Message-ID: <15170eli$9809110110@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/Year98/15170.txt>
From: godot@pacbell.net (Godot)
Subject: Story: The Straying Wife (09/26)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
Reply-To: godot@pacbell.net
Mime-Version: 1.0
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit
Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1
Path: qz!not-for-mail
Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam
Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Original-Message-Id: <35f4a299.1519099@news.pacbell.net>

was an engineer and was away for six months in South America. Kim
Stewart was alone, seldom went out other than for routines of living,
and didn't see anyone. Her husband's parents, the Stewarts, lived in
Pebble Beach. Apparently Kim had no communication or visits with them.
A snapshot, taken by the bodyguard, showing Kim walking near the post
office in tight white slacks, sneakers, and a loose red wool sweater,
was enough to interest him more.

He watched her for days, his careful intelligence not missing a
detail. Finally, he turned to Nichole. "I think she'll do."

Nichole broke into a dazzling smile of relief. She laughed and
relaxed, leaning back, jutting out her young breasts provocatively and
swinging them back and forth. Since he knew her for what she was,
Nichole could afford a lewd grin, a look of utter depravity, to come
over her face. She licked her lips, looking at Kim through the glasses
once more. It was going to be fun to trick the trusting young wife, to
lead her into depravity, to orgies, to wild moments when she would go
a little insane and behave in a lewd and lascivious way. It would be
wildly interesting and sexually exciting to see Kim come under the
influence of Web, to see him break her to his will, to see her perform
the way she did, to see her eager for a sexual perversion. If Kim
could be led to act that way, it would make her feel better. Besides,
it would please Web.

"I think she's definitely unhappy. Over what, I'm not so sure," the
gray dressed man said to Nichole. "At first, I thought it was because
her husband had left her. I thought she missed him."

"That's possible. She hasn't been married very long."

Web wagged a finger. "There's something more. I'm only guessing, but
she had a bruise mark on her neck, a bruise that she was at pains to
conceal. I saw it through the glasses when the wind blew it. Why would
you conceal a bruise."

Nichole again gave a lewd grin, "When I was afraid they'd be too
revealing."

"Exactly. Her husband goes away and she's concealing a bruise. Perhaps
several bruises. And she's sad. Why? Because she misses her husband?
Or does she miss being bruised?"

Nichole arched a cool eyebrow. "If she does, she'll be easy to bring
around."

"No," Web said, shaking his head, "if she just missed the bruises,
that would tell us a lot about her right away." His face bent into a
superior smile. "What would you do if your husband was far away for
six months, and you liked having him bruise you, you liked being
bruised, pushed around?"

Nichole was unashamed, brazen. "I'd go out and find me someone."

"Exactly. A woman who enjoys being manhandled, who likes it rough, is
a fairly free and sensual person. No, this Kim Stewart stays by
herself and looks sad."

"Meaning what?" Nichole couldn't follow his thought.

"Meaning, her husband got a lithe physical with her and she didn't
like it. Klaus, good bodyguard and informant that he is, told me they
were drinking at The Red Lion and El Matador the night before he left.
From all that Klaus could find out, her husband Henry had quite a bit
to drink." 

Nichole felt a familiar shudder and masochistic thrill go through her
body at the mention of the bodyguard's name. Klaus was strong and hung
like a bull, and he ready knew how to fuck, and she had done a lot of
things with Klaus, things she had watched on film afterwards. Klaus,
and Ernie, the chauffeur, were sometimes teamed with her when Web
wanted to watch or wanted to entertain his guests. She tried not to
think of Klaus and concentrated on Kim. She frowned. "If that's true,
if he got rough and she didn't like it, she's going to be tough. Maybe
it won't be possible." She bit her lower lip and looked beseechingly
at Web.

Web allowed himself a weary look of polite disgust. He sighed. The
trouble with Nichole was---she had no real imagination, no real
understanding of carnality. She loved it, wallowed in it, but didn't
ready understand it. She had no genius for it. Left to her own
devices, she would never land Kim. He saw he was going to have to
supervise Nichole's every move, carefully school her on what to say.
"You leap to the obvious fact and your practical, greedy, earthbound
imagination is content to rest there. A bruise, a beating, a husband
leaving. She did not like being beat up, right?"

