Wife sharing, wife swapping, cuckolding, ugh! I'm the type of person that could never get over something like that happening to me. Unfortunately something like that did happen and the anger, hurt and humiliation from it has turned my caring, loving heart into a dead black organ of vile that now directs all its energy towards my wife.
Why she strayed, it doesn't matter. There's always a justification for our actions and if you can speak long enough on a subject, sooner or later you can convince anyone that it was your fault even if it was theirs. Like I'm the one that took her pants and panties down and placed her on that other guys cock! Quickly she admitted it, threw it in my face, laughed and walked out of my life.
The next two years I spent learning a new way of sex, a new way of relations. Perverting BDSM into an unethical twisted code, I refined my techniques with many partners and mentors. So many because once they had seen what was inside me, they quickly moved on wanting to have no part in my darkness. A few wondered if they had trained the next serial killer, others just stopped talking to me, avoided my gaze whenever we found ourselves in the same area together. Such was my repressed rage.
I attracted the real edge players. My name and reputation got around in circles, and the internet. Edgy Goths, punk rocker wannabes, tattooed and pierced freaks sought me out to see if I could challenge them, push them past their edge of comfort. I did of course. No real feeling within allowed me to be callous and cruel even by their standards. I wasn't over my wife. That would have taken a lot longer than two years if things continued as they were.
They didn't continue, of course, nothing stays the same and things change. One evening the phone rang and when I answered it, my legs gave out on me as the croaking whisper of my wife responded through the phone. "D ... D ... Da ... vid?"
I was silent, in truth I couldn't speak. My throat swelled and I couldn't breathe. I eventually mumbled my assent.
She composed herself. Something was wrong. The cocksure manner of her voice from when she strode out of my life had vanished. There was fear in her voice. She finally got to the point and wanted, no needed to see me.
Shocked and still off guard from her call, I stupidly agreed before I knew what I was doing. All a haze, before I knew it she had arranged to come over that evening after I had gotten off work.
A few minutes after hanging up, I hit myself in the head over and over again. FUCK! I said to no one in particular, what a fucking idiot I was. I didn't want to see her, at least I think I didn't. My heart reopened. The wound fresh again. How dare that bitch do this to me again! I hadn't thought about her for a while and now this.
Work sucked. I was a zombie just going through the motions, trying to figure out what the hell she wanted, why did she call, why was she scarred. I tried to plan out all my best responses to anything she said to me, but she was cryptic in leaving me not much to go on as to why she needed to see me.
I naturally thought that she might want to get back with me, but I really couldn't think about that as that distracted me even more at work. There's no way she wants that, I told myself. The way she walked out on me and the things she said to me made that almost impossible. Still a small part of me thought that was it. The rest of my mind and heart came up with many reason why that wouldn't be the case, no use hurting myself again when that turned out to be false. Most likely, I told myself, that she was finally ready to finalize the divorce.
When she left, we cut off all communication. I literally hadn't seen, spoken or heard from her since that night. Where and what she did, I often, in bed all alone at night, wondered, but that just made me more furious. I refused to pay for a divorce. She walked out on me, fuck her, let her pay for it. She never did.
I left work right on time, eager to get home before she got there and try to compose myself. I pulled into the driveway and saw her car there as well. Fuck! She couldn't even give me the time to myself. I got out of the car and saw her waiting at the front door.
Wow! She looked tired. She looked old. The bitch, when we were married, was a decent shaped redhead, a tad overweight with a pretty face, she was three years younger than I. Now she looked almost ten years older. Hard living in the past two years, I muttered to myself, not that my time had been fun and games.
She had now packed on at least another thirty pounds from her former weight, wrinkles around her face made her look like a smoker, and her skin seemed rather yellow. She had a look of total misery on her face. It could have been a ploy for sympathy, a way to get me to go easy on her, I thought. I smiled. Even if the look on her face was false, she still had not had the "better" life she had run off to while ditching me.
