An Unacceptable Lifestyle

"Of course, but they have very strict rules He can watch me but he's not allowed to participate in any scenes with me unless the scene master gives his permission."

Perhaps I should have been paying more attention to what my wife was telling me, than I was to caressing the inside of her warm, soft, thigh "So, at this Newbie Night, will you be participating in various scenes?"

"Usually you only participate in one scene, they can last for over an hour," she added, to my surprise.

"You seem to know all about it, did Bruce tell you all this?"

"No, I had an interview with one of the managers and he told me all the rules."

"And when the scene is over, what do you do?"

"There are rooms upstairs where you can rest."

"Rest with who?"

By the look she gave me, I think I was asking too many questions. "Tom, I don't want to tell you any more about it. I know It's not your thing and you won't want to go there. So please, let's not talk about it anymore until I've been to the Newbie Night."

I thought about it for a moment and was surprised at how calm I was. "I suppose you won't be getting home till very late. Or even the next day if you're sleeping with someone after your scene is over?" I couldn't help myself adding that last bit. Then another thought occurred to me. "And what am I supposed to do, because I don't think I'll want to spend the evening on my own wondering what scene you're doing all night?"

This time the look was telling me I'd be wise to shut up.

As I was about to slide a couple of fingers into Samantha's waiting pussy, she really shocked me.

"Rather than you having to travel to be with one of your whores, I'll ask Bruce if he knows of a lady you can spend the night with."

I didn't expect that, but I did spend that night and several more, right up until Samantha's Newbie Night getting royally fucked.

As I watched her dress for the occasion I wondered why she was paying so much attention to her appearance. Red stockings with red suspenders, bright red silk panties with matching bra. "Isn't this a bit over the top, Dear?" I asked her as she dropped a red dress I'd never seen before over her head.

She looked at me as she wriggled the dress into position. "Please zip me up, Darling," she turned her back to me and I immediately saw how the tight fit of the long dress highlighted her amazing ass and thighs.

"I was told that for my formal introduction to the club members I had to wear everything in red. So I had to buy a new dress and everything." Then she stepped into the highest red heels I had ever seen her wearing. "And these," I was told as she paraded in front of me.

I just stared at her, awestruck. I had never seen my thirty-four old Wife, or any woman for that matter looking so utterly desirable. I really didn't want her to go to this bloody newbie thing because I wanted her.

As I stared at her I know she saw my desire for her. "Darling, if you take me to dinner somewhere really special next Saturday, I'll wear all of this for you."

Before My wife left in the taxi she hugged me, kissed me and told me to forget all about where she was and enjoy my night with Susan.

The only other information Samantha had given me about Susan, was where she lived. It turned out to be a very nice house in a good neighbourhood. Rather hesitantly I rang the bell exactly at the time I was expected.

The door was opened by a very nice-looking blonde lady. "Good evening," I said.

"You must be Tom, please come in." She stepped away from the door and I wondered if she felt as nervous as I did as moments later closed it behind me.

"Bruce told me you are a whisky drinker and that you have a preference for Talisker, Distiller's Edition. Would you like some?"

Yes, she was as nervous as I was. "Susan, let's take it slow, shall we," I suggested. "Yes, I'd like a glass of Talisker."

She was standing so close I could smell her perfume, but had no idea what it was. "Then you sit down and I'll pour us both a drink," She suggested.

As I sat down in one of the easy chairs and looked about me something about the room told me that no man was living there. "Susan, do you live on your own?" I asked her.

That smile she gave me was a killer. "I'm divorced," she replied.

"I'm sorry, I replied automatically." As I watched her pouring our drinks I realised that she was a fine-looking woman.

"No, don't be. He went off with another man."

I was really shocked. Her husband had left this beautiful woman for a man. "Oh my God. Now I am really sorry for you. That must have been awful for you. How long ago?"

"Nearly three years ago."

I needed to change the subject. "How long have you known Bruce."

"Bruce is my brother-in-law, we were together for about a year before I went with his brother."

Bruce was her brother-in-law. The Bastard was pimping his own sister-in-law. I was so amazed by what Susan has said that I nearly dropped the glass as she handed it to me. She was smiling at my fumble.

"I thought I had a story to tell about my wife but I would really like to hear yours. What happened with Bruce?"

"Well, you know Bruce. When I found out how kinky he was I ended it and almost immediately bounced onto his brother. And I've told you how that ended."

"Does Bruce still see his brother? I asked, surprised at how easy it was to talk to Susan about such a personal subject?

"Only very occasionally, I think he still hates him a bit for what it did to me when I found out he was sleeping with another man."

I tried to imagine what it must have been like, but of course, I couldn't really.

"That's enough of me. Now tell me about your wife?"

Her unexpected forthright request floored me for a moment. "Can we talk about her later?" I asked. What I really wanted was to tell her what I had been thinking ever since she opened her door. "Susan, you are a very attractive lady. I'd no idea Bruce was your brother-in-law but I'm glad you agreed to let him arrange for us to meet this evening."

