Dominant Wives Revenge

by

WickedWife

To the outside world, Tom and Margaret Watson were a pretty conventional couple. Both in their forties, Tom owned and ran Pinpoint Positioning, a small electronics firm which specialised in designing and building custom GPS-based devices for the military. His firm made enough money that Margaret didn't have to work. Instead, she ran the house, their personal affairs and was a very active social networker. She also held the prestigious position of president of the local golf club. Behind the scenes, however, their relationship was less conventional.

From her youngest days, Margaret had always been a bossy girl. She was the eldest of three sisters and would regularly have her younger siblings running around for her. When puberty arrived, she realised that she had something that all the boys wanted and that she could use this to boss them around too. She quickly became skilled at manipulating the boys at her school, encouraging their expectations while always finding some excuse to avoid delivering. When she met Tom, she knew that here was the man that she wanted and she set about capturing him. Not that Tom was averse to being captured - especially by a woman as stunning as Margaret. Without her advances, he may never have lost his virginity.

So began their dominant/submissive relationship. Although Tom was the breadwinner, Margaret undoubtedly wore the trousers. Initially, this was just reflected in their domestic situation, but as time wore on, Margaret asserted herself in more and more areas of their life. She had a voracious sexual appetite and the confidence to demand what she wanted. Tom was comfortable with this state of affairs and happy to please Margaret in whatever way he was asked. In her social contacts, Margaret always had more of an affinity with other dominant women. A few of them began to meet regularly for coffee. On one of these occasions one of them joked that as they all were interested in keeping their husbands in their place, they should perhaps start a club. Margaret said she thought that was an excellent idea and so was born the Dominant Wives Club. As word spread, the club expanded until it had more than a dozen members. Generally the women would just meet in small groups but once a year, they all came together for the DWC annual dinner. As the wives spent more time in each other's company, the husbands began to get to know each other too. Eventually the men went to the women to ask permission to create their own sub-group of the DWC. The wives gave their permission to create the Submissive Husbands Branch, as it was called, on condition that all SHB activities were discussed and approved by the DWC. Approval was sought for an SHB dinner to coincide with the annual DWC dinner and this was given with the proviso that it was a sober and dignified affair.

Everything ran smoothly until one year when the SHB dinner was organised by Simon, a rich young member who had only recently joined. He claimed to have a friend who ran a country club and said that he could organise "an evening to remember". When the members of the SHB turned up on the Saturday afternoon, they discovered that the agenda went far beyond the restrained events of previous years. Tom felt that the arrangements were totally inappropriate but sensed that he was alone in his feelings. Not wanting to be a party-pooper he went along with what had been arranged. It began in the afternoon with a game of paintball. After running around a forest shooting one another for a couple of hours, the men retired to the bar for pre-dinner drinks. This was followed by a large meal during which they were plied with copious amounts of alcohol. Well-lubricated, the men went on to enjoy the after-dinner entertainment which started with strippers and progressed to lap-dancers. Since this was a private club and the girls had obviously been paid very well, they went considerably further than was normal for their profession. Two of them picked on Jeremy, the youngest of the husbands, and gave him the full treatment. With his inhibitions suppressed by the alcohol, he found himself being divested of his clothes by these two very attractive young women. Once they had him naked, they laid him down on the floor and one of the girls kept him busy by straddling his face while the other deep-throated him. By the time he realised that things had gone too far, he was unable to do anything about it. The first girl was moaning and squealing while grinding her well-lubricated pussy over his face. The second girl's head bobbed up and down as she worked his cock relentlessly. Unable to control himself any longer, the young man arched his back and came copiously into the girl's mouth.

The rest of the audience, who had previously been clapping and cheering, encouraging the young women on, now went suddenly quiet as they realised what had happened. The silence was broken as Tom raised himself out of his chair and stated "Gentlemen, I think it's time we went home". As they filed out of the club towards their waiting taxis, Simon, the organiser, was running back and forth between all the men urging them to keep quiet about what had happened.

As he journeyed home, Tom contemplated his uncomfortable dilemma. He knew that he should reveal to Margaret exactly what had happened. He would be in big trouble for sure but at least he couldn't be accused of hiding the truth. But Margaret would undoubtedly spill the beans to the rest of the wives and that really would cause problems. Yet if he said nothing, he would be guilty of conspiring to deceive. In the end, though he felt guilty as hell about doing it, he decided to keep mum as the stakes were just too high for him to do anything else.

As it turned out, he made the wrong decision. On returning home, one of the other younger husbands, talkative from all the drink, couldn't stop himself from bragging to his wife about what a wonderful time they had had. Of course, he had no intention of revealing the true extent of what had happened but what he did say made his wife very suspicious and she knew that there was far more to the story than she was being told. She played him as well as he could, encouraging him to keep talking, but pretty soon he wised up to what was happening and clammed up altogether.

Early the next morning, while her husband was still in bed nursing his hangover, the young woman phoned Margaret and gave her a full run down on what she had discovered. Margaret took control of the situation and suggested that the two of them phone the remaining members of the DWC, brief them on the information gained so far and give instructions to interrogate the men and pressurise them into revealing the truth about what had happened the previous evening. In addition, Margaret convened an emergency lunchtime meeting of the DWC at a local restaurant. Attendance was mandatory and no excuses would be tolerated.

Margaret had just finished calling the half-dozen members on her list when she heard Tom get out of bed and head for the shower. She cut him off as he was about to walk through the bathroom door. He took one look at her face and knew that there was trouble.

"Is there anything you feel you should tell me about your dinner last night?" she asked.

Tom looked at her. Margaret was a well-built woman, tall, shapely and with a commanding presence. She stood there with her hands on her hips and her eyebrows raised in a questioning manner. There was no hint of a smile on her face.

"Ah ... yes ... I was going to speak to you about that" he stammered.

"Don't bullshit me, Thomas Watson. If you had something to say, you could have told me last night. I was still awake when you came in."

Her face, stern to begin with, now grew ever darker as the storm clouds gathered.

"Ah ... yes ... sorry Margaret."

Tom knew the game was up. The only thing he could do was give a thoroughly detailed account of everything that had occurred on the previous day. Margaret remained completely silent and her face remained icy cold during Tom's long and rambling monologue.

