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Subject: {EZ}Punishment Fits The Crime (MF Rom Adul)
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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 by posted as part of a  review or
posted to free-access, noncommercial archive sites.

Copyright 1998 by E. Z. Riter.

Please!  Give me your comments.

E-mail address: ezriter@hotmail.com




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, 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. You know
that look, that "I am in deep trouble but I will seduce you out of my
punishment" look.

She was wearing a long dress in a floral print design which covered
from her beautiful, long, neck to her dainty, elegant feet.  It was a
classy, expensive, and demure dress but she still looked like a wet
dream.  From the tightness of the dress around her breasts, I guessed
she wore her nuclear bra, as 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, both
of which she pampered constantly.

She was wringing her hands, twisting the white lace hankie in them,
and the tension was evident in her voice and face.

"What are you going to do, Charlie?"

"I should divorce your adulterous ass!"

"Please! Never! Oh, God, Charlie, I could not think of life without
you!"

"You should have thought of that 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 step toward me and began to cry.  Slowly, she
collapsed to kneel on the floor, knees demurely together, hands still
clinched around the hankie with which she daubed her eyes.

"I know you love me, just as I love you.  We have 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 have listened to them."

"Oh, Charlie, please don't say that.  We have 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 stomach with his seed giving me
our children?  Who, Charlie?"

"Were you thinking of those things when you were sucking Harry's
cock?"

"Please, Charlie. This is hard on me, too."

I noticed her legs had parted now, her knees shoulder width apart, the
demure dress tucked tightly around her delicious thighs. Man, what
thighs! Thighs to die for. Thighs that when you crawl between them you
enter paradise.  She was trying to arouse me.

She did not have to try hard.  I got aroused just looking at her,
thinking of her, smelling her, touching her.  I always had, and, damn
my soul, I always would.  I knew that, and so did she.

Our problem was Becky had an affair.  She was seduced by Harry, the
tennis pro at the country club.  That is 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 tried to blackmail her with the
videotape and did receive four payments. But, then I found out.  He
was in jail and probably would get sent away for five to seven years,
but the tape had been reproduced and sent to all our friends.

I had seen that tape.  The porn industry wished they could make
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 holding him. That body.  The
one that had been mine.

I always knew she was a hot little slut.  We had joked and laughed
about it. But, she was hot only for me and only I knew how hot she
was.

Now, she was hot with Harry and everyone knew. I would bet you a
year's wages every man in town had beat off to that tape.  I knew they
had seen it because they had told me. And, 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 could have another great time right
now.  I can do something about that problem in your pants."

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 on to me?"

"Please, Charlie. I love you more than life itself.  I want you and me
to be one again.  I will do anything to get you to take me back.
Anything!  I am going to fight for you, Charlie.  I will not accept a
divorce.  I will not go quietly. I will fight with everything I have.
But, what weapons do I have?  All I can fight with is my love, our
memories and my sexuality."

"Memories? I have a tape full of memories that plays in my head.  How
can we generate positive memories now, in this town? How do you expect
to live here after what you have done?  How do you expect me to live
here?"

"Please.  We will find a way.  As long as I have you, I can live with
anything, any shame, any horror.  But, I must have you, Charlie."

She was inching forward, now within arms' length.  I stood and walked
away. If she touched me . . .

"Running from me?" she said. Now, it was the voice she used when we
played a bondage game and she was the dominant one, the voice which
said "I own you and I will make you beg me to stop fucking you before
I am through with you."

"Look, you stupid slut.  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, her pussy shaved as it had been for years. 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 am
all wet for you.  Would you like it?"

"Dammit it, Becky.  Cut it out! This is serious."

"I know it's serious.  But, it is not fatal.  It will be all right if
we are 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 am a slut?  Do you?  I am almost forty and
there have been two men who had their cocks up me. One was a
sonofabitch who fucked me six times in a two week period.  The other
was you. How many times have you been up me, Charlie? How many times
have I opened my legs to you since that first time twenty-one years
ago?"

"Is he the only one? Or, have there been others?"

"Oh, Charlie, how could you?"

She began crying again.  The skirt again covered her.  Her eyes ran
and her lip quivered.

"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.
There never has been another man but him. I wish to God I could take
back those two weeks, Charlie, but I can't.  I will live with that the
rest of my life."

