Fidelity
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Fidelity Ch 06 free porn video
It became a game between us. Unspoken. What humiliation would he demand? How low would I stoop?
Almost anything, we knew. Any scrap of affection or moment of intimacy he promised I paid for with a currency of shame. I streaked across the city, his cum on my face, for a cuddle. What would I do for a fond caress? I came to dread he demands while pining for any morsel of affection.
I paid for a hug with another public blowjob. On the off chance he might smile warmly at me, I walked paraded around the house completely nude.
Not all my humiliations were sexual. I agree to go to a clinic for testing. I’d barebacked both Jimmy and his Pete, after all. Who knew what they carried. For some reason the clinician allowed Matthew to accompany me from waiting room to exam room. I conceded to his presence as quickly as I’d agreed to go to a clinic instead of my own Ob/gyn for the exam.
“Have you had unprotected sex since your last test?” asked the woman.
“Yes,” I said.
“Not including your husband,” she clarified. I nodded. She checked a box. “With how many partners?”
“Two,” I said, looking anywhere but at her or Matthew. “Three counting my husband.”
“Oral?” A nod.
“Vaginal?” Another nod.
“Anal?” A deep blush, no denial.
The woman checked another box. I’m sure it read, ‘slut’. I couldn’t help but feel ashamed. The rest of the exam passed by in a blur. In the end, she cleared me and gave me a shot and a stamp of some kind on my wrist.
Hearing me confess my sins to the clinician inflamed Matthew anew. He offered no affection, only a hard cock, rough use, and his cold shoulder. I promised myself I would put my foot down and demand that we talk. Maybe therapy. Inevitably, I bent to Matthew’s control until finally one Friday night late in September, he bent me until we broke.
--
“Be ready for everything when I get home,” he texted.
Everything didn’t include even a hint of real intimacy, I knew. I fantasized about resisting him while I shaved my pussy smooth, took an enema, and showered. I imaged having rational conversation with him as I put on ‘slutty’ levels of makeup then slipped into the raciest thing I owned. Dressed in a tight black bandage dress with missing panels exposing provocative places, I primped and preened and imagined I could resist Matthew.
“That won’t do,” he said, when he arrived looking official in his uniform. “Take it off.”
“I look good in this dress, you’ve said so before,” I said, trying to sound jovial but feeling horrible. Already he had command. “It’s hard not to take this personally.”
Matthew hopped in the shower, completely undermining me. My heart sank into my stomach. I felt stretched and brittle. I needed more than adventure, more than his very stimulating abuse. I needed him, but I disrobed like he wanted.
“Put on those strappy black heels,” he said, walking back into our room, freshly showered and heart-achingly handsome.
That did it. Stamped my foot, “No.”
“No?”
“No, Matthew, I’m done. I’ve taken your shit. I’ve been more than fair. I’ve done everything you asked. You’ve heaped abuse after humiliation on me. I’ve taken it. I’m sick of it. I’m your wife not some whore you can hate fuck and humiliate.”
“You could have fooled me, you sure looked like a whore you with those two...”
“I’m sorry!” I shouted, my heart breaking. And then quietly, but with urgency I added, “I cheated. I’ve said it before. I’m sorry. I am. How many ways can prove it? How much louder do I need to say it for you to hear it? I’m sorry.”
Matthew stood over me and cupped my cheek in his hand, looking sober, almost kind.
“I believe you are.”
“Please forgive me.”
“No,” he said. His face hardened, crushing any hope his tender hand on my cheek might have conveyed. “I’ll never forgive you. We’ll never be the same. We’ll never have what we had before. You shattered that completely, but I’m tired of this, too.”
“Oh God, Matthew. I…” I choked up, tears forming. He sounded to much more final than I did. What could I say to that? “Can’t we talk it through?”
“Talking. That’s what you want. Your way,” he said, “I want something else entirely.”
The floor drop away from me. I was falling. He did mean to end it. To leave me.
“You want to leave? If you want to hurt me, that’s the worst you can do. Being away from you is all the punishment I can bear, I can’t imagine anything worse.”
“Pleading for sympathy? Pathetic after your betrayed, Laura,” he said, clenched his fists. I could see his jaw muscles working as he gnashed his teeth, anger flashed behind his eyes. Matthew, usually cool and calm, showed emotion so easily these days. That change, I liked. “Breaking up isn’t enough punishment for you. If you left, I wouldn’t be there to see you suffer.”
“God Matthew-”
“Shut up. I know what you’re going to say: ‘can’t we talk?’”
I sobbed, “fine, I’ll go.”
I turned to the closet for my bag, but he grabbed my face with both hands, immobilizing me, glaring into my eyes. I could feel my soul shrinking under his hot anger.
