedding night.

My nipples were so hard they hurt. I know my cunt was leaking. I could feel drops of fluid running down my thighs.

Then an unknown female voice said, “Don’t move honey. I don’t want to cut you.”

I herd the sound of mechanical shears. I knew that sound. I was an artist. But my art was not exclusively in paints. I worked in many mediums. I was what would later be called a maker. I made things. I made art. I knew the sound of that kind of motorized shears which could be used to cut almost any kind of fabric or other thin material.

I could tell such a device was now being used to remove my slacks. The woman started at the cuff and sliced them up to the waist. She did it on both legs so that they fell away. I could feel the cold metal as the blades cut away my top, leaving it in tatters. Soon I hung in only bra and panties.

“Oh look. She’s wet,” the woman’s voice said as she touched my labia through the large stain in my panties.

I heard a long moan and realized it was coming from me.

My bra was a front clasp on and she reached up and opened it. I felt the blade of a regular pair of scissors against my skin and felt the bra part.

“Please,” I begged, not knowing what I was begging for.

I found out when I felt her grab my panties in her hands and rip them off me.

God, I came. Something broke in me and the cum washed over me. And I knew everyone there knew I had cum. It was obvious. I cried out my little death, humiliated.

“Well that was somewhat unexpected,” I heard my husband say.

I felt the blindfold yanked from my head. The room was softly lit. The walls dark, coated with some kind of cork or foam. There were cameras mounted on the walls. The floor was covered with the same kind of material as the walls. I was tied to some kind of frame and the blacksmith in me noted how well it was constructed. Solid.

There were three people in the room. Matt was standing in front of me. He was naked. There was also in the room a man and a woman. To this day I do not know their names or who they were.

The woman was of oriental extraction. She was tall. Five-ten or five-eleven. She had long black hair. She was also naked. Her body was good, with slim hips and small breasts that did not need a bra for support. She had high cheekbones and exquisite features. The look she gave me was a combination of pity and dominance.

The man was naked too. Matt has the build of an athlete. He was a military officer. This man was more. He had the build of a body builder. He was ruggedly handsome. His look was of appraisal and lust. As soon as I looked at him I knew he was going to have me. He knew it and I could see he knew I knew it.

Matt reached out and I felt his thumb and forefinger pinch my nipple. Hard. A pulse went through my cunt and I moaned again.

Matt looked at me with disdain.

“You know I could break you.” It was a statement not a question. “When I finished with you slut you would be begging men to fuck you on street corners and mall concourses. You would beg me to let you. Or I could make it so you would never want to touch a man again. Never again feel what I realize you’re feeling now. You are feeling it now aren’t you darling?”

He reached down with his other hand and penetrated me with his fingers, while continuing to pinch my breast.

“Oh yes please, Matthew. Please I’m sorry...”

“Sorry you were caught maybe,” he said pulling his hands away from me.

There was a chair in the room. I saw it now that Matt walked over to it and sat. It was right in front of the frame and I knew that I was fully revealed to anyone sitting in it. When Matt sat down the woman folded herself down in front of him, sitting seiza.

“Darling it is confession time,” Matt said looking at me. I saw the woman’s head bend over and I realized she was fellating my husband. “You are going to pretend that I am your priest and you are going to confess every one of your indiscretions from the time we met. I can tell you now that in the past week I have found many of them. Not all I’m sure. You’re too much of a slut for me to have been able to discover them all in just a week, even with my resources.”

He stopped talking for a minute as his head rolled back and he simple enjoyed what the woman was doing to him. He did not come. Finally he touched her head and she stopped moving.

“Go on, darling. Confess. But know that I know enough to be able to tell if you leave something out.”

I was crying now. My lust was subsumed, at least enough that I was now more fearful than aroused. I realized that the cameras were probably recording. He wanted a confession of all of my sins. Would it be used to destroy me? This was a no fault state. Matt did not need evidence to divorce me. My parents were dead. The estate did not care about my sins. Why was he doing this?

Matt was not a masochist. Against all reason for some strange reason hope began to blossom in me. I confessed. I told Matt of every indiscretion. Every stolen kiss. Every clandestine assignation. Every flirty touch. Every wanton public act.

Somewhere in that time the woman resumed her ministry of my husbands cock. When he filled her mouth I saw not a drop wasted. Afterward she never stopped. About two thirds through my litany she stood and mounted him, still turned away from me. I watched her body move over him as he listened to the purge of my sins.

She shook through two small orgasms before I finished. When my tale was completed she really went to town on my husband, exploding through a massive cum that ended with Matt shooting his load deep into her.

