Fifth Chapter: Crime and Punishment
Cathy and I were fast asleep when Helen arrived with our breakfast.
Yawning and rubbing my eyes, I reflected on how our daily routine had changed since Helen had arrived in our house.
In the old days - the period before Helen seemed to belong into some prior existence, and meeting her had been the start of a new era - in the old days, most of our lovemaking took place in bed, at night. Sometimes it would go on into the small hours of the morning, and we would be tired for the rest of the following day. Now, when we finally fell into our bed, exhausted, all we could think of was to get as many hours of energy-restoring sleep as possible. Our sex happened all over the house, very rarely in our bed, and hardly ever during the night.
Helen was wearing a loose T-shirt and a pair of shorts. Her outfit was conservative compared to what she had been wearing on her previous early-morning stunts as our servant. Years of practice allowed me to detect quite clearly the gentle bounce of her breasts beneath the T-shirt. I could see her nipples rub against the thin textile as she moved, and my mind's eye had a very clear picture of what was hidden inside those tight shorts. But I couldn't help feeling disappointed that I no longer had an unobstructed view of those beautiful breasts, the perfectly rounded cheeks of her bottom, and the inviting lips of her pussy.
Helen's outfit reminded me that this was the last day of the ALT-conference, the event which was responsible for the three of us meeting. Maybe she planned to attend today's session?
As I had done every morning, I offered to drive Helen downtown. I said I could either pick her up at an appointed time, or stay there until she was done for the day. I didn't exactly want her to go, but I thought I owed it to her. It was what we had promised when we persuaded her to stay with us.
Helen never went back to the conference. The only time she attended any session was to accompany Cathy and me when we gave our short talk - to 'lend moral support', and to make sure it really was a short talk. She showed no interest in attending any of the other sessions. "Staying with you guys is a lot more educational than discussing the theory and practice of translation," she had said on the few occasions when I brought up the subject.
Helen knew how to interpret my searching eyes and my roaming mind.
"I won't be able to stay with you forever," she explained. "The two of you will have to learn to manage without me."
It was clear that she wasn't referring to her daily breakfast service, but to the sex lessons which had filled most of the last few days.
"You'll have to get used to enjoying yourselves on your own. You'll have to become self-sufficient - or look for other partners to whom you can teach what you've learnt. The conference ends today. My return flight is tomorrow morning," Helen confirmed my worst fears.
Cathy, who had woken up in the meantime, joined me in my attempts to persuade Helen not to leave us so soon, to stay just a little longer.
"There isn't anything you can do in Australia that you couldn't do here. You're planning to go back to California in any case. Why don't you stay here until you make that trip?"
I supported Cathy, offering Helen unrestricted use of our telephone and our computer.
Helen hesitated. "But I need a computer that can handle Chinese characters."
"That shouldn't be any problem. Our Computer has a lot more horsepower than we need. We can partition it. One half speaks English, the other half Mandarin."
That convinced her. We partitioned the PC's hard disk so Helen could install the Chinese language software in one half. Helen insisted that we protect our part of the computer with a password to keep her from accidentally opening files we didn't want her to see. I didn't see any need for this, but agreed, just to make her feel more comfortable.
As a consequence, Helen also needed to establish a password for her half of the computer. She wanted to tell me what it was, but when I saw that it was a sequence of those complicated squiggles which pass for characters in some parts of the world, I didn't really want to know.
"What happened? Did Cathy finally leave you?"
That was Bill's reaction when I told him that the poker round which had been scheduled for the following day would be at my place. Cathy had gone to buy a few things for the snacks she would serve us, and Helen was busy installing the Chinese language software on our computer. I was using the break in my training program to phone the members of the poker round and let them know the good news.
"No, she's seen reason," I answered. "She's even agreed to apologize for her unfriendly behavior towards you guys." That was all I was going to reveal. I wanted the form this apology would take to come as a surprise to my friends. I was really looking forward to seeing their faces when they met the 'new' Cathy. That part of the evening had become more important to me than the poker game itself.
