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 The Wife's Revenge

   By The Mack.

   One thing that Hayley and her friend Geraldine both agreed upon was that
their sex lives had been getting rather dull recently.

   "Gary just don't seem interested anymore," she moaned to the other girl
as they wheeled their shopping trolleys down the aisle through the
supermarket.  Geraldine scanned her dark eyes over the shelves stacked with
baked beans and packets of washing powder and mentally trying to reconcile
them with the `money off coupons' she had in her purse.  Was the five pence
for baked beans or butter beans?  Hayley watched her friend doing her sums
and sighed inwardly.  This was as exciting as life got.  Both women were
subconsciously aware that the gyrations of their buttocks were being keenly
observed by Gavin the shelf stacker for whom in particular they were
objects of immutable fascination.  Gavin loitered about in his long beige
dust coat, pencil slid behind his ear, his spotty face shiny with grease.
Hayley didn't know whether attention from a little creep like that was a
good thing or bad but at least it was better than being ignored.  Their
bottoms swished slowly as they paced the aisle: Hayley's in a tight white
mini skirt that clung to her perfect curves and Geraldine's is a pair of
faded black Lycra leggings.  Seeing that she wasn't getting her friend's
full and undivided attention Hayley decided to up the stakes and said in a
loud provocative voice

   "I can please myself better than he can!"

   "Hay!" Geraldine gasped at the mention of female masturbation and
glanced around to see if anyone else happened to be listening.  Her friend
merely shrugged.

   "Well!  I ask you!  He knocks off work then goes down the pub with his
mates and when he time he gets home he eats his tea then nods off in front
of the telly.  Oh, if I'm lucky he pumps away for a bit then rolls over and
goes to sleep straight afterwards!" She added scornfully.

   "My Barney's the same," chimed in Geraldine who being short, dark and
plump was the physical opposite of Hayley - the blonde statuesque type. 
"His idea of foreplay is telling me in bed what a blinder Arsenal scored on
Match of the Day.  No imagination when it comes to sex."

   That word made Hayley pause and she bit her lower lip thoughtfully. 
Imagination?  Maybe her friend had given her a clue ...

   The two women had to struggle with the weekly shop on the bus since
neither of their lazy husbands could be bothered picking them up.  "When
you live with a bloke for any length of time he starts to take you for
granted," Hayley was saying as they walked along their London street in the
gathering dusk.  On the way the two women walked past a row of terraced
houses, their grey pebble dashed walls stained a greasy black from rain. 
One of the houses was dwarfed by the huge articulated tractor unit.  The
scrubby front garden had long since been churned to mud by its giant tyres.
It had red and orange flames painted down the sides and twin smoke stacks
plus the huge blank sheet of the tinted windscreen.  A man was busy
sponging the sides of the truck , hanging by one arm from the ladder.  He
had a classic male vee shaped body, sinewy muscle from hard work, not
artificially pumped up by steroids and the gymnasium.  Narrow braids of
chestnut brown hair cascaded down his powerful shoulders to the small of
his back.  He wore ripped oily jeans and a black tee shirt with cut-off
sleeves.  Hayley gave a low moan from deep in her throat whilst Geraldine
gave a high pitched yelp as though she were on heat.  "What a hunk!  He is
gorgeous.  Totally phoarsome in fact!"

   "Just look at those muscles!" the heftier girl cried aloud, unable to
tear her eyes away from the brutish man, sexy, dangerous yet reassuring at
the same time.  The women eyed him with undisguised lust.  "Who is he?"

   The man was Ricky, a self-employed trucker.  A lot of the middle-class
men: bank managers; teachers; quantity surveyors and the like resented the
presence of the long haired trucker.  From the racket of his motorcycle to
the earth-shaking thunder of his rig they said "he lowered the tone of the
neighbourhood".  They resented him for other more basic reasons too, since
Ricky had become nicknamed locally `the housewives' choice' for reasons
that were patently obvious.  The two women got excited and the furry mounds
of their pussies became hot and incredibly moist.  The outlines of their
vulvael lips would have showed through the gussets of their panties. 
However, Ricky's seduction technique was a tad rough and ready.  "Good
evening ladies," He called out after them.  "Especially you, Blondie!  You
look like Ulrika Jonsson off the telly.  I'd love you to sit on my face,
darlin'!"
"Why?" Hayley shot back.  "Is it because your nose is longer than your

dick?"

   Geraldine reflected on how Hayley was always the bold one: challenging
people; not taking any rubbish.  Ever college Hayley hadn't lost her
rebellious streak.  She did what she wanted in life.  That was why the
humiliation of being ignored by her slob of a husband was doubly
infuriating.

