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Punishment Fits The Crime
The attached work of fiction is intended to be entertainment for adults in
locations in which it is legal. If it is illegal in your location, DO NOT
read. This is a copyrighted work. 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.
Copyright 1998, 1999 by E. Z. Riter.
Please! Give me your comments.
E-mail address: ezriter@hotmail.com
Dear Reader, This is a repost of a from last year. As in all my
reposts, I've made improvements in the story. This is about a husband and
wife dealing with her adultery. It involves bondage and a chastity belt.
Don't let that put you off. It's not extreme. Enjoy. E.Z.
THE PUNISHMENT FITS THE CRIME
"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, 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 if she wore any 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 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 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 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 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 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 had done. Some
so-called friend of Jennifer had shared the tape with her. In a group, she
watched her being fucked by someone other than her 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 likes to think of his 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 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 burning a 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 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 would forgive a 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 confident in his own masculinity and strength, a
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 and 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 and lock to the belt. I showed them
how it worked and passed it around for them to handle.
They wanted to ask questions. 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 except one. Rachel asked it. I wondered if she was
contemplating such a punishment for herself.
"Can she 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 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 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 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.
E-mail address: ezriter@hotmail.com