I lead her inside our house ... my house, she had given up that right when she had left. I put my stuff away, pulled out two glasses of bourbon and offered her one as we sat in the living room. She sat on the edge of the couch, I in my chair. She glanced around, made small talk, mentioning the changes that I had made, keeping to herself the fact that all evidence of her being in this house were gone, pictures, stuff she had bought on her own, picked out, etc.
I kept quiet, nursed my drink, and tried to remain as calm as possible and push all thoughts of strangling her right then and there, as deep within me as possible. She took another swig, and sighed.
"I, guess you're wondered why I called..." Tersely, I said, "Yeah ... a bit of a shock"
She was shaking, and I could see the composure fall from her. Suddenly, she blurted out, "Oh David, I've made a terrible mistake," she broke down crying.
A mistake? Really? No fucking shit! I wondered.
I said nothing, I did nothing. I tried to be as cold as possible. No way was I going to make this easy on her.
"I was such a fool," she finally said between sniffles after she had given a good cry.
She tried to look at me; her eyes teary, mascara running, she looked pathetic, and I just now had noticed that she had made an attempt to do herself up for me. It was a failed attempt. These past two years, while she was gone, I played with far better, far sexier, far fresher women and girls than what she had become. I met her eyes, I showed no emotion. Here comes the pitch, I realized, and I didn't want to give anything away by showing her a weakness. She pushed forward. "David, these past two years has been horrible, miserable for me. I never realized what I had with you until I walked out that door."
Coldly I interjected, "Horrible for you? And it has been nice for me?" Her mouth dropped open, she stammered for a moment, her train of thought broken. She sniffled and asked if I had any tissue.
"You ought to remember where they are, go on, get some," I said. She looked at me and then slowly got up and trudged over to the bathroom and cleaned herself up. Coming back out, she sat on the couch, a little closer to me. She started again. "David, I'm truly sorry for what I did to you. What I did was selfish, childish and wrong. What I went after was a fairy tale, something that doesn't exist, and I've been paying for it ever since."
I said nothing, curious as to where this was leading, well I kinda figured where this was leading, but still wanted her to take it to that destination.
"I know I hurt you badly, David, I don't expect you to ever forgive me, but David," she slide toward me and held my hand, the warmth ness shocking me, "David, I want, no need you, no I'm begging you to take me back."
There it was, she was crawling back to me. She had had her fun, realized that it wasn't for her and now wanted to come back like nothing happened. I sat there for a minute, saying nothing. There was rage in my eyes, there was sadness too, but there was hurt.
"I don't know," I said. She grimaced. There was fear on her face, it seemed like the fear was a little to strong to be employed in me not taking her back, maybe she needed to come back, maybe she was in some sort of trouble.
"What's this all about?" I asked. "Your words say one thing, your face says something else. What's really going on? I don't hear from you for two whole years, and then all of a sudden you beg me to come back?"
She coughed and sniffled. She looked up into my eyes again, hers watery with new found tears, "Please." She croaked. "Tell me what this is all about," I prodded. She was reluctant until I made it clear that this conversation was over until she cleared things up a little more.
Finally, without giving too much detail she relayed to me that almost as soon as leaving the house that night to be with her new boyfriend, who "understood" her, things had gone horribly wrong. They just didn't fit in together, and he had gone on sleeping around with everything that had a skirt and two legs. She had lost her job, her savings, her looks and her confidence as he became a boy instead of the man that she had fantasized about. Alcohol had been abused by him and he had gambled, gambled everything away. And now they owed some loan sharks money, money which they didn't have. They had been kicked out of their rental, and the loan sharks had taken him away. It turned out that he was never coming back. She admitted that they had probably killed him and now the debt was placed on her. She was homeless, penniless, and jobless. With no one to fall back on, with money owed, her looks now really shot, she really had no other choice than to come groveling back to me. Gee, it was really nice being the "last resort" to your bitch of a slut wife.