When he finished, Margaret addressed him very calmly but with a cold, steely look in her eyes. "You, Thomas Watson, and your colleagues in the SHB are in big, big trouble. The only redeeming factor that I can see at the moment is that you have made a full and frank confession. But don't think that that will be worth very much when weighed against your appalling behaviour. Now I was intending to clean the house today but because of all this, I am going to be very busy for the next few hours, so if you know what's good for you, you'll get your arse through that shower and start working on the house as if your life depended on it. If the whole place is not sparkling clean by the time I get back, you will regret the day you were born."

Then she turned around and walked out, slamming the front door behind her. Tom did know what was good for him so quickly showered then got going on the housework.

* * *

Margaret had arranged a private room at the restaurant. Once all the wives from the DWC were present, she called the meeting to order.

"Ladies," she announced, "we have a serious situation". She then proceeded to repeat all of the details given to her by Tom. She noticed a number of shocked faces around the table. Clearly some of the wives had had nowhere near as much success interrogating their husbands as had Margaret.

"Does anyone have any more information to share?" she asked.

A few of the women filled in some minor details but there was nothing more of consequence to be revealed. She was relieved that Tom, after initially failing to keep her informed, at least had the good sense not to try and hide anything.

It turned out that the women who knew the least were the wives of Simon, the man who had organised the day, and Jeremy, the man who had let himself be seduced by the whores. Upon learning of their husbands' actions, these women's faces were bright red, not only out of anger at their husbands' behaviour but also out of humiliation in front of their peers.

"Ladies, ladies!" Margaret shouted, trying to keep the meeting in order, "Some of you may well feel that your husbands have behaved far worse than others, but as far as I am concerned we should not single anyone out as being more guilty than anyone else. In my opinion, all our husbands are equally guilty since any one of them could have stopped the proceedings if they had wanted to. And none of us should feel more humiliated than anyone else. This was a crime against all of us and we all should feel the shame. What we need to do is to stand shoulder to shoulder like the sisters that we are and come up with a suitable response. Our husbands committed this affront as a group and they should be punished as a group."

Margaret was applauded for this rousing address and there were a few cheers and a shout of "Yeah, let's teach them a lesson".

"Now, does anyone have any ideas about how we should respond?"

Half a dozen hands shot up.

"Julia." Margaret said, pointing to a woman at the far end of the table, "You go first."

Margaret listened to Julia's idea.

"No, Julia, we can't castrate all of them and I'm not sure that we'd want to. Now does anyone have a more sensible suggestion?"

The meeting ran on for more than two hours. Numerous suggestions were debated until consensus was achieved around a single idea. A vote was taken and the proposal was accepted unanimously. Margaret knew that the bulk of the work would fall on her but she was happy to provide her time and resources.

"OK, ladies. We're all agreed. You know what you have to do today and I will start to make arrangements for later. Now there's one last thing I want to stress. The secrecy of our plan is vital. We know from bitter experience that our husbands are unable to keep their mouths shut and I'm sure that we want to show them that we can do a better job. Our plan will be so much more effective if our men are kept in the dark. I'm confident that I can rely on all of you to play your parts well and resist the temptation to reveal more than agreed. So let's get to it, girls. We've got work to do."

* * *

As Margaret drove home, she contemplated the plan that had been agreed at the meeting. She smiled. Let the punishment fit the crime, she thought. Yes, that's exactly what they had done.

The first part of the plan required use of male chastity devices. Those members of the DWC who did not possess one were instructed to go out and immediately purchase a CB-3000 (on their husband's credit card, of course). This was a neat lockable plastic cage that, once fitted, was impossible to remove without the key. It also had the added advantage of being small and unobtrusive, allowing it to worn under normal clothes. Margaret already had one - she and Tom had used it a few times when they had played orgasm denial games - and she knew exactly where it was even though it hadn't been used for a couple of years now.

Relaxing behind the wheel of her BMW, she began to plan how she would deal with Tom on her return.

* * *

Tom had pretty much finished his assigned tasks. He had skipped both breakfast and lunch to complete the job on time and as he looked around, he was pretty pleased with his efforts. He had hoovered, dusted, washed and polished and the house was looking spick and span. If he had expected praise from his wife, though, he was to be sorely disappointed.

Margaret walked through the front door and, once again, slammed it behind her. Tom noticed that she still wasn't smiling. She didn't spend a moment looking at his work. Instead, she lifted her arm, pointed and issued the curt instruction "Bedroom! Now!".

Knowing better than to question her, he trotted off to the bedroom. She followed him in. "Strip! Quickly!". Tom removed his clothes, folding them neatly into a pile in a corner of the room. While he did this, Margaret was hunting around in the drawer where she kept her "toys". Having found what she was looking for, she dragged a plain wooden chair into the centre of the room. She then walked up to Tom, pulled his hands together behind his back and snapped shut the genuine police handcuffs that she had managed to obtain from somewhere. She then returned to the chair and sat down facing him. She looked him up and down, inspecting his naked body. The severe look on her face spelt big trouble for Tom.

"Come closer!" she ordered.

Tom shuffled forward until he was standing directly in front of her. Quickly and skillfully, she fitted her CB-3000 onto his genitals. The cuff ring went around his balls, the pin was inserted through the ring, the lubricated tube was slipped over his flaccid cock and, finally, the shackle of the padlock was inserted through the hole in the end of the pin. At this point she paused. Tom was looking down, watching her fit the device. Margaret looked up, meeting his gaze, then gave him a wide, wicked grin. He then heard the click as she squeezed the padlock shut.

"Assume the position!" she ordered, pointing to the bed.

Tom knew what she meant. He had been here before. He positioned himself standing at the foot of the bed then, unable to use his arms to support himself, allowed his torso to flop onto the bed. With his face buried in the bedclothes and his feet shoulder-width apart, he straightened his legs, lifting and presenting his backside the way that Margaret had taught him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her return to the toy drawer and pull out a long thin cane that took up the entire width of the drawer.

The next thing he felt was the cane lightly tapping his buttocks as Margaret positioned herself ready for the punishment. It had been some time since she had used the cane on him. Normally she used a leather strap or paddle or her favourite riding crop. She would start off gently and then spank him harder and harder, working up to a crescendo. He would get hard, she would get wet, then they'd fuck like mink. Somehow, he thought, that wouldn't be happening this time.