The others reacted in similar fashion. Tim was concerned about my relationship with Cathy. "You didn't force her, did you? Sometimes women react really badly when they're pushed into doing something they don't want to do."
I assured him that I hadn't put any pressure on Cathy. "There's this friend of ours who made her see the light," I explained. I wasn't sure whether this was an apt description of what Helen had done to Cathy to persuade her. "And afterwards Cathy agreed that she has behaved like a bitch towards me and my friends."
Cathy offered to cook something special for me and my 'cavemen friends'. She is an excellent cook and I am sure she would have produced a memorable meal, but I reminded her that the main purpose of our get-together was to play poker. "When we get hungry, we want to eat something without interrupting the game. That's how the sandwich was invented in the first place. So why don't you stick to sandwiches? Everybody else does."
When I had finished my phone calls and Cathy had returned from her shopping trip, Helen also reappeared from the office where she had been busy at the computer.
"Right, guys," she said. "What exactly did you expect to get out of it when you persuaded me to stay on? I suppose you didn't just want to talk about literature over a cup of coffee. So, you, Stan, what are your expectations?"
Sometimes her directness could be disconcerting, but Helen was right, of course. The way both Cathy and I had begged her to stay, left no doubt that we expected to benefit from her presence in our house. And by the same token, this had given her power over us. She could order us to do whatever she wanted.
What could I answer? Should I be just as direct and say, 'I want to make love to you at least once a day, every day until the end of my life'? That was what I felt like. But how would Cathy react to such a declaration?
Helen seemed to be less available to me now than she had been on the evening she arrived at our house. Her new attire, although casual by most people's standards, hid her beauty except for her stunning legs. Quite possibly, this only served to increase my desire for her.
I decided to keep my answer vague. "I want you to teach me how to be a better lover. I want to be able to satisfy even the most demanding women," I said, thinking of the two sexy creatures right in front of me. As soon as I had said it, I realized that this would mean more hours of agony, having my balls trapped in Helen's devilish device, being excited as hell but unable to get relief.
"Alright. How about you, Cathy?"
Cathy didn't have to think twice. "I want to experience an orgasm as intense as yours was when I whipped you. I want to learn to derive pleasure from pain. Tie me up, whip me, clamp my nipples, torture me, do anything you want, just make me come that hard."
I was shell-shocked. If ever there was such a thing as a blank check, Cathy had just signed it.
"And," Cathy continued, "I want Stan to fuck me every day the way he did last night."
That put the ball back into my court.
Following Helen's instructions, Cathy got down on all fours and stuck her ass invitingly up in the air. After lubricating Cathy's rear and my cock, Helen told me to fuck my wife's ass. "Give her as good as you can. Don't hold back," she encouraged me.
I drove my cock into Cathy's rear and she pushed back at me. It seemed that she had taken a liking to being entered by the back door. Her rear was so wonderfully tight, my cock was free from any impediments, and I was confident that I would be able to fuck Cathy the way she deserved.
But it was all too much for me. Seeing Cathy crouch so obediently in front of me, feeling the tightness of her ass, being able to knead her full breasts with my hands and hearing her encouraging moans made me lose control far too soon. My cock refused to obey my instructions to take it easy. It twitched, it trembled, it throbbed, and finally I spurted my seed into Cathy's rectum.
"Some improvement, but still a long way to go," was Helen's dry comment. I almost got the impression that she had timed my effort. "Further intensive training required. Back to the drawing board."
I knew that the 'drawing board' in this case meant the torture chamber, the by now familiar position, pinned with my back to the wall. The 'drawing board' also meant the harness around my cock and balls, the device I remembered so painfully well from the day before.
Helen stroked my cock until it was fully erect again, then she turned me over to Cathy. "He's all yours. Show him how you feel about his denial of service."
