The attached work of fiction is intended to be entertainment for adults in locations in which it is
legal.  If it is illegal in your location, DO NOT read.  This is a copyrighted work.  Reposting or
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Copyright 1998, 1999 by E. Z. Riter.

Please!  Give me your comments.

E-mail address: ezriter@hotmail.com

Dear Reader, This is a repost of a story from last year.  As in all my reposts, I've made
improvements in the story.  This is about a husband and wife dealing with her adultery.  It
involves bondage and a chastity belt.  Don't let that put you off.  It's not extreme. Enjoy.  E.Z.

THE PUNISHMENT FITS THE CRIME

"My object all sublime, I shall achieve in time.  Is to let the punishment fit the crime, the
punishment fit the crime."   Gilbert & Sullivan 

The Crime

My wife, Rebecca Gooding Wharton, aged thirty-seven, mother of Jennifer 18, Julie 17 and
Jason 15, stood quietly in the center of our den. Her head was turned down in submission and
humiliation, but her big brown eyes peered up at me from under her long lashes.

She wore a long floral print dress which covered from her beautiful neck to her dainty, elegant
feet.  She was classy, demure and looked like a wet dream.  From the tightness of the dress
around her breasts, I guessed she wore her nuclear bra.  That's what she called the push up
delight which maximized her already significant natural endowment.  She probably wore a pair
of shocking pink thong panties if she wore any panties at all.

She knew I loved that dress because I knew what she looked like without it.  I knew that dress
hid from the gaze of others a dynamite, beauty contest winning, figure covered by soft, touchable
skin.

She was wringing her hands, twisting the white lace hankie in them, and the tension was evident
in her voice and face.

"What're you going to do, Charlie?"

"I think I'll divorce your adulterous ass!"

"Never! Oh, God, Charlie, never!  I can't think of life without you!"

"You should've thought of life without me before you fucked Harry."

"Please, Charlie.  You know you still love me."

She turned now to face me, raising her head to look me in the eye, brushing her long
light-milk-chocolate colored hair from her face. The dress suggested her flat stomach and her
hourglass shape as it clung to her.  She took a small step toward me and began to cry.  Slowly,
she knelt on the floor, knees demurely together, hands clinched around the hankie which she
occasionally touched to her eyes.

"I know you love me, just as I love you.  We've loved each other since we were six years old,
Charlie.  Remember first grade when I pledged undying love to you and you ran in horror?"

"I had good instincts even then.  I should've listened to them."

"Oh, Charlie, please don't say that.  We've had a lot of good years. Remember? From then on, it
was Charlie and Becky, Becky and Charlie.  Who first held my hand?  Who gave me my first
kiss? Took me to the prom?  Took my virginity? Filled my womb with his seed to make our
children?  Who, Charlie?"

"Were you thinking of those things when you sucked Harry's cock?"

"Please, Charlie. This is hard on me, too."

Her legs parted, knees shoulder width apart, the demure dress tucked tightly around her delicious
thighs. What thighs. Thighs to die for. Thighs that when you crawl between them you enter
paradise.  She was trying to arouse me.

She didn't have to try hard.  I got aroused looking at her, thinking of her, smelling her, touching
her.  I always had, and, damn my soul, I always would.  I knew that.  So did she.

Our problem was Becky had an affair.  She was seduced by Harry, the tennis pro at the country
club.  That's nothing new. If men realized seventy-five per cent of their country club bills were
directly attributable to their wives fucking the help, half the clubs in America would close.

Harry videotaped them together.  He blackmailed her with the videotape and received four
payments. Then I found out.  He was in jail and probably would get five to seven years, but the
damage was done.  The tape had been reproduced and sent to our friends.

I'd seen that tape.  The porn industry wished they made something that hot.  There she was, my
Becky, in all her naked splendor, fucking Harry.  She was hot, sweating, vocal, whimpering, her
delicious body oscillating, her hands all over him. My Becky.  The one that had been mine.

I called her my hot little slut.  It was our private joke. But she'd been hot only for me and only I
knew how hot she was.

Now she was hot with Harry and everyone knew. I'd bet a year's wages every man in town had
beat off to that tape.  I knew they'd seen it.  Things like that get around.  If they saw it, they beat
off.

"Charlie?"

It was the voice she used when she said "Charlie, let down my hair" or "Charlie, come lay with
me."  That voice.

"Charlie, I think you have an erection.  Were you thinking of me?"  A toying, teasing voice.

"I was thinking of the tape."

"Don't think of the tape. Think of us! Think of that first time in your parent's bedroom.
Remember how frightened you were when I bled?  Think of the nights in Acapulco, by our
private swimming pool at Las Brisias when we fucked in the water.  Think of the week we spent
at Sanibel Island, just us in that big condo.  Oh, Charlie, think about all our great times together. 
We can have many more great times.  We could have another one now if you wanted."

