Unfair Revenge

Hi everyone, just a note before you read. This is a true story, writing it is like my therapy! I've categorised it as BDSM, but in comparison to most stories in this category it's pretty light. It didn't feel it at the time- it bloody hurt.

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I won't spend loads of time describing in great detail the exact circumstances of how this happened. I'm Lotty. I'm married. Before my husband, I dated Ben. It was nothing special. I loved him and he was indifferent to me, but I was young and I recovered quickly. I've never had much desire to see Ben again, but our paths crossed on a social networking website. We chatted a little; he'd been married and divorced. To be honest, it sounded like he was having a shit time and I felt for him. We messaged each other for quite some months on and off, straying at times into flirtiness, before he suggested I went round to his house. I knew I shouldn't..... But I did.

I sat outside in the car for quite some time, debating whether it was a good idea to go in. Eventually I did. I was so nervous, that I was actually shaking a little. I'm not the sort of girl who sneaks about like this, and I'm cripplingly self conscious in male company.

We sat on the sofa politely chatting for a while. As anticipated, it progressed and soon we were kissing.

He told me to stand up. Then he used a scarf to blindfold me. Really firmly.

"Can you see?" he asked.

"Not really", was my reply.

"You can still breathe?!" he laughed.

I laughed a little too, "Yes".

Then his arms pulled me close to him. With his face so close that I could feel his lips brushing mine, he whispered, "Can you scream?"

I smiled. I'd love to be able to tell you that I said something perfectly sexy like,"If you make me", but I was a bit nervous still so just smiled stupidly.

He led me a few fumbling steps to the end of the sofa and told me to stand still, which I did. I could hear the noise of cushions on the sofa moving. Then his hands were on mine, slipping them into loops of rope. I realised that those had been there the whole time; the whole time we'd sat there chatting, him asking politely about my kids; he'd laid these out under the sofa cushions before I arrived, in anticipation of what he wanted to do with me.

The loops round my wrist were pulled tight. He reached round me from behind and undid my trousers. Didn't pull them down, just undid them. So then, as he bent me over and lay me over the arm of the sofa they slithered mortifyingly away, exposing my knickers.

I'm so self conscious of my butt. Even my husband has given up bothering to try and see it. But there I was. And very quickly it was all on show, he'd slipped away the last piece of cotton hiding what I ALWAYS keep hidden. I still had my socks on. Oh yes, the mortification just didn't stop. Ass out, socks on.

So. There I was. Face buried in the sofa, burning with embarrassment inside. He pulled away my trousers and knickers from round my ankles and I could feel him moving around somewhere behind me. Then he started looping more ropes round my legs! Like I could have gone anywhere anyway! I was sort of kneeling, bent over the sofa arm so the ropes were tightened round my thighs, legs apart just enough.

Then he moved away again. He was moving around the room, I don't know what doing. I heard a door open, I assumed the door to the kitchen from where the sound came, and felt the cool draught on my bare skin. I could hear him moving around again, this time in the kitchen.

"Right, I'm off out", and I could tell he was smiling. I didn't think he would go out and leave me like this. I don't get much time away from the house without my hubby asking questions, and Ben knows it, so I figured he wouldn't waste the time. But nevertheless, I couldn't shake the tinge of worry from the pit of my stomach. What if he did? What if he's lured me into a set up? Photos on the internet, husband walking in? Oh god.

Again, I would love to tell you that I said something perfect in response, but instead I just said in a pathetic little voice, "You're so mean".

The kitchen door shut.

He was moving around in the living room again. Thank god. My worry subsided a little. He came and stood/knelt/crouched (I don't know, I couldn't see!) behind me. His hands massaged my ass cheeks. He spread them open and gave a little groan, "Lovely Little Lotty". That's what he always used to call me.

I just want to pause a second here. This is true story, it happened a few days ago. I'm not some hot minx, I'm a normal, usually a bit prudish, 29 year old who's married and had two kids. I just wanted to remind you of that so that you can appreciate how intensely embarrassed I felt when he spread my ass cheeks open and called me "Lovely Little Lotty" again after 10 years.

One hand resting on my back, he slid the fingers of his other hand between my legs, feeling the moist warmth, from my clit and then back, inserting his fingers in my pussy. I exhaled with pleasure, and smiling (well, it sounded like he was smiling) he softly said "Slippy girl", but he made the word "slippy" sound long, and kind of leery. My face was buried in the sofa cushions, but it wasn't enough, and I screwed my eyes shut too.