"Toes!" she ordered. He lifted himself up onto tiptoes, stretching his muscles and better presenting his backside for the forthcoming ordeal.

"Stay still" she warned, "unless you want your punishment doubled."

He heard the swish and then felt the pain as the stroke sent a shock through his body. The pain was so intense, he dropped down off his toes and very nearly cried out.

"Stay still, I said. Now I'll have to give you that stroke again."

Tom went back up on his toes and Margaret repeated the stroke. It still hurt like hell, but at least he was ready for it this time. Margaret would often urge Tom to "take his punishment like a man" and he was proud of his ability to take the pain in silence, remaining motionless while she thrashed his backside. Previously, she had limited her use of the cane to "six of the best" and he was confident of his ability to endure this. Mentally, he counted the strokes. Six came but Margaret did not stop there. A dozen strokes were administered before Tom finally lost control and cried out in pain.

"Ah-ha!" commented Margaret, "Now we're starting to get somewhere."

The strokes continued. Tom lost count. He lost hope too. The previous limit had been breached and he had no idea how far Margaret intended taking this. Somewhere around thirty strokes, Tom felt the tears start to well up in his eyes. By the time forty strokes came, he was sobbing his heart out. At the fifty stroke mark, he did something that he had never done before. He used the safeword. "Mercy, Margaret! Mercy, I beg you!" he cried between sobs.

Margaret paused. She was pleased he had finally arrived at this point. She didn't know if she would have been able to push him much further if he had refused to break. She smiled to herself, put the cane down and examined her handiwork. Tom's bottom was in a dreadful state. It was bright crimson, criss-crossed with a number of very nasty looking welts and blue-black bruises. She had even broken the skin in a couple of places. It would probably take the best part of a week for this to repair itself, she thought. Why was it then that she felt so horny? Why did thrashing her husband's bottom make her so wet? She reached between her legs. Her panties were soaked. Slipping her fingers through the waistband, she pulled them down and threw them into the corner of the room. Looking at her husband in front of her, bound, beaten, his most private parts exposed, what she wanted to do more than anything else was buckle up her strap-on and plunge it into his tight little man-hole. But that would come later.

Reaching towards her still-sobbing husband, she pulled on his arms and helped him to stand up. Gently she led him over to the chair where she sat down. "Kneel down here" she instructed, pointing to the floor between her legs. He dutifully knelt, wincing as his injured backside touched his heels.

Margaret took out a delicate handkerchief and began to dry her husband's face. His sobs were subsiding as the pain in his backside turned into more of a soreness.

"Does it hurt?" she asked him.

"Yes Margaret." he replied, "It hurts really, really badly."

"Well that pain is good, my love, because you've done a very bad thing and the more pain you endure, the quicker your sins will be washed away."

Tom knew the correct response. "Yes Margaret. Thank you Margaret."

"That's quite alright, sweetheart. You'll be able to show your appreciation soon enough. Now what about that CB-3000? Is it a comfortable fit?"

Tom continued to respond in the approved manner. "Yes Margaret. Very comfortable, thank you."

"Well that's good too. Because you're going to be wearing it 24/7 for the next thirty days."

Tom was speechless. This wasn't part of the script. He looked at Margaret in astonishment. In return she flashed him that wicked grin.

"Now Thomas, am I going to have you take you back to the foot of the bed for a little more corrective treatment? I'm not sure I like that look on your face."

Tom recovered quickly. "No Margaret. Thank you Margaret."

"That's better. Now you and the others were very bad boys last night. Strippers, lap-dancers, live-shows, all sorts of unauthorised sexual activity. Since you're clearly unable to control your urges, you're just going to have to learn the hard way. And Little Miss Chastity Belt and I will help you with that. No orgasms, no erections, no possibility of even touching yourself for the next month. I think that should help you focus your mind on controlling your urges, don't you?"

"Yes Margaret."

"Given that you will have no distractions for the next thirty days, you can usefully use the time to improve both your attitude and your behaviour. Consider yourself on parole. During this period I will have a zero tolerance for bad behaviour. I want you to remember how your bottom feels now because the slightest infraction on your part will have you straight back over the foot of the bed for a little refresher course. And you know that if I've failed to make this work the first time, I'll have no option but to try harder the second. Do I make myself clear?"

"Very clear, Margaret."

"Of course, just because you're going to have a sex-free month won't be stopping me from getting my desires satisfied. And seeing as you've temporarily lost the use of one method, you're just going to have to be creative and work doubly-hard to keep me pleased in other ways. Otherwise, I might be forced to go out and find a young stud to fuck. And I'm sure you wouldn't want that to happen would you?"

"No Margaret."

"Now I believe that you wanted to show your appreciation for the lesson that I've just taught you." Margaret spread her legs and lifted the hem of her skirt revealing to Tom her glistening pussy. "So why don't you show me how grateful you are?"

Tom knew exactly what to do. He leaned forwards, buried his head in her crotch and hungrily started to tongue her.

Margaret leaned back in the chair and let the waves of pleasure wash over her. Her first orgasm was on its way. Her first orgasm of many. She was looking forward to this next month.

* * *

Margaret pushed his head away. "Enough for now, lover boy," she said, "there'll be plenty more opportunities later."

The area around his mouth glistened with her juices. She couldn't complain so far. He had worked tirelessly, licking, sucking, even gently biting to bring her to several orgasms. But now she had things to do.

She leaned forward and cupped his chin in her hand. Looking straight into his eyes, she continued. "You're doing OK so far but there's a whole month ahead and I expect nothing less than perfect behaviour. As I explained earlier, any slip-ups and you'll be getting another taste of the cane. At the end of the month we'll review both behaviour and attitude and if it's been up to my high standards we'll take this off." With her free hand, she reached down and gave the CB-3000 a forceful twist. Tom winced as his balls took the strain of her pull.

"But anything less than perfection and you'll be spending more time with Little Miss Chastity Belt here."

