by Frank Martinet
James left the house at seven that morning as planned. He kissed his sleepy wife Shelby goodbye. "See ya, honey. I'll be back on Monday."
She nodded a half-asleep acknowledgement and he left. But he didn't go to the airport. Instead he stopped at the car rental and picked up an inconspicuous compact and made his way back toward home. He stopped at a drive-through on the way and picked up some coffee and breakfast. In the car he watched and waited. It wasn't long.
At ten o'clock he saw a blue BMW identical to his own pull into the driveway. He focused his binoculars on the license plate and saw it was a rental. "Designed to blend in," he thought bitterly. No one would notice a strange vehicle in the driveway.
A man got out of the car and quickly slipped over to the front door which opened a crack to admit him. The man was tall with dark hair. His clothes were nice, elegant even. Obviously wealthy. He moved too quick for James to catch a glimpse of his face, even through the binoculars.
It was late in the afternoon when the man left. James had spent the day debating with himself. A part of him wanted to break down the front door and throw the bastard out the second floor window. A part of him wanted to throw Shelby out too.
But another part wanted to find out more about the man. Who was he? How did he and Shelby meet? And the most self-destroying question: what did she find in him that she couldn't find in her husband?
He started the engine and slowly drove after the BMW, trying to feel casual.
Shelby stood in the shower and let the warm water run over her body. She was trembling. A part of her was terrified that James would find out. But she was also exhilarated to a point of no return. Andrew had something about him she couldn't resist. James, dear James, always so formal, so calculated, had never brought her to such passion.
She directed the spray of the shower head at her crotch, blushing at the memories of her times with Andrew. Not just this morning, but many mornings, many evenings. Evenings and mornings of wild uncontrolled passion, of terror and excitement, of pain and pleasure and shameless delight.
Tonight would be special. Andrew would be here at eight o'clock and she had promised to leave the door open for him. She would be dressed for him and in position.
It was nine minutes after eight and Shelby was growing concerned. She suddenly wondered if she had made a terrible mistake, and felt quite foolish. What if the house should catch on fire? What if James should come home early?
She shook these things off. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. She was helpless. That was the point. She was putting herself completely at Andrew's disposal. She was in his power. She sighed and wished he'd hurry. She felt uncomfortable and afraid.
Then she heard it. The creak of the front door. He was here! Finally. She held her breath in hope and fear. It seemed to take him a long time to make his way down to the basement. She felt relief when she heard the door at the top of the stairs open.
Slowly James came down the stairs. The room was dimly lit. He heard heavy breathing and realized it was himself. He tried to calm himself down. At the base of the stairs he turned and entered the den. He stopped in shock. It was nothing like he had expected. He had pictured a romantic little love nest with all of Shelby's little feminine touches. Instead he was faced with something a cross between a medieval torture chamber and a red light district sex shop.
Shelby was naked. A red cloth was bound tightly around her head and covering her eyes. She was positioned in front of a large wall mirror, her back to him. Her wrists were tied with loops of cloth and these were attached to leather straps dangling from hooks in the ceiling. Her ankles were bound to the wall with more strips of cloth.
James couldn't believe it. His wife of twelve years hung naked before him, trussed up tighter than a virgin's cunt. She was blindfolded and helpless. Slowly James began to smile.
Shelby heard him come in and stand behind her. She wondered what he was thinking. Her sex was wet just hearing him approach. She wondered if he was as excited to see her. She wriggled her ass a little to see if it would evoke a response. She heard him make a sound - a sort of gasp or grunt - she couldn't quite tell. Her sex felt wetter.
He moved around the room. He was selecting a toy. She felt her heart beat rapidly and she tensed, as always wondering and fearing his selection. What would it be tonight? One of the leather belts? A wooden paddle? The thin strap?
Her answer came as she felt the touch of the thin riding crop against her shoulder. Interesting. He'd never touched her there before. Slowly the crop made its way down her back, tracing delicate outlines against her smooth flesh. Shivers traveled up and down her spine and Shelby was astonished at how wet she was already.
The crop was getting closer and closer to her buttocks. Shelby knew what would happen when it got there and she both dreaded and relished it. It wasn't the pain she enjoyed - it was the feelings the pain awoke in her. The pain always made her horny, made her lose control. The pain, though difficult to endure, freed her to be herself without shame. In the pain she could be as dirty as she wanted without guilt, because the pain was the punishment. There was nothing further to fear.
