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--------------------------------------------------------
Copyright 1998, 1999 by E. Z. Riter. Reposting or any 
other use strictly prohibited without the express, 
written permission of the copyright holder, except may 
be posted as part of a review or posted to free-access, 
noncommercial archive sites. 
--------------------------------------------------------

Punishment Fits the Crime
by E.Z. Riter (ezriter@hotmail.com)

***

I held up the chastity belt for them to see. It was 
impressive looking, with its shiny, stainless steel 
belt to fit around her waist and its matching plate to 
fit over her pussy and lock to the belt. (MF, wife, 
cheat, blkmail, huml, bd)

***

"My object all sublime, I shall achieve in time. Is to 
let the punishment fit the crime, the punishment fit 
the crime." Gilbert & Sullivan 

The Crime 

My wife, Rebecca Gooding Wharton, aged thirty-seven, 
mother of Jennifer 18, Julie 17 and Jason 15, stood 
quietly in the center of our den. Her head was turned 
down in submission and humiliation, but her big brown 
eyes peered up at me from under her long lashes. 

She wore a long floral print dress which covered from 
her beautiful neck to her dainty, elegant feet. She was 
classy, demure and looked like a wet dream. From the 
tightness of the dress around her breasts, I guessed 
she wore her nuclear bra. That's what she called the 
push up delight which maximized her already significant 
natural endowment. She probably wore a pair of shocking 
pink thong panties if she wore any panties at all. 

She knew I loved that dress because I knew what she 
looked like without it. I knew that dress hid from the 
gaze of others a dynamite, beauty contest winning, 
figure covered by soft, touchable skin. 

She was wringing her hands, twisting the white lace 
hankie in them, and the tension was evident in her 
voice and face. 

"What're you going to do, Charlie?" 

"I think I'll divorce your adulterous ass!" 

"Never! Oh, God, Charlie, never! I can't think of life 
without you!" 

"You should've thought of life without me before you 
fucked Harry." 

"Please, Charlie. You know you still love me." 

She turned now to face me, raising her head to look me 
in the eye, brushing her long light-milk-chocolate 
colored hair from her face. The dress suggested her 
flat stomach and her hourglass shape as it clung to 
her. She took a small step toward me and began to cry. 
Slowly, she knelt on the floor, knees demurely 
together, hands clinched around the hankie which she 
occasionally touched to her eyes. 

"I know you love me, just as I love you. We've loved 
each other since we were six years old, Charlie. 
Remember first grade when I pledged undying love to you 
and you ran in horror?" 

"I had good instincts even then. I should've listened 
to them." 

"Oh, Charlie, please don't say that. We've had a lot of 
good years. Remember? From then on, it was Charlie and 
Becky, Becky and Charlie. Who first held my hand? Who 
gave me my first kiss? Took me to the prom? Took my 
virginity? Filled my womb with his seed to make our 
children? Who, Charlie?" 

"Were you thinking of those things when you sucked 
Harry's cock?" 

"Please, Charlie. This is hard on me, too." 

Her legs parted, knees shoulder width apart, the demure 
dress tucked tightly around her delicious thighs. What 
thighs. Thighs to die for. Thighs that when you crawl 
between them you enter paradise. She was trying to 
arouse me. 

She didn't have to try hard. I got aroused looking at 
her, thinking of her, smelling her, touching her. I 
always had, and, damn my soul, I always would. I knew 
that. So did she. 

Our problem was Becky had an affair. She was seduced by 
Harry, the tennis pro at the country club. That's 
nothing new. If men realized seventy-five per cent of 
their country club bills were directly attributable to 
their wives fucking the help, half the clubs in America 
would close. 

Harry videotaped them together. He blackmailed her with 
the videotape and received four payments. Then I found 
out. He was in jail and probably would get five to 
seven years, but the damage was done. The tape had been 
reproduced and sent to our friends. 

I'd seen that tape. The porn industry wished they made 
something that hot. There she was, my Becky, in all her 
naked splendor, fucking Harry. She was hot, sweating, 
vocal, whimpering, her delicious body oscillating, her 
hands all over him. My Becky. The one that had been 
mine. 