By this time she had been kneeling at my feet, telling her miserable tale, and as I looked down at her, the rage stewing within me, another part of my mind formed a small semblance of a plan. I let her know I was angry, I let her know that her justifications for getting back with me were false. I couldn't be sure if she still loved me, how could I when what she was really afraid of was homelessness. Last fucking resort. Yeah, until something better comes along, I screamed at her. She took it. All the cursing, the name calling the threats. She had no choice.
I told her I would have to think about it. She looked fearful, her eyes darting at the front door. A storm, it seemed truly poetic at a time like this, had moved in and the thought of being out on the streets overnight truly had her scared. She had already intimated that some nasty people out there had spotted her and were trying to work her over, pimps, druggies, whatever, to her, she realized that she was now fresh meat.
"You'll have to leave now," I said, getting up. She still on her knees looking up at me. She grabbed my leg, wrapping herself around it begging, "Please! Please! Let me stay the night! I beg you, I can't go out there!"
Disgusted, I kicked away from her, and an evil thought came to mind. Smiling I looked down on the miserable bitch. "Your don't fucking deserve to stay here in MY home, however, you have given me something to think about and although I am still in a lot of pain and anger, I am willing to let you stay in the garage, ONLY for tonight though."
She composed herself, realized that I was serious and that she had better take it as a better offer would not be forthcoming. She nodded and made herself ready. "You can pull your car in and sleep in it inside the garage." I said. "I don't want your cheating ass slut smell on any of my things."
She winced and nodded yes. She pulled her car in and closed the garage door. I then locked the door leading into the house so she could not come in during the night.
I slept little that night. Tossing and turning I went over the facts that I managed to get out of her. It seems that I had made a better go of life than she did when we were on our own. Now I could see why she had aged so quickly. Giving up a sure thing, a safe marriage and a caring husband for a little pretty boy who took advantage of her and turned out to be a bait and switch in the fantasy and romance department. No doubt he had squandered her money away as well.
What had left me was a confident, pretty woman, and what had shown up on my doorstep tonight was a broken, ugly old lady. But broken may have its uses, I muttered to myself. I smiled. She didn't know the new me. This new me knew how to handle broken women, how to play them, how to enjoy my sadistic pleasures with them. She was coming back to me because I had things she needed, stability, a husband, food, money, a roof over her head. I got her, I had the winning hand. The question now was, did I really want her? Why not just cut her adrift? I pondered that all night long, was I really better off without her, had I been? I had to admit that some of the things I did, some of the sadistic tortures I had inflicted on pretty women looking for some edge play were really directed at her. If I just cut her loose, would this heartache ever heal? Would I really get over her? Wait, I haven't gotten over her? I realized that I hadn't. That was the deciding factor.
I turned over and began to plot my response to her offer of gracing me with her presence again. There would be changes to this relationship if the Bitch wanted to come back, tail between her legs. She would have to pay for what she did to me. Revenge. I don't think she knew what was in store for her.
The next morning I got up and got ready for work. Finally I unlocked the door to the garage and called for her to come in. Before getting down to business, she tried to go to the bathroom, but I stopped her and had her ask me for permission to use the toilet before finally allowing her to relive herself.
I sat her down, she seemed hopeful as she read my face and had found that some of the rage was gone. Her face was puffy, fat, old, ugly, but there was my wife in there as well. I let her know that I was not pleased with the reason why she had come crawling back to me. That financial stability and money played a larger part in her contacting me rather than her love for me. I was hurt, I said, that the real reason she called was her fear of homelessness, rather than a newfound love and appreciation for me.
She struggled with that, quickly trying to say that it was her situation that forced her to take stock and realize that she truly loved me, deeply and always did. She again begged for forgiveness from me, of which I did not give her.
"My life has changed," I said, "since you've been gone. I'm not the same David you married. My tastes have changed now that I have experienced other lovers."
She squirmed in her chair. "They were all younger than you, and far prettier than you are." This hurt her. Good! I continued.