As Cathy licked my cock, I had the impression she was getting expert at this. The way she wrapped her tongue around my shaft, the way she circled the head of my prick, the way she lapped at my balls - it all felt so tantalizingly good. Did Cathy do this because she wanted to please me, or did she do it because she wanted to drive me insane? Should I be grateful to her for the undeniable pleasure or should I curse her for tormenting me like this?
Fortunately, Cathy wasn't able to dedicate herself entirely to torturing me. Helen was waiting to attend to Cathy's request for pain and pleasure. When I wasn't subjected to her rapidly improving stimulation skills, I could watch Cathy being on the receiving end of Helen's attacks.
It started quite innocently. Helen watched Cathy lick and suck my cock for a while. Then she got something from one of the shelves. She knelt behind Cathy and asked, "You liked his cock in your ass, didn't you?"
Cathy nodded.
"But you wanted a little more action back there, didn't you?"
Cathy nodded again.
That was the start signal for Helen's attack. She pushed a large vibrator into Cathy's rear and turned it to maximum speed. Cathy let go of my cock and tried to turn around to see what had hit her. But Helen pushed her back down. "Keep sucking him," she ordered. "I'll take care of your rear."
On my cock I could feel the effect the vibrator had on Cathy. She all but stopped stimulating me, just keeping my hardness in her mouth. Her breathing accelerated as Helen used her free hand to rub Cathy's clit. Cathy let go of my cock as her orgasm ripped through her body.
But that was only the beginning. Helen must have used just about every gadget in her arsenal of torture instruments on Cathy. There were times when Cathy was suspended from the ceiling, her entire body was crisscrossed with ropes. The ropes bent her, stretched, her, cut into her sex, encircled her full breasts and made her whimper in pain.
Every so often Helen would untie Cathy and order her to work on my excitement. Cathy would use her hands and mouth, even the cleavage between her full breasts, to stimulate my cock until I was ready to beg for mercy. The only thing which kept me from going insane was the certainty that I would eventually be released and that my orgasm would probably be as mind-blowing as it had been the day before.
At one point, Helen left Cathy and me in the torture-chamber while she went 'to get some work done', as she told us. I continued in my customary position and Cathy was dangling belly down from the ceiling, held aloft by ropes around her wrists and ankles. We both wondered aloud how long Helen was going to leave us on our own, immobilized.
When Helen woke us the next morning, she reminded both Cathy and me that this was the day of the poker round - as if such a reminder were necessary!
Once more I saw the shape of Helen's breasts under her T-shirt. Once more I spotted the exact points where her nipples rubbed against the textile. Once more I saw a clear image of her hairless pussy in front of my eyes. And once more I asked myself whether the days when I was able to get an unobstructed view of these treasures, when I was allowed to touch them, had definitely gone.
"I've got a special treat for you today," Helen announced.
It took me a while to realize that she wasn't talking about breakfast.
"We won't do anything heavy today," Helen clarified. "I'll give you both a massage, and then I'll let you try it out on each other."
"You mean like in those sleazy massage parlors where the girls do everything the customer wants?" Cathy asked, full of expectation.
"Not exactly. The technique I'll teach you does not necessarily lead to sex. It's very subtle and very sensual."
And, boy, was it sensual! I can't describe what exactly Helen did to me. All I can say is that she covered all parts of my body, back and front, from head to toe. At times, the touch of Helen's fingers on my skin was almost imperceptible. But soon after, she seemed to be cutting grooves into my back with her fingernails. The massage created a general state of well-being. I had the feeling that I could float if I wanted to.
After Helen had given me the full treatment, I watched her massage Cathy who appreciated Helen's talent at least as much as I had. Afterwards Cathy tried her skills on me and finally it was my turn to return the favor to Cathy. Helen taught us ways of touching each other we had never tried out before, in places we had never thought could be sexually stimulating. Cathy was full of praise, but I considered my efforts clumsy in comparison with Helen's subtle dexterity.
