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FF, FD, BD, NC, RAPE, HM

Synopsis: An unfaithful husband is punished by being 
forced to witness the rape of his lover...by his wife.


Scorned

by Wifey
februarywife@hotmail.com
Copyright 2002


My hands trembled on his computer keys.  I felt 
deceitful and sneaky, but I'd rather be a snoop than a 
fool.  I felt certain that he was cheating, and it was 
killing me.

So, on that glorious spring morning after a long and 
golf-less winter, I whispered that it looked like a 
great day to play nine.  Kevin immediately called in 
absent to his office, then found a tee-time around 
noon.  I drove to my office, and at lunchtime told my 
assistant I was leaving for the day and would only be 
available via cellphone for the most critical of 
emergencies.  This guaranteed me at least two hours of 
uninterrupted snooping.

The house was quiet.  The cat purred, the clock 
ticked.  A golf-cleaning kit sat on the dining room 
table, and I could see that Kevin had rummaged through 
more than one closet in search of his various 
accessories.  It was something I had always found 
endearing about my husband...he was very organized in 
some ways, very not in others.

His computer was still running on the dock in our 
bedroom—- he had forgotten to log off, as usual.
Which is exactly what I had hoped for.

Taking a deep breath, I clicked on "My Computer" and 
did a search on his C drive.
   All Files Containing:  "Pussy"

His computer hummed.  Five files were found...all 
email files.

I opened the first one, in which his friend Steve was 
calling him a 'pussy' for missing a company softball 
game.  The second one was an old, outgoing message to 
me, from back in the days where we routinely sent each 
other sexy messages.  When did we stop doing that?  
Why had I let that happen?

The third was an outgoing message to someone named 
"Jessica".

My heart pounded as I read it.  He called her "Baby".  
He called her "Beautiful".  He wrote that he couldn't 
wait to taste more of her "sweet, wet pussy".

My throat tight, I reminded myself not to cry, never 
to cry.  Stay focused.  There was business to attend 
to.

Shaking, I opened a new search for all Eudora files 
containing Jessica's email address.  I was a little 
relieved to see that they had tapered off lately, and 
he hadn't emailed her in over a week.  I scanned 
through them, despising my tears and feeling sick to 
my stomach.  Kevin was *my* husband.  And this bitch 
knew it...he wasn't hiding his marital status.

The last email exchange was a single paragraph, 
apologetically ending the affair.  He said he loved 
his wife, and was sorry to hurt her, and wouldn't be 
contacting her again.

I read it over and over, torn between triumph and 
rage.  He loved me, he chose me.  And perhaps I should 
leave it alone...it was over, after all.  

But then again, he had betrayed me.  I couldn't just 
let that go and pretend that I didn't know, that I 
didn't hurt.  And any woman who dared to play with my 
husband would have to suffer the consequences.

My mind whirled as I composed a new message from my 
husband's email account.

     "Dear Jess,
      I can't stop thinking about you.  Can I see you
      tonight?
      Yours,
         Kevin"

It was her work email address.  She replied in less 
than ten minutes.

     "Kevin,
      Why are you doing this to me??? You said you
      loved your wife and didn't want to see me any
      more remember??? You hurt me and now you just
      want sex so your asking me to see you but I 
      won't be used like that again.Go to hell!!!!!
          Jessica"


Her pain and anger were delectable.  I felt vicious 
and powerful, and offended.  How could Kevin have 
risked our marriage over some bimbo who didn't even 
have good grammar?  Inspired and malicious, I 
responded:

     "Jessica-
      I am so sorry that I hurt you.  I realize now 
      that I can't go on without you...I am deeply in
      love with you, and have been since the first 
      time our eyes met.  

      I felt responsible and obligated to stay with 
      Laura, and believed that fulfilling my
      commitment to her was the honorable thing to do.
      But I can't stop thinking of you, dreaming of 
      you, and must be honest with myself and with 
      her.

      I told Laura about us, Jess...told her about
      you and me, and how in love I am with you.
      She agreed to an amicable divorce, and last 
      night she packed some of her belongings and
      left.

      I know I don't deserve you, and am so sorry 
      that I lost you.  I only wish I had been 
      honest about my feelings sooner.  I will always
      love you, Jess.

               -Kevin"

This time, she replied in two minutes.

      "I LOVE YOU TOO!!!!!When and where should we
       meet?"