"Right."

"Wrong. That is the most obvious thing. And it's stupid, for it
completely rules out what I tell you exists in every woman. Supposing
she is troubled because she did like it?"

Nichole tilted her head, suddenly seeing what he was hinting at.
"Possible."

"Not only possible, it's probable. Supposing she enjoyed it more than
she ever suspected? Supposing, for the first time in her life, she was
sexually excited?" He leaned close to her, smiling. "Remember how
guilty you felt at first?"

Nichole's nostrils flared with a quick passion at his nearness. It was
true. Still, at times, she felt guilty.

Web started the car up and they pulled away. "We're going home and
make plans. We're going to make them carefully, from your first
reunion with her up until the time she stands in front of me."

Nichole felt a surge of lewd passion at the idea; there definitely was
something wonderfully obscene, sexual, and horny in plotting the
humiliation of Kim Stewart. She squirmed her fishy young buttocks
against the leather seat. "Tell me what you'll do to her," she said in
a breathy voice.

Web chuckled. "I'll do better than that. I'll practice them on you."

Nichole sat with her eyes almost closed, her lips red and pouting and
trembled, the nostrils of her pert nose wickedly flaring in
unconcealed excitement. She felt her suddenly tingling nipples growing
taut, and she crossed her legs and squeezed her thighs tight. Her
sensual little body trembled in fine spasms and lewd excitement as she
felt her wet, trembling cunt swell and become moist with a hot itching
that was sweetly maddening. She needed relief from that itching. She
needed to feel on fire and be naked and lewd. She needed to be fucked!
She needed her body fucked and defiled. She wanted to be fucked again
and again, not just once. She wanted to be fucked by more than one man
at the same time. She wanted to be naked in front of Web and have him
tell her all the horribly exciting, wicked things that he was going to
do to her friend, Kim. She wanted him to practice sex on her.

She said nothing for the rest of the drive through Carmel and through
the Pebble Beach gate all the way to the house. She sat trying to calm
her breathing and the flaming animal passion that coursed through her
body. Web would call her and she would be ready. She gritted her
teeth. He knew how to turn her on, he knew how to excite her. Just a
few words and he had her feeling hopelessly aroused and ready to fuck
anyone or anything. He had her trained, and she clenched her fists and
hoped - she couldn't pray - that he would use her... use her body...
until she was a screaming, wildly writhing naked mass of wantonness...


* * *


Web Hardman didn't know how right he was. It was his genius to detect
traces of sexuality or lewdness in a person's make up. Once, in a rare
mood, he had bragged that he could talk to a person ten minutes,
merely passing the time of day or making polite cocktail chatter, and
be able to tell if that person was sensual or not. He prided himself
on his knowledge of human nature and his powers of observation. He
knew, after watching Kim for a few days, from watching her walk, toss
her head, from the way she looked out to sea, the way she held her
shoulders and contained her hips, he knew that she was deeply
sensual... and ashamed of it!

But he had guessed right about Hank Stewart's wife. She had been
brutalized and had, after it was all over, after Hank was long asleep,
learned just how much she enjoyed his rough treatment. She had played
with her breasts, hurting them, stinging and tingling her nipples and
then getting up from the bed, fleeing in a guilty way to the closet
where she put on a heavy terry-cloth robe and ran to the bathroom.

In the bathroom, the door shut, she felt safe. She listened at the
door and heard Hank's heavy snore occasionally. She was safe, she had
time. Her breath coming quickly, her eyes aglow, glinting and
reflecting an inner excitement, she turned to the bathroom mirror and
pulled the robe back over her shoulders, letting it fall to where it
was tied loosely around her waist. She stood, naked to the waist and
examined her firm young breasts in the mirror and under the antiseptic
bathroom light.

She saw vivid red scratches on her tender flesh and her seeping blood
somehow excited her. There were light pink scratches and darkening
bruises on her shoulders, neck, and inner arms. Her lips, always full
on her wide generous mouth, were a little puffed, and they hurt.



-- 
+----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+
| <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> | <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> |
| Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |
<http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/>----<http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/faq.html>