Their Wayward Wives

by Emily Tilton

When she’d had to wear the chastity belt and the way it made her feel to wear it under her nice work clothes, the way it felt under her nightgown where once she had always worn panties.

  All the sexual training and especially the way John used her bottom for his pleasure nearly every night now.

  The terrible spanking about the kitchen drain, and the warm feeling that had welled up when John had said he would reward her for taking the spanking like a good girl—reward her by letting her go to work without her belt securing her pussy and her bottom. Without having to text for him to come and unlock her so that she could use the toilet, with her husband watching.

  She hoped she would remember the moment someday as having everything to do with John leading her into the bedroom to show her her new paddle, so that she wouldn’t have to remember saying that she’d love to have dinner with that pretentious attorney asshole Fred. So that she wouldn’t have to remember lying about it.

  But if she didn’t remember those things, she wouldn’t remember the feeling of being in nylon panties again after all those previous days in her chastity belt. She wouldn’t remember how that feeling had seemed to make her giddy. She wouldn’t remember how, at the precise moment she accepted the philandering Fred’s invitation, she had thought I’m not going to be wearing my belt, so if Fred wanted to take me to a hotel and fuck me, he can, and I won’t have to tell him that I belong to a man who punishes me on my bare bottom and keeps my pussy locked up.

  The idea of sex with Fred had been purely hypothetical. She definitely hadn’t wanted to go to a hotel with him, but the knowledge that she could had seemed to do funny things to her imagination and her feelings about John. He had given her control, again, and she felt like she needed to use it.

  She didn’t want to remember those things, but she knew she should, in the same way that as she laid herself over the arm of the sofa she knew she should get the terrible paddling John had to give her. The leather still encircled her waist though her chastity strap dangled the same way it always did when John trained Cathy’s bottom with a plug and then fucked her there. When he did that, she didn’t think she could bear it—and she didn’t think she could bear not to have him come in her anus and express his pleasure and his mastery that way.

  Would John fuck her bottom after he paddled her, tonight? He sometimes said that she must expect anal sex to be part of her disciplinary regime, as well as his hand and his belt—and now, it seemed, her paddle. Cathy felt her face go very red. Surely he wouldn’t do that with Mindy and Doug still there?

  But it seemed that her erotic training at her husband’s hands would include that sort of thing. Hadn’t she and Mindy just heard about their husbands’ command that they sleep together in their chastity belts? That they masturbate together while watching naughty videos? John had said more than once that he planned to show her such videos, to help her learn to please him and to get her used to submissive sex, but she had thought that lay in the future—perhaps an indefinitely postponed sort of future.

  Part of the feeling that had led to the horrible dinner with Fred had to do with this part of John’s new ideas about wife training. The dinner had ended with Cathy practically running away from the restaurant as she realized what an asshole Fred was. He had belittled John as he proposed that Fred could slip her “a few hundred bucks a week, to help you and your carpenter get by, if you make it worth my while at lunchtime tomorrow.”

  As she drove home she hadn’t felt any desire for the vanilla sexual flavor of making it worth Fred’s while. She had grown warm between her thighs instead at the idea of John inspecting her shaved vagina every night before he locked it up, and tasting her there until she came, blushing and crying out in equal measures at the way he probed her bottom-hole with two fingers as he did it. But not to have the belt on meant she had control of her body again, and she felt stupid for having so thoroughly squandered that control.

  No matter how good it felt to suck his cock with the vibrating dildo and the butt plug firmly planted and held in by her chastity belt as she rode the bolster to orgasm after orgasm, before she—proudly, now—swallowed all his semen, her mind still said, “It’s naughty, and you’re weak to let it happen.”

  Yes, of course it’s naughty, her pussy replied, but her heart hadn’t known which way to turn.