I typed back:

       "My house- 7pm.  Can't wait to hold you!"

I sat in front of the computer, willing her to email 
back and ask for an address or directions.  Oh, Kevin, 
you better not have fucked her in our bed.

But she didn't respond again.

*****

Desperate for distraction, I drove across town to the 
adult store, trying to stay focused on my plans.  I 
hadn't been to a sex shop in years, and purchased one 
of nearly every type of item in there.  The total 
receipt was over $400, but the wardrobe and toys were 
outstanding, and this was justifiably a special 
occasion.  The guy at the counter said "Thank you, 
Mistress" when I checked out.  I narrowed my eyes at 
him and snatched my credit card back from his fingers, 
slightly mollified that I'd get to star in at least 
somebody's wet dream.

I was in the bath around 5pm when Kevin came home.  He 
sat on the edge of the tub and thanked me profusely 
for recommending the golf.

"I have a couple favors", I began.  He looked wary, 
knowing that when a wife encourages her husband to 
skip work on a Friday and play golf instead, no favor 
can be denied.

"Sure..." he said, trying to hide his worry.

"My sister called and asked if she could come over and 
talk.  She's having boyfriend problems and wants some 
advice.  She was crying really hard."

"Oh, Laura, I'm sorry to hear that," Kevin said with 
as much feigned sympathy as he could muster.  He had, 
in all fairness, heard the same spiel at least a dozen 
times within the past few months.  "How can I help?"

"Well, would you mind going out with the guys or 
something tonight for awhile?  I hate to ask you to 
leave your own house, but I have a hunch it won't be 
very pleasant here."

Greatly relieved, he kissed my forehead and said he'd 
watch the game at a sportsbar.  Then he asked what the 
other favor was.

"Could you take my car tonight?  It's making a funny 
noise and I'd like you to listen to it."

"Absolutely, sweetie.  Steve can take a look at it, 
too.  I'll come back after the game, and if your 
sister's car is still in the driveway I'll head over 
to Jillian's...you could just page me there when she 
leaves."

"Perfect", I said.  "Have fun!"
*****

Preparing for the evening did wonders to lift my 
spirits.  Kevin and I had converted the basement into 
an art studio for my painting endeavors, and carved 
out some space for a laundry room and a small home-gym 
with a Smith Rack.

It was heavy, but I was able to drag the rack sans 
weights into my art studio area.  It's designed for 
weight-lifting without a spotter, and mostly resembles 
a large metal rectangle stabilized with perpendicular 
metal bars for feet.  After placing it about six feet 
in front of my easel, I made several trips back and 
forth to add barbells and weights, one at a time, to 
the Smith Rack.  I ended up adding every single weight 
we owned on three different barbells.

I adjusted the rack and my easel, hanging handcuffs 
and double-checking that they were secure.  After 
slowly examining my new toys and returning them in 
strategic order to the shopping bag, I lit some 
candles and poured myself a glass of wine, 
brainstorming for the evening ahead.  So many 
possibilities.  At 6:30pm I started to get dressed.

I had purchased a sheer white teddy with matching lace 
panties and thigh-high stockings, and long, high-
heeled white boots.  I let my dark hair fall loose 
around my shoulders, and applied my make-up carefully 
so it wouldn't be overdone.  Tonight, I'd be the 
martyr, but not the victim.

I went upstairs, took my gun from the dresser next to 
our bed, and unloaded it.

At 7pm, I was waiting behind the front door.  I heard 
her tires on my driveway, wondered what she looked 
like, but forbade myself to peek.  Her high-heeled 
shoes clicked briskly up my steps.  She knocked three 
times, and I opened the door with myself still behind 
it so she couldn't see me as she entered.

"Kevin?" she breathed, rushing behind the door with 
her arms wide open.  Her smile fell when she saw me, 
and she blinked in confusion.

"Hi, Jessica.  I'm Laura.  Kevin's wife."  I held up 
my pistol and pointed it at her face.

Jessica eyed my elaborate lingerie, and tears started 
to form in her wide, sky-blue eyes.  She didn't look 
scared, really, just sad and bewildered.  

"Is this like a...a game?" she asked.

I cocked my gun and stared at her, hoping the click 
would make an impact.

"No", I said, simply.  

"Because-- because I'm n-not into stuff like this" she 
quavered.