"I don't know if I can ever forgive you, I find it hard to even think of you by your name." She nodded sadly. Dejected and loosing hope.
"However," I said, and her face perked up. "I might be able to make you an offer that would allow you to stay in My House." She smiled a little.
"Don't be too quick to smile," I said. "Your life here would not be anything like it used to be. You would not be free to do as you like, see who you like, communicate with who you like. You have no money, correct?"
She was a little concerned now, I quickly asked her again, more forcefully. She nodded, "Yes," she whispered. "No job? No prospects?"
Again she nodded, her shoulders dropping, the weight of her plight pulling her down. "So what can you offer me to receive my protection?" She looked up at that word, confused. "Protection!" I repeated. "That is what you're looking for, safety, a home, food, a partner in some form..." She nodded.
"So," I asked, "What can you offer me? So far I see no reason to put myself out again, when you already have told me that it wasn't love that brought you back to my doorstep."
She started to cry. "I do love you." She protested. "I do..." "Love," I said, "is something I don't know if I can have for you ever again. You broke my heart, you shattered me, and you betrayed the trust that I had given you. I can't give that back to you now, I don't know if I ever will." She was crying
It was getting late and I had to go to work. I now offered her some thoughts so that she could answer me when I got home. "Listen to me. I have to go to work now, and I don't feel comfortable with you staying in the house while I'm gone. You will have to leave." She panicked. "Please," she said. "Please!" I cut her off.
"I want to give you some more facts for you to answer my question. While you have been gone, I have realized that I am a dominant sadist." Her mouth dropped, she didn't really understand what that as, but she hoped I hadn't gotten religion.
"Bondage, Discipline, Submission, Dominance. I like to play with women as my submissives, as my slaves, as my little toys. I whip them, tease them, tie them up, train them, control them, and fuck them." She was speechless.
"I'm telling you this for two reasons, one, I will continue to do these things with others, regardless if I take you back or not, and two, because, and I'll make this really simple for a stupid slut bitch like you, who threw away the best thing in your life and now wish that you could have a do-over, I might, perhaps, be interesting in the one thing you do have to offer me..." I left it at that, grabbed her by her arm and walked her out to her car. Locking up the house, I got in my car and rolled down the window. "Be back here with your answer when I get home. Don't be late or else." She tried to ask me where she should go while I was at work. "I don't fucking care, just stay off my property until tonight." I paused, then added. "Maybe, it might be good to do a little research on what it is I'm interested in before formulating an answer. Bookstores have a wealth of information." With that I went to work.
Again work went slowly. My mind kept drifting towards her. Still shocked at her appearance, I wondered what was going through her mind. Was she at some bookstore looking through volumes on BDSM? Master slave? It would be a very interesting evening tonight.
This morning I had successfully striped her down. I showed her that she had no other options. She now realized that if she really needed my protection, she would have to earn it, and she was now discovering what that would mean. Either she would refuse, or she would give in and give herself to me, either way, didn't matter for me. Truly, now seeing her, seeing what she had become, I was disgusted with her. This was my wife? I fucking well think not! I turned down many a skank that were better looking than her.
Looking back, I realized that I had always been the better looking of the two. My idle, innocent flirting now didn't seem so innocent, my safety with other women because I was married, might not have been the reason other women flirted with me. Seeing me and then seeing her, they knew I deserved more, that I should have been giving my love to them. Wasted time, I was now making up for it though. If she stayed, offered me what I wanted in exchange for my protection, she would pay dearly.
I prepared myself. I called my lawyer and had a few documents prepared, one was her signing away all rights to any property we both owned, another was power of attorney over her, essentially giving me all rights and decisions over her.
I rolled up to my garage and sure enough she was there waiting for me at the front door. I let her in and led her to the sofa. I offered her no food, no drink. It looked like she hadn't eaten all day.