  Until now. Until the paddle in her underwear drawer, which Mindy must have given to John, because John said, “Alright, Mindy, go kneel on the couch and hold Cathy’s hands. Cathy, I want you to get a good look at Mindy’s belt while I paddle you. I made a mistake in taking yours off, and it’s clear you need a little refresher in its meaning. Think about why Doug has Mindy locked up that way, and what it means about being a good wife.”

  Cathy got a very brief glimpse of Mindy’s face, which had pink cheeks, of course, and a tight-lipped little smile, and then she could only see her new best friend (for how else might Cathy think of Mindy now?) from the bare tummy down. As Mindy grasped Cathy’s hands gently and reassuringly, her leather-bound pussy, whose naked appearance Cathy could never forget from that first night of her new life, hovered only a few inches away from her eyes.

  “It’s okay, Cathy,” Mindy said softly. “It will be over soon.”

  “John,” came Doug’s voice from the armchair on the other side of the coffee table, “it’s alright with you if Mindy talks to Cathy during her punishment, right?”

  “Of course,” John said. Cathy couldn’t be sure, but she thought his voice sounded a little thick. “Mindy’s here to comfort Cathy. Cathy, do you see Mindy’s belt? Do you see the chastity strap, and the lock that keeps it fastened?” He put his left hand on her waist, tugging her there to raise her bottom. He pressed on the small of her back to tell her to arch it, and present to him the place of discipline.

  It was a silly question, but Cathy had not the slightest urge to giggle. “Yes, sir.”

  “Why did Doug lock up Mindy’s pussy and anus, sweetheart? Why am I going to keep yours locked up while we’re away?”

  Cathy felt an unexpected little sob rising into her throat. “Because we belong to our husbands, sir.”

  Now she felt the thick leather of the paddle against her bottom, rubbing gently there. “What happens to wives who lie in this little neighborhood, Cathy?”

  She managed only the tiniest of whimpers. “They get paddled, sir.”

  Then he started to paddle her, with his left hand holding her down over the sofa and his right bringing the terrible thing forcefully against her bottom over and over, from what must have been three feet away from the rush of air, and the loud, sharp sound. Cathy screamed from the very beginning, and Mindy’s voice had a choked, tearful quality, too, as she murmured, “It’s okay, sweetie. Just a few more.”

  But John gave her many more, and his voice suggested that though he had kept it in check, his temper had gotten involved somewhere. “Are you… ever… going to… come on… to another… man… again?” he said in a quiet, angry tone, so much softer than the paddle strokes that punctuated his words that it made Cathy feel the universe had reversed its axis.

  “No, sir!” she screamed. Oh, why couldn’t he read her mind? Why didn’t he know that that was all over? She looked ahead of her at Mindy’s chastity belt-covered private parts and suddenly not only did she realize she would never be unfaithful, but as she realized that she could smell Mindy’s arousal, which must be pooling inside the leather as she watched her friend getting paddled, she suddenly wanted to submit, sexually, to John just as thoroughly as Mindy did to Doug.

  Something about the paradoxical feeling of security, through all the pain that came from taking a terrible bare-bottom punishment from her husband while she had to look at another submissive wife’s chastity belt, made all the naughty, illicit desires finally conquer the deepest recesses of her mind. It felt as if her arousal, fleeing from her pussy because of the justly severe way John punished her down there, had flooded upward, invading her heart and then her brain.

  Again h
e brought the paddle down with each phrase, as she shrieked at the burning agony of her punishment. “Are you… going… to obey me?”

  “Yes, sir,” she sobbed.

  Oh, yes, sir.

  Cathy wanted John to fuck her in the ass in front of Mindy and Doug. She wanted to watch porn with Mindy, their chastity belts unlocked, and masturbate side by side. She wanted… yes, she wanted to kiss Mindy’s chastity strap, to unlock it and kiss underneath it. She wanted it because it was naughty, and because she knew that it would make John hard to see her with her face between Mindy’s thighs.