"It's not a game, Jessica.  You fucked my husband. 
Tonight, you're going to pay for that. Drop your purse 
here, then turn around and walk slowly down those 
stairs, straight ahead."

She started snivelling.

"Is Kevin here?"

I marched her forward with my gun on the back of her 
neck, but didn't answer.

"Oh, god...oh my god, did you shoot him?  Is Kevin 
alive?  Jesus, please don't kill me..."

Halfway down the steps, she screamed his name, 
suprising me so badly that I nearly pulled the trigger 
and revealed the lack of bullets.  Angry, I shoved her 
and she toppled down the last few steps, sprawling to 
the basement floor with a satisfying thud, her 
expression stunned as she rubbed her jaw.  Now, 
hopefully, she'd start to take me seriously.

She began to cry then, apologizing, and broke into 
full-blown sobs when I kicked her in the ass with the 
tip of a hard white boot and demanded that she rise.  

Jessica was extrodinarily beautiful.  Her hair was 
golden blonde and fell in long curls down her back.  
She was slender, medium-height, and had slightly 
muscular, curvaceous legs in silky black stockings 
beneath her little black dress.

It was a very little black dress.  The image of 
Kevin's strong hands sliding up her thighs and beneath 
her dress flashed unbidden through my mind.  I took a 
deep breath to shake the thought away.

"Keep going," I instructed.  "Right up to the easel.  
Then turn and face me."

She didn't seem to know what I meant by "easel", so I 
had to push her toward it.  My easel is my most 
beloved possession—- a huge, oiled-oak, Abiquiu easel 
that stands over seven feet tall and can hold works up 
to 500 pounds.  To Jessica, I'm sure it resembled a 
medeival torture device, which was pretty much how I 
intended to use it that evening.

"Reach up and cuff your right hand into that 
handcuff", I ordered, pointing with my gun.  She began 
to wail freely but complied.  I walked behind her and 
clicked it around her wrist more snugly, confident 
that her right arm was now secure.  I grabbed her left 
hand and cuffed it to the opposite side; she didn't 
resist at all.

The easel is adjustable, allowing me to tilt my work 
or raise and lower it by using the knobs on the other 
side.  Jessica was standing against it, but I wanted 
her perched on the small shelf that normally held my 
canvases.  I lowered it slightly and pushed her up 
onto it as she repeatedly begged me not to kill her.

"I won't ever talk to him again, I promise", she 
sobbed.

I studied her for a moment, wondering what the best 
way to display her would be.  The easel wasn't quite 
wide enough to hold her legs straight apart.  I had to 
settle for resting her ass on the shallow shelf and 
lifting her legs up towards her arms, and tying her 
legs against the easel beneath her knees with soft 
leather straps.  To prevent her from kicking me, I 
cuffed her ankles above her shoulders, admiring her 
flexibility as I shackled her ankles just inches below 
her wrists.  To take some of the strain off my shelf 
and her thighs, I tilted the easel back slightly but 
she was still mostly vertical.

"What's this?" I asked, hiking her dress up to her 
waist.  "No panties?"

"Are you going to kill me?" she whispered.  

"Not yet", I said.

She was blubbering about being too young to die when I 
slapped a long piece of duct tape over her mouth.  Her 
nose was running and I could tell she was having a 
hard time breathing through it, but my basement wasn't 
soundproof and I didn't want the neighbors to hear.

Reaching into my bag, I grabbed a can of redi-wip and 
started spraying it onto her pussy.  She squealed 
beneath the duct tape as I pressed down to release the 
cold, foamy cream that immediately melted and began to 
leak into her folds.  I sprayed more all over her 
clit, leaving a healthy dollop right above it to melt 
downward.

"Samson!" I called.  "Here kitty kitty!"

In a moment he was there, our big orange tabby that 
Kevin had found as a kitten.  I pulled my artist's 
stool up to the easel and patted it.  Samson hopped on 
and started licking the whipped cream between 
Jessica's imprisoned thighs.

"Stay real still, and he probably won't use his teeth" 
I advised as she stared down at the cat.  I wondered 
what his sand-papery little tongue would do to her, 
and if he'd accidentally nip in his enthusiasm at 
receiving such a treat.  Poor Samson rarely got 
anything better than a bowl of milk in addition to cat 
chow.

"Excuse me, won't you?  I have to go hide your car", I 
said.  Smiling, I put the safety back on my gun and 
left.  When I got to the top of the stairs and closed 
the door to the basement, I couldn't hear her at all.