Touching each other so gently and being touched so sensually, left Cathy and me in a state of serious arousal. We were ready for a bout of passionate lovemaking and were thinking of a way to get Helen involved as well, but Helen wouldn't allow it. "You need to be fresh and alert in the evening," she stated, and suggested we take a cold shower - separately.
The cold shower reduced my interest in sex only for a short time and had hardly any effect on Cathy. The massage had left her all frisky. As she busied herself in the kitchen, I could hear her say repeatedly, "I need a fuck, I want a cock in my cunt." Cathy had definitely changed a lot since Helen had entered our lives. But I couldn't decide whether Helen's influence had changed Cathy into a different person, or whether it had only helped the real Cathy to come out.
I didn't know the answer to that question, but I had no reason to complain either way. I would have loved to satisfy Cathy's desire for a cock, but Helen's watchful eye did not give us a chance.
Cathy followed my suggestion to stick to sandwiches, but she wanted to make the evening of her public punishment a memorable occasion and prepared as many different types of sandwiches as she could think of.
There were bagels with smoked salmon and cream cheese lying peacefully next to middle-eastern pita bread pockets filled with char-broiled vegetables. There were ciabatta sandwiches with Parma ham, mozzarella and sun-dried tomatoes, tortilla wraps filled with a spicy bean mixture, along with the traditional turkey and cranberry sauce and roast beef and horseradish sandwiches. Some of Cathy's creations were not sandwiches in a strict sense, but they satisfied the requirement that they could be eaten with one hand without interrupting the card game.
Cathy also made sure that there was plenty of beer chilling in the fridge and kept a supply of more bottles handy for restocking.
More than an hour before our guests were due to arrive, Cathy changed into her punishment outfit. As I watched her strut about in her skimpy skirt, I remembered Cathy's confession that she would be willing to work as a hooker for Helen if Helen were to ask her. This was probably how she would be dressed when she went out looking for customers. I was sure she would attract men like flies.
To my own dismay, the thought didn't upset me. I didn't feel jealous or morally outraged. I even fantasized about being one of her customers, about Cathy taking me to her room in a dingy back-street hotel, about her getting undressed and letting me fuck her - having received her payment up front, of course.
When the doorbell rang, Cathy was at the door in a dash. She didn't give me a chance to get there first and maybe give my friends some advance warning. They were hit by the full impact of the 'new' Cathy right at the doorstep. The worst thing was that I wasn't always able to see their faces when they first set eyes on Cathy.
I only got to see them when they had passed the small entrance hall. They were quite obviously bursting to ask me what had brought about this radical change, but didn't want to do so in Cathy's presence. However, I could read the questions on their faces as they grimaced and pointed at Cathy with the movement of their eyes.
I didn't say a word. I restricted myself to grimacing back and shrugging my shoulders. The meaning I tried to get across was, "Hell, I'll be damned if I understand women!"
Helen had decided to keep out of sight. She figured that her presence would only complicate things or distract from Cathy's sacrifice, and we both agreed. So there was just Cathy, me and the gradually increasing number of poker players.
While we were waiting for the laggards to arrive, Cathy made sure we were looked after as far as liquid refreshments were concerned and engaged in small talk with those who had already arrived. She asked about their wives and wanted to know how their day had been. She even remembered the names of Hank's twins.
After everybody had arrived and we were settling down at the poker table to start our game, Cathy walked around the table and occasionally bent down as if she were picking up something from the floor. It took me a while to understand what she was doing, because I couldn't see anything that needed picking up.
The Cathy who didn't want my friends to peek at her pussy 'with their greedy eyes', the one who had only agreed to appear without panties because of the pain Helen had inflicted on her, had apparently taken the day off. At least, I couldn't see her anywhere. The Cathy who was in evidence wanted to make sure that all my friends knew she wasn't wearing any panties. She did her picking-up-things-which-don't-exist performance so that all my friends had a chance to see her panty-less bottom - and probably more.