“I had planned to make you suffer tonight,” he said, then smiled wickedly. “Can’t do that if you leave.”
“I’m not staying for anymore of this,” I said. I could feel my heart cracking, but I sucked it up, keeping a poker face.
“Stay. If you do everything I say tonight, then you can have your talk.”
“Really?” I asked, ignoring his threat of punishment.
“If you make it through tonight without running off,” he said. “Then I’ll talk.”
“If I don’t run off?” I repeated, confused. Why would I run? Maybe he didn’t mean it, “Really talk?”
Hope welled up inside me when he nodded. Intellectually, I knew Hope to be a fool, but the heart is an obstinate muscle, and equally foolish. I wanted so much more than to talk, but even talking would be more than I’d been given for months now. Anything beat divorce. Besides, how bad could the night be after that naked walk across the parking garage and the humiliating drive down Mission? I relaxed my face into his cupped palms. “What do you mean, make it through tonight? What do you want?”
“Do exactly what I say. Every thing. No running away from it.”
“Then we talk?”
“If you make it.”
“Well that’s not ominous,” I quipped.
“If you don’t make it, if you stop it, we’re done. I am tired of this, too. Remember. Do what I ask, you get your talk and we see if things will work out. Fail me? Pack your bags.”
“Matthew, please,” I begged, looking at him. He stared back expressionless. This was the Matthew I feared, cold and decisive. The kind of man who could land a plane with three hundred souls in a storm with a resting heartbeat. He meant what he said.
“Wait,” I said, steeling myself. If this was the end, I wanted it done right. With clarity. “I need to be sure what the rules are. What you’re asking? Exactly.”
“You are chattel, my chattel, from now until we get back home. You’ll do what I say, when I say it. Willingly. Gladly. With a bounce in your step and a twinkle in your eye.”
I breathed out, relaxing. Feeling familiar with it. I’d been his chattel for a while now. I’d become conditioned to it. Liked it. In fact, my pussy already ached in anticipation while a small, stupid part of my brain gleefully enumerated possible scenarios.
“Can’t be worse than what you’ve already done.”
He laughed humorlessly.
“The sooner it’s over, the better, then,” I said, kicking off my pumps and strapping on my black stiletto sandals. I waited for Matthew to choose my outfit while he changed into his tight black leather motorcycle pants. He even put on the boots.
“Mmm, you look good in leather” I said, trying to lighten the mood. He did, too. I moved towards him to put my hands on his salt and better haired chest. “Especially with your shirt off.”
Matthew ignored me, pushing me away. He looked me over as he pulled on his black leather jacket.
“I guess we have to dress you in something or you’ll get us arrested,” he said.
“Ya think?” I joked. I bit my lip so I wouldn’t tell him nudity wasn’t illegal in this city. It felt nice to have an advantage. He pulled out a deep burgundy slip made of heavy, velvetine rayon.
“Much better,” he said. “Almost perfect.”
“You want me to parade around in this?” I asked. The short hemline, spaghetti straps, and deep neckline left a lot exposed. “I might as well be naked.”
“You’re right. You need some leather, too.”
From the closet Matthew pulled out his brown leather messenger bag. He pulled a black leather coat and a tangle of leather straps.
“Here, turn around,” he said, picking up a thick piece. Out of habit, I did as he asked. Matthew buckled the strap around my neck. I gulped and gently touched the leather at my throat. Not satisfied, he pulled out a longer, thinner leather strap and attached it to a ring at the back of my collar. A leash for my collar.
“Woof.” I said quietly, imagining a whole new set of possibilities for our evening.
“That’s right,” he laughed, “you’re my bitch tonight.”
“I’m my own bitch,” I said, suddenly mad. So he wanted to tie me up, maybe punish me literally. I could do that.
“You want to talk?” he asked. I nodded. “Then you’re my bitch. You’ll do what I say.”
I demurred. But why did we need to leave the house for him to tie me up and spank me? I didn’t ask. Instead, I put on the long jacket which covered maybe three more inches of my bare thighs but didn’t close in the front at all.
“Is this a coat for a thirteen year old?” I asked, trying to tug the lapels together.
“It’s a warm night, you’ll be fine.”
“What? I can’t go out like this!”
He sighed. “No complaints, remember?”
“But-” he cut my words off with a stiff yank on my leash.
“You can say ‘no’, now or anytime tonight. I’ll end it. The real and final end. No talk and one of us will pack her bags. It’s your choice.”
“If I go out, you’ll talk with me after?” I asked again.
“Yes,” he sounded offended. “Tonight is your crucible. If you quit, it’s over, but if-”
“Let’s go then,” I interrupted. I could take anything he planned to dish.