I called her my hot little slut. It was our private 
joke. But she'd been hot only for me and only I knew 
how hot she was. 

Now she was hot with Harry and everyone knew. I'd bet a 
year's wages every man in town had beat off to that 
tape. I knew they'd seen it. Things like that get 
around. If they saw it, they beat off. 

"Charlie?" 

It was the voice she used when she said "Charlie, let 
down my hair" or "Charlie, come lay with me." That 
voice. 

"Charlie, I think you have an erection. Were you 
thinking of me?" A toying, teasing voice. 

"I was thinking of the tape." 

"Don't think of the tape. Think of us! Think of that 
first time in your parent's bedroom. Remember how 
frightened you were when I bled? Think of the nights in 
Acapulco, by our private swimming pool at Las Brisias 
when we fucked in the water. Think of the week we spent 
at Sanibel Island, just us in that big condo. Oh, 
Charlie, think about all our great times together. We 
can have many more great times. We could have another 
one now if you wanted." 

God, she was sexy. Her body language screamed "fuck me" 
with her shoulders slightly bowed to offer her breasts 
to me, her pouty lower lip extended, her eyes flashing, 
the skirt now so tight over her pubis I could see it 
protruding. 

"Why are you coming onto me?" 

"You know why. I love you more than life itself. I want 
you and me to be one again. I'll do anything to get you 
to take me back. Anything! I'm going to fight for you, 
Charlie! I won't accept a divorce. I won't go quietly. 
I'll fight with everything I have." 

Her head dropped. I heard her sob. Her voice, small and 
sad, floated up to me. 

"What weapons do I have? Tell me, what are they? All I 
can fight with is my love, our memories and my 
sexuality." 

"Memories? I have a head full of memories from that 
tape. Even if I could forget, Becky, how do you expect 
to live here after what you've done? How do you expect 
me to live here?" 

"Please. We'll find a way. As long as I have you, I can 
live with anything. Any shame. Any horror. But I must 
have you, Charlie. I love you. Can you hear me? I love 
you." 

She was inching forward, now within arms' length. I 
stood and walked away. 

"Please. Don't run from me," she said. 

"I love and want you, too! If you touch me, I won't be 
able to resist you." 

"Is that so bad, Charlie?" she said, in a sultry, 
teasing tone. "Remember. You like touching me. My skin. 
Here. Next to my pussy. Smooth. Or here along my sides 
where my waist narrows. Under my breasts. My back." 

In one graceful movement, her long skirt was above her 
waist. She was panty less and her dark bush called to 
me. I could see the honey dew glisten. She touched 
between her legs and held her finger up to me. 

"Here, Charlie. This is what happens when you touch my 
pussy. I'm wet for you. Would you like it?" 

"Dammit it, Becky. Cut it out! This is serious." 

"I know it's serious. But it's not fatal. It'll be all 
right if we're together. Oh, I want to be with you, 
Charlie, I want you in my arms, between my legs. 
Please." 

"Why should I stay with you? Why should I live with an 
adulterous slut? Why should I endure the humiliation of 
a cuckold? Why?" 

"Do you really think I'm a slut? Do you? I'm almost 
forty and I've had sex with two men. One was a 
sonofabitch who had me six times in a two-week period. 
The other was you. How many times have you had me, 
Charlie? How many times since I first took you twenty-
one years ago?" 

"Is he the only one? Or have there been others?" 

"Oh, Charlie, how could you?" she said, her voice 
breaking in anguish. Her lip quivered. Demurely she 
lowered her skirt to cover herself. She began crying 
again. 

"I'm sorry, Becky, but I had to ask." 

"Why? You know me so well. You knew about him the first 
time, but were afraid to ask. You knew, Charlie. I 
could see it in your eyes. But I'll say it. No, 
Charlie. There haven't been any others. I wish to God I 
could take back those two weeks, Charlie, but I can't. 
I'll live with it the rest of my life." 

She straightened her back, gathering her resolve. 