"Do you have an answer to my question as to what it is that you could possible offer me that I would want from you to allow me to consider protecting you?" She took a breath, eager that I got right to the point, it seemed that she had memorized the speech that followed.
"I did what you asked. I went to several bookstores today and read up on the subject. I must admit that it was very embarrassing when I asked the store clerks for books on the subject. Some of them laughed at me." She continued.
"I tried to cover as much as possible, I take it that people in these relationships take on roles of Master and slave and one gives up power to the other." I nodded. "Pain and pleasure seem to follow suit with the "Master" giving some sort of pain to the slave that also is pleasurable. I don't understand that though, I have never experienced pain that was pleasing."
I urged her to continue. "In truth, David, I have no choice. I need your protection and your trust. I do love you and I wish that I could get you to trust me again, but I realize that it's too soon for that to happen. I can only give you the one thing I have left to give David, myself. I realize that the type of person you are, you are probably looking for a slave, a maid, someone who you can order around, who will do what you say. If in this role I can prove to you my sincerity and that my intentions are true, I'm desperate to try."
I leaned back. "So do you understand what it is, that I'm asking?" She swallowed. "You want me to be your slave. For me to give to you the only thing I have to give, myself, totally over to you."
I got up and paced, to her I seemed like a leopard pacing for my meal, "So, if I were to ask you to call me Master from now on... ?"
"I would ... Master." She said. "And," I quickly added, "if I were to tell you that you now sleep on the floor at the foot of my bed... ?"
She gulped, realizing that she would have no choice, "I would."
I looked at her with an arched eyebrow, prompting her. " ... Master," she answered.
"And say you did something like forget to call me Master, what do you think would happen?" Shaking she seemed to break down now. "You..." she stuttered, " ... you ... would whip me..." I waited. " ... Master."
I faced her now. "None of this means that I will love you bitch. That I will feel for you. I will protect you and you will be safe within My House. Everything else is subject to my decisions. You take this deal and you have a place to live, food in your belly, and no pimps or druggies taking you, but know this, they won't own your ass, but I will."
Her face was pale. Would she agree? Would she walk? I didn't really care if she walked now, but if she agreed ... She nodded. "I accept." I paused. Victory! "You accept, what?" "I accept the terms, Master," she said. I smiled. "Good." She seemed relieved. The burden was gone, only to be replaced by another burden!
"In exchange for your protection, we have quite a few things to go over, rules, paperwork, punishment, and just general things you will need to know."
She nodded. "Rules first," I said. "First off, what ever I say goes, if I say the sky is green, you fucking say "Yes Master the sky is green." She nodded. I sighed, "This nodding has got to stop. When I say something, answer me properly, with a little fucking respect, understand?"
She gulped, her hands fidgeted as my harsh language was something she wasn't used to hearing from me. "Yes, Master." She quickly added.
"Rule," I continued, "you are not to use any furniture unless I expressly allow it. You may ask to sit on a chair, eat from the table, heaven forbid because you won't get this privilege anytime soon, to use the television or phone, but it is always up to me to decide if you may be allowed to use it. Understand?" She started to nod, stopped herself and said, "Yes, Master." I tapped my foot, she just blinked at me. "You really are a stupid cunt," I screamed. Pointing to the sofa I added, "What the fuck do you think you are doing?"
Her eyes lit up, "Oh," she said. "Oh? Well get the hell off my sofa! You kneel on the floor from now on!"
She quickly knelt, adjusting herself. There was a moment of anger in her eyes. I just stared her down. "Just you adjust that attitude bitch!" I warned.
"Rule," I continued again. "Bathroom and food are the same as furniture, I will decide when you eat, drink, piss, shit and sleep. You of course may ask, but I decide to allow it!"
"Yes, Master." She said. This was turning out to be a bit more than she realized.
"Now, more rules will come, but for now we have some paperwork for you."
