Wayward Wife's Punishment

Wayward Wife's Punishment

Chapter 9

Although it had only been a week since I took emergency leave from my job, it felt like months had passed. I had what might be described as a support function position within the organization, a few steps above the janitorial service to be sure, but still a service slot. I kept the office machinery working properly, but left the dirty work to the cadre of technicians and consultants that our company depended upon to keep us churning out whatever was required by our headquarters group.

As I made my rounds through the rabbit warrens that passed for office space, it was as if I was in one of those commercials for the little blue pills that kept older guys feeling as if they were still in their teens. Everyone sort of looked at me as if I had grown six inches, added 30 pounds of muscle and just been announced as the latest lottery winner. Things really got weird when I paid my respects to the office manager's secretary, JJ.

JJ, to her boss, but Jillian Jones to the rest of the wage slaves, was a motherly looking woman who appeared to be on that vague dividing line between middle age and what lay beyond. She was graying, dressed very conservatively, which prevented any kind of realistic assessment of her figure, and still possessed her British accent. She had always treated me properly, but kept her distance when it came to matters not involving business. No one was even sure if she was married, divorced, widowed or living in sin, the only categories available to the office gossips who had next to nothing to work on.

This morning I was rewarded with a warm smile and an inquiry concerning the health of my wife's sister. Going along with the charade, I replied that Allie was recovering slowly and it would be many months before my wife and I were reunited. JJ picked up on that remark immediately and made an unexpected joke concerning my need for help in the kitchen, and perhaps other rooms as well, during Jill's absence. This was so untypical of this staid office guardian that I was hard pressed to make any response, my mind turning over rapidly, struggling to make sense of this comment. Claiming that I was far behind in my work because of this personal crisis, I made my escape.

As I drove home that evening I mulled over what had transpired during the day. It suddenly hit me that I was no longer that person who used to work there. My experiences during the past week had caused obvious changes to my attitude and outlook. It was this change that people had noticed immediately. Hell, I had fucked three women during the last week; even during my bachelor days I could never have made that statement with a straight face. Come to think about it, I had never fucked any women that matched the kind of partners I had been with recently. They all shared one unique trait, a degree of kinkiness that was well beyond anything I had ever experienced. My wife might be a tramp, but her tastes ran to the conventional side of the sexual spectrum. That reminded me that I was expecting some photographs from Allie. I wondered if they were waiting for me in the mailbox.

It wasn't until the following day that I found a thick envelope from Allie buried in the usual junk mail that filled our box. After mixing a drink and settling down in the now quiet apartment, I opened the packet and discovered a set of ten photos covering my wife's stay at the police station. Allie had scribbled some very brief comments on the back of all but one picture, sort of a guide to the action. My fevered imagination filled in the rest.

Evidently my tramp wife had not been a model prisoner and paid dearly for misbehaving. Either that or she was being put through one hell of an initiation in her new life as a cop groupie. In the first picture she was stark naked and hanging by her wrists from a beam in the ceiling of what looked to be a large shower stall. Jill was soaked from head to toe, her wet hair plastered to her head which lolled against her tits. On the back Allie had written, "Nothing like a good hosing to calm down an unruly prisoner." As I stared at the photograph I could imagine the sheriff and his men playing a high pressure stream of water up and down Jill's bare body, flattening her firm tits, caving in her belly and even splitting her fat cunt lips as she sputtered and pleaded for them to stop this torment.

The next two pictures showed her pussy and asshole being stretched to the limit. It looked like her cunt was holding at least four night sticks. I took a guess that she was probably taking about eight inches of baton in that cheating cunt. Lo and behold the words on the back made me laugh. "Sis took nearly a foot of wood, not bad for an amateur whore." In the other picture her asshole was wrapped around a pair of night sticks. I wondered how far up her ass they had jammed those lengths of hard wood. I also wondered what had made all those nasty cuts and welts that covered her swollen asscheeks. The words on the back didn't provide any help this time. "This was just for openers. Ran out of film. Sorry" Obviously the photos were not in sequence. I continued to leaf through the remaining snapshots.

The answer to one of my question was now obvious. There were two shots of her ass after being whipped big time. In the first picture it looked as if she was wearing a pair of red panties. The words "Jill's ass after an hour of steady strapping" were written on the back of the picture. I closed my eyes and imagined a line of cops with heavy belts wrapped around their fists waiting their turn to lay the leather to her ass, as one of them whaled away on her. I wondered how many strokes that crimson-colored heart shaped bottom had taken. The second snapshot showed her swollen backside criss-crossed with deep welts that went from the tender area just beneath those swollen globes to the dimpled region just beyond where the crack between her cheeks ended. I laughed at the remark Allie had penned on the back of the picture. "A car antenna put to good use. We're getting one for our home."

I let out a whoop when I got a look at the following photo; it was a pip! Jill was suspended about a foot above the floor by her tits, hands cuffed behnd her back. Those noosed knockers looked like twin purple bowling balls. Her mouth was agape and those baby blue eyes seemed to be on the verge of popping from their sockets. It was pretty obvious that she'd been hanging by her tits for quite some time. I couldn't tell if this was done before or after her whipping because of the angle from which the picture was taken. I dismissed the idea that she'd been whipped while she dangled from her roped tits like a worm on a hook, although it sounded like a whole lot of fun to me. The words "Just hanging around with the cops",written on the back made me laugh out loud.