Perfect.

Jessica's keys were in her purse.  I parked her car 
two streets over and walked home slowly, knowing that 
Samson wouldn't stop until he he had consumed every 
sweet drop.

She was jerking spasmodically when I returned, with 
Samson's raspy tongue attacking every last particle on 
her tender, vulnerable clit.  

"Are you all clean, Jessica?" I asked.  She whined 
prettily in reply.  Using a cold washcloth and some 
anti-bacterial soap, I scrubbed her roughly and rinsed 
her with a spray-bottle full of icy-cold water.  

Checked the clock:  7:55pm.  The night was still 
young.

I ripped the duct tape off her mouth and she screamed, 
then gasped in deep breaths as she resumed her 
sorrowful weeping.

"If you scream again, I'm going to fuck you in the ass 
with my gun before I blow your bowels right through 
your head.  Understand?"

She said yes, said she was sorry, and asked if we 
could 'talk about this'.

"Sure!  What a great idea.  We'll talk.  How many 
times did you sleep with my husband?"

Jessica first told me she didn't know, but as I 
reached for my pistol she cried "Three times!  Only 
three times, I swear to God, and I won't ever t-talk 
to him or anything again.  If you let me go, I promise 
not to tell the police anything either."

"How'd you meet him?"

She had to stop and think about this one.  I wondered 
if Kevin was just one in a string of lovers, or if she 
had known him for so long that she could no longer 
remember.

"I was a...a temp for awhile at his firm.  One of his 
associates invited us all to Beshanti's for drinks to 
celebrate something, I...I can't remember what, and 
everyone was really drunk, and I gave him my number. 

It was agonizing, the image of him taking her number 
in his hand, putting it into his wallet.  Kevin isn't 
the type of guy who gets so drunk that he forgets he's 
married.

"Enough", I said, pained.  "Did you not notice his 
wedding ring?"

She sniffled, having no adequate answer, and I went to 
my desk and returned with scissors.  Furious with 
myself for the tears in my eyes, I cut her dress all 
the way up the front, keeping the bottom blade cold 
against her shrinking skin, then cut the sleeves and 
pulled it off.  Her bra was lacy and black, her 
breasts full and luscious with rosey, hardened nipples 
peeking nicely through the lace.

"My legs are cramping- please- this hurts so much", 
she begged.

"I think I have something that can help with that," I 
offered kindly.  Rummaging through the basement 
bathroom medicine cabinet, I found a tube of Icy-Hot 
ointment.  The menthol smell was unpleasant, but I 
gently massaged it into the back of her sinewy thighs, 
even undoing her garter tabs and rolling down her 
stockings to just above her knees so that I could work 
the balm more thoroughly into her skin.  She spoke 
softly and repeatedly asked me to just let her legs 
down, or at least one leg down, for just a few 
minutes.  She said it was "unbearable."

"That's not unbearable", I told her.  "But *this* 
might be."  With that, I dabbed a healthy glob of Icy-
Hot onto her asshole, and watched with amusement as 
her pleading became more urgent and wiggling more 
frantic, her rectum burning, until she started banging 
hard agains the wood.

"I wonder what this would feel like on your clit", I 
mused.

"Oh, god, please don't, I'll do ANYTHING-"

I dabbed some of the lotion on my index finger and her 
eyes widened as she watched me.  Jessica's clit 
protruded from darkly swollen lips, her sex glistened 
with wetness even though I had cleaned and dried her 
thoroughly just moments before.  Her pussy was 
practically twitching, her ass clenching and 
unclenching almost convulsively from the the medicated 
lotion.

"Never mind", I decided aloud with my fingertip still 
poised above her trembling clitoris.  "I hate the 
smell of this stuff...can't even imagine how it would 
taste."  I deftly wiped my finger on the sole of her 
left foot, streaking her stocking.  Then I used the 
spray bottle and washcloth from earlier to wipe the 
Icy-Hot lotion from her red, puckered rectum.

Standing up, I noticed that her make-up job was 
completely ruined.  I cleaned her face gently and 
decided to give her a make-over of my own...after all, 
I'd hate to have Kev come home and see what a wreck 
his old mistress was.