"Look, Charlie. He fucked me six times. I sucked his 
cock three or four times. That's all. Sex without love. 
With you, it's love and sex. Think about it! He never 
held my hand. He never walked with me on a beach on a 
summer's day. He never toasted me with wine on our 
anniversary. He never stroked my hair as we danced in 
the moonlight. We never lay in bed with our baby child 
between us, holding hands in joy over our little one. 
He never curled against me in the morning and told me 
he loved me." 

"Did you enjoy it?" 

"Please, Charlie. Don't ask. Don't make me say it." 

Why did I ask? I must be some kind of masochist. Anyone 
who saw that videotape knew she enjoyed it. That's what 
made the tape so special. A very special woman was 
wildly enjoying sex. No Hollywood actress. No put on. 
Real pleasure. Real sex. Sex like only I use to have 
with her. 

"Becky, even if I took you back, the community problem 
weighs on me." 

"I know. Everyone in town knows I did it. Oh, it won't 
be easy. Those bitches at the club'll gossip behind my 
back. They'll look down their noses at me. But I can 
take it if you are there for me. You and the children." 

The children were very aware of what their mother had 
done. Some so-called friend of Jennifer had shared the 
tape with her. In a group, she watched her mother being 
fucked by someone other than her father until she ran 
screaming from the room. Now, all three had seen it. 
Teenagers are very aware of sex and of shame, of status 
and of humiliation, which they see hiding behind every 
tree. 

Our children had been humiliated as we had. They showed 
no signs of forgiving their mother, cursing at her if 
they deigned to speak at all. 

"What do you want me to do, Charlie?" 

"I don't know. I need time. No man likes to think of 
his wife with another man. Particularly me, Becky. And 
that's not even the half of it. The children. The 
community." 

"I know. May I continue to live in the guest house?" 

"Yes. Of course." 

"Please, speak to the children for me. I...." 

She broke out in tears again, curling into a ball of 
sobs kneeling on our floor. How I wanted to hold her, 
comfort her, take her cares away. I wanted to tell her 
I loved her and that everything would be all right. 
Yes, I wanted to fuck her, too. I wanted to fuck her so 
hard I'd drive Harry from her mind and pussy and soul 
forever. And I wanted to fuck her gently as I often 
did, sharing love with her. 

I knew what my answer would be. I knew somehow, someway 
I'd work it out for us. She knew, too, for we knew each 
other so well. 

My problem was to find a way to vanquish her guilt, 
letting her exorcize that devil. And I needed to create 
sympathy for her in the children and the community. The 
cuckold stain on me must be washed away to restore my 
status. In short, harmony and balance must be restored. 

No small task. 

***** 

The Punishment 

It had been four long and lonely days since Becky and I 
talked. Four days of pure hell! She stayed away from us 
as if serving solitary confinement. I was exhausted, my 
nerves frazzled, my emotions shot. The children were in 
bad shape, too. 

Becky was calm and serene. 

"I can only trust in you, Charlie, and I do trust you. 
I'll abide by your decision, whatever it is... unless 
it's divorce. Then I'll fight like hell to stay with 
you." 

The solution came to me as I lay in the dark of our 
bedroom which was lonely and cold without her. I ran 
from the house in my underwear, threw open the door to 
the guest house. She was asleep in the chair, wearing 
her thick, terry cloth robe. 

I shook her awake and explained my solution to the 
riddle. 

She threw her arms around me and kissed me hard. 

"Oh, Charlie, you're such a clever man. What a 
brilliant solution!" 

"Thank you," I replied smugly. 

"Charlie, it'll work. Our problem is solved!" 

"Well, not solved, but mitigated." 

"Oh, Charlie, can we make love again? I want to hold 
you." 

"I don't think..." 

I stopped, my words frozen in mid air, as the robe 
slipped to the floor leaving my Becky naked. 

"Take me, Charlie. Please take me and fuck me until 
nothing else in the world exists but us. I need that. I 
need you so." 

"No." 

I turned away, fighting for control of my own needs. 

