Wayward Wife's Punishment
Chapter 16
The next day was Sunday and so I tried to catch Allie at home. The
second time proved to be the charm, she had just returned after dropping Jill
off at nurse Nora's place for a little one on one session. Rod was out carousing
with some of his rowdy friends and so she was happy to bring me up to date on
what was happening with my wayward wife, especially since it was my nickel for
the call.
According to Allie, Jill was fitting right in after a bumpy first week.
She was undergoing therapy for her social problems, a polite way to describe the
whoring she had been doing behind my back. In addition she was assisting the
doctors in evaluating various treatments and medications they were considering
for use on the hospital patients. She laughed and described Jill's job as being
a "crash test dummy".
She gave me the lowdown on Lockhaven Hospital, "a private oasis for
those in need of a break from the stresses of daily life", a quote directly from
the brochure that was only mailed to an A-list of very wealthy people with very
unique problems. Currently there were only four patients staying at the "oasis",
three females and a male.
Two were 16 year old teenaged twins who were being treated for deviant
sexual behavior, namely their two year lesbian relationship that had recently
led to the attempted suicide of one of them. The other was a woman in her late
40s who was suffering from anxiety attacks caused by her fear that her husband
would discover her predilection for well hung young men.
Now that her husband had finally gotten wind of this behavior, she was
well on her way to being cured, because she no longer had to worry about being
discovered. Allie said that the story got very weird and she didn't want it to
sidetrack her from detailing what was going on with my wife. However she did
promise to give me all the gory details at another time.
Allie couldn't resist saying a few words about the guy that had been
admitted recently.He was the boy toy of a rich widow. She'd caught him fooling
around with some young cuties and given him a choice, leave the comfort of her
estate or submit to some intensive "rehabilitation" at Lockhaven. It was
difficult to get what she said through the peals of laughter, but evidently he
was regularly servicing a few of the nurses and other hospital personnel as part
of his therapy. What made it so funny was they were generally fat, old and
nasty, sort of like his present keeper. The staff had started a pool to pick the
day when he couldn't get it up regardless of the threats that were being used to
incentivize him.
Jill was currently undergoing aversion therapy in hopes of curing her
itch for strange cock. She'd be brought to orgasm by mechanical means that were
much more sophisticated than the dildos and vibrators used by most women. Jill's
cunt was being reamed and rodded out by a machine designed to simulate the
action of a well hung gigolo. While this was happening, an array of sensors
glued to various portions of her body was feeding data to a computer programmed
to identify a woman's impending orgasm.
When the computer said "Bingo", all hell broke loose. At first Jill was
treated with electroshock, the kind that fried some brain cells everytime it was
used. My slut wife proved to be quite resistant to this approach. She soon was
taking maximum power for the maximum time and showing no signs of change in her
attitude toward her mechanical lover. Even after a few days straight of maximum
everything she still would start getting wet before they turned on the machine.
Running the power through the long, thick, ribbed and studded cylinder that was
a reasonable facsimile of the diseased sex organ of some farm animal had no
effect whatsoever, despite the awful smell her cunt released when the funk she
generated was instantly vaporized in situ.
Ice water enemas delivered by means of a small pump for maximum effect
proved no panacea either. This was an extremely dangerous procedure because of
the force required to speedily flood her bowels. There had been some unfortunate
accidents in the past, one causing a perforated bowel that required surgery.
Then someone got the bright idea of combining the two therapies. That worked
like a charm the first time, except Jill went into shock for hours and two days
later demonstrated that she had become resistant to this approach as well.
Presently the doctors were examining the use of pain as an orgasm
inhibitor, but it was too early to assess progress because there were so many
ways to cause pain and so many different types of pain that could be created.
Allie observed that this stage of her sister's treatment matched well with her
hospital assignment.
My wayward wife was being used as a test bed for new types of enemas
dreamed up by nurse Nora and a few of her disciples at the hospital. Some were
designed to dehydrate the patient, but naturally there was a fine line between
sucking most of the juice from a body and turning it into a corpse. Allie
laughed as she described how easy it was to get Jill to drink piss after a day
taking a few of these experimental solutions.
Others were created to cause the patient to wish that he or she was
dead, but never giving them their wish. These were predicated on the idea of
mixing different chemicals that did not react at room temperature. However once
they were released into the body's intestines, the elevated temperature would
set off a chemical reaction causing the release of huge amounts of gaseous
byproducts. To Jill this was akin to having a bomb go off inside her gut. The
doctors were interested in developing a precisely controlled solution with a
known yield. To date Jill had been tested with twenty-six candidate solutions
and was still functioning. The nurses joked that the rapid expansion of her
belly from these various mixtures was soon going to give her stretch marks,
which made her crazy with anxiety. It didn't help that Allie was still forcing
her to drink perhaps a gallon of whatever noxious liquid was available whenever
Rod wanted to exercise his fetish for fucking pregnant women, which could not be
easily satisfied in this sparsely populated community.
Jill continued to be less than thrilled by her encounters with Shagger
and his canine cohorts, but Sheriff Vlad claims that sooner or later she'll
acquire a taste for doggy dick. Allie said that when that happened she was going
to buy a dog, a big dog. Good progress had been made to find a place that could
provide equine servicing for Allie's sister. It turned out that a local lawyer,a
man named Kurtz, owned a rather large working farm an hour's drive from the
town. He and his brother were involved in the making of specialty videos for
distribution and sale to Asia and Europe. On more than one occasion he provided
such services as Allie was seeking. Allie also claimed that rumor had it that
lawyer Kurtz's daughter, a member of the sheriff's staff, had appeared in this
type of video on occasion.