I saw the expressions of disbelief on my friends' faces, but this time they didn't turn to me, looking for an explanation. They probably thought that I might get upset if I knew what they had seen, so they tried to hide their surprise and excitement from me.
When I met Cathy, almost ten years ago, I had considered her interest in me a stroke of undeserved luck. I had always been proud of my conquest. The fact that a woman like Cathy had chosen to stay with me proved that I was one hell of a guy. But I had never felt that I owned Cathy; I was never sure how long our relationship would last. My feelings were reinforced by my friends who called me admiringly a 'lucky bastard'. The two who knew about my affair with Julie also called me a 'dumb fool' because they thought there was a risk that Cathy might find out and leave me.
That evening was the first time I felt something like pride of ownership. 'Look what a fantastic guy I am,' my face seemed to say, 'Not only can I attract a classy lady like Cathy, I can have her dance to my whistle.'
During the game, Cathy stayed in the background but was always there when someone needed a beer. She would stand right next to the player when she poured the beer in his glass. Cathy had insisted that we drink from glasses. On previous evenings at our house I had simply put the long neck bottles on the table to save me having to wash glasses afterwards. The way she stood there, almost rubbing her bare thighs against the player's biceps, invited his free hand to slide up her legs underneath her skirt.
The first one Cathy played her trick on was Eddy. She probably assumed that he, not being married, needed a little excitement and didn't need to worry about upsetting his wife. But as everybody else got thirsty, they also were subjected to Cathy's temptation.
I noticed that my friends were tempted, but reluctant. They were probably worried about my reaction, in case I noticed. I saw them check to see if I was watching.
With them, I could use the technique which had failed so miserably with Cathy: Pretending not to be watching while I observed what was going on. As the evening went on, they became more and more daring. My friends really did believe that I was absorbed with studying my hand as I saw their hands disappear under Cathy's tiny skirt. I could tell from Cathy's face that my friends' fingers left her even more aroused than she had been before.
The only thing that might have given me away was my huge erection, but that was safely hidden beneath the table. Cathy told me afterwards that I hadn't been the only one with a raging hard-on. As the evening went on and my friends had had a few drinks, they were quite openly fingering Cathy's pussy and she was wriggling her ass and swooning with delight.
Cathy's presence, her attire, and her willingness to let them feel her up had a negative effect on my friends' ability to concentrate on the game. I won most of the hands, probably because I was the least distracted. I wondered briefly whether my friends would accuse me of having organized Cathy's show to distract them and help me win. But that sounded too much like an old black-and-white gangster movie. And besides, the money I took off them was barely enough to buy a couple of fancy coffees in one of those fashionable outlets which were springing up all over town.
But even though the amounts were small, being on a losing streak reduced my friends' interest in the card game. Or maybe they wanted to get home early to find an outlet for their excitement. Whatever the reason, the poker game ended much earlier than usual.
As the players were getting ready to leave, Cathy took center stage.
"There's just one more thing I need to tell you, guys," she started. "I want you to know that I feel really terrible about having treated you with so much hostility in the past. I know, my behavior was inexcusable, and it's really important to me to know that you've forgiven me."
Bill, Hank, Eddy and Tim all assured her that they understood that it wasn't always easy to put up with a bunch of rough-necks. They told her how pleased they were about her changed attitude and guaranteed that they didn't bear any grudges.
Cathy wasn't finished. "That's very kind of you, guys. But sometimes words aren't enough. I'll only know that there aren't any bad feelings when you've given me a thorough spanking for my misdeeds - each one of you. I've behaved like a spoilt brat and I deserve to be treated like one."
Cathy ignored the look of disbelief on their faces. She stepped out of her skirt and bent right over the poker table. Cathy's brusque move made her ample breasts spill out of her bra and blouse. They came to rest on top of the last hand of cards we had played. "All you have to do, is decide who goes first. But remember: it's considered impolite to let a lady wait."