"Please, Charlie. You know how hot I am, how good. I 
need you and you need me, Charlie. You need to be in 
me, loving me." 

She pressed hard against me, her breasts burning a hole 
in my back, one hand caressing my chest, the other on 
my cock. 

"No, Becky. Not until you're punished." 

"All right, Charlie. If that's the way you want it. 
But, Charlie..." Her voice was sexy and seductive. 
"...why punish yourself by not taking me?" 

"No. Not now. Not yet." 

Showing more strength than I knew I possessed, I pulled 
her hands off me and stepped away. I couldn't look back 
as I left. I didn't have that much control. 

We invited four couples to see Becky's punishment. We 
considered inviting the children, but decided against 
it. 

Jim and Peggy were our closest friends and had stood by 
us. Only Jim of the males in my crowd hadn't made 
remarks about the video, although I knew he'd seen it. 
We invited Marsha and Dick and Jason and Rachel. The 
last couple, Matt and Janie, were not close friends. 
Janie would rather gossip than breathe and what 
transpired would be all over town in less than twelve 
hours. The quicker, the better, as far as I was 
concerned. 

They arrived about eight and I led them into the 
garage. No drinks or hor d'oerves were served. It 
wasn't that kind of occasion. The guests sat in folding 
chairs on the cement garage floor. 

"Has everyone seen the video?" I asked. 

The women twittered and blushed. The men looked away. 
Finally they admitted it. They'd all seen that damn 
video. I wondered if they'd beat off watching it. They 
were intensely quiet as I addressed them. 

"Becky's to be punished for her adultery. You're here 
to witness it. Afterwards, all of you, and everyone 
else in this town, should realize she's been 
sufficiently punished and forgive her. Forgive and 
forget. Move on with our lives." 

"No real man would forgive a wife for what she did. I'm 
surprised you're even thinking about staying with her," 
Janie whined in her most imperious country club bitch 
voice. 

"A real man, a man confident in his own masculinity and 
strength, a man loving and caring of his wife, would 
punish her appropriately and forgive her. That's what I 
intend to do. Punish and forgive. And I want you to 
forgive, too, Janie. Becky's been a good wife and 
mother for twenty years. Two weeks are unimportant." 

"Well, maybe, if the punishment were harsh enough. What 
do you think, Rachel?" Janie asked. 

Yes, Rachel, what do you think? The rumor was Rachel 
was Harry's little playmate before Becky. 

"We should all forgive. If the punishment's severe, 
well, Becky would've suffered enough." 

Soon, as I had hoped, all were in concurrence. If the 
punishment fit the crime, forgiveness would 
automatically follow. 

"Becky!" I called. 

She had been waiting impatiently outside the garage. 
When I called her name she entered, her terry cloth 
robe draped around her and slippers like ballet shoes 
on her feet. With her head down in shame, she walked to 
stand by me. 

"Tell the witnesses your punishment, Becky." 

"I'm to be..." 

"Look at them and speak clearly." 

She brought her eyes to theirs. Tears formed and slid 
down her lovely cheeks. The audience was silent, not 
even breathing, as they stared back at her. 

"I'm to be stripped. I'm to be whipped as you watch. A 
chastity belt will be locked around me. I'll wear it 
the rest of my life to prevent further adulterous 
behavior." 

"No," Peggy gasped, bursting into tears over her 
friend's punishment. All were stunned, their faces 
showing true shock. 

I held up the chastity belt for them to see. It was 
impressive looking, with its shiny, stainless steel 
belt to fit around her waist and its matching plate to 
fit over her pussy and lock to the belt. I showed them 
how it worked and passed it around for them to handle. 

They wanted to ask questions. Red faces and embarrassed 
expressions gave way to insatiable curiosity. The dam 
of silence broke. Starting with "where did you find 
such a thing in this day and age," they asked their 
questions, all except one. Rachel asked it. I wondered 
if she was contemplating such a punishment for herself. 

"Can she masturbate when she's wearing it?" 

"Maybe. Nothing can penetrate her, but she might be 
able to titillate her clit. It won't be easy." 