Finally Allie got around to the subject of Jill's pending meeting with
the parson and Nancy. It was tentatively scheduled for the weekend after next
and I could expect to be receiving a tape of the proceedings shortly thereafter.
According to my sister-in-law, the parson was still quite put out about my
behavior towards his slave-wife and the big city attitude that Jill had
developed after she left the area. He intended to put her in her place with a
vengeance. Allie was so concerned that she was trying to have the sheriff attend
the taping to provide some degree of protection in the event that things got out
of hand.
Glinda failed to show up for work, calling in sick. To me that meant
that Cindi had probably done a good job of payback, since Sunday would have been
Glinda's turn in the barrel. However when she was missing in action the
following day, I checked up and discovered that Cindi also hadn't reported for
work this week either. At noon I called Glinda and got no answer from her or
her answering machine. At that point I started to worry. After work I drove over
to the girls' apartment and discovered they weren't home. Things had turned
decidedly strange. That night I called three times with no answer. Their
answering machine had obviously been turned off, which was another sign they
wanted to be incommunicado. Where had they gone, and for what purpose? I drew a
blank.
Wednesday was just full of surprises. It seemed that Glinda had called
in early that morning and given notice without an explanation, asking that all
salary due her be sent to a post office box in St.Paul. Checking around further,
I found out that Cindi had also abruptly terminated her relationship with the
company. That evening I got a call from Cindi. As I listened to what she told
me, it all began to make sense.
Upon returning to their apartment Sunday, there was a quick reversal in
roles, probably sparked by the going over that she had gotten that afternoon.
They stayed up nearly the entire night as Cindi worked on her beautiful well
built roommate who was securely bound and gagged, when appropriate. A few hours
before dawn, the other Glinda, full blown in a sense, finally came out of the
closet. Cindi had suspected that a personality change might be in the offing,
and she took full advantage of this opportunity.
Glinda 2 was almost child-like, very insecure in her new surroundings
and suffering the torments of the damned brought about by her lengthy incestuous
relationship with the male members of her family. She sought forgiveness and
redemption for the sins of the past. Cindi seized the day, taking command of
this frightened waif. The new Glinda proved to be easily controlled, almost
reveling in her submissive position with respect to her roommate. There was a
darker side to Cindi as well, and it too flowered. No longer was she the
plumpish, faceless cog in the machine. Now she had some power and she would make
the most of it.
In her other life Cindi had been attracted to those living on the edge,
discipline problems at school, angry at the injustice of the system that kept
them down. Then evolving into hoodlums, petty criminals, some becoming members
in good standing of the biker culture, the last of the modern outlaws,so they
claimed. Cindi may have been attracted, but she was frightened of the
consequences. She dreaded losing her identity, becoming the slave of a gang of
mindless, angry malcontents.
Now she had an entry into this culture that would offer her some status
and power. The new Glinda, fabulously built, very pretty and completely
submissive, her slave, would be the perfect foil for Cindi. Glinda sought
redemption. She was willing to pay the price to eliminate the nightmares she
suffered. In her simplistic way of thinking, she would be cleansed by the fires
of hell, but return from the pit, reborn. Cindi would be her guide.
I began to gt a bit nervous as Cindi ran on about her grandiose plans
for herself and her slave. I asked if I could speak to Glinda, but was rebuffed.
" Glinda is not here. She is in another place being purified before she begins
her new life." They way Cindi said those words only got me more worried.
"Purified" was the kind of word that could mean anything unless you knew the
context in which it resided.
Sometimes it's best not to challenge a person, especially one who claims
to have discovered the truth about things. My approach was quickly rewarded.
Cindi invited me to Glinda's rebirthing ceremony. Naturally I immediately
accepted with thanks. Cindi did not offer any information concerning the time or
place of the ceremony at this time. All she would say before she hung up was,
"You will learn all you need to know a few hours before the ceremony is to take
place. I will be in touch."
It was pretty obvious that this get-together would occur sometime over
the weekend. I could not imagine Cindi being utterly confident that she could
reach me while I was a work, or expect me to drop everything I was doing to
attend. I stewed about the situation and rejected such options as going to the
authorities or trying to stake out their apartment. On a hunch I dialed Glinda's
number and received a recorded message informing me that the number I had dialed
was no longer in service. It looked as if the pair had flown the coop; now all I
could do was wait.
My wait was a long one, not until late in the afternoon on Saturday did
I hear from Cindi. She gave me an address and said I was to be there in two
hours. As I took West 35 out of the city headed towards the little town of
Falcon Heights located close to the University's Institute of Agriculture I
pondered over many things. Darkness was closing fast and I could see the first
indications that another bitter winter was only weeks away.
What was I getting myself into? No one knew where I was, and in the
event of trouble it wouldn't be until Monday, midmorning at the best, before
someone started wondering why I hadn't called in sick. By then I could be dead
and buried or lying out in the woods badly injured. Looking on the brighter
sight of things I might be enjoying the soft, warm flesh of Glinda, my reward
for rescuing her from the foul fiends that were ready to do her in. I dismissed
that thought as the ravings of some oversexed teenager.
Then it struck me that Jillian Jones, JJ, would be back running her
little enclave and perhaps also wondering why I hadn't tried to contact her. I'd
been so wrapped up with the saga of Glinda and Cindi that the return of my hot
bodied bed partner of three weeks ago had completely slipped my mind. I sighed
at the prospect of having no one to keep me warm during the coming winter.