I could see the man was watching them. I saw something in his eye. What was she to him? Wife? Lover? He had a hard on. He had not had it when I started my tale, but he had one now. It was a nice one. Every bit of nine inches. When they finished his eyes went from them to me.

I hung on the rack. Helpless. Unable to move. Totally at the mercy of whoever might come along. I started to become aroused again.

The woman dismounted and this time when she took my husband into her mouth to clean off their mutual cums she made sure to turn so that I could see every soft inch enter her sucking mouth as she cleaned him. She started by lapping at him to prevent any fluid from dripping off. Then she pressed her lips to the head and slurped down all the way to the base. When she was finished she pulled off with a long slow suck until his head popped out when she released it.

Matt stood. He put his arm around the woman and they stepped right in front of me.

“Now, my love it is time from my confession.”

I braced myself. Was Matt going to now tell me that he had also strayed? Was my shame and his response a bit of hypocrisy?

“Before tonight I have never touched another woman. I must say she’s been most delightful.” He turned then and they shared a blistering kiss.

He released her then and she walked over to the man. She kissed him and then reached down and touched his hard prick, jacking it slowly as Matt turned to me.

“Well darling, it’s time to decide.”

“Decide what, Matthew?” I asked still unsure of what exactly was to happen.

“Whether we can make a deal.”

“A deal?” I asked.

“Yes. We already know that your vows and promises are meaningless. Perhaps a deal is the best that can be hoped for. Either that or I’m going to have to kill you and all your lovers” He was smiling when he said it and his eyes told me he was only kidding.

“What kind of deal?” I asked.

“The best kind. Win/Win. I get even and you get to carry on with your debauched lifestyle.”

“How would it work?” I asked.

“My friend there is going to fuck the living shit out of you. While he’s doing that I’m going to go another round with my lovely assistant. When he’s done she’s going to do cleanup duty on you and I promise you that it will be very pleasant. Then if she’s left anything for you I’m going to take back what’s mine. If not, that will have to wait until tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” I said as I filled with joy. “Does that mean you’ll come back to me? You aren’t leaving me? Oh I promise...”

“Stop!” he shouted crossly. “We have already determined your promises are worthless. What will happen is that I will continue to try to get even. You have such a big start on me that I expect I will never be able to catch up, no matter how many women I copulate with. That will not stop me from trying. I expect the endeavor will be made even more difficult because I intend to allow you to continue to collect lovers of both sexes. From time to time I may ask you to confess again, but broadly speaking I don’t care to hear about what you do, as long as you do not embarrass me in public.”

“You mean be discrete?”

“Yes be discrete. No more sloppy public behavior.”

And so it happened. The man was a machine. He managed to pound me senseless. The experience was no doubt enhanced because I was bound helpless and could see my husband being likewise fucked to a nub by someone who obviously had the skills of a thousand dollar courtesan. I lost track of the number of orgasm I had.

When he finally deposited a bucket of cum in me the woman endeavored to clean me up, pushing me to another set of uncounted orgasms.

By the time my husband managed to get to me again I wondered whether he had used some kind of chemical enhancement. His stiff cock managed to pull a couple of additional orgasm out of a body that was two steps away from a coma.

His two helpers left and with his own hands he released me. I was so weak and sore that only his strength stopped me from tumbling to the ground.

“I must blindfold you again, my love,” he said.

“My love?” I asked incredulously, considering the night’s activities.

“What man would do this to a woman unless he was hopelessly in love with her?” he asked and kissed me. Against all circumstance I moaned into his mouth.

After he blindfolded me he carried me to the car, my hands free. I did not attempt to slip the mask and to this day have no idea where I had been taken.

So started the next phase of my life. Matt finished his obligatory service and tendered his resignation. Based upon his security clearances he quickly procured a position in the private sector and we moved to Arlington in Virginia.

Up until now Matt and I had kept our affairs pretty much separate. I was more careful. There were no more potential citings in divorce proceedings, no more messy public scandals. I diddle with a mixture of men and women, often people I met though my various art projects. Sometimes clients. Other times vendors, gallery employees. Seldom other artists.

Where Matt found his liaisons I have no idea. We generally did not talk much about our activities to each other, despite Matt’s earlier declaration that he was likely to ask for an updated confession he never did.

I did not forget the Rope. The internet is a wonderful resource. Not only does it make finding information easy. It makes finding experts on information easy. I became obsessed with kinbaku, shibari, Fesselspiele and other forms of binding. I found the rack that Matt had used to bind me was called a St. Andrews Cross and set out to make my own, using my talents to disguise it’s actual purpose by passing it off as a sculpture.