Outside and down the landing we went. I felt positively overdressed compared to the night he threw my favorite blue dress away. Matthew rolled his sleek red motorbike out of the garage, around my Mini, and onto the street. I’d never really paid attention to it.
“It’s sexy,” I said. “What is it?”
“For you, a twenty-five thousand dollar Italian vibrator,” he grinned, handing me a helmet.
“You’re completely covered and I’m wearing half a square yard of silk and a broken jacket. If you wreck...”
“You’ll be fine,” he said, starting up the bike. “Hop on.”
I wasn’t so much sitting on the bike as squatting on the tiny seat, folding up and exposing my long legs completely. The slip moved up so anyone looking closely could see I wasn’t wearing panties. I squeezed Matthew’s hips with my bare knees cursing myself for a fool as he tore off down the hill. My jacket flew open, immediately so I leaned forward, hugging Matthew for wind protection and modesty.
I got lucky. There are maybe five nights a year in San Francisco without wind or fog or both. Almost all in the autumn. This was one, so I didn’t die of hypothermia. Instead, I nearly died of fright. Matthew warmed me up by going well over a hundred down 280 toward SOMA before splitting traffic through the streets south of Market. Half-naked, my pussy grinding into the seat, and completely out of control, I couldn’t keep the grin off my face. Speed, seat-alingus, fear, and public nudity are a hell of a drug.
He parked the bike next to some choppers in a deserted dead end street in a derelict industrial area somewhere way south of Market. Reluctantly, I got off. I scootched close to Matthew, feeling vulnerable.
“Go along with anything that comes up,” Matthew said after locking up the helmets.
“What else am I going to do? I’m nearly naked. I have no purse, phone, money, or ID. You’ve got me where you want me.”
“Not quite,” he smirked. “Now that you mention it, you are overdressed.”
He yanked down hard on the front of my slip. The spaghetti straps broke without much resistance, letting my breasts bounce out. I stared, open mouthed.
Before I could scream, Matthew put a finger over my lips. “Shh..”
“Or it’s all over,” I finished for him. I had trouble breathing. “It’s going to be one hell of a talk when we get back.”
He smiled, working the ruined slip roughly around my hips. It silk material pooled around my ankles. The flimsy jacket was my lifeline now. It covered my nipples but left everything else in front exposed. Matthew reattached my leash and pulled. I stepped out of the slip, trying to hold the jacket together.
“Relax, you’re safe and you’re mine and you look great.” Matthew batted my hands away. “I know you’re enjoying this, at least a little.”
“I look like wolf bait,” I said. It took effort to act mad. Honestly? I’ll admit to being thrilled as well as terrified at that moment. “You have all the power. How can I refuse you?”
“Call it off. I’ll take you back to your apartment.”
“I don’t have an apart-- oh,” I said, getting his meaning. It wouldn’t be our apartment anymore. “Wow, being treated like a bimbo must be affecting my brain.”
“Is that your excuse for fucking those two guys?” Ouch. I frowned, looking down. “You acted like a bimbo, now get used to being one.”
Double-ouch.
He pulled me to a pair of industrial looking doors a few feet from the bikes. Matthew looked into a camera and flashed two slick black cards. A large black bouncer-type guy opened the door, industrial music and a ray of light leaking through the door behind him. The man nodded once at Matthew’s cards then looked me over. I tried not to cringe. The jacket covered my nipples, not my pussy.
“Never seen you. You know the rules?” he asked.
No, but I had an idea. This was a bondage club or something like it. I nodded and we were in.
The inside looked like an unlit warehouse refitted with partitioned walls and decorated by a metal head, like one big warehouse building had swallowed a moody, smaller office building whole. Matthew pulled me into a dimly lit and blessedly empty locker room.
“Take off your jacket,” he said, taking off his own.
I disrobed with shaking hands. Nudity wasn’t enough for Matthew. Confirming my suspicions about the place, Matthew commenced to buckling cuffs from his bag onto my wrists and ankles.
While I had one leg hiked lewdly on the bench for him to cuff, a statuesque blonde woman in a skin tight bright flowery body suit walked in pulling a demure looking asian woman behind her. I tried to ignore the odd pair, it was everything I could do not to run and hide. This was different from walking naked through a garage.
The blonde woman smiled disarmingly at me. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. The corners of my mouth rose slightly. Neither stranger commented on my nudity.
Matthew ignored the couple and pulled out a ball gag. I blushed.
“Open wide,” he said.