God, she was sexy. Her body language screamed "fuck me" with her shoulders slightly bowed to
offer her breasts to me, her pouty lower lip extended, her eyes flashing, the skirt now so tight
over her pubis I could see it protruding.

"Why are you coming onto me?"

"You know why.  I love you more than life itself.  I want you and me to be one again.  I'll do
anything to get you to take me back. Anything!  I'm going to fight for you, Charlie!  I won't
accept a divorce.  I won't go quietly. I'll fight with everything I have."

Her head dropped.  I heard her sob.  Her voice, small and sad, floated up to me.

"What weapons do I have? Tell me, what are they?  All I can fight with is my love, our memories
and my sexuality."

"Memories? I have a head full of memories from that tape. Even if I could forget, Becky, how do
you expect to live here after what you've done?  How do you expect me to live here?"

"Please.  We'll find a way.  As long as I have you, I can live with anything.  Any shame.  Any
horror.  But I must have you, Charlie.  I love you.  Can you hear me? I love you."

She was inching forward, now within arms' length.  I stood and walked away.  

"Please.  Don't run from me," she said.  

"I love and want you, too! If you touch me, I won't be able to resist you."

 "Is that so bad, Charlie?" she said, in a sultry, teasing tone."Remember.  You like touching me. 
My skin.  Here.  Next to my pussy.  Smooth.  Or here along my sides where my waist narrows. 
Under my breasts.  My back."

In one graceful movement, her long skirt was above her waist. She was panty less and her dark
bush called to me. I could see the honey dew glisten. She touched between her legs and held her
finger up to me.

"Here, Charlie. This is what happens when you touch my pussy.  I'm wet for you.  Would you
like it?"

"Dammit it, Becky.  Cut it out! This is serious."

"I know it's serious.  But it's not fatal.  It'll be all right if we're together.  Oh, I want to be with
you, Charlie,  I want you in my arms, between my legs. Please."

"Why should I stay with you?  Why should I live with an adulterous slut?  Why should I endure
the humiliation of a cuckold?  Why?"

"Do you really think I'm a slut?  Do you?  I'm almost forty and I've had sex with two men. One
was a sonofabitch who had me six times in a two-week period.  The other was you. How many
times have you had me, Charlie? How many times since I first took you twenty-one years ago?"

"Is he the only one? Or have there been others?"

"Oh, Charlie, how could you?" she said, her voice breaking in anguish.  Her lip quivered. 
Demurely she lowered her skirt to cover herself. She began crying again. 

"I'm sorry, Becky, but I had to ask."

"Why?  You know me so well.  You knew about him the first time, but were afraid to ask. You
knew, Charlie.  I could see it in your eyes.  But I'll say it.  No, Charlie.  There haven't been any
others. I wish to God I could take back those two weeks, Charlie, but I can't.  I'll live with it the
rest of my life."

She straightened her back, gathering her resolve.

"Look, Charlie.  He fucked me six times.  I sucked his cock three or four times.  That's all. Sex
without love.  With you, it's love and sex. Think about it!  He never held my hand. He never
walked with me on a beach on a summer's day. He never toasted me with wine on our
anniversary.  He never stroked my hair as we danced in the moonlight.  We never lay in bed with
our baby child between us, holding hands in joy over our little one.  He never curled against me
in the morning and told me he loved me."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Please, Charlie.  Don't ask.  Don't make me say it."

Why did I ask?  I must be some kind of masochist.  Anyone who saw that videotape knew she
enjoyed it.  That's what made the tape so special.  A very special woman was wildly enjoying
sex.  No Hollywood actress.  No put on.  Real pleasure.  Real sex.  Sex like only I use to have
with her.

"Becky, even if I took you back, the community problem weighs on me."

"I know.  Everyone in town knows I did it. Oh, it won't be easy.  Those bitches at the club'll
gossip behind my back.  They'll look down their noses at me. But I can take it if you are there for
me.  You and the children."

The children were very aware of what their mother had done.  Some so-called friend of Jennifer
had shared the tape with her.  In a group, she watched her mother being fucked by someone other
than her father until she ran screaming from the room. Now, all three had seen it.  Teenagers are
very aware of sex and of shame, of status and of humiliation, which they see hiding behind every
tree.

Our children had been humiliated as we had. They showed no signs of forgiving their mother,
cursing at her if they deigned to speak at all.

"What do you want me to do, Charlie?"

"I don't know.  I need time.  No man likes to think of his wife with another man.  Particularly me,
Becky.  And that's not even the half of it.  The children.  The community."

"I know.  May I continue to live in the guest house?"

"Yes.  Of course."

"Please, speak to the children for me.  I...."