   "How's that office messenger doing?" Geraldine asked.

   "Oh you mean young Drew?" Hayley wrinkled her nose in annoyance.  "He's
a pain in the arse.  He's always hovering there behind me whenever I bend
over in a short skirt or tight leggings to stare at my bottom.  He's always
passing comments on my legs, my figure or my boobs and when I try and
reprimand him, he just gives me backchat."

   "Can't you sack him?

   "If only it were that easy.  The only problem is he's been in the job
for two years so he's got employment rights.  So if we sack him the staff
federation will take us to an industrial tribunal and the boss doesn't want
the aggravation."

   "Men, eh?

   "Yeah, men.  Useless ain't they?  Can't live with 'em - can't live
without 'em."

   Female laughter echoed down the red-brick terrace.

   That Friday night when the errant Gary finally decided to leave the pub
and wend his queasy way home, he was not to know of what would hit him.  As
he rolled in through the front door a cold, haughty voice boomed "Strip,
slave!  And do it now!" He looked up, astonished, to see his wife standing
before him where she had been waiting in the hallway.  But it was what she
was wearing that took his breath away.

   Of course, being a typical suburban housewife, Hayley didn't exactly
keep specialist dominatrix gear lying round the house.  But she had done
herself up the best she could using her natural inventiveness.  She wore a
raunchy black bodice laced up tightly over her pert breasts, the conical
assertive nipples poking out over the top of the smooth, clinging material.
The full glory of her long legs, as shapely and well muscled as those of a
tennis player, were sheathed in black stockings and worn with suspenders
and Cuban heeled boots.  To lend her sharply chiselled features an even
more patrician air, she had her wavy flax blonde hair pinned up in severe
bun.  "Strip now!" The twenty five year old housewife repeated and clapped
the palms of her hands together.  "Come along!  Chop!  Chop!"

   Muttering something about "Have you been at the radiator paint or
something?" Gary did as he was told.  Anything for a quiet life.  Maybe
after a bit of half-hearted sex he'd be able to get some kip.  But he was
not going to get off so lightly this time.  Clicking the front door shut
behind him, the thirty year old builder yanked off his tee shirt and gold
chain and dropped his jeans.  He felt suddenly embarrassed by his nakedness
and at the way Hayley tut-tutted at his hairy, floppy white beer belly. 
Once he had completely disrobed, Hayley threw him a posing pouch - left
over from their wedding night some four years ago.  Sex had been fun then.
Once he had reluctantly pulled it on, his wife ordered him out into the
kitchen and handed him the dustpan and brush.  "You can start by cleaning
the floor, slave.  And I want it clean enough to eat my dinner off!"

   "You're going barmy, you are!" moaned Gary but he complied, dropping
onto his knees to begin work.  The black and white tiles were already
creditably clean but there were a few crumbs to sweep up.  Hayley further
encouraged his efforts by giving his bum a few keen whacks with a crop -
she was after all a keen horsewoman who went riding regularly.  The riding
crop was black, long and slender, made of fine bamboo sheathed in leather,
an article such as you'd find in the windows of expensive saddle-makers.

   "Ow!  Pack that in, will you?  It flaming well hurts." But Gary kept
working and in any case Hayley took no notice of his pettish protests.  It
was all she could do not to collapse in a fit of giggles as she watched him
slaving away at her boots, the black thong briefs disappearing between his
fat bum cheeks now marked by red weals.  What a fool he looked.  But Hayley
knew that if she burst out laughing the spell would be broken and Gary
would no longer feel obliged to go along with it.  In any case, she was
beginning to get more than a little aroused by the feeling of power ...

   Once Gary had finished the floor, vacuumed the carpet, dusted and
ironed, the fun could really commence.  "I need special service, slave!"
she commanded.  "Go up to my room and lie on the bed." Shaking his head at
his wife's eccentric behaviour, Gary made his way up the stairs to their
bedroom.  A short while afterwards, Hayley walked in carrying a dressing
gown chord and two pairs of tights.  Gary was reclining on the bed as
ordered.  Before he could react, she seized his wrists and bound them to
the bedposts with one pair of tights and used the chord to tie his ankles
to the other two posts at the foot of the bed.  "Hey, leave it out!" He
cried, now getting rather annoyed.  However, his protests were muffled when
she tied the second pair of tights over his mouth as a makeshift gag. 
Leaving him bound, gagged and helpless on the bed she sauntered out of the
bedroom, her delectable rear swaying sexily in black silk panties.  Her
husband could hear the creak of her boots on the wooden boards as she went
downstairs.  When would she come back?  The anticipation was unbearable and
in spite of the throbbing pain in his buttocks, Gary soon had a huge
erection as he wondered what she was going to do to him next.