  She screamed and sobbed, and Mindy murmured sweet words, releasing Cathy’s left hand so that she could stroke her friend’s hair. All the erotic thoughts went away into the blazing pain of her soundly paddled bottom, and then at last John stopped.

  “Good girl,” he said softly. She heard him put the paddle down on the end table. “Should I lock you back up now?”

  Cathy felt her eyes go wide and her breathing quicken at the thought of how much it would hurt to have the strap binding her there again, so soon after the terrible paddling that must have turned her backside nearly purple. John didn’t seem to act on his proposal, though, and she realized that he had in fact phrased it as a question.

  “No, sir?” she said very tentatively.

  “Mindy,” John said, “what do you think we should do with Cathy now, if we’re going to wait to lock her chastity belt back up?”

  She felt Mindy’s body turn in the way her hands moved, one in Cathy’s own hand, the other still gently upon Cathy’s head. Doug said, “You may answer Mr. Lind, babe.”

  “Well,” Mindy said very sweetly. “I’d like to see you fuck her bottom, sir.”

  As much as she had, under the paddle’s fiery counsel, had a moment of longing for precisely that, Cathy couldn’t suppress a little protesting cry of shame at Mindy’s words.

  “But I’m not sure she’s ready for that,” Mindy continued. “Is there any chance you might want Cathy to have a reward, though, because she took such a severe paddling so well?”

  “I think that’s a possibility,” John said gravely, but Cathy could hear a lightness in his tone that suggested that a reward was precisely what he had in mind.

  “Could you show us how she comes, sir? If we’re going to be responsible for one another while you and Doug are away, I should know about that, shouldn’t I?”

  “Why, yes,” John said, as if taken aback—but clearly very ready. “Cathy, would you like to come for these nice neighbors?”

  “Yes, sir,” Cathy whispered.

  Chapter Twenty

  Two days in the paramilitary camp set up by his aerospace company convinced Doug that John, despite the epic case of blue balls he would have when he got home, would find a wife just as eager to submit to him as he would be to enjoy her submission.

  John and Doug’s days—really their evenings, since the desert was simply too hot until the sun had gone down—had a pleasant, if repetitive, level of activity. They showed off the newest in jump-jet technology to very wealthy clients in the twilight, Doug at the controls and John operating the weapons’ systems. The clients didn’t need all that much persuasion before they ordered one or two to make humanitarian aid in war-torn regions a substantially safer proposition.

  The demos themselves didn’t hold any danger: the risk really lay in being close enough to one of those war-torn regions that their camp could plausibly become a target. They saw drones going up and coming down from a nearby base several times a day, and they occasionally heard the echoes of an explosion a few miles away—presumably ordnance dropped by one of the impossibly small planes controlled from a desk thousands of miles away.

  The true danger lay in boredom, of course, despite their obligation to drink with the wealthy clients in the little canteen that Doug’s company kept stocked with the best of everything. Talking to Belgian, Swiss, Italian expatriates through interpreters over tequila shots got old despite the wow factor. Talking to sheikhs over tumblers of scotch got old even faster, since the sheikhs, freed for the night from the prohibition against drinking, generally wanted to get drunk and stay drunk.

  John and Doug would climb into bed around midnight local time and sleep it off; the big Marine had enough body mass to drink Doug under the table but he generally didn’t drink as much, meaning that John’s mornings tended to be easier.

  “I like to stay in control,” John said that first evening after the successful demo. “I hope that’s okay.”

  “Sure,” Doug had said. “As long as you’ve got a drink in your hand, the clients will keep drinking themselves—that’s the point.”

  Nor did Doug himself ever get as drunk as the clients—he needed to make sure he got the signature on the contract.

  So both of them were very ready each morning for the highpoint of their day, the texts from the girls that came in just as their husbands were finishing up their very late breakfast, while in Yerba Linda, where the clock had struck seven p.m., Mindy and Cathy had just finished supper.

  Hi, sir. I love you, Mindy texted that second morning. I miss you.

  Miss you too, babe, Doug replied. Are you with Cathy?