She broke out in tears again, curling into a ball of sobs kneeling on our floor.  How I wanted to
hold her, comfort her, take her cares away. I wanted to tell her I loved her and that everything
would be all right.  Yes, I wanted to fuck her, too.  I wanted to fuck her so hard I'd drive Harry
from her mind and pussy and soul forever.  And I wanted to fuck her gently as I often did,
sharing love with her.

I knew what my answer would be.  I knew somehow, someway I'd work it out for us.  She knew,
too, for we knew each other so well.

My problem was to find a way to vanquish her guilt, letting her exorcize that devil.  And I needed
to create sympathy for her in the children and the community.  The cuckold stain on me must be
washed away to restore my status. In short, harmony and balance must be restored. 

No small task.

*****

The Punishment

It had been four long and lonely days since Becky and I talked.  Four days of pure hell!  She
stayed away from us as if serving solitary confinement. I was exhausted, my nerves frazzled, my
emotions shot. The children were in bad shape, too.

Becky was calm and serene.

"I can only trust in you, Charlie, and I do trust you. I'll abide by your decision, whatever it is . . . 
unless it's divorce.  Then I'll fight like hell to stay with you."

The solution came to me as I lay in the dark of our bedroom which was lonely and cold without
her.  I ran from the house in my underwear, threw open the door to the guest house.  She was
asleep in the chair, wearing her thick, terry cloth robe.

I shook her awake and explained my solution to the riddle.

She threw her arms around me and kissed me hard.

"Oh, Charlie, you're such a clever man.  What a brilliant solution!"

"Thank you," I replied smugly.

"Charlie, it'll work. Our problem is solved!"

"Well, not solved, but mitigated."

"Oh, Charlie, can we make love again?  I want to hold you."

"I don't think . . . "

I stopped, my words frozen in mid air, as the robe slipped to the floor leaving my Becky naked.

"Take me, Charlie.  Please take me and fuck me until nothing else in the world exists but us.  I
need that.  I need you so."

"No."

I turned away, fighting for control of my own needs.

"Please, Charlie. You know how hot I am, how good.  I need you and you need me, Charlie.  You
need to be in me, loving me."

She pressed hard against me, her breasts burning a hole in my back, one hand caressing my chest,
the other on my cock.

"No, Becky.  Not until you're punished."

"All right, Charlie.  If that's the way you want it.  But, Charlie . . . "  Her voice was sexy and
seductive. "...why punish yourself by not taking me?"   

"No. Not now.  Not yet."

Showing more strength than I knew I possessed, I pulled her hands off me and stepped away. I
couldn't look back as I left. I didn't have that much control.

We invited four couples to see Becky's punishment. We considered inviting the children, but
decided against it.

Jim and Peggy were our closest friends and had stood by us.  Only Jim of the males in my crowd
hadn't made remarks about the video, although I knew he'd seen it.  We invited Marsha and Dick
and Jason and Rachel.  The last couple, Matt and Janie, were not close friends. Janie would
rather gossip than breathe and what transpired would be all over town in less than twelve hours.
The quicker, the better, as far as I was concerned. 

They arrived about eight and I led them into the garage. No drinks or hor d'oerves were served. 
It wasn't that kind of occasion. The guests sat in folding chairs on the cement garage floor.

"Has everyone seen the video?"  I asked.

The women twittered and blushed.  The men looked away.  Finally they admitted it.  They'd all
seen that damn video.  I wondered if they'd beat off watching it.  They were intensely quiet as I
addressed them.

"Becky's to be punished for her adultery.  You're here to witness it.  Afterwards, all of you, and
everyone else in this town, should realize she's been sufficiently punished and forgive her. 
Forgive and forget.  Move on with our lives."

"No real man would forgive a wife for what she did.  I'm surprised you're even thinking about
staying with her," Janie whined in her most imperious country club bitch voice.

"A real man, a man confident in his own masculinity and strength, a man loving and caring of his
wife, would punish her appropriately and forgive her.  That's what I intend to do.  Punish and
forgive.  And I want you to forgive, too, Janie.  Becky's been a good wife and mother for twenty
years.  Two weeks are unimportant."

"Well, maybe, if the punishment were harsh enough.  What do you think, Rachel?" Janie asked.

Yes, Rachel, what do you think?  The rumor was Rachel was Harry's little playmate before
Becky.

"We should all forgive.  If the punishment's severe, well, Becky would've suffered enough."

Soon, as I had hoped, all were in concurrence.  If the punishment fit the crime, forgiveness would
automatically follow.

"Becky!" I called.  

She had been waiting impatiently outside the garage.  When I called her name she entered, her
terry cloth robe draped around her and slippers like ballet shoes on her feet.  With her head down
in shame, she walked to stand by me.

"Tell the witnesses your punishment, Becky."

"I'm to be . . . "

"Look at them and speak clearly."