I motioned her to the coffee table where she knelt in front of the papers I had taken out. I ordered her to sign them after explaining to her what they were. In essence, I now legally had final say over her in health and financial matters. I might have embellished a little and after she shakily signed her name, she was now under the impression that she had now waved all her rights in exchange for my protection.
She now knew that my legal end of the deal was to provide her with the protection she needed, not the love, not the attention, but the roof over her head, the food, and no more worry about money issues. Poor bitch now had no money issues to worry about. This, I told her would be proof of both hers and my sincerity on upholding the bargain. Now, after she had signed these documents and I had faxed them over to my lawyer, she was now my property and in exchange her piece of mind was that I would never banish her from my protection.
"Rule, just like the furniture and the food and drink and bathroom privileges, clothing is also under my domain. You may not wear clothing unless I specify it. You again may ask, but it is up to me. When I come home from work each day, I want you to be at the door naked, and you will welcome your Master home by kissing his shoes and greeting him by his title."
Again she responded with a yes Master.
I waited patiently as she realized that she should remove all her clothing. The clothes stunk, dirty and greasy, I wrinkled my nose, bundled the clothes up and threw them ceremoniously into the trash. She fidgeted, her exposed body, the rolls of fat and the varicose veins made her quite self conscious. She kept trying to hide her private parts with her arms. I patiently slapped her arms away each time she tried.
We continued as I went over the rules and what I expected her to do, she would not be sitting on her ass all day long, she would have to work, since I was the breadwinner, her day was mapped out with chores, everything from preparing breakfast and dinner for me to the cleaning, the wash and other tasks. She was only allowed in certain rooms, certainly the kitchen and the downstairs bathroom, the living room and for now I made my bedroom off limits. She tentatively asked where she would sleep, and I made a big show of trying to decide where in the garage a stupid slut like her should sleep. Finally I cleared out a pantry next to the kitchen, threw some towels down and said, you sleep here until I say so.
It was getting late, but I still had to impress upon her what happens if she disobeyed or misbehaved. I led her upstairs to the far bedroom. I opened the door and she gasped. The guest bedroom had been cleared out of all smooth soft objects to make way for my dungeon. "Oh, I've made some changes since you decided to walk out on me." I mocked. Strapping her in to a pillory her head and arms immobilized, I cuffed her ankles to each side as she was bent over giving me a perfect target for her ass.
I pulled down several whips and paddles, showing them to her, I laughed evilly. I grabbed a bright red ball gag and shoved it into her mouth. "I'm going to show you what happens if you disobey. Call this a sampling, but I think I shall also enjoy beating you for the hurt you've caused me."
I bent down, grabbed her hair and roughly twisted her head to look me in the eyes, "For each blow I inflict on you, know this, your little mid-life crises made me who I am today, every ounce of pain you feel is because you broke me, hurt me and made me angry. You humiliated me and drove me to enjoy inflicting pain on people. These last two years as I learned my new trade, every single stroke, cut, lash ... all of it I pictured you at the end of it."
All she could do was moan through her ball gag. Her eyes were tearing up. I started out slowly, first warming her ass with my hand, taunting her.
"Look at that fat lard-ass. It's like hitting jello. My you have let yourself go." I quite enjoyed my hand prints on her ass, but time to progress. I pulled out a small cat o' nine tails. Dangling it in front of her face, I smiled and introduced it to her. Then I moved behind her and started whipping her slowly but progressively faster and harder on both ass cheeks and her back.
"You were never really pretty to begin with," I sneered. "But really, you are disgusting! Fat, lazy, old, what the fuck happened to you?"
It was a rhetorical question of course, how could I expect her to answer when gagged?" She was fidgeting now, the whole of her backside was red, the cat was good at irritating the skin as it bit and dragged itself over the skin.
I walked over to the wall and hung the cat back up. Next I pulled down a nasty looking paddle. Birchwood, thick, long and evil looking "This, my dear is a paddle. I'm so looking forward to seeing how your ass looks after this."