Like a wuss, I did. I could feel the blood rushing to my face as the women watched him gag me. The blonde matter of factly disrobed while the asian removed her cloak, revealing her nude body to the three of us. Like me, she hand leather straps bound to her wrists and ankles. She also wore a leather harness of some type. I got the feeling she and I were in the same boat.
“Bend over, hands on the bench,” Matthew commanded.
Mortified, and gagged, I did as he asked. Matthew took out the Pink Thing and a tube of lube. Damn. I could feel my face turning hot from shame even as I arched my back in anticipation. The blond made eye-contact as Matthew gently eased the vibrator up my ass and pussy. I felt tears of shame well up in my eyes.
“Her first time?” she asked Matthew. He must have nodded. She said to me, “enjoy it honey, you only get your cherry popped once.”
What had I gotten myself into?
Matthew tugged on my leash. He led me through a new door, down a corridor, and stopped at door designated ‘04’ with cheap stick-on letters. ‘04’ was a black-walled, red-lit room bisected lengthwise by a railing. Two doors at opposite ends allowed people to mill through on the far side of the fence. A crowd gathered off to the right, watching three people. Seeing the three, I did a double take.
About fifteen feet away on our side of the rails, two hairy, bare chested men in leather pants stood next to a large naked brunette suspended supine from the ceiling by some sort of webbed contraption. A sex swing, I realized. The three casually conversed, ignoring the crowd, while one of the men fucked the woman, gently swinging her back and forth onto his cock.
“Wph-d-fck,” I said. I’d entered the leather Twilight Zone.
Spectators, who were mostly men, turned at my muffled exclamation. A few men and all of the women in the crowd were dressed like extras in the Matrix, in leather, or latex, or something lizard tight. Bizarrely, a couple of men wore only white towels around their waists.
Matthew put his travel bag on a table in the corner next to a half metal barrel placed over a sawhorse like an artificial turtle. From the bag he produced a black cloth and a golf ball.
“If you want to stop, drop it,” he said, putting the golf ball in my hand. “I’ll free you immediately... then take you to your apartment.”
I nodded, understanding. Dropping the ball meant I lost and we would never fix our relationship.
He brought the cloth up to my face, blindfolding me with it. With my eyes covered, everything went dark and safe. The crowd, the weirdos with the sex harness, the blonde and the asian, and the whole building popped out of my mind. I sensed Matthew moving next to me, making me feel safe. The feeling didn’t last.
Matthew jerked my hands up so I was standing on tip toes with my arms in the air, fully stretched out. I couldn’t pull them down. Then he pulled my ankles apart, clipping them into something metal. Now I was spread eagle, with a lot of weight on my wrists.
“Relax.” His whisper boomed in my ear.
Dumbly, I nodded. I gripped the ball. It felt heavy and sweaty. So easy to drop. I heard a light cracking sound and felt a searing sting across my ass. I almost dropped the ball again.
“Mmph!”
Matthew meant to punish me, literally and publicly. I didn’t want this, but I gripped the ball harder, refusing to let go. I steeled myself for more. Nothing here could be worse than losing Matthew.
The next lash stung as much as the first, making me jerk against my bindings. I tensed waiting for the next one, my body going more and more rigid with each second that passed. The lash fell and I relaxed for a moment then tensed again, waiting for more pain. Flexing and relaxing worked the Pink Thing like the vibrator was on. Soon each stroke brought a streak of pain that bloomed into a sort of erotic euphoria centered around the intrusion of the Pink Thing in my ass and pussy. I could take it, I realized. I smiled, thinking of my victory and going home to talk with Matthew for the first time since I cheated on him.
Matthew worked me over, up and down from the backs of my knees to the small of my back. I cried out through the gag, in pain and pleasure. I could hear mumbling commentary from the nearby crowd. People watched and commented on my humiliation. In the dark, I didn’t care.
“Will you do that again?” he asked. My dear husband stood right next to me, whispering in my ear. I knew he meant: would I cheat again. I shook my head.
“Did you cheat with anyone else?” He lashed me again. Again I shook my head. He whipped me more, asking me the similar questions again and again.
“You’ll stay faithful?” he asked.
I nodded and tensed, bracing for another lash. It never landed. Instead Matthew put his hand between my parted legs and gently pulled the Pink Thing out of me. I missed having it in me immediately.
A clever finger found my wet core. I moaned. “You’re soaking.”
Soaking? I was on fire. My skin burned as hotly as my shame. I felt alive and real, like I’d run a marathon, sore but high on endorphins. Smug with satisfaction of a job well done. My pussy and ass ached hollowly without the Pink Thing in me. I wanted to be filled. I wanted nothing more than to go home, fuck my husband, talk, and make up.
(continued)
Mara
- 10.10.2020
- 15
- 0
- Category:
- BDSM