I asked them to take their chairs and turned to Becky. 

I wrapped each of her wrists five times in a soft, 
white rope and tied it securely. I crossed her wrists 
and bound them together. I lowered the chain on the 
electric hoist, attached her and raised it until her 
arms were over her head and she was stretched with her 
back to the audience. 

The robe had been draped over her shoulders. I removed 
it. They gasped. She wore a thong bikini which covered 
little in the back, which was their view. 

I pulled the whip from its container and showed it to 
the audience. It wasn't a severe whip. It wouldn't cut 
her, but she'd know she'd been punished. 

"Anything to say, Becky?" 

"Thank you, Charlie, for giving me this punishment and 
forgiving me. I'm sorry for what I did. I love you." 

The first lick fell on the cusp between her ass and 
thighs. She jumped and gasped as did all the witnesses 
as if they'd been struck also. I won't describe the 
blows, every time the whip found her tender flesh. Nor 
will I describe how she twisted and turned, how her 
skin turned red and mottled from the punishment, or how 
she finally had enough and I stopped. 

"Now, the belt." 

I fastened the chastity belt around her waist and hung 
the key around my neck on a chain. I draped her with 
the robe again. 

"Sufficient punishment?" I asked. They concurred as I 
expected, removing stains from her honor and mine. 

"Please leave now. I want to be alone with my wife." 

***** 

The Fit 

We were in our bedroom. Becky was naked except for the 
belt. It was the first time we'd been alone together in 
far too long a time. 

"You were magnificent! God, what a man. First, you plan 
it. Then, you execute it to perfection! They thought 
you were punishing me with that whip. If they only knew 
how I love it, how hot it makes me. Oh, Charlie, I 
really need you right now!" 

I hurried to remove my clothes as Becky spun happily, 
dancing around the room. 

"How did you do it, Charlie? You kept me right on the 
edge of orgasm the whole time. If I'd not been tied, I 
would've cum. Wouldn't that have been something? And 
your little touches to our show. The tampon to keep my 
pussy juices from running down my leg. The oil stain 
remover on the floor to hide my smell. Charlie, you're 
really something. Hurry!" 

I was naked now. She lunged at me, throwing her 
delicious body into me, covering me in kisses as she 
jammed her steel-covered cunt into my cock. 

"Come on, Charlie! Get this damn thing off me! I want 
your cock in me!" 

"Becky, the belt stays. The whipping wasn't punishment 
for you. You loved that. The belt's your punishment." 

She stepped back, a stunned expression on her face for 
she couldn't believe what I said. 

"Charlie, I agreed to wear it forever, but only when 
you weren't around. You're here. I want you to take 
this goddamned belt off and fuck me! And I want it 
now!" 

"No." 

"You bastard! You sorry bastard! I've never been this 
horny. Charlie, I can't stand it!" she yelled, 
plummeting my chest with her closed fists. 

"Try begging instead of screaming. That might work." I 
said with a grin. 

She dropped to the floor prostate and kissed the top of 
my foot. 

"Please, Charlie. Please fuck me! I need you so 
desperately." 

"Keep begging." 

Her balled fist struck the top of my foot. As I danced 
around, she reached for the key around my neck. 

"No. Bad girl," I said slapping her hand away. 

She spread her legs, put her hands on her hips and 
thrust her pelvis out defiantly. 

"Charlie, why deny yourself me? Don't you want me?" 

"Yes, I want you and only you. But I want you to know 
I'm serious about this. This has devastated me!" I 
screamed 

Tears in her eyes, she held me tightly. She felt so 
good in my arms. 

"Oh, Charlie. I'm so sorry. I do love you more deeply 
than I can say." 

We cried together, holding on to each other for dear 
life. Fifteen minutes later I removed the belt. We made 
love, soft and slow at first, wild and passionate in 
the end. 

As she said, why should I deny myself her? I'd 
committed no crime. And I'd already been punished way 
too much. 

The End 

Please! Give me your comments: ezriter@hotmail.com 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.

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