This was something that Matt and I shared. I never let any one of my other lovers bind me, as I did him. Eventually we discovered the magic wand, that clever little vibrator that in the hands of a giving partner could turn a woman, particularly a bound woman, into a puddle of post orgasmic flesh.

At first we played alone, but we soon realized that we needed others to make the what happened the peak experience that I craved. Initially Matt found men to help.

He would bind me and then a parade of hard cocks would pound me until I had so many orgasms I was nearly too weak to breath. Then if I was lucky he would use the wand on me until I passed out.

Eventually I decided that I was tired of not knowing who my husband was doing. I pleaded with him to share his lovers with me.

So did the next phase of our twisted marital relationship begin. We became swingers.

Now there was something about the world that I had not realized. It is easy for a woman to find partners to carry on affairs. The world is structured to make that so. When it comes to women no one thinks twice about two married women meeting for drinks, or lunch. Why are you and Irene spending so much time together? Well, darling you how much we like to shop. Men are harder, but then most men do not really care about going out for drinks or getting dinner. They can do that with their wives.

Now finding discrete couples, that is a problem. The many venues on swinger web sites, magazines and private clubs are permeated with intelligence agents, private detectives and blackmailers. Particularly in such a politically relevant place like Arlington.

So a discerning couple, such as Matt and I, had a much harder time trying to break into the lifestyle. Fortunately the first fact I cited, the plethora of available married women statistically leads to the discovery of one who will be willing, under the right circumstances, to share her husband, and be more than anxious to share yours. One such couple leads to other and soon one has a nice safe network of available couples willing to play. With luck one might even find a couple with whom one can share a more deeply emotional commitment.

That happened to Matt and I almost immediately after he moved from a government contractor job in Arlington to another one in Tidewater. Like much in life it was unexpected. After selling out home in Northern Virginia we started searching for another in Hampton Roads. Our search for a Realtor led us to Chance Connor.

Now Chance was totally my type. Like Matt he was ex-special forces, in his case a Navy SEAL. Like many veterans, particularly in areas with a large military presence, he kept what Matt calls an ‘I love me’ wall in his office. The primary purpose of which is to advertise to other vets that he has ‘seen the elephant’ as Matt said.

Even in his casual dress clothes I could see that he was buff. He moved like a cat, every move calculated, thoughtful and precise. He nearly exuded maleness. He was blond. Tall almost a surfer type build. I found myself aroused just from being in his presence. He was wearing a wedding ring, but that was not something I had ever let myself be worried about.

As he worked with us to find a house I did all those little things a woman does to let a man know she is interested in him. That she is open and waiting for him. We even met once or twice to look at properties without Matt. I had hoped to capitalize on that, but both homes were occupied, and while the owners were not there, our time alone was minimal.

Matt thought it was hilarious. Unlike Chance he saw every little trick I played. After out meetings he would kid me about how oblivious our Realtor seemed to be. Finally we found The House. We finished our business and I counted Chance Connor as just one of the few who actually got away.

“Darling,” Matt said one evening several weeks after our closing. “Guess who called me today?”

“I don’t know,” I answered. “Do I know them?”

“Chance Connor.”

“Really?” I said somewhat put out over the situation. I did not like to lose. In many ways the hunt before the affair was a contest to see who would tumble first. Here there had been no tumbling.

“He wants to drop by with a house warming present.”

“I suppose that shall be the last time we see him then,” I said a little disappointed.

“I’ve been thinking. Do you suppose he doesn’t realize that you want him?”

“How could you think that is true?” I said. “I’ve done everything but give myself to him on a platter.”

“Perhaps you should,” my husband said.

“Pardon?”

“I said perhaps you should. How do you think he would respond to you tied spread eagle?”

I felt a little cum go through me at the thought. I was silent but I know I must have shuddered and was flush because Matt said, “Oh I see you like the idea.” He looked at me. “Tell you what. How about we share you. I haven’t shared you with a man since, oh its been months and months. We could spit roast you. Would you like that?”

I felt my cunt leaking. “Oh yes please,” I squeaked.

Even Chance was not dense enough to overlook a woman staked out for his pleasure. I found out later that Chance was known for his obliviousness. Imagine my surprise when I found out he was a swinger too. And more than that, married, after a fashion, to two women, Lacy and Dana. I almost spontaneously came when I found that out. Lacy was a ravishing brunette, with soft curves. Dana a little firecracker. A vivacious sex machine.

