During the week preceding Melissa's next session with her blackmailers, I had a lot of second thoughts about allowing it to take place. I'm not heartless, and nobody wants to see a loved one humiliated, especially their wife. But every argument I devised pointed to the session as the only way to teach her a lesson that she'd never forget. I even tested her with a few "casual" questions about her stand on extra-marital sex. Her answers, "There is no excuse for an affair...ever," and "Having an affair is unforgivable," only strengthened my resolve to teach her a lesson. Or, in this case, allow the lesson to be taught.

On the afternoon of doom, I arranged to leave the office early, and headed over to Melissa's studio. With the full-time crew out-of-state, Melissa had the run of the place, and I knew she'd be taking a break for dinner around 4:00. Sure enough, her car was gone when I arrived, and I let myself in using the spare key I'd smuggled out of her purse.

I already knew where I'd set up shop. Along the back of the control room was the producer's room, which featured a long, reflective-glass window. Now they just used it for storage, and I knew the odds were long that someone would go in there during the evening. From this room I could easily observe the shots being sent to the director from all the cameras. And, if they left the control room door open, I could directly observe the action in the studio, using the binoculars I had in my briefcase.

Taking a chance that Melissa would be out for a while, I inspected the studio set up. True to his word, Smoothy had delivered a blow-up full-size mattress, now covered in a floral sheet. The desk from the previous week stood to one side, with a secretarial chair behind it. She'd set up the fewest possible studio lights, probably to keep the heat down. Two studio cameras and one hand-held camera stood ready. And a simple boom mike would be capturing the audio action.

Melissa came back to the studio about 5:15. Back in my lair, I could see her perfectly through the open control room door. There was a real good chance that they'd leave it propped open, as they'd be going in and out of the control room often. After doing some prep work, she left again, and returned about 5:45, presumably wearing their lingerie under her jeans and T-shirt. She didn't look nervous, but I don't think she realized the kind of wild imaginations sex-crazed teenage boys could have.

Smoothy, Shy Guy and Punk arrived precisely at 6:00, with Punk taunting Melissa with an envelope that must've contained the incriminating photographs. They immediately split up, preparing the studio for their production. Smoothy positioned the cameras. Shy Guy fired up the control room. And Punk checked the lighting, while Melissa supervised it all. Finally, they were ready, and Smoothy shot the bolt on the studio door.

"So, Liss, I hope you're ready to pay for your crimes," Smoothy said. "We're gonna do this just like it's our final exam. We're gonna set up one camera, unmanned, to catch the main scenes, on the bed. One of us will be on the main camera. One of us will be switching in the control room. And you'll have the pleasure of working with the last guy as your leading man. The only difference is, the leading man will be doing some directing, too."

In my hidey-hole, the sound was perfect. I could see the four of them in color on all three monitors. And with my binoculars, I could get extreme close-ups through the control room doorway.

"So the first step is to get you out of those clothes and into your costume," directed Smoothy.

"I've got it on underneath," Melissa said. "Are you going to film this?"

"Nah, we'll go for the shots taking the other stuff off, though."

In contrast to last week's spectacle, Melissa unceremoniously pulled off her top and jeans, to reveal a cheap-looking blue baby doll ensemble. Melissa's firm breasts filled out the top quite nicely, presenting a good deal of lace-covered cleavage. The panties weren't nearly as revealing as the one's she'd worn last week, though they did tie on the sides, for easy removal. At Smoothy's direction, she donned a pair of wicked high heels, which made her tits thrust out even more.

"Wait. Before we start, we've got a little 'greeting' to do," cautioned Shy Guy, who evidently wasn't shy anymore. He stood before Melissa and pushed her down to her knees, where she unzipped his pants, felt inside, and drew out his semi-hard dick. Wetting her lips, she placed them on the tip of the purple head, and then slowly sucked it into her mouth, French kissing it in the best way possible. She continued down the line to Smoothy, who possessively rubbed his cock on either side of her face. And then to Punk, who gleefully informed her afterwards that the three of them had jacked off in the morning, so she wouldn't be getting any 'easy' orgasms like last time.

"Don't forget, each of us has to cum twice tonight," Smoothy cautioned. "And you have to look like you're not being forced into this."

With that, they split up to their respective positions: Punk on the cameras, Shy Guy in the control room, and Smoothy first with Melissa. Evidently, Smoothy had won the draw again. In the control room, one monitor showed a view of the bed from the side, courtesy of the unmanned camera. Punk's camera held a close-up of my wife's cleavage, with her hard nipples looking like sexy buttons through the fabric.

Smoothy started things by having her take his shirt off and kiss his chest and nipples. The camera showed every detail, from the suppleness of her tongue to the gleaming wet trail she left on his skin. She removed his shoes and socks next, kissing his feet as directed. With her kneeling before him, he seemed to relish his dominant position, and looked to be considering several options. Finally, he had her remove his jeans, and she began kissing him through his tight jockey shorts. Starting on one leg, she nibbled around to his ass, wetting the cloth over every inch of skin. Down between his legs her tongue traveled, until he seemed to be straddling her face. Then back up to the waistband, before pausing at the solid bulge in the front. She used both her lips and tongue here, tugging and smoothing the sensitive tool beneath.

Finally, with her teeth tugging at the material, Melissa removed his underwear. His cock stood half stiff, the skin still a little loose, the veins barely discernible. Smoothy slowly played the head of his cock over Melissa's upturned face, touching its thin slit to her cheeks, her chin, her nose, her eyelids, ending with it supported by her lips. Punk's camera work was excellent, with the smoothness of her lips contrasting with the roughened textures on the cock shaft. The camera traveled down slightly to reveal the spongy surface of his sack resting against the silky smoothness of her chin, pillowing it and quivering at its touch. In fact, his whole cock had started to quiver, stretching and expanding as Smoothy reacted to the intense visual stimulus.

I had certainly reacted to it, pulling my own cock out for a light stroking. It was easy to forget that this was my wife under the domination of another man, and instead react to the raw, animal passion. At the control panel, too, Shy Guy was stroking his crotch, obviously eager to get his piece of the action.

We all watched intensely as my wife's lips parted, allowing the cock to drop into her open mouth. Her tongue darted out, circling the top of his shaft, trailing hot saliva. Then she bounced his cock up and down on her teeth, using her tongue as a tiny piston. Even as she did this, it grew harder and harder, until it was sticking out on its own, needing no more support. Skin stretched tight, you could trace the veins, which throbbed to their own rhythm. His balls seemed to expand in the sack, and he urged her to fondle them with her hands.