She brought her eyes to theirs.  Tears formed and slid down her lovely cheeks.  The audience was
silent, not even breathing, as they stared back at her.

"I'm to be stripped.  I'm to be whipped as you watch. A chastity belt will be locked around me.
I'll wear it the rest of my life to prevent further adulterous behavior."

"No," Peggy gasped, bursting into tears over her friend's punishment. All were stunned, their
faces showing true shock.

I held up the chastity belt for them to see. It was impressive looking, with its shiny, stainless steel
belt to fit around her waist and its matching plate to fit over her pussy and lock to the belt. I
showed them how it worked and passed it around for them to handle. 

They wanted to ask questions. Red faces and embarrassed expressions gave way to insatiable
curiosity.   The dam of silence broke.  Starting with "where did you find such a thing in this day
and age," they asked their questions except one.  Rachel asked it.  I wondered if she was
contemplating such a punishment for herself. 

"Can she masturbate when she's wearing it?"

"Maybe. Nothing can penetrate her, but she might be able to titillate her clit.  It won't be easy."

I asked them to take their chairs and turned to Becky. 

I wrapped each of her wrists five times in a soft, white rope and tied it securely. I crossed her
wrists and bound them together.  I lowered the chain on the electric hoist, attached her and raised
it until her arms were over her head and she was stretched with her back to the audience.

The robe had been draped over her shoulders.  I removed it.  They gasped.  She wore a thong
bikini which covered little in the back, which was their view.

I pulled the whip from its container and showed it to the audience. It wasn't a severe whip.  It
wouldn't cut her, but she'd know she'd been punished.

"Anything to say, Becky?"

"Thank you, Charlie, for giving me this punishment and forgiving me.  I'm sorry for what I did.  I
love you."

The first lick fell on the cusp between her ass and thighs. She jumped and gasped as did all the
witnesses as if they'd been struck also.  I won't describe the blows, every time the whip found
her tender flesh.  Nor will I describe how she twisted and turned, how her skin turned red and
mottled from the punishment, or how she finally had enough and I stopped.

"Now, the belt."

I fastened the chastity belt around her waist and hung the key around my neck on a chain. I
draped her with the robe again.

"Sufficient punishment?" I asked.  They concurred as I expected, removing stains from her honor
and mine.

"Please leave now. I want to be alone with my wife."

*****

The Fit

We were in our bedroom. Becky was naked except for the belt.  It was the first time we'd been
alone together in far too long a time.

"You were magnificent! God, what a man. First, you plan it.  Then, you execute it to perfection! 
They thought you were punishing me with that whip. If they only knew how I love it, how hot it
makes me. Oh, Charlie, I really need you right now!"

I hurried to remove my clothes as Becky spun happily, dancing around the room.

"How did you do it, Charlie?  You kept me right on the edge of orgasm the whole time. If I'd not
been tied, I would've cum.  Wouldn't that have been something?  And your little touches to our
show. The tampon to keep my pussy juices from running down my leg.  The oil stain remover on
the floor to hide my smell. Charlie, you're really something. Hurry!"

I was naked now. She lunged at me, throwing her delicious body into me, covering me in kisses
as she jammed her steel-covered cunt into my cock.

"Come on, Charlie! Get this damn thing off me! I want your cock in me!"

"Becky, the belt stays.  The whipping wasn't punishment for you.  You loved that.  The belt's
your punishment."

She stepped back, a stunned expression on her face for she couldn't believe what I said.

"Charlie, I agreed to wear it forever, but only when you weren't around. You're here.  I want you
to take this goddamned belt off and fuck me!  And I want it now!"

"No."

"You bastard!  You sorry bastard! I've never been this horny.  Charlie, I can't stand it!" she
yelled, plummeting my chest with her closed fists.

"Try begging instead of screaming.  That might work."  I said with a grin.

She dropped to the floor prostate and kissed the top of my foot.

"Please, Charlie.  Please fuck me! I need you so desperately."

"Keep begging."

Her balled fist struck the top of my foot. As I danced around, she reached for the key around my
neck.

"No.  Bad girl,"  I said slapping her hand away.

She spread her legs, put her hands on her hips and thrust her pelvis out defiantly.

"Charlie, why deny yourself me? Don't you want me?"

"Yes, I want you and only you. But I want you to know I'm serious about this. This has 
devastated me!" I screamed

Tears in her eyes, she held me tightly.  She felt so good in my arms.

"Oh, Charlie. I'm so sorry.  I do love you more deeply than I can say."

We cried together, holding on to each other for dear life.  Fifteen minutes later I removed the
belt. We made love, soft and slow at first, wild and passionate in the end. 

As she said, why should I deny myself her?  I'd committed no crime.  And I'd already been
punished way too much.

The End

Please!  Give me your comments.

E-mail address: ezriter@hotmail.com