Margaret warmed to her little joke. She continued to manipulate the CB-3000, twisting and pulling it, watching how Tom's cock started to swell yet was unable to become erect. "She's quite a little slut, isn't she? Always open and available for you. Always wanting you to fill her with your cock. And she's got such a tight little pussy. You men like tight pussy don't you? And look! You're getting hard! She must really turn you on. It's the perfect match isn't it? Her tight pussy, your hard cock - they're just made for one another. And just think, you're going to spend every one of the next thirty nights balls-deep in her - and every day too! Come the end of the month, I won't be able to persuade the two of you to part!"

Despite her cruel taunts and the still intense pain in his backside, Tom was getting seriously aroused. He had the smell and the taste of Margaret all over his face. Her manipulations had caused his cock to fill the tiny plastic cage and he could feel its tightness preventing any further swelling. What he wanted to do more than anything else at this moment was rip her clothes off and fuck her brains out. But that wasn't going to happen. That wasn't going to happen for thirty days. Maybe more. He deeply regretted accepting the invitation to the SHB dinner last night and then failing to do anything before things got out of hand. Still no point crying over spilt milk. Margaret was right. He had to focus on redeeming himself in her eyes and he affirmed that was what he would do.

"During the next month," she continued, "I will be requiring you to do lots of things. Now I know that you're normally very co-operative, but some of the things I will ask will seem somewhat unusual and it's important that you follow my instructions to the letter. Is that clear?"

"Of course, Margaret."

"Good. Well the first thing is that I need access to your R&D department."

Margaret knew that the firm was going through a slack time so her request would not affect business.

"So tomorrow, first thing when you get to work, I want you to go and see your Director of Research. Tell him that he will be receiving a visit from me and that I will give him the specification of something that he has to build. Tell him that he is free to ask me technical questions about this thing but that he must never question me about its intended use. Furthermore, tell him that both he and the members of his department must follow my instructions precisely and maintain complete confidentiality about the whole project. If he fails to build this thing on time or if any hint of what is going on escapes from his department, I will hold you both responsible and the two of you will be bent over the foot of the bed. If he seems unconvinced, you could drop your trousers to demonstrate that I'm not fooling around. Got it?"

"Yes Margaret. Lowering my trousers will not be necessary. By the time I finish talking to him, he will be fully compliant with your wishes."

She tousled his hair as though he were a repentant youth.

"Good boy. Now I think it's time for you to take a shower and cook me dinner."

Tom stood up and his handcuffs were removed. He wandered off to the bathroom rubbing his exceedingly sore backside and examining the plastic device that hung off his front.

* * *

For Margaret, the month passed quickly. Far too quickly. Not only was there the R&D project to manage and keep on track, but also many other things related to the plan agreed by the DWC. She kept regularly in touch with the other members, checking their progress with husband management, advising and counselling and ensuring that everyone was ready for the endgame. Also, she was getting quite accustomed to having Tom totally compliant. Not that he was ordinarily uncooperative, but Margaret now had no compunction in treating him as her personal slave. What would previously have been requests were now orders to him. And knowing that he would not dare to refuse anything that she asked, her requirements became ever more demanding. She could not remember ever having this many orgasms. No longer did she have to cajole Tom or consider his sexual needs, she simply told him exactly what she wanted and she got it.

For Tom, the month passed exceedingly slowly. Each weekday, he would do a full day at work, return home to cook dinner, clean, tidy and manage the house, provide his wife with foot massages and then satisfy her sexual demands before collapsing exhausted into bed. At weekends, Margaret would present him with a long list of jobs requiring to be done and would check on their satisfactory completion before allowing him to finish for the day. Even then, he would be interrupted part-way through a job to provide some sexual service for his beloved. On top of this, he was not sleeping well. He had not realised how regular ejaculation allowed him to sleep solidly through the night. Instead, he woke up three or four times a night, horny as hell with his partial erection gripped tight by the CB-3000. He didn't dare disturb Margaret, the regular recipient of his pre-bedtime cunnilingus, who slept soundly next to him. Instead, he lay wide awake contemplating his living hell. He knew this wasn't sustainable. He just focused on getting through the month without risking extending his punishment.

As the month drew to a close, Margaret got in touch with the other DWC wives to initiate the next stage of their plan. The month ended on a Saturday so on the day before, the DWC wives were instructed to reveal a little more of the plan to their husbands.

Assuming continued good behaviour, Saturday would be debelting day. But before that the husbands jointly had a final task to perform. After breakfast, the husbands would meet together at the clubhouse of Margaret's golf club. She had arranged that they would have free access to the kitchens during the day and the dining room in the evening. The husbands would plan, buy the ingredients for, prepare, cook and serve a multi-course dinner for the wives. They should pull out all the stops for this, providing a top-quality dining experience for the ladies who would judge the men on their efforts. Only an top-notch mark would allow the evening to proceed as planned. If the men passed their test, there would be entertainment (unspecified at this stage), a ceremonial debelting and finally, sex games for all concerned. The wives were forbidden to provide any more details but the husbands were told that the games would definitely be FUN!

If the men ordinarily had trouble sleeping, Friday night was a nightmare. Their frustration had built up and up over the previous month and the promise of genital release followed by hot sex games filled their minds with erotic dreams. Time and again they would wake up in the throes of passion only to feel the unrelenting squeeze of their still-attached chastity devices.

* * *

Saturday morning finally dawned and after breakfast, the wives drove their husbands to the golf course and dropped them off at the clubhouse. While the husbands prepared the dinner, the wives exercised their husbands' credit cards by going clothes shopping. As part of the deal, each husband had agreed to allow his wife to spend an unlimited amount of money on herself. The husbands had use of the golf club van to collect all the purchases necessary for their work of haute cuisine. Tom, determined that they should not fail at this late stage, took charge of proceedings and ran a very tight ship. Under his direction, the whole operation ran like clockwork and by mid-afternoon the meal was coming together very nicely. Tom instructed his workers to grab some food for themselves as, other than breakfast, it would be the only thing that they would eat all day. After the women had finished doing the rounds of the lingerie and dress shops, they picked up a surprise for their husbands - dinner suits rented to provide a finishing touch to the evening.

