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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
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type of literature, or you are under age,
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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,
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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
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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 54