She was hiccupping quietly but obeyed completely as I 
told her to shut her eyes, tilt her face this way or 
that as I applied fresh foundation and rouge, then 
some heavy black eyeliner and several layers of 
mascara.  I used a small brush to paint her lips 
cherry red, which gave her a sexier, sluttier 
appearance than she had arrived with.

Her lips were pouty and beautiful.  It started to 
mesmerize me, the silky little brush on her lips, back 
and forth and back and forth on her trembling mouth.  
Impulsively, I bent forward and kissed her softly, 
then raked my fingernails wickedly over her lace-clad 
nipples, making her jump, making her wet.

"LOOO-cy!  I'm Ho-ome!" Kevin suddenly called from the 
kitchen in his best Ricky Riccardo voice.

Before I could prevent it, Jessica screamed "HELP 
ME!!".  I slapped my hand over her mouth, smearing her 
lipstick, and she promptly bit my fingers.

I don't know if I screamed that she was a fucking 
bitch or if I merely thought it, but I backhanded her 
hard, and her head snapped so violently that for a 
long, terrible moment I thought I had broken her neck.  
Kevin leapt to the bottom of the basement stairs just 
as she took another deep breath and prepared to scream 
again.

Kevin staggered forward a few steps, astonished at the 
sight before him, and I lunged for my pistol before he 
could grasp what was happening.  With my gun solid and 
strong in my hand, I could explain, and finally tell 
him all the things I'd been waiting to say.

But instead, he looked at me with Those Eyes, and I 
burst into tears in spite of myself.

"Why did you do it, Kev?" I asked, my voice broken and 
weak.  I stepped back next to Jessica, who was 
snivelling again.  "Why did you cheat on me?  What did 
I do to make you cheat on me?"

"Baby", he said, staring into me.  He stepped towards 
me, so I lifted the gun to Jessica's temple to stop 
him from coming closer.  "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry.  
It was a mistake...it...it was my fault.  It's over.  
Now put the gun down, and we'll talk."

"No", I mustered, choking on sobs.  I hated that he 
made me feel so childish.

"God, Laura...I love you.  You.  She and I broke it 
off because I love you, and never wanted to hurt you.  
But for Christ's sake, you have to put the gun down."

Sniffling, I tried to regain some control.  "I want 
you to lock your right ankle into the bottom left 
handcuff on the Smith Rack, Kevin.  Now."

"Laura", he said, his eyes entering mine, beseeching, 
worried.  Not scared, but worried.

"Now," I repeated.  "Or I'll kill her."

He stood immobile and ashen-faced, but I could tell he 
was refusing me.  He knew that I could never hurt him, 
and was assessing his chances. So I cocked the gun, 
and Jessica whimpered in fear.

"Do it now or I'll kill her and then myself, you LYING 
CHEATING FUCK!"	

Kevin moved slowly but complied, his eyes leaving mine 
only long enough to find the cuff I referred to.  He 
locked in his ankle, but loosely.

"Now the other", I ordered.  He did.

"Now your right wrist to the top left handcuff", I 
said, loudly, so I could be heard over Jessica's open 
weeping.

"Laura, we have our whole lives...everything will be 
fine if you forgive me, but everything will be ruined 
if-"

"You want to blame ME for ruining everything?" I 
demanded, raging.  

"I love you", he said.  "Only you.  Please don't do 
anything stupid."

I went to him, lifted his left hand and started to 
cuff his other wrist onto the Smith Rack, but he 
grabbed my shoulder.

"Don't."  Kevin's voice was low and different.  My 
hysterics, my elaborate and dramatic setting, had 
astounded him.  I raised the pistol towards Jessica 
with my free hand, and Kevin's hand went limp in 
surrender.  I locked it in, tightly, then tightened 
the cuffs on his ankles and other wrist.  He had some 
room to move, but he wasn't going to escape with all 
those barbells resting on the rack behind him.  With 
great relish, I ripped off another stretch of duct 
tape and placed it over my husband's mouth, his look 
so heartbreaking that I couldn't hold his gaze.

But I did stand back to admire him.  So handsome, and 
strong, and helpless.  He just needed to be 
naked...but I decided to wait.  Let him stand, spread-
eagled, in his favorite blue polo and tan dockers.  We 
had all night.

"So", I said, clearing my throat as I returned to 
Jessica.  "Where were we?"

She opened her mouth to say something, then shut it 
again.