Exhausted after a hard day at the shops, the women returned home to relax, bathe and pamper and prepare themselves for the evening ahead. There were no such luxuries for the men who continued to work through to ensure that everything would be perfect when the women arrived. Margaret arrived early to drop off the dinner suits and other equipment collected the day before from Tom's R&D department. Surveying the magnificent spread before her, she complimented the men on their sterling work and suggested they shower and change as the rest of the wives were due to arrive in thirty minutes.

The wives arrived together and as they entered the clubhouse, they were greeted by their husbands standing in line, all looking very smart in their rented evening suits. The women had chosen a Victorian theme for the evening and despite the hot summer weather, each glided in wearing a high-necked Victorian dress with long flowing skirt. Some completed the theme by carrying parasols that they twirled gaily. All were very excited, not only by the prospect of a wonderful dinner but also because they knew what would come afterwards. They chattered away and allowed themselves to be led by their husbands into a small garden where pre-dinner aperitifs were served.

After drinks, they were led into the dining room and seated at their appointed positions with Margaret being given the seat of honour at the head of the table. The dinner progressed faultlessly. Course after course of delicious food was brought out and served. Despite having prepared an extensive wine list which matched wines to each course, Tom was surprised that relatively little wine appeared to be being drunk. DWC events were normally pretty boozy affairs where the wives let their hair down but this one was shaping up as quite sober. The dinner lasted nearly three hours and the sun was well below the horizon by the time coffee was served.

Tapping a knife against her glass, Margaret quietened the assembled company and rose out of her chair.

"Ladies and gentlemen" she began, nodding to the husbands who stood lined up by the back wall. "We all know why we are here and what shameful behaviour occurred to initiate this process. I have no desire to dwell on this matter and I have talked to each and every woman at this table and they have all confirmed that since that dreadful day, their husbands have behaved in an exemplary fashion. Ladies, I therefore propose that we forgive and forget and, though we have all enjoyed our husbands' extra attentiveness over the past thirty days, we allow our matrimonial relationships to revert to a more equitable state of affairs."

"If there was any doubt about the sincerity of our husbands desire to put matters right, I think that this magnificent meal that they have prepared will put that to rest."

There were cries of "Hear, hear!" from some of the audience.

"So, ladies, I want you to raise your glasses as we toast our husbands and their ability to do the right thing after doing totally the wrong thing."

A dozen glasses were raised and trained as the wives chanted "Husbands!"

"Now, gentlemen," said Margaret, addressing the men directly, "we have promised you entertainment and entertainment will be provided. We have promised you that your chastity belts will be removed and indeed everyone will have them removed. Everyone except Tom, that is, whose key I seem to have mislaid. Ha-ha! Only joking, Tom. And finally we have promised you sex games and though there is only one, we all think it's a cracker!"

At this point, Margaret performed a big stage wink to the rest of the women who fell about in laughter. The men were mystified by this but were just happy that their belts were being removed.

"The rest of the ladies and I spent quite a long time discussing what would be an appropriate punishment for your bad behaviour and the one principle that we kept coming back to was 'Let the punishment fit the crime'. At the moment, you probably don't understand how this relates to your situation but, trust me, you will. So just as we have appreciated your wonderful meal, I trust that you gentlemen will appreciate the thought and work that we have put in for you."

"Anyway, I pontificate. Let's get on with the proceedings. Gentlemen, the first part of tonight's entertainment will be a striptease. And this erotic floorshow will be provided by ... yourselves! That's right! Your chance to strut your stuff, shake your booty and generally let it all hang out. Sylvia, can you sort out the lights and music dear?"

A small stage at one end of the room became illuminated and the house lights went down. Margaret went over to the stage and climbed the steps until she was in the light.

"Here's how it's going to work. All of the men's names have been put in a hat and we will draw them out one by one. When you hear your name called, come up on the stage and Sylvia here will play a selected track. Can you guess the title of the CD? That's right! It's the soundtrack from 'The Full Monty' and that's exactly what we want you to do. So start dancing when the music starts and make sure that everything's off by the time the music finishes. And go easy on the suits guys - we have to get the deposits back tomorrow. Now don't hang around because we have a special forfeit for anyone who's not naked by the time the music finishes. Naked except for your chastity belts of course. We get turned on by the sight of a man with a trussed up package, don't we girls?"

There were shouts of "Yay!" and "Helps them use their tongues!".

"Anyway, once the music's over, our two lovely hostesses Gretel and Evelyn will guide you backstage where all the keys are stored. Once there, they will remove your belt and give you a little present to celebrate your release."

Two of the younger wives had joined Margaret up on stage and Gretel indicated a screened off area that passed for "backstage". Evelyn then offered Margaret an upturned trilby hat, out of which she pulled a piece of paper.

"And our first contestant is ... Jeremy ... and he will be dancing to 'You Can Leave Your Hat On!'"

The girls swept offstage as the music fired up and Jeremy nervously made his way onstage. Jeremy was the young man who had been seduced by the lap-dancers. He had been so mortified by what he had done and his wife had given him such a hard time that he had been unable to face any other members of the club, particularly the wives, until today. And now, he was expected to perform a "Full Monty" striptease for them. To begin with, he just stood there like a rabbit in the headlights, unable to move. Then, remembering what Margaret said about the forfeit and hearing one of the women in the audience shout "Come on Jeremy, get your kit off!" he launched into his act. The audience just erupted. Despite the fact that his dancing was terrible and the removal of his clothes was an act of desperation designed to make sure that nothing remained on by the time the music finished, the girls just loved it. They whooped, cheered, clapped, whistled and generally shouted words of encouragement. His embarrassment vanished. By the time the music faded out, he was stark naked, strutting around the stage like Mick Jagger and, with hands on hips, thrusting out his groin and showing off his belt. There was a huge round of applause and he was led offstage by Gretel and Evelyn.

From that moment on, none of the men were the least bit nervous. Each gave his all to the performance and the wives responded with as much enthusiasm as they could muster. After the final performance, Margaret once again mounted the stage. Waving her hands she managed to quieten down the rest of the women and restore some order to the proceedings.

"Ladies, I think you'll agree that was a splendid performance and I think our husbands deserve another round of applause for being such wonderful sports."

After the clapping died down, Margaret shouted towards the rear of the stage "Girls, if the men are ready can you bring them out?"