No warm up this time, I just hit her squarely on her left ass cheek and then right. I only gave her five strokes on each cheek. She was sobbing now. Her eyes were gunked over, her nose and mouth strewing spittle and snot. I got some tissue after hanging up the paddle, and calmly, soothingly wiped her face clean. "Shhhh..." I cooed. Tenderly I wiped her cheeks and face clean. It took her a few minutes to calm down slightly, her entire body was shaking as she struggled in the stocks. Stupid bitch, she thought it was over.
I got up and pulled down a nice flexible rod, it was fiberglass, and had far less chance of breaking than a wooden switch or cane. "This," I said as I swung it around to allow her to hear the whooshing noise it made as I swung it. "This is by far one of my nastiest tools at my disposal."
Realizing that the beating wasn't over, she sobbed and started crying again. The look on her face was one of pure terror yet a realization that there was nothing she could do to avoid it. Her struggling in the stocks now seemed rather faint, all energy sapped from the previous instruments and beatings. I grabbed her hair and raised her face up to view the rod. "Spare the rod and spoil the slave? I fucking well think not Bitch!"
She moaned, well that's about the only thing she could do. "I own you ass. You have given yourself to me, to do as I see fit. I will protect you from everyone, but myself. You still have plenty of penance to pay."
All she could do is look into my eyes, wet, teary, sniveling, her eyes pleaded with me, she had learned her lesson. I think not. Not by a long shot.
I maneuvered around behind her, and measured up for my first strike. If you've never been hit by a cane or rod, you just cannot comprehend how badly it hurts. There's a sharp flash of pain that shoots through your entire body, but worst of all there then comes a long lingering pain, an ache as the skin cells die around where you have been struck. The concentrated blow basically erupts all the cells in that area and the remaining pain is like a fire torch burning its way through the skin.
She had no idea, until that first strike. She howled! All the remaining strength coursed through her body as she tried to break free of the stocks. The pillory was strong, made of solid oak wood. I waited till she calmed down before I swung the second stroke. Again she howled, and I was glad that I had gagged her. There was a fair enough distance between my house and the neighbors, but still, I was sure that someone out there could have heard her scream ungagged!
She was bawling now, her face a mess again. I continued striking her, pausing between strokes to allow the full blow to take effect.
An image of my wife, from when we were married, prettier than now, on her knees, sucking some nameless faceless mans cock, a smile on her face, a wicked smile on her face knowing, that I didn't know, reveling in the fact that part of the excitement of the very act was knowing that her husband, me, had no fucking clue. Humiliating me, snickering behind my back.
I swung harder now. I cursed at her, called her a cheat, a liar, a whore. I took out my rage on her and it felt oh so good. Her entire body was convulsing now. She had gone quiet, too quiet. I quickly stopped. I was shaking as well, my rage had taken over. I hung up the rod. Quickly I checked her face, she was breathing as I wiped away some of the snot and saliva, clearing her air holes.
She had passed out. I awakened her, slapping her face till she came to. Moaning, the pain quickly returned to her. She wouldn't look me in the eyes. Fear, guilt, pain, humiliation were all coursing through her. I hadn't noticed till then, but she had wet herself, her bowels had emptied and I was glad that I had taken the carpet up in this room, leaving an easily cleanable linoleum floor to wipe fluids like this down.
"This, you fucking bitch, is a little sampling of what's in store for you. Now you know what a punishment feels like. I will beat you if you do something wrong, I will beat you if you screw up, I will beat you if you disobey. Hell, I will beat you because I feel like it. IT. GIVES. ME. PLEASURE."
I unlocked her from the pillory, pulled her up and marched her down to the guest bathroom that she was allowed in. I pulled out some healing aloe-vera cream, a special concoction one of my mentors had told me about to help seal the wounds from a whipping.
"Take this cream and apply it to your ass. It will help it heal." She did and gingerly started to apply it. Her ass was bloody now, long purple and red strikes crossed it. Already sections of it were turning black. "Apply it more thickly," I said. She was huffing and puffing, clearly exhausted from the ordeal. I gave her a look as she started to nod and she caught herself.