"Oh, right.  The lipstick.  You've gone and fucked up 
your mascara again, but it's still better than it was 
before."  I wiped away some of her smeared lipstick 
with my washcloth.

Shaking with adrenaline, I put my fingers into her bra 
and lifted her breasts out, tweaking her nipples and 
letting her flesh rest uncomfortably on top of her 
bra.

"Is this what you liked most about her, Kev?" I asked.  
They were bound and facing each other.  I rubbed her 
breasts, massaging hard, but Kevin just looked away.

I reached both arms behind her and unhooked her bra, 
pressing my chest against her as I did, and then used 
my scissors to cut the arm straps off.  Before it fell 
to the floor I caught it and threw it at Kevin's feet.

Then I went to my desk and retrieved my artist's 
palette.  Today was a Watercolor day.

Returning to the easel, I lowered Jessica slightly and 
tilted her further back so she had to stare at the 
ceiling, yet was not completely horizontal.  From his 
angle, Kevin was able to see her face and her openly 
displayed body.

"I've never painted a nude before", I confessed as I 
dipped my brush into the palette wells and began to 
mix colors.  Coral and rose hues, I decided.  Maybe a 
tad of lilac.

I heard her fast intake of breath as the wet, sable-
tipped paintbrush touched her warm skin, circling her 
areola slowly and tenderly, spiraling closer to the 
center with deliberate leisure.  Her nipple rose 
immediately, standing rigid as I dipped my brush again 
and painted her a slightly darker color there, dabbing 
and tickling with finesse as I watched her chest rise 
and fall faster than before.  She moaned as I flicked 
little brushtrokes across the tip of her breast, her 
fair skin blushing beautifully as I painted swift 
rings around her nipple.  I leaned into her and took 
her other nipple into my mouth and suckled long and 
gently before I began the painting process all over 
again, careful to provide the same diligent attention.

"Your skin is flawless," I told her.  "Maybe I can't 
really blame Kevin for all this."

"Oh, God," she said, and was silent again.

I took a larger brush and trailed downward, the colors 
of peach and honey nectar like gold against her 
smooth, fair flesh.  She squirmed as I tickled beneath 
her ribs, jerking wildly as I made cruel, feather-
light circles on each side of her abs.  I painted the 
word "slut" an inch below her garter belt, right above 
her mound.  Then I moved to the left, so Kevin could 
better see what I was doing as I continued to paint 
lower.

"Hmm, Kev, what do you think?" I asked as I mixed more 
colors.  "This is my favorite brush-- tiny and silky, 
perfect for detail work.  I think I'll use it 
right...here."  Jessica sighed heavily as I gently 
brushed her pussy lips.  "And the color.  Crimson and 
cinnamon, perhaps?"

I could hear Kevin breathing hard as I began, first 
painting with bold strokes all over her sex, then 
caressing her lightly with the tip of a smaller 
paintbrush as I worked my way inward.  I opened her 
folds carefully and drew langorous, intricate designs 
upon her squirming flesh.  She was gasping and 
writhing as I painted her clit with agonizing care, 
ever so slowly, the paint collecting so temptingly on 
her quivering nub that I couldn't resist gently 
tonguing it off before painting it back on again.

"Please", she begged.  "Please, please."  Her eyes 
were half-closed and desperate.

"Please *what*?" I asked smugly, prodding.  I looked 
up at her from between her thighs, my paintbrush 
making random circles, and with my eyes still locked 
on hers I licked her clit slowly with the tip of my 
tongue.

"Please help", she breathed.

I could see her wetness, smell it, and dipped my 
paintbrush into that, too.  I turned around and took 
it to Kevin, and painted her juice right beneath his 
nose.  His face was flushed, and his hard-on was 
obvious.  I unbuckled his pants and pulled them down 
to his hips along with his boxers, freeing his 
throbbing cock.

"You know what they say", I cooed, licking his ear 
wetly and making him jump a little.  "About hell 
having no fury like...*this*--" and he swore beneath 
the duct tape as I squeezed his cock, then snapped a 
cock-ring wickedly around the base.  I heard his 
muffled "FUCK!", and gave his balls an affectionate 
squeeze.

Satisfied, I returned to my shopping bag and pulled 
out some K-Y jelly.  I spread it on my paintbrush, 
letting them both watch, then returned to Jessica and 
lavished it on her rectum.

"It's much more comfy than the Icy-Hot, don't you 
agree?" I asked as I slathered it on.