From behind the screen emerged Gretel and following her was a crocodile of men. At the tail end was Evelyn. The men were led along the back of the stage and Gretel got each of them to kneel down in a line, facing the audience. Although their chastity belts had been removed, each had been fitted with two new items of restraint. First, leather cuffs had been fitted to their wrists and their upper arms. Their arms had been crossed high behind their backs and each wrist cuff was locked to the opposing arm cuff. It didn't look uncomfortable but it certainly rendered their arms completely useless. Next, each man had been fitted with a leather harness that ran around his waist and between his legs. The waist strap was a broad affair that appeared to have a number of packages attached to it - a bit like Batman's utility belt. This belt appeared to be locked in place. The two halves of this were joined just below the navel by a large chrome ring. From this large ring a third thinner strap ran down and ended in a smaller cock ring. Each man's cock and balls had been pulled through the ring and two even thinner straps ran from the ring, between his legs, around the bottom of his buttocks and up the sides where these too were locked into place on the waist belt.

"Welcome back, gentlemen. What do you think, girls? While it's nice to see them trussed up, it's good to see those cocks back, don't you think?"

"Sylvia, can you bring up the back lights?"

The lights at the back of the stage came up illuminating Margaret to the kneeling men.

"Gentlemen, I must apologise to you. As promised, we've removed your chastity belts but what we didn't tell you was that at the same time you were going to be placed in alternative bondage. Well, this is only a temporary state of affairs so just bear with me for the time being. The entertainment's not over yet. We felt it would be churlish of us to expect you to strip for us without us repaying the favour to you. And though you're unable to applaud, feel free to show your appreciation with any other part of your anatomy that you consider appropriate."

"Sylvia, music!"

As the sounds of David Rose's "The Stripper" boomed through the loudspeakers, Margaret began her performance. It was slow. It was sensual. Layer by layer, she gently peeled away her Victorian outer garments. The men shouted and cheered, encouraging her on. She finished her act dressed only in the new black lingerie bought that day - lace-up basque, tiny thong, suspenders, stockings and black patent heels. Despite being in her forties, she looked stunning. The men continued to cheer long after the music had ended. Looking at the line of them kneeling on the stage in front of her, Margaret saw a dozen men and a dozen erections. She clearly hadn't lost her ability. Giving them all a big smile and a bow she strode majestically off the stage.

Watching her disappear back into the audience, Tom's chest swelled with pride. She was magnificent - and she was his wife.

One by one, the remaining wives came up on stage to do their turn. As they had foreknowledge of what was happening, they had been able to choose their music and practice their routines. As a consequence, they all turned out very professional performances. The women had all agreed to strip no further than their underwear thus retaining a psychological advantage over the men who had been rendered naked. As Margaret had pointed out, there was really no need to go any further since after thirty days of enforced chastity, the sight of a woman's ankle would probably be enough for the men to lose control. Despite this restriction, some of the younger wives were determined to push the envelope. One stripped quickly down to very skimpy underwear and then went along the line of men grinding her crotch in their faces. Another thrust her hand inside her panties and sexily gyrated her hips in simulated orgasm. The men were beside themselves. Cocks straining and unable to attain release, they shouted their appreciation.

As the women came and went, Tom noticed that not all of them returned to the audience. Some of them disappeared off through a side door, never to reappear again. Although this mystified him, the arrival of the next woman on stage caused him to put the matter completely out of mind.

After the last woman finished her act, Margaret strode confidently back on stage, her heels clicking as she walked across the boards. Still dressed only in her lingerie she had somehow picked up a black leather riding crop. Tom immediately recognised it as being the crop that she used to use on him before she became so enamoured with the cane. He remembered the sharp sting of its leather tab biting into his backside. Margaret stood in front of the line of men, legs slightly apart and hands on hips, the crop swinging loosely from its strap around her wrist.

"Well look at you!" she said. "What a fine collection of stiff cocks!"

Grasping the handle of the crop and holding it out as she walked along the row, she allowed the tip to gently smack each erection causing it to wave back and forth. Swiveling around at the end she returned along the row tapping the underside of each man's testicles.

"And what about your balls? Are they nice and full? I hope so. That'll be needed later on."

"Aren't we women cruel?" she asked rhetorically. "We keep you chaste and unable to become erect for a month then when we finally release you, we still keep you frustrated."

"Well, gentlemen, I think the time has come for the last event of the evening. Sex game! I hope you're all looking forward to it because we certainly are. During our deliberations in organising this evening, we discussed your actions on the day of the SHB dinner. The more mature members of our group considered your paintballing spree to be typical adolescent male behaviour. It came as some surprise, therefore, when several younger ladies disagreed and said that they were most disappointed not to have been invited to participate. This got us thinking that perhaps they should have the opportunity to play. So that's what we gave them and guess what gents? You get to play too!"

"Gretel? Are the girls ready? Do you want to bring them onstage?"

Gretel opened a door at the far end of the room and called through. Out of the shadows marched a line of bodies. They marched in military formation down the hall and up onto the front of the stage where they formed a line facing the men. In unison they turned and stood to attention.

"At ease, girls."

The line of women relaxed.

"Gentlemen, meet your opponents for tonight's game. Let's call the girl's team 'The Huntresses' and your team 'The Prey'. As you might have realised by now, this is not going to be a symmetrical contest. All of the Huntresses are DWC volunteers who have graciously offered to represent the entire female membership. Those of us who feel too old to be running around outside at night will stay here in the clubhouse which will be used as the command and control centre."

The men looked at the line of women and collectively felt a sinking feeling in their stomachs. There were six women drawn from the younger membership of the DWC. Most of them looked extremely fit. They were dressed in camoflage fatigues and combat boots and had rifles slung over their shoulders. This was a stark contrast to the skimpily clad young sex-kittens that the men had so recently been lusting over. The men's erections wilted rapidly. Those girls with long hair had it tied back in a ponytail except for Angela. Angela was just a slip of a girl but known to be very athletic and winner of the local women's kick-boxing championship. She had long brown hair that she normally wore loose, but tonight she had tied it in two bunches that sprung manically out from each side of her head. It made her look distinctly scary. The women, wearing big grins on their faces, were all eyeing up the men.