"Yes, Master." She said though her voice was broken and she has whispered it. Once done, I marched her into the kitchen. Every step she took was in agony. "Cook something simple and fast, slave." I commanded. Once we have eaten you may go to your closet and sleep for the night. "Yes, Master." She said. The tears would have been flowing but I know that she was dehydrated.
"You may drink one glass of water before starting dinner." It would do no good to have her pass out again.
"Thank you, Master." She said and quickly poured herself a glass of tap water. While she quickly got dinner cooking, I went back into the dungeon and cleaned up her mess. In the future she would have to do this herself, however at the moment, I don't think she would have the energy to do it, and there were quite a few more surprises in this room that I didn't want her discovering until I sprung them on her.
I came back into the kitchen and she had just finished off a simple pasta dish, a little butter and cheese. Because she was still weak, and probably hadn't eaten much for who knows how long, but also to torment her some more with her sore, make that wreaked ass, I allowed her the rare pleasure of sitting at the table and eating with me. She was hesitant, until I slammed my fist down on the table. She quickly sat down and moaned. Her body shook as the pain coursed through her.
Eat, I had told her, and she did. There was little talk. She was more tired than curious right now, and even though she must have been flooded with emotions, she could barely shovel the food into her mouth because she was so tired. I had her clear the table, but told her to leave the dishes for tomorrow morning, and then I marched her to new sleeping area, the cleared out pantry off the kitchen. On the floor she tried to get comfortable and fall asleep. With the pain shooting throughout her body, I was surprised to see her fast asleep almost immediately.
I went to bed. I too was tired but before I fell asleep, I played through the possible occurrences that would happen tomorrow. Either she would not tolerate the types of abuse she now knew she would face, and run away to leave her fate in the hands of those brutal killer loan sharks, or she will have been broken and will fully accept her new position in life, as my whipping girl, my dirty ugly charge, my slave. If that were the case, I would know soon and the plans I had for her would start to go into effect.
The next morning was Saturday, luckily I was off work and could sleep in. She never did like to sleep in and I figured that she would probably wake up earlier than me and I would give her the time this morning before I rolled out of bed to allow her to decide whether to stay or go.
I lazed about in bed slowly coming awake. I heard some movement downstairs and figured she was either readying herself for the day's chores, or she was packing what little things she had left and getting ready to leave.
After a little while I smelled some bacon cooking. I smiled to myself. She's staying, I thought. Again, I wouldn't blame her if she had left to face those wolves. The last two years had drained her of almost everything that had attracted me to her in the first place. Her confidence and self esteem shot, she had the good sense to realize that she was ripe for the picking by some unscrupulous, nefarious people. Seeking shelter in the one safe haven still available in her mind, she retreated to the lesser of two evils, hoping, wishing that her caring hurt husband, whom she knew would lash out at her, would be the lesser of two evils.
Her parents had passed away long ago, no other siblings, and pretty much all of our friends had sided with me and had refused to stay friends with her when it got out that she had cheated on me.
Now she had accepted, after experiencing and learning what her new role would be here, the fact that she was now going to be my slave. I'm sure she figured that by biding her time and keeping quiet, doing everything that I required of her, she would be able to regain my good grace and be able to once again become my wife. Who knows, maybe in time that would happen, but if it did, it would not be for a very, very long time.
I replayed the image in my head that spurned my caning of her ass, the cheating slut whore sucking another mans cock. My blood boiled and my heart pumped with hurt, anger, rage and humiliation. Other images just like that, with her in different sexual positions had haunted me in my nightmare dreams these past two years. At first they occurred every night, then over the months they occurred less frequently, but always at the most inopportune times they would resurface. A pity to the poor woman who I was with when that happened. I did add the extra effort into my play time whenever a flash of that whore wife of mine flickered past my eyes.