Shelby felt the leather tip of the crop touch her bottom and slowly traverse her left buttock, sliding back and forth across the flesh and gently patting the underside of her cheek. Then it carefully caressed her right buttock the same way. The slowness, the deliberateness, was new to Shelby, and drove her crazy. Her sex in the fierce agony of desire wished he would just smack her with the crop and get it over with. The suspense was frustrating.
But the crop now was being pushed into the crack of her buttocks, sliding down toward her sex. It slid upward between her legs and poked her sex with its tip, causing her to writhe to escape it. It brushed briefly against her clitoris and she was beside herself in desire.
"Ohhhhh! Come on, Andrew! This is torture. Get on with it! I can't stand it!" she moaned desperately.
The crop left her sex suddenly, drawing forth a cry of protest from her lips. The leather tips slid up and down her legs, rubbing against her thighs. Suddenly it struck, a hard flailing blow across the backs of her thighs. Shelby squealed in pain and surprise and tears came to her eyes. It was a hard blow and it left a bright red stripe across her legs.
Shelby struggled against her bonds but they were solid. She moaned and pleaded with Andrew to have mercy. As if in answer he struck her hard across the buttocks, not once or twice, but several times, lightning strokes that left her writhing and crying, her buttocks alive with stings.
The crop now touched her belly and Shelby froze in mid-bounce, her heart stopped. She felt it circle her belly button and slowly approach her breasts. She began sobbing as she felt moisture trickling down her legs. She was positive there had to be a small puddle beneath her. The deadly leather toy circled her left breast and then lifted it slightly, then more urgently. It played with the nipple a while, then gave the same series of treatments to the other breast. Shelby was in agony. Her buttocks stung slightly but it wasn't enough. Her sex was so hungry she wished he would whip her mercilessly until the pain blotted out the unsatisfied desire of her sex. She got her wish.
The first blow was on the side of her left breast and she screamed in shock. Then the right breast was struck and she was sobbing. The crop began spanking each breast in turn, striking the sides, then from below, and then the hyper-sensitive nipples. The blows were not hard. In fact, they were very mild. But the sensation was electrifying on Shelby's tender breasts.
Then the crop returned to her buttocks and Shelby got what she had wanted. A hard series of strokes left her bottom covered with dozens of tiny red welts, each pulsing and throbbing independently. The thin sheaf of leather struck her thighs and calves, leaving her legs tingling with sensations. She groaned and cried and begged but Andrew was a rock. He showed no mercy.
When he finally stopped she heard him rummaging through the pile of toys in the corner and she wondered if she could take much more. He had never treated her quite so harshly before. She found it invigorating, but exhausting. She was extremely tense. She tried to relax but was too nervous.
Suddenly there was a sound like gunshot and Shelby yelped in pain. Though her experience was relatively limited, she knew at once which toy he had chosen. It was a tiny paddle of stiff leather, approximately four by six inches with a three inch wooden handle wrapped in leather. It did not hurt as much as one of the larger wooden paddles, but it could pack quite a wallop. It was actually one of Shelby's favorite toys because it seemed so small and innocent but could inflict a phenomenal amount of pain. The main thing about it that annoyed her, however, was that it was too narrow to strike both buttocks at once. It was frustrating to have one butt cheek screaming in pain and the other feeling ignored.
Andrew certainly knew how to use that little paddle, Shelby thought. He walloped her left buttock until it felt bloated and swollen and she was begging him to spank her right side. He ignored her and continued to spank the same side, smacking her thighs with loud slaps that made Shelby gasp and left her breathless. When he finally moved to her right side she was so grateful she cried. At first the blows felt warm and good to her, extremely satisfying. But soon the pain surpassed the throbbing of her left butt cheek and she was crying miserably again.
After her buttocks and thighs had been soundly paddled he paused and she thought he was finished. That wasn't so bad, she thought. But suddenly his hand was touching her sex from the front. His touch was cold and she realized he was wearing a leather glove. His gloved fingers found her clitoris and pinched it roughly, the little paddle spanking her from behind, alternating cheeks with each blow.
The spanks were light but extremely annoying. As Shelby struggled to thrust her sex against Andrew's fingers the little paddle was a rude distraction, a light stinging that exhausted and weakened her. Her sex was starving and she couldn't get any satisfaction. She whimpered miserably, ignoring the series of punishing spanks Andrew gave her thighs.
This time the spanking went on for a long time. Shelby's mind spun and drifted and everything went foggy. She couldn't think straight. Her body burned with stinging pain but her sex tingled so much it made her weep with frustration. Each time the delicate tickle between her legs seemed on the verge of exploding, the gloved hand would slip away and the paddling would intensify. She couldn't stop crying and moaning even when she finally felt Andrew walking away.
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