"As you can see" continued Margaret, "for tonight's contest, the girls will be wearing military fatigues. Whereas you gentlemen ... well, you look just fine as you are. It's forecast to be a warm night so you shouldn't be in any risk of suffering from exposure."

"Let me fill you in with the rules of the game. The game is called, somewhat unoriginally, 'Manhunt'. The field of play is this golf course. We've 350 acres that's all fenced in and the main gates have been locked shut. There's therefore no danger that we will be disturbed and also no risk that any of you gentlemen will be tempted to leave the field of play. The game will commence in about 20 minutes at 10pm and, unless all objectives are completed earlier, will end at dawn tomorrow which will occur around 6am."

The Huntresses, knowing that they had a busy night ahead of them, were all well rested and fed. The men, on the other hand, had just had thirty disturbed and sleepless nights, had worked solidly all day and had eaten very little. The dice were already being stacked against them.

"Let me explain the objectives of the game" continued Margaret. "There are six Huntresses and a dozen Prey. The objective of each Huntress is to track down and tag all twelve Prey before sunrise tomorrow. The objective of each of the Prey is to avoid being tagged and to survive until dawn. Each Huntress carries a dozen cable ties in her own colour. After tracking down and capturing one of the Prey, she obtains a tribute and then tags him by fixing one of her cable ties around his upper arm. Each Huntress can only tag each man once. She has to capture all twelve to divest herself completely of her tags at which point the game is over for her and she should return to the clubhouse to check-in and obtain her completion time. After tagging one of the Prey, the Huntress should check how many tags he is wearing. If he has his full complement of six, the game is over for him and his position should be radioed back to the command centre where we'll send the Land Rover out to collect him. Once he's been brought back here, he'll be put in a holding cell where he'll remain until the game is over. If, however, he is wearing less than six tags, he should be released back into the wild to give the other Huntresses a chance to tag him."

"As you can work out, the game is competitive on two levels" continued Margaret. "First there is the team competition of Huntresses versus Prey. For the Huntresses to win, all the men should be fully tagged and returned here before dawn. For the Prey to win, at least one man should remain in the wild as the sun comes up. Then there is the competition within each team. The winning Huntress will be the one who gets rid of all her tags first. The winning Prey will the one who survives longest. As further incentives, we have prizes for the winner in each team and forfeits for the losers. The team award is, of course, a matter of pride and I'd like to point out to any men who are feeling that they're playing at a disadvantage that all of the girls have to get rid of all their tags in order for the Huntresses to win."

"Let's have a closer look at your equipment. While we were designing the rules, it became clear that an obvious strategy for the Prey would be to find a little hidey-hole somewhere than settle down for a good night's sleep. Comfortable - yes. Fun - no. We felt that this strategy was totally unacceptable and have come up with a novel way of penalising anyone who attempts to adopt it. Gentlemen, the harnesses that you are wearing are marvels of modern technology. We have the boffins from Tom's R&D department to thank for their construction. Each of these 'techno-belts' contains two major electronic components that provide the required functionality. First, they contain a GPS receiver which is able to pinpoint the location of the wearer. Second, they contain a TENS unit which can safely provide electrical stimulation to the wearer. These two components are monitored and controlled by a small computer that provides the 'smarts'."

"The first function provided is that of location control. The rules of the game require the Prey to keep on the move. Once the belts are activated, they monitor the wearer's location. If the location remains constant for more than five minutes the wearer is given a tactile reminder via a set of electrodes in the waist belt."

Margaret picked up something that looked like a model radio-control transmitter and clicked one of its switches. All of the men shivered as they felt the TENS unit send a gentle current around their waist.

"That, gentlemen, is a reminder to get on the move. Once you have moved a significant distance, the current will cease. Otherwise that reminder will remain present for sixty seconds. If you remain stationary or do not move far enough within those sixty seconds, the second level of reminder will kick in."

Margaret clicked a second switch. The men became more upright as the current increased. It was still not painful but uncomfortable enough that the recipient would be looking for a way to make it cease. At the same time, each of the belts started to emit a beeping sound, like that of a large vehicle reversing.

"As you can appreciate, that sound will alert anyone in the vicinity to your presence. You have another sixty seconds to make your move before the belt provides its third and final reminder."

Margaret clicked the third switch in the group. The men jumped and then wriggled uncomfortably as the current increased yet again. This was quite painful and anyone experiencing it would take whatever action was required to shut it down. The sensation was accompanied by the belt both emitting the loud woop-woop of an evacuation alarm and also flashing bright strobe lights from the pods mounted on the waistband. Margaret reset all three switches.

"So gentlemen, the moral is clear - if you don't want to become human christmas trees, keep on the move. If you don't, the belt will alert any nearby Huntresses to your presence. So that you don't feel unfairly disadvantaged, we have also included another feature that works the other way round. This one will alert you to the nearby presence of a Huntress. Each Huntress carries a small transmitter that is permanently active. Once she approaches a Prey - 100 metres is about the threshold - the belt will provide another tactile alert to its wearer. So that you can distinguish between this and the location reminder, the current will be directed to a second electrode. We're quite pleased with where we positioned this."

Margaret gently turned a control knob on her box. Twelve cocks immediately started to become erect as a sizzling sensation coursed through their cock rings.

"Hmm. Looks like you're enjoying that. Of course, as the Huntress gets closer, the current will increase."

She wound the control round to the halfway mark. Knees started to tremble and cocks became rock hard as their owners strove to cope with the pleasure/pain sensations rippling through their genitals.

"This is the 50% setting. I think I'll let you experience 100% out in the field."

Margaret wound the knob back to zero. The men sagged visibly as the stimulation was removed though, for the time being, they remained rigidly erect.

"100% occurs when the Huntress is just a few metres away. Closer than that and the whole belt shuts down. At that point we rely on the Huntress controlling you physically."

"How about we check out the girls' guns? Angela, would you be so kind?"

Angela swung the rifle off her shoulder and handed it to Margaret. Margaret held it out in front of the men so that they could see it clearly.

"This is basically a standard paintball rifle to which we've made just two modifications. First, we fitted military spec nightsights, green-screen, heat-detecting. You gentlemen should show up nicely on those. Second, we've increased the operating compression. This increases both the range and the severity of the strike. Girls, as the gentlemen won't be wearing eye-protection, remember to restrict your aim to body shots only. Of course, exactly where on the body you choose to aim is entirely up to you! For a final touch, each gun is loaded with paintballs of the same colour as their owner's tags. That way, the girls can compare their marksmanship when they finally get back to the holding cell."

