Wifes a drunken slut
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Wayward Wife's Punishment
Chapter 1
Prologue
Years ago, when beginning the writing of this story, there was no intention of turning it into a novella or longer. The initial concept however quickly changed from a "hit and run" sex and violence short story to this epic of self-discovery on the part of the protagonist. This work still incorporates sex and violence in rather plentiful amounts, but now is dominated by coincidence, the nexus, and brief encounters with the supranatural. The cast of characters that come and go throughout the story has grown tremendously as well, which may prove to be a challenge to some readers, but is absolutely necessary. I feel that I'm on the verge of completing this work and believe strongly that this revised first chapter must be posted before "Wayward Wife's Punishment" comes to its conclusion.
My name is Jon Ellison. I was born and raised in the great heartland of America by my natural parents who are deeply religious and conservative by nature. My educational credentials consist of a high school diploma and two years in college before dropping out due to lack of finances. Being a tinkerer by nature, plus my two years of college, allowed me to land a fairly decent job maintaining office equipment and the like in the thriving metropolis of Minneapolis.
On a vacation trip to Arkansas I had the great good fortune to meet, then quickly court and marry a lovely girl by the name of Jill. My life was complete, or so I thought. All that remained was to live happily ever after and leave behind our progeny. Be advised that college left an indelible impression on yours truly that manifests itself often in my choice of words.
Like most people who are burdened with the need to make a living, there is precious little time left for silent contemplation except for those few minutes one spends on the porcelain throne in the morning or whatever time one's bowels choose to move. Strange as it may seem, my moments of contemplation focused on coincidences. While in college, I began carrying around a notebook in which I entered the type, time and situation that involved the coincidence. No one knew about this, not even my wife. It was my little secret.
Little did I realize that my harmless hobby would soon take over my life and drive me in directions that I could never have imagined.
Jill had gotten a part time job a couple of months after we settled down in a fairly decent apartment about a half hour's drive to my job. The half hour would become more like an hour once the cold, dead hand of winter took hold of the city. Typically she worked split shift, alternating between morning and afternoon. As luck would have it, I got to work one day to discover that I'd left a set of keys necessary to perform a certain computer maintenance job at home. Naturally that was one of those days when Jill worked the morning shift at her job, meaning I had to retrace my drive to recover the keys. Other demands on my time kept me pinned down for a few hours before I could get to our apartment.
The keys were on the bedroom chest of drawers, just where I'd left them. I couldn't help noticing the bedsheets looked as if a small army had bivouacked there last night. The opportunity to take a leak was overwhelming and so into the bathroom I went, and happened to glance into the waste basket by the toilet at what proved to be a condom sitting on top of all the other trash that would normally be found in such a place. Worse yet, upon closer examination I ascertained that it contained a goodly amount of the white stuff, not yet dried out. Part of me went into shock, while the other part said this was going to make a great entry in my notebook of coincidences.
The rest of the day my head was in a whirl; what was going on? I distinctly remember Jill saying this week she was working the morning shift. Then who was using our bedroom for fun and games? Was she letting someone else use our place for some kind of assignation? That had to be the answer! If I was correct, there would be no evidence of anything untoward having happened in our apartment by the time I got home. That evening when I returned home, there sat my wife claiming that she had come down with something and hadn't gone to work today. Of course there was no incriminating evidence around the place either. It must have been all a figment of my imagination.
It was then that I first heard the voices of those who lived in my head. They weren't too kind to me about my wayward wife. Worse yet they were amused by all the goings-on. The lead voice counseled me to hold my tongue but play out the rope. Others chimed in, exhorting me to have it out with her here and now. It was then that I had my first of many seizures. I'm used to them now, but the onset of the very first tried my sanity. It was as if everything stopped, frozen in time. At first I couldn't hear anything, but then I heard as well as felt the wheezing sound signifying the calliope was about to play.
As a child I was entranced by the instrument. A neighbor had one of the old fashioned types complete with a steam engine to drive it. I could sit by the hour and listen to all the tunes he would play. This one sounded the same but the music was as different as night from day. It was mocking, not lilting like the other, almost sinister, and mercifully brief. However it left an echo in my head long after it was gone along with the silvery laughing voices that always accompanied the ending of each piece. Then reality would rush in to fill the void, thus bringing the seizure to a close.
Jill commented about my lack of appetite at dinner, but I attributed it to a little more pressure than I wanted at work. It was a mostly sleepless night, made even more stressful by the recollection of a conversation I had with her sister, Allie, just before we got married. She warned me that Jill had been quite the playgirl when she was younger and was leaving the small town in which they had been raised under a cloud. It seemed she had been fooling around with a married man for months and when the wife finally caught on, the subsequent divorce action exposed a few more married men that also had been cheating on their wives with Jill as well.
The following day I made two costly phone calls; the first to Allie in Arkansas, and after hearing her out, a second to a local private detective agency specializing in divorces. Allie was most candid once she learned of yesterday's fiasco. My sister-in-law was of the opinion that Jill was too set in her ways to be rehabilitated. To support her view of the situation she let me know that recently, because of the divorce proceedings, she had been told by a number of former boyfriends going back to over two years ago, that they had sampled her sister's charms at the same time Allie was seeing them. You can imagine how that made her feel. Love or is it lust is blind, and I pressed her for help. Finally she agreed to discuss the matter with her husband and abide by his decision.