She straightened her back, gathering her resolve.

"Look, Charlie.  He fucked me six times.  I sucked his cock eight or
nine times.  That is all.  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 is 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 could take you back, something else is weighing on
me."

"I know.  Everyone in town knows I did it. They all know.  Oh, it
won't be easy.  Those bitches at the club will gossip behind my back.
They will 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.  She sat in
a group and 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 to think.  No man likes to think of his
wife with another man.  Particularly me, Becky.  And that is only 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 little ball of sobs
kneeling on our floor.  How I wanted to hold her, comfort her, take
her cares away. And, yes, I wanted to fuck her, too.  I wanted to fuck
her so hard I would 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 then what my answer would be.  I knew that somehow, someway I
would work it out for us.  She knew, too, for we knew each other so
well.

So, my problem was to find a way to vanquish her guilt allowing her to
exorcize that devil, create sympathy for her in the children and the
community, restore my status in the community as a man by removing the
cuckold stain from myself.  In short, I needed to do something that
would restore harmony and balance.

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 she were serving
solitary confinement. I was exhausted, my nerves frazzled, my emotions
shot. The children were in as bad shape as I was.

Becky was calm and serene.

"I can only trust in you, Charlie, and, I do trust you. I will abide
by your decision, unless its divorce.  Then, I will fight like hell to
stay with you."

It came to me as I lay in bed, in the dark of our bedroom which now
felt so lonely and cold.  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 explained my solution to the riddle.

She threw her arms around me and kissed me hard.

"Oh, Charlie, you are such a clever man.  What a brilliant solution."

"Thank you," I replied smugly.

"Charlie, it will work. Our problem will be solved."

"Well, not solved, but mitigated."

"Oh, Charlie, can we make love again?  It has been too long for me."

"I don't think."

I was 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 your cock in me. I need that.  I need you so."

"No."

I turned away, fighting for control of my own needs, my own cock.

"Please, Charlie. Fuck me. 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 was pressed hard against me, her breasts burning a hole in my
back, one hand through the front of my shirt caressing my chest, the
other on my cock.

"No, Becky.  Not until you are punished."

"But, you are punishing yourself, too, by denying yourself me,
Charlie.  Me.  My body. My legs around your waist.  My hot pussy
wrapped around your cock."

"No."

Showing more strength than I knew I possessed, I pulled her hands off
me and stepped away. I could not look back as I left. I did not have
that kind of control.

We invited four couples to see Becky's punishment. We considered
inviting the children, but decided against it for obvious reasons as
you will see.

Jim and Peggy were our closest friends and had stood by us.  Only Jim
of the males in my crowd had not made remarks about the video,
although I knew he had seen it.  We invited Marsha and Dick and Jason
and Rachel.  The last couple, Matt and Janie, were not close friends.
But, I knew Janie would rather gossip than breathe and what transpired
would be all over town in less than twelve hours.

They all arrived about eight and I led them into the garage. No drinks
or hor d-oerves were served.  It was not that kind of occasion. The
guests were seated in folding chairs set up on the cement garage
floor.

"Has everyone seen the video?"  I asked.

The women twittered and blushed.  The men looked away. But, they
finally admitted it.  They had all seen it.  I wondered then if they
had all beat off watching it.

"Becky is to be punished for her indiscretion.  You are here to
witness it.  Afterwards, I wish all of you and everyone else would
realize she has 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 am surprised
you are 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.  He would forget her adultery and remember all the good
times they had together.  That is what I intend to do.  Punish,
forgive and forget.  And, I want you to forgive and forget, too,
Janie.  Becky has been a good wife and mother for twenty years.  Two
weeks are unimportant."

"Well, maybe, if the punishment was harsh enough.  What do you think,
Rachel?"

Yes, Rachel, what do you think?  The rumor was Rachel was Harry's
little playmate before Becky.

"Yes. We should all forgive even without punishment.  And, if the
punishment is severe, well, Becky would have suffered enough."

Soon, as I had hoped, all were in concurrence.  If the punishment fit
the crime, forgiveness would automatically follow.

"Becky!" I called.  My wife 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 them your punishment, Becky."

"I am to be . . . "

"Look at them and speak clearly."