"The girls are bound by strict rules of engagement when it comes to operating their firearms. When they first come across their Prey they are initially only allowed a single shot. Since they have recently spent a fair amount of time at the ranges, I'm assuming that this will be a clean shot that finds its mark. Gentlemen, you have two options when you're hit - and trust me when I say that without the benefit of those wimpy camoflage suits you wore last time, you'll easily know when you've been hit. Your first option is to fall to the ground motionless as a gesture of submission. In this case, the Huntress is forbidden from firing again and will approach to deal with you at close quarters. Your other option is flight. You can attempt to escape by outrunning or outmaneuvering the Huntress. In this case, she is allowed to keep firing either until she loses you or you submit. If you feel nervous about taking the second option, gentlemen, remember that if she is firing she won't be running and if she is running she won't be firing. The girls have privately told me that they're looking forward to some spirited resistance. I trust that I can rely on you gentlemen not to disappoint them."

Margaret handed the rifle back to Angela.

"What happens after a submission? Well, the Huntress has to tag you. But before she can tag you she has to obtain a tribute. What is the tribute? I'll give you a clue - it's white, it's liquid and you've been saving it up for thirty days. Girls, show the boys how we extract their tribute."

The six women, all wearing broad grins, grabbed the front of their fatigues and, with the sound of tearing velcro, pulled them open. Underneath, some were bare-breasted while others wore leather dominatrix outfits, but every one of them wore a substantial leather harness around her hips. And from the front of each harness protuded a small stub. As the men looked on in horror, each woman removed a dildo from her pocket and clicked it onto the stub. Strap-ons fitted and jutting out provocatively, the women returned their hands to their hips. Each woman had been given her own choice of dildo. Some were flesh coloured and of a similar size to the average penis. Others came in a range of colours and textures. But one in particular scared the hell out of the line of men. Bertha was actually a lovely girl, a little on the short side and perhaps a little overweight, but possessed of the most enormous pair of breasts. As a consequence the men always referred to her as "Big Bertha" and made incessant jokes about her chest. Although they were never made to her face, she was well aware of the things that were said and she had in the past vowed to take revenge if she ever got the opportunity. Well that opportunity had arrived and she intended to take full advantage of it. The "Black Stallion" was the largest dildo that the harness would accept. Bertha had ordered one specially and it had only just arrived in time. Excessive in both length and girth, it now hung heavily from the front of her harness. The men could just not take their eyes off it. The same thought went through each of their minds - "That thing is never going to go inside of me". But Bertha had been putting in extra gym time, resolving to restore her strength to how it was when she was younger and fitter. She'd toned up her muscles and could outdo the rest of her fitness group in push-ups, sit-ups and squats. And in her other pocket was a king-size tube of KY Jelly. Looking at the row of naked, bound and in some cases trembling men, Bertha knew that, once she got their legs apart and their arses in the air, nothing was going to stop her from plunging the Stallion deep into each and every one of them. She was determined that, just as she had felt the humiliation of their cruel humour, each of the men would experience the humiliation of a full penetration, with the Stallion being thrust all the way in to the hilt. After tonight was over, her nickname would take on a new meaning and the assembled men would have an entirely different reason to remember her as "Big Bertha".

The silence was broken by Margaret who spoke once again.

"The purists amongst us felt that the tribute should be obtained solely by prostate massage. The pragmatists disagreed and said that that would never work - particularly by the fourth, fifth or sixth time. Eventually a compromise was reached. The girls will milk you with their strap-ons for five minutes. If your tribute is not forthcoming in that period, they will be allowed to give you a helping hand - so to speak. A number of the wives have mentioned to me that their husbands have been complaining of overfull balls. I trust that those gentlemen will feel suitably drained after this evening is over."

"Now, I think I've covered just about everything. Does anyone have any questions? No? Well it's just coming up to 10 o'clock so I think we may commence. Gentlemen, you get 15 minutes head-start before we send the girls out. Be sure you use it wisely."

The men were helped to their feet. Some appeared to be shaking. As the entire group headed towards the door Margaret turned and halted to address the men.

"Oh yes, one last thing. You gentlemen may feel that there's nothing positive for you in this game, that the best you can hope for is to minimise the pain and humiliation that you will feel. Well we can't have that. I'd like to give you something to strive for. I have spoken to the Huntresses and obtained their agreement on this. We wives have very much enjoyed having you all as personal slaves for the last thirty days. Here's your opportunity to turn the tables. If any of you gentlemen survive until dawn, it will mean that one or more Huntresses have failed to fill their quota. In that case, the men who survive can choose any one of the Huntresses who have failed and use her as his sex-slave for one whole night. He will be free to perform any act on her and she will be compelled to acquiesce. So gentlemen, there's your challenge. And ladies, I'm counting on you to ensure that this doesn't happen. Let the game begin!"

As Margaret stepped aside the men looked down the corridor that led outside. The wives had formed a line that ran down one side of the corridor from entrance to exit. Each was holding a heavy wooden paddle.

"Come on ladies," shouted Margaret, "let's give our husbands a real DWC sendoff!"

As each man ran the gauntlet of wives, they tried to land as many strokes as possible on his buttocks and thighs. After sending the last man off with a volley of strokes, the women swarmed outside to watch the dozen naked bodies trotting off into the distance.

"Margaret," said the eldest of the Huntresses, "we're not at all happy about that promise you made to the men. You never even spoke to us let alone obtained our agreement and I for one have no intention of being anyone's sex-slave."

"Don't worry dear," replied Margaret putting her arm around the anxious girl's shoulders, "that was just bullshit to give them false hope. Did I not mention that the 'techno-belts' contained transmitters which continually report back their position? We'll let you girls do you own thing until about 5 o'clock. If by then there are any men left that haven't been dealt with, we'll just call you over the radio and give you their locations. I trust we can rely on you to finish them off after that. Do you think I would risk the pride of the DWC? Come inside and have a drink - it's going to be a long and enjoyable night!"