"Please don't", she whimpered.

"Ta-daaa", I announced, and with great flourish 
procured a medium-sized, soft latex dildo from my 
black shopping bag.  I squeezed more K-Y between 
Jessica's tits and rubbed the dildo between her 
breasts until it was shiny and wet.  Then I sat down 
on my wooden stool in fron of her pussy, obstructing 
Kevin's view from her most delicious assets, and 
started to lick off all the paint.

Her thighs were shaking hard on each side of my face 
as I licked and sucked, careful to keep my pace 
excruciatingly slow, sometimes poking my tongue deep 
into her pussy but only long enough to tease and make 
her want.  And she did...her body arched toward me 
against her own volition, her pelvis thrusting toward 
my face because she Needed, she Craved, and each 
tongue-flick over her clit made her moan in despair 
because it wasn't enough to let her reach the 
steadily-building orgasm that had been burning there 
for the last few hours.

"Do you want to cum, Jessica?" I asked.  She closed 
her eyes and nodded, her forehead sheened with sweat, 
her nostrils flaring.  I unlocked one ankle and 
brought her leg down gently, massaging her sore inner-
thigh, and repeated with the other.  I let her knees 
rest on my soulders, with her wrists still captive 
above her head, and then I brought my face back 
between her legs.  Dimly, I could hear Kevin rattling 
in his chains, and I knew that not being able to see 
everything was the worst part of the torture for him.

I took her clitoris very gently between my thumb and 
index finger and rolled it slowly, tenderly, then 
nibbled lightly until she was bucking, her pussy 
terribly empty and slick with need.  I rimmed the 
inside of her vagina with my middle finger, then 
pushed in deeper and felt the hot walls throbbing 
against my hand.  Before she could anticipate it, I 
pushed the dildo against her tight, well-lubed ass and 
she screamed quietly when I entered her, my tongue 
still painting tiny circles on the hood of her clit, 
and two of my fingers now lost in her pussy.  I pulled 
the dildo out and re-entered, enjoying her frantic 
attempt to escape the intrusion, then licked her clit 
furiously as I slowly drove it all the way in.

Jessica came then, screaming words I couldn't hear, 
her hips locking around my neck and spasming 
uncontrollably.  I heard Kevin yelling beneath the 
duct tape, heard the whole Smith Rack clanging 
violently behind me, but I remained there with my face 
nuzzling her pussy.  I loved the way she was clenched 
around my fingers as her thrashing stilled to 
mindless, helpless writhing.  Finally, she lay limp on 
my easel, her eyes closed, her head to one side.  I 
stood and gently stroked the hair back from her face.
She looked up at me for a moment, grateful.

I eased away, and turned to find Kevin shaking, his 
penis fully erect and painfully swollen in the cock 
ring.

Just the sight of him there made me weak at the knees.  
I removed the cock ring and rubbed his penis, letting 
the blood flow, enjoying the way his body tried to 
move into mine.

But not now.  I couldn't possibly reward him for his 
betrayal.  I put the cock ring back on as he tried to 
yell "No".

I hooked my thumbs in my panties and slid them down my 
legs and over my thigh-highs and boots, letting Kevin 
watch, revelling in his anguish.  Then I returned to 
the easel and lowered Jessica until she lay flat on 
her back, her limp arms still cuffed above her head, 
her feet towards Kevin.  I crawled onto the wood, 
kneeling above her, stopping when her face was between 
my thighs and my face was above her sex.  

Kevin and I stared at each other, tacit understanding 
almost humming between us.  Jessica was mine, now, not 
his.  And from tonight forward Kevin was mine too, and 
only mine.

I considered the strap-on in the bottom of my toy bag, 
and wondered what it would be like for him if Jessica 
held his face while I fucked him in the ass.  There 
was still plenty of time.  I started to share some of 
my ideas with him when I felt Jessica's tongue slake 
out and lick my pussy, freezing me as I hovered over 
her in a classic 69.  It felt so good that I just 
sighed as I felt her, tentative and shy and tasting me 
slowly.  

Kevin's face contorted in frustration and pain. He was 
desperate.  And he was learning his lesson.
 
I ignored his muted yells and furious clanging as I 
dipped my head down to Jessica's mound, starting all 
over again with feather-light kisses that my husband 
couldn't quite see.



februarywife@hotmail.com