From the stuff depicted in the remaining four pictures it was evident that the cops were definitely showing Jill what to expect as their groupie, whether she was willing or not. Two photos showed her receiving a golden shower and learning how to properly swallow piss. Three deputies were involved in her first lesson, covering her naked body from head to foot as she lay on the floor with her legs spread and hands clasped behind her head. In the second snapshot she was kneeling with her hands on her knees and her mouth open wide. The chief was doing the honors, pissing straight into her overflowing mouth, the yellow fluid running down to coat her discolored tits and finally puddling just below her crotch. On the back of this picture Allie had scribbled "Learning the joys of recycling. Rod and I will be giving her lots of lessons."

"I don't fucking believe it! How the hell did they make her do that?" I exclaimed when I saw the last two photos. My whore of a wife was breaking new ground in the area of perversity. She was on her hands and knees, her badly bruised tits hanging down like a pair of fat sausages. A large furry animal that I guessed to be a German shepherd had its front paws on her shoulders so that his long red cock could access her mouth. Her lips were closed around the length of hard meat and her eyes were shut. I peered carefully at the photo to make sure that some jokester hadn't superimposed Jill's head on someone else's body, a very long shot at best. The second picture convinced me that this was the real McCoy. It had been shot at an angle that showed the dog drilling her out. The animal's prick was moving so fast that it was slightly blurred. I could notice two things clearly, part of her swollen, welted asscheeks and the fact that the mutt was nailing her asshole. I couldn't help yelling out "Alright!" when I realized that she was being sodomized by a damned dog. I put the two pics on my lap and went back and forth, my eyes taking in the utter degradation of this tramp who had shared my bed and lots of others while I went about my business, trusting her to be faithful. This clinched it for me; she was capable of doing anything with any person or animal, as long as it had a cock or a reasonable facsimile.

Allie had covered the back of both pics with more comments. She had written " There's nothing like having a lit cigarette pressed against her clit to make sis open wide and take as much doggie dick as she can swallow." She added more to the flip side of the last picture in the stack."Now she knows that police means dogs too. Shagger is just the leader of the canine corps. She'll be introduced to the rest of them real soon." As I put the photograph down, wondering if I should share them with my new friend, Shirley, my eyes fell on another smaller envelope.

I opened the seal and read its contents, a longer note from Allie that gave me a heads up on what was being planned for my wayward wife and what to expect in the way of pictures and such.This upcoming weekend Jill would be the featured fuck pig at a joint meeting of two swing clubs that Allie and Rod belonged to. Approximately thirty to forty people were expected to attend the weekend affair to be held about a two hours drive from their place. Between then and now Rod and a few of his close friends were keeping Jill occupied, when Allie wasn't trying out new things on her sister's bruised and battered body. She was also faithfully performing her duties as the sheriff's morale improvement appointee. Tomorrow she was going to meet some of Shagger's coworkers from the canine corps. Allie was hoping to have some pictures taken at this event for her scrapbook as well as mine. Next week Jill would be taken for an overnight visit to Nora's place, a sort of "interview" before she could be admitted as an out-patient to the hospital. Allie was hoping that she'd be able to take some pictures of the "interview" process. It appeared that my cheating wife was going to be kept rather busy in the next few weeks. I could hardly wait to see what would come of it all.

An hour or so later my phone rang and life really started to get complicated. I immediately recognized the voice from the accent; it was JJ, Jillian Jones. She was certainly a cool customer, first apologizing for using the company files to get my phone number, and then assuring me that her call had nothing to do with our business relationship. That rather uncharacteristic comment she'd made previously about my "needs" instantly popped into my head. My alter ego began to fill with blood as her voice tickled my ear, almost as if she had managed to transmit her tongue through the phone line. She was asking me to dinner at her place on Saturday night. I couldn't believe my ears. What did this mean? Then the message became very clear as she said, "I do recall you seemed a bit taken aback at my comments about being of assistance in more places than the kitchen. I hope you'll give me the opportunity to demonstrate some of my qualifications in shall we say other areas besides the kitchen." I came to attention in more ways than one. Immediately a little voice in my head began to argue for and against accepting her generous invitation. In seconds there was only one voice speaking. The message was crystal clear; nothing ventured, nothing gained. I agreed to be at her door prompty at 8PM on Saturday evening. She replied that she was looking forward to this opportunity to become better acquainted with me, and then hung up. I hastily scribbled the address she had given me on the pad by the phone.

The next day, just to be on the safe side I called Shirley, or WooWoo as I had nicknamed her, to arrange for a get together at my place on Sunday afternoon. She started whining that she was taking a backseat to another woman. I didn't argue the point, telling her I was to be having dinner with JJ on Saturday night and didn't expect to get back to the apartment until the middle of Sunday morning. I promised that when she came over she'd get a blow by blow description of our date and also see the pictures Allie had sent me. I hinted about using the ropes and enema on her scrawny frame as well as some other things that I wanted to be a surprise for her. Then to really put her on the defensive I suggested that she bring Willa along so we could get to know each other since we were both using WooWoo's skinny body for our own purposes. When she didn't respond I played my ace card, suggesting that she could come over tomorrow night and pick up her stuff if she had a problem with anything I had just said. Her answer was a dial tone, a not unexpected response from my little stick chick. I smiled to myself and planned for what I'd do if she showed up tomorrow night. Then an alternate plan was developed if she showed up on Sunday afternoon with some variations if Willa was or was not included.The old me quailed at the prospect of losing this crazy little girl,but the other one who was now in command and growing stronger by the day was determined to crush her resistance or find a more compatible companion.