She was beet red as she fought to bring her eyes to theirs.  Tears
formed and slid down her lovely cheeks.  The audience was silent,
appearing not even to breathe, as they stared back at her.

"I am to be stripped here in front of you and whipped. Then, I will
wear a chastity belt 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.

"Sit," I commanded and Becky sat.

I had prepared a broom stick, cutting groves in it and using rope, to
make a device to hold her legs spread. She raised each leg in turn to
allow me to put the slip knots over her slender and delicate ankles,
holding her legs more than shoulder width apart.

I helped her to stand and maneuvered her in front of the group. She
was facing them, her robe still covering her. I retrieved the chastity
belt from its box. 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 let each of them see it and
handle it.

Oh, they wanted to ask questions. Red faces and embarrassed
expressions gave way to insatiable curiosity, with questions starting
at "where did you find such a thing in this day and age."  Finally, I
answered the question they wanted to know but were afraid to ask.

"When she has it on, nothing can penetrate her and she can masturbate,
but not easily."

After asking them to sit, I returned to Becky. I wrapped each of her
wrists five times in a soft, white rope and tied it off securely. I
crossed her wrists and bound them together. Then, I lowered the chain
on the electric hoist I used for my work in the garage, attached her
and raised the hoist until her arms were over her head and she was
stretched with her back to the audience.

As I prepared her, I observed my little group of witnesses. My guess
was at least two of the four couples would do a little B&D as soon as
they got home.

The robe had been draped over her shoulders.  I undid the belt and
pulled it off her.  They gasped.  I will have to admit my Becky is
something to gasp at.  She was not naked but wearing a thong bikini
which, as you know, covers little in the back, which was their view.

I pulled the whip from its container and showed it to the audience. It
was not a severe whip.  It would not cut or maim her, but she would
know she had been whipped.

"Anything to say, Becky?"

"Thank you, Charlie, for giving me this punishment and forgiving me.
I am sorry for what I did and I love you."

I laid the first lick on the cusp between her ass and thighs. She
jumped and gasped as did all the witnesses as if they had been struck
also.  I will not describe every blow, every time the whip found her
tender flesh.  Nor will I describe in detail how she struggled in her
bondage and her skin turned red and mottled from the punishment, of
how she finally reached a breaking point and I stopped.

"Now, the belt."

I fastened the chastity belt around her waist and hung the key around
my neck on a chain before draping her with the robe again.

"Sufficient punishment?" I asked them.  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

Becky was naked except for the belt as we stood in our bedroom.  It
was the first time we had been together there in far too long a time.

"You were magnificent! God, what a man. First, you plan it.  Then, you
execute it to perfection!  Oh, Charlie, 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 was busily removing 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 had not been tied, I could have cum.  Wouldn't
that have been something?  And, your little touches. The tampon to
keep my pussy juices from running down my leg.  The oil stain remover
to hide the smell of my pussy. Charlie, you are 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 need your cock in me
really badly!"

"Becky, the belt stays.  The whipping was not a punishment for you.
You loved that.  The belt is your punishment."

She stepped back, a stunned expression on her face for she could not
believe what I said.

"Charlie, I agreed to wear it forever but only when you were not
around. You are here.  I want you to take off this goddamned belt and
fuck me!  And,  I want it now!"

"No."

"You bastard!  You sorry bastard! I have never been this horny.
Charlie, I cannot stand it!" she yelled, plummeting my chest with her
closed fists in frustration.

"Try begging instead of screaming.  That might work."

She dropped to the floor prostate and kissed the top of my foot.

"Please, master.  Please fuck your worthless slave who needs you so
desperately."

"Keep begging."

She balled her fist and hit me on the top of my foot. As I danced
around, she stood and 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, I am still the best piece of pussy in the whole damn state.
Why deny yourself me? Don't you want me?"

"Yes, I want you and only you. But, I want you to know I am serious
about this. This has  devastated me!"

Tears in her eyes, she put her arms around me and held on tightly as I
did the same to her. She felt so good in my arms.

"Oh, Charlie. I am so sorry.  I do love you so much."

I took the belt off fifteen minutes later to make wild, passionate
love to my wife.

I had committed no crime.

And, I had already been punished way too much.


Please!  Give me your comments.

E-mail address: ezriter@hotmail.com



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