  John’s text tone had gone off, too, and he had started to type with his thumbs.

  Yes, sir.

  What are you girls wearing? Doug smiled as he typed the most classic of sex-chat lines.

  He got a picture back, a selfie of Mindy and Cathy with their arms around each other’s shoulders. They both wore jeans and t-shirts, Cathy’s white and Mindy’s blue. Cathy must have changed out of her work clothes; it was a Tuesday.

  “Should we have them take off their clothes?” Doug asked, turning to John, who had a little smile on his face as he bent over his phone. Doug showed him the picture.

  “Sure,” John said, with a kind of wonder in his voice. Doug could understand: nothing really sexy had occurred at all yet, but he felt the same stirring down below that he felt sure John felt.

  “Belts on or off?”

  “On,” John said decisively. “I want Cathy to spend most of her time in her belt.”

  “Wise man,” Doug replied, smiling. “Let’s tell them at the same time.”

  John nodded and returned to his phone, while Doug typed.

  Clothes off, babe. Just your belts.

  But, sir, it’s not bedtime.

  Get used to it.

  A minute later John turned his phone so Doug could see: Cathy had taken the selfie this time, of the girls standing next to each other in Cathy and John’s bedroom, naked except for the leather straps that claimed them between their thighs and bottom cheeks.

  “I’m going to make them take a pic of their asses, okay?” John said, with his mouth crooked up into a mischievous half grin.

  “That’s the spirit,” Doug chuckled.

  Do what Cathy says, babe. You’re going to take a pic of your asses.

  At John’s direction, Mindy and Cathy bent side-by-side over the Linds’ bed, hips touching. Cathy had to hold her phone behind them and snap a photo of the two sweet bottoms secured against improper use by their husbands’ chastity belts. Doug imagined himself and John standing behind them, unlocking the belts, then taking hold of slim hips and filling first wet pussies and then tight anuses with cock. Soon, he thought. When we get home.

  How’s the toileting going? Doug asked then.

  Fine, sir. I went to Cathy’s office twice and took her to the bathroom, and I peed at the same time.

  Was it embarrassing?

  Of course, sir. :p

  Don’t stick your tongue out at me, young lady, or Cathy’s going to have to paddle you.

  Sorry, sir. :(

  Doug turned to John. “Porn for them tonight?”

  John gave a little snort. “It’s not too soon, you think?”

  “No time like the present. We should get those pussy pics, too.”

  “What should they watch?” John inquired.

  “How about somethin
g with two couples?”

  “Sounds fine,” John said, his eyes showing that he saw the applicability.

  “I’ve got a good one, with some nice anal. I’ve been waiting to show it to Mindy for a few weeks now.” It was a really good one—the blond girl looked a lot like Cathy, and her face when she took her husband’s best friend’s cock in her ass showed the whole range of shame and discomfort that Doug hoped Mindy’s would wear when John enjoyed her anus for the first time. “We can watch it, too, while the girls do.”

  Doug sent the link, along with the instructions he and John had discussed.

  In your belts for the first half hour. Then pause the video and unlock each other, and send us the pussy pics—nice and close up, with your knees wide and your hands spreading your pretty cunt-lips for the camera. Then you’ll play with yourselves for the whole rest of the video. You may come as many times as you want.

  * * *

  Mindy and Cathy had to spank each other for the first and only time eight days into the trip.

  Sir, I’m really really really sorry.

  Doug looked over at John, on the other side of the little table in their tent where they wrote their reports—as well as controlled their wives’ pussies and bottoms. The big man frowned over his phone.

  What happened?

  We lost Cathy’s key. I’m so sorry.

  “Mindy lost Cathy’s key last night,” John said, his voice a mixture of amusement and anger. “So Cathy didn’t wear her belt today.”

  Doug chuckled.

  Cathy didn’t wear her belt today, babe? Not good.

  I’m soooooo sorry, sir.