   After half an hour or so Hayley returned and stood framed in the
doorway, surveying her husband whom she had bound to the bed.  Smiling
softly she advanced upon his bound form and began to tease him, pulling the
pouch down to flick his big, thick, stiff organ.  Lord, she hadn't seen it
that aroused in ages!  Bending over by the bed near his head she pulled her
little black panties down, splaying open her vulva with her fingers.  He
gaped at her wet sexlips and budding clitoris incredulously.  Then she
straightened up and leaned over him to flash her boobs.  Pegged out like a
starfish, Gary bounced up and down on the bed, groaning with frustration
through the nylons which trussed his face.  Then, hopping up onto the bed
she crawled over to him and pulled down the gag.  Planting her boots on
either side of his head she squatted on her husband's face.  Before his
tongue could dart into her honeypot, Hayley jumped to her feet again,
giggling.  This went on for a bit until she came back and settled herself
properly this time.  "Lick, slave.  And make it good!  If you can't satisfy
me, there's always that randy trucker down the road!"

   Previously, Gary had never been too keen on oral.  But now there was no
stopping him - especially with the threat of competition.  His tongue
probed deep within her fleshy folds, flicking her labia and darting in and
out of her warm saltiness.  Rocking back and forth she wriggled her lovely
buttocks on his face, feeling his warm breath as that eager tongue worked
inside her.  Next she slid down his bound body to take his big, veined
penis in her mouth.  Her tongue wrapped around Gary's bulging purple helmet
and traced its way down the shaft as she sucked.  Sensing that he was about
to come, Hayley released his member from her mouth quickly.  "Not yet,
slave." Turning round to face him again she nuzzled her boobs against his
face before lowering herself onto his throbbing shaft which felt as though
it was about to explode at any moment.

   Taking full advantage of her trussed up husband's member, Hayley used
him for her pleasure, raising herself off him till just the tip penetrated
her before impaling herself back down upon him to take him fully inside
her. Her vaginal muscles squeezing, releasing, contracting.  Delaying his
orgasm.  All those months of frustration she had suffered recently while
he'd been filling his belly with beer up at the pub along with Barney!  The
thoughtless begger was going to pay!

   At last, when she knew that her husband couldn't contain himself off any
longer, she slid off just before he came and pulled her panties back up. 
"Are you going to untie me now?" Asked Gary, who was feeling pleasantly
weary if a little hard done by the deal.  However, Hayley felt like being a
real bitch!  Laughing, she flipped the gag back over his mouth and ran back
downstairs to watch television, still leaving him tied helplessly.  Gary
pulled and stained at the knots that bound him, a series of frantic `mmms'
emanating from behind the gag as he called after his wife.  But he found
out just how strong women's nylons are.  Unbreakable in fact!

   The following Saturday morning, the lads turned up at Hayley's front
door as usual to collect their mate for the customary weekend session. 
Hayley answered the door with a bath towel wrapped round her and she could
sense their lairy stares as they took in her slim, well rounded body and
firm breasts.  "Sorry, guys!" she smiled sweetly.  "But Gary can't come
out. He's a bit tied up you see." Almost laughing at the comic looks of
puzzlement on their faces, she closed the door and walked back into the
front room, dropping the towel which had concealed her slave mistress gear.

   Gary was indeed a bit tied up.  As was Barney.  Like a pair of pink,
plucked supermarket turkeys, they squatted on the carpet, organs standing
to attention and balls on display for the mistress's pleasure.  Their
wrists and ankles were bound with tights from the laundry basket and
panties were stuffed into their mouths, tied with stockings, to prevent
them from calling out to their mates in the hope of rescue.  Hayley paced
about the room, allowing the captives' eyes to linger upon the motion of
her lovely bottom in those tight black silk panties, her nylons rasping
slightly as she walked.  Also standing there was Geraldine, clad in a blue
leotard and black leather riding boots, her hair in a fashionable bob.  She
was revelling in this exiting new game.  Barney wasn't so sure.

   "Now then, slaves!" Hayley thwacked the riding crop against the leg of
her boot.  "Our boots need cleaning and we need service.  That's after the
washing up, the laundry, the hoovering, the cleaning of the bathroom and
the ironing of course ...!"
   THE END