His hand withdrew. It felt like he did too, I couldn't feel him behind me anymore. I heard his belt. The thought I'm about to explain happened in a nano-second although it will take you longer than that to read. Firstly "This is it, he's going to fuck me now. Once we've fucked, that's it. There's no going back, there's no telling my husband, if he ever finds out, that we just chatted. It'll be done. Forever. I'll always know that I've cheated on him". The next thought, "Hang on, Ben wasn't wearing a belt, he was wearing jogging trousers."

As that second thought, or rather, realisation, was formed in my head, it happened. With a loud slapping noise the belt hit me across my bare ass cheeks. I was too surprised to make a sound, but I lifted my head out of the sofa and my mouth fell open in shock.

"Ha! Didn't even scream! You must be used to this", he laughed.

It happened again. And again. I lost count. At first I could cope, but soon the stinging grew and the gasping from the pain was making me breathless.

"I'm being punished", I thought. I know what he thinks. I know that when we split up all those years ago he believes I'd cheated on him. This is his punishment for that. Seeing the stripes across my pink ass, jiggling a little with every impact. Just for the record, I HADN'T cheated on him. This was the only time in my whole life that I'd cheated on anyone.

"Please", I gasped, "PLEASE! Stop now, stop. It's really hurting, it really stings, please stop".

"Need a break?" he said, "Ok...." and his finger hooked in my sock and flicked it off. The belt cracked across the sole of my foot. "What about that? That better?!"

I'm not the sort that makes much.... well, sex noise; I'm too self conscious. But that made me squeal. I tried to curl my foot up and hide it under my other shin, but he grabbed my ankle and did it again. Suddenly the thought of the sting on my ass wasn't quite so bad. I kept wriggling my foot against his grip, "No no no no no no no no!"

He was laughing. The belt went across my ass cheeks again, but this time vertically, not across. The tip of the belt just caught my labia and FUCK ME DID IT HURT! Fortunately that cry of, now very real, pain stopped him, although he was still laughing.

He, I assume, knelt behind me. His hard cock rubbed between my legs, teasing the entrance to my pussy. I was feeling a bit forlorn from the pain, but I really wanted his cock nevertheless. He ran his hands up my back under my top, and unhooked my bra. His hands went around me and slid inside my, now loose, bra. My nipples instantly stood to attention with the delicious pinching and mauling. My head went back with pleasure, now I just needed his cock and it would all be okay again.

I didn't have to wait any longer. He slid his cock inside me and I moaned with the relief. He pounded and pounded and pounded. I was gasping and breathless, not just from the pleasure, but the sofa arm in my belly made it hard to breathe with his weight pushing into me so much. I swear, I actually reached some new plane of pleasure- consciousness or something, that's the only way I can describe it.

I felt the tension of an amazing orgasm building within me. I could tell he was close too, his breathing was heavier and he was moaning a little. All my mortification had passed, and I just wanted this beautiful orgasmic release, and I cared about nothing else in that moment.

The fabulous release came. My tummy muscles convulsed against the sofa, pushing against my weight and his. My pussy gripped and pulsed around his cock, my head thrown back in bliss. I could hear and feel that he was coming too.

He pulled out immediately after. I flumped breathlessly, face back in the sofa cushions. He untied the ropes and I slid down so I was kneeling on the floor. I pushed the scarf from my eyes and saw him, also kneeling now, next to me. Just looking at me smiling. "Well, we've not done that for a while".

I looked away. My shyness returned, and as I stared at the sofa I could just murmur, "That's true".

"I wish you'd believe me", he said as he playfully ran his fingernail up my arm, "when I tell you you're beautiful. Always were, and as far as I can see, always will be."

All I could reply was, "I don't know about that", as a zillion implications began to fill my head. My husband. My kids. What had I done? I could never take this back. I stared at the floor.

We dressed. We sat on the sofa. I had nothing to say. I felt.... well, like a whore, to be totally honest. My mobile rang and I knew from the ringtone that it was my husband.

"I assume that's your phone?" asked Ben.

"I can't answer it. You can guess who it is."

It stopped ringing. I stood up, "I have to go". He stood too. He kissed me. I left.

The mental aftermath of cheating-

PHASE 1: Guilt and fear of discovery. It passed in about 24 hours, quicker than I anticipated.

PHASE 2: Reflection. This was the dangerous phase. Graphic fuck flashbacks, longing for more, like needing another fix.

PHASE 3: Realisation. We have not spoken since, except one text message he sent me, saying he'd paid my husband back for stealing me from him. Yes, it was revenge. I realise now that I was used. What a mug.

PHASE 4: Have a little cry, move on.

PHASE 5: Counter revenge?!! No. 'Fraid not.