Allie kept me waiting for over a week, time well spent by my private detective who came up with an amazing amount of dirt on my wayward wife, including photos of guys escorting her to various motels and the like.The ones that really hurt were the ones showing her welcoming men into our apartment. It turned out that she was rather well known at more than one hot pillow motel based on the information he obtained from the clerks who immediately knew who he was asking about, describing Jill as a good looking, well built semi-pro who seemed to be in it for the action rather than the money. What made it harder to stomach was her habit of always wearing her wedding ring. One clerk had even mentioned that he felt sorry for the poor slob that was married to her.
During the week I scrupulously avoided suggesting we have sex, and she reciprocated. Perhaps she had just started up this sex jag just around the time I accidently discovered she was cheating on me. It didn't matter as the evidence of her duplicity piled up.
Allie finally called me back at my office, such as the little cubbyhole deep within the bowels of the building in which I slaved was described. Fortunately I didn't have a secretary or anyway of having my calls picked up, so there was little risk of being caught using the phone for personal business. She wasted no time letting me know that she and her husband would try to see if they could straighten Jill out. There were strings attached to this offer, which I quickly accepted. I would accompany Jill to their home in a little town in the Ozarks and initially participate in the reprogramming process. They had already obtained the cooperation of the local parson and his wife, along with a number of her former sex partners who managed to keep their marriages from totally disintegrating, as well as their vengeful wives.
Her next revelation floored me, but who was I to look askance. Allie casually mentioned that she and her busband, Rod, were confirmed swingers and intended to expose her sister to this life style as part of her "therapy". However unlike the other members of the swing club, Jill would have no choice as to her partners and what they chose to do with her as part of the reprogramming process. All the gory details had not been finalized, but once Jill was under their control, the final plans would be discussed at length with yours truly. In the event that I did not agree to them, they would allow my wife and I to return home immediately.
The very next day Rod called Jill to inform her that Allie had been in an auto accident and wasn't expected to live. She did not take the bait, much to my irritation. The following day Rod called her again to let her know that Allie had passed away and inviting her to the funeral which would take place in three days. Jill bought his sad story and agreed to attend the funeral. Narurally I played the part of the concerned bnusband and odd ffered to go with her for support. Two days later we were on the way to the Ozarks. After a rather turbulent hop from Little Rock, we arrived safe but shaken at the local airport where Rod awaited us wearing his aggrieved husband face. An hour later we were at his house, they had recently moved to a larger home.
The look on my cheating wife's face was priceless as she entered the house to be confronted by a grim faced Allie, recently risen from the dead it seemed. Jill was astonished at first and then as Allie told her of our conversations and her promise to help in my wife's rehabilitation, Jill's face got pale and she began to get very shaky. It got even more interesting when Allie told her sister that Rod had confessed that he too had been fooling around with her before he married Allie.
" You have a lot of sins and many good folk here that you have harmed with your selfish behavior. It will take much time for you to atone for it all, but with the help of my husband and the community you can be saved."
As she spoke there was a look on Allie's face that could only be described as full of anger, even hatred at the damage that this dissolute sinner had created in the community. When Jill was told to strip she refused. Allie grinned coldly and nodded to her husband who advanced towards my shocked wife. She pleaded than cursed me for not protecting her from her brother-in-law. Jill screamed in helpless fury as I moved to assist Rod in restraining her. Allie took advantage of the situation and landed a number of vicious slaps to the face of her wayward sister.
Jill was so stunned that she hardly noticed that Rod was tearing her dress off, revealing her full figured body covered by only a matching set of bra and bikinis. Unlike her sister Allie, my wife was really built with tits that filled her 37D-cup bra to its limit, and a heart shaped ass that was mounted on a set of legs that seemed to melt into those rounded cheeks. It was easy to see why she was so successful with men. I remember thinking I was the luckiest man on earth when she agreed to marry me. Now I knew differently.
Allie continued the stripping of my wife by grabbing her bra and ripping it from her big bouncy tits, and then reaching in and yanking the flimsy bikinis from her sister's crotch. I couldn't help noticing how physically different the two sisters were; Jill short but voluptuous, and Allie tall and slim. Even their hair color and styling was dissimilar, Jill's auburn and long, while Allie's brown curly hair was cut short.
Allie was certainly prepared for this little fracas. She grabbed a set of handcuffs that were on the table and with Rod's help managed to cuff Jill's hands behind her back. It took a few minutes more before the couple managed to drag a kicking and screaming Jill over to a heavy wooden chair and force her to be seated. Once that was accomplished Allie produced manacles to restrain her legs and some links of chain to fasten her securely in a semi-hogtie position using the chain to anchor her cuffed wrists to her manacled ankles. This done, Allie stepped back and caught her breath before speaking.
"Why don't you and Rod take a nice long walk while I get reacquainted with my slutty sister. There's some nice scenery on the plateau that you can check out, and I'm sure my husband will fill you in on some of the things we have planned for this tramp."
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