I knew as soon as we met them that Matt was taken with his wives, particularly Dana. I found them both wickedly attractive. They were bisexual, of course. Lacy particularly was an innovative and skillful sapphic lover. They were a marvelous diversion. We met with them several times over the months and even eventually attend a swinging party at their home.

Then one day shortly after we had enjoyed a particularity extreme binding session during our post coital cool down Matt broached a subject that up to that time we had avoided. Our affairs.

“Victoria what do you think of Chance?”

“What do mean, darling? I think Chance is a wonderful lover.”

“Is he someone that you feel something for? I notice you seem to be spending a lot of time on the phone with him. I’m not trying to spy on you. Your affairs are your own.”

“I’m not sure Chance is an affair.”

“Would you like him to be?”

I thought about it. Here I was laying in my husband’s arms and I was thinking about another man. Did I have feelings for Chance? Of course. I seldom had sex with someone unless I had some kind of feeling for them, well at least outside of our most frivolous swinging activities.

“I suppose I do,” I said at last. “I’m very attracted to him, I guess.” Then I thought about more. Matt typically seemed very much less than interested in the men, or women, I dallied with. I follow the requirements of our deal and we kept things kind of segmented. Our life together was ours. Our swinging play we did together. Sometimes it included The Rope, sometimes not. Our affairs were our own.

So why would Matt care now? Suddenly I knew. Dana. Matt was having feelings for Dana. I knew very little about Matt’s affairs. Purposefully. Every once in a while we might bump into someone he knew and I would meet her. Sometimes I could tell they had been intimate. I never made an issue of it. How could I? He was getting even. Matt and I had spent time with members of our group in Arlington. I mean individual time, but that was just an extension of the swinging. He had never asked about feelings in that activity.

“I’d ask you why you want to know, but I’ve already figured her out.”

Matt, amazingly looked a little guilty. I knew he and Dana, as well as Chance’s other wife Lacy had been intimate. I’d seen him with them. I’d shared him with them. I knew then Lacy was just a lark. A very skillful and sexy lark, but a lark. Dana was more.

“So would you like to spend some time with Chance?”

“Yes,” I said, knowing it was true.

That was how Chance and I ended up at his parent’s beach house in North Carolina. It was a magical weekend. I gave Chance my anal virginity. Matt managed a weekend away with Dana, while Chance’s other wife Lacy stoutly kept the home fires burning, apparently without any jealousy at her partners antics.

This trip started one of the highlights of my life and was the gateway to what came later. I found that Chance actually came from a family of swingers. At the center of that family was its matriarch, Celia Connor.

I can not speak about Celia Connor without gasping for the wave of lust and passion that runs through my body when I think of her. Chance has called her the hottest redhead on the East Coast and there’s something to that.

I first heard her voice when we got to the amazing beach house. Chance called his parents to let them know we arrived and she asked to speak to me.

How did she even know about me, I wondered. What man tells his mother he is taking a woman to her beach house for a romantic getaway? What married man, at any rate

“Can you hear me dear?” she said.

“Yes, Mrs. Connor,” I said. “Thank you for letting us use the beach house.” What else could I say?

“Please call me Celia dear. I have a feeling you and I are going to be great friends. I want you to know that in the owner’s closet there is a toy box that I think you will both find very interesting. Chance has the keys for both on the house ring. Have a good time and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Enjoy the show.”

Chance said goodbye. I wondered what she meant and asked him. He put me off and managed to distract me with dinner.

Then we made an early night of it. I had picked one of my most alluring pieces of nightwear, a black teddy that contrasted well with my blond hair and light skin. I retired to the bathroom to slip into it. When I entered the bedroom the lights were dim and I heard Chance gasp when he saw me. He was already naked on the turned down bed.

When he saw me he stood. He kissed me with as much passion as I had ever felt a man kiss me. I felt his arms around me and I knew that only Matt had ever cause such a response in me. I was flowing. I groaned into his mouth as his fingers dug into my ass cheeks. My nipples were hard as pebbles. When he reached up to unwrap me I felt a tiny rush go through me.

He guided me to the bed and I laid down. Instead of dropping between my legs he laid behind me, cradling me.

I felt his hard dick pressing into my derriere. His arms came around me and I felt his fingers moving over my breasts. He reached down and I felt his fingers strum across by clit and I unexpectedly peaked, gasping through the climax.

His hand reached down, spreading my legs and then his cock was at the entrance to my cunt. He slid in and his fingers returned to my clit. Between his caresses and pinches of my breasts and the fingers on my clit I was soon shaking and moaning through an extended series of orgasms, ever increasing in strength and duration.