In their confusion, my friends looked at me, expecting some guidance on what to do.
"Well, I guess what she means is that you have to decide whether you want to do it in alphabetical order by name, by age, or whether you want to draw lots," I clarified, feeling like a spanking-coach.
My matter-of-fact advice startled them even more. Was I seriously suggesting that they should spank my wife's bare bottom for her past sins? Wouldn't I be mad at them in the morning when I had sobered up?
Bill was the first one to overcome his indecision. "Well, if it's by name, then I come first. If it's by age, then I also come first, because I'm the oldest one around here."
He stepped forward and smacked Cathy's left bottom cheek. The loud noise the slap produced surprised everybody. I could see Cathy clench her teeth to avoid making a sound. The five fingers of Bob's hand were clearly marked on her pale skin. As she looked at me lovingly, I could sense her saying, "Look what I'm letting them do to me, just because I love you, darling."
Bill proceeded to mark her right cheek with his five fingers just as he had marked the left one. He didn't stop there. Soon there were no longer any distinguishable marks as pink blotches covered Cathy's bottom.
Seeing how well Cathy took her punishment, without making a single sound, encouraged the others. Eddy was next, followed by Hank - it seemed they had settled on doing it by name. I don't think any of them hit Cathy with his full strength, but I could see tears streaming down her face, rolling onto the tablecloth. Watching my wife being punished like this was one of the most exciting scenes I've witnessed in my whole life.
The last one to spank Cathy would be Timothy. He is the social conscience of the group. He always talks about behaving responsibly, treating everybody with the respect they deserved. He couldn't hurt a fly, let alone an attractive woman.
"Are you sure you really want this?" he asked Cathy.
Cathy didn't feel like talking. Her voice might betray her suffering. She nodded.
"Or has Stan threatened you? Has he forced you to agree?"
Cathy lost her patience. "For Christ's sake, just go and spank my goddamned ass," she shouted at him. "What are you, a man or a mouse?"
That did it. Not only had Cathy stated quite clearly that she wanted to be spanked, she had cast doubt on his manliness. I had never thought Tim was capable of hitting a woman this hard.
Cathy cringed as his firm hand hit her tender backside, but took her punishment with a stoicism which surprised me. (Tim regretted his behavior soon afterwards. The next morning Cathy received a large bunch of flowers with his apologies.)
After the four had administered the spanking Cathy had asked for, I accompanied them to the door. When I returned, Cathy hadn't moved. She still lay bent over the table, her bottom sticking invitingly into the air.
"Fuck me, Stan," she begged. "Fuck me hard. I'm so hot, I need your cock, and I need it now."
I didn't need a second invitation. I almost fell as I tried to take off my trousers while I rushed towards her. I plunged my rock-hard cock into her pussy. She was so wet, I was certain that she had already spotted the tablecloth. Any thoughts of letting Cathy feel a fifth hand on her bottom were forgotten. I just wanted to fuck this wonderful woman who had endured her punishment so bravely, who had driven me and my friends wild with her lewd behavior.
To my great delight, my cock didn't let me down. I could feel the spasms of Cathy's orgasm and continued to drive my cock into her. After she had come for the second time, I suggested we'd move to a more comfortable place. As I picked up Cathy to carry her to the living room, I saw Helen standing next to the poker table, watching us and nodding approvingly.
Cathy whimpered as her bottom made contact with the carpet, but she soon forgot her pain when she caught sight of my still rock-hard dick. "Come on, caveman," she encouraged me. "Fuck me. Fuck me hard."
I kissed the tears off her face as I thrust into her, fucking her as mercilessly as she had asked for. I felt like shouting for joy as a third orgasm ripped through Cathy and my cock was still rock-hard. When Cathy climaxed for the fourth time, I let go. I opened the floodgates and let my semen splash into my deeply satisfied wife.