"When Bruce told me about you and why you wanted to spend the night with someone, I thought it would be," she hesitantly looked at me. "interesting to meet you. If it helps, I know about Bruce and the club he goes to. Your wife isn't the only woman he's taken there."

"You know about the place, then?"

"I know what it is but I've never been there. Like you, it's just not my thing."

"Well, I think we've found the first thing we agree on," I smiled as I told her.

Slowly she put her glass down, and then she patted the seat beside her. No one had ever done that to me before and it was an offer I couldn't refuse. I sat where she had patted and we were very close. Close enough that I could smell her perfume again.

She must have read my mind. "You're wondering what my perfume is?" I nodded. "It's Marc Jacobs, Daisy." As she spoke she took hold of my hand and I found myself being drawn closer and closer. It was inevitable that we kissed. No one could ever kiss like Samantha but Susan was a very close second.

It was only a little while later that I found out that Susan's beauty extended well beyond her head of blonde waves all the way to her beautiful, blonde-haired pussy. She was almost my height, and for a forty-tone-year-old lady, she had a body very much like my thirty-four-year-old wife. She soon proved to be a woman just as amazing to fuck.

Somehow that made it easier for me to know just how to give her all the pleasure she demanded, and she was very demanding. When I found out she hadn't had a man since before her husband left her I re-doubled my effort to make our night together as memorable for her as I possibly could.

Some women know how to reward a man for such effort and Susan was certainly one of them. Just before I fell asleep I thought that everything looked very promising if my wife ever wanted another night at Bruce's club.

It wasn't until we were having breakfast that Susan asked me again about my wife. I started by telling her a little about her. Then I told her what my wife and Bruce had been doing for about a year. When I told her that he had taken her to his club while I was away on business, I think she was a bit shocked. She was even more shocked when I told her that my wife hadn't told me about it beforehand.

It was while I was telling Susan all this that I began to realise that I was no more concerned about what Samantha did on her Newbie Night than I was about what she did during the week at work. It was a strange realisation.

When I told Susan how I felt, I think she was as surprised as I was. Just before I left I took her into my arms and kissed her very fondly. "If my wife goes to this Private Club again, please may I spend the night with you?"

"I hope she goes again soon," she replied and returned my kiss. "Nothing serious between us though, you understand."

I was home just after ten but Samantha didn't get home till nearer eleven. I greeted her with a hug and a kiss but didn't ask anything about her time at the club. I was not surprised when she asked me about my night with Susan."

"Samantha, I don't want to tell you anything about my night with Susan and neither do I want to know anything about your Newbie Night at that Private Club."

She sounded quite indignant. "What, you don't want me to tell you anything about it?"

"Yes, just like we don't know anything about what either of us does during our working day."

"I course I know what you do during the day."

"No, you don't. Other than I work with machinery you don't know what I do all day."

My wife looked at me for a long time. "All right, if that's how you want it. I will tell you that I am now an associate member and will be going there again in two weeks?"

"All right you've told me, and I will tell you that I will be spending the same night with Susan. Now how about we get something for lunch."

For the next two months, we behaved quite normally around each other. I hope it was because neither of us had any knowledge of each other's Friday nights, and therefore no reason to feel aggrieved about them.

I did take Samantha out to dinner at a very nice restaurant the following Saturday. She let me watch her dress in exactly the same red stockings and underwear she had worn the previous week. She also looked even more desirable because this time she was dressing herself up for me. I think she even paid a little more attention to her make-up.

When we arrived at the restaurant she attracted a lot of attention, and even more when we were dancing later in the evening. Several requests for a dance were turned down. "When I'd out for an evening with my husband, I only dance with him," they were politely told.

My greatest pleasure came later when I slowly removed everything I had earlier watched her putting on. That done we fucked for a long time, only resting occasionally.

It was after her next visit to the club when I realised that if I was completely honest with myself I did have a small nagging wish to know something about her nights of sadomasochism. Samantha however, told me nothing at all about it, with only a mention of the next time she was going and I refused to give in myself and ask her.

We continued to live together just as we always had, except when we were in bed. There, I began to notice that the more nights Samantha spent at the club the more aggressively she wanted to be fucked and the less she wanted to make love. I also found that it matched my declining respect for her.

My nights with Susan were becoming very important to me. I always found her to be a person who was very easy to talk to. Whatever she had said about not wanting anything serious between us, she was becoming a wonderful lover. After my fourth visit, I started taking her to a rather nice Italian restaurant. This seemed to encourage her lovemaking even more.

After my seventh night with Susan, I returned home at about ten-thirty Saturday morning. When my wife returned from her night at the club about three hours later, I knew immediately that something was wrong. She didn't want me to hug or kiss her and immediately went into our bedroom and shut the door.

The first thing I thought was that Bruce had upset her, but if that was the problem then surely, she would have wanted me to hug her and there would have been tears.

After half an hour I tapped on the bedroom door and opened it cautiously. She was lying under a sheet on her side. "Would you like a cup of Tea?" I almost whispered though I didn't think she was asleep.

I got a hesitant. "Please."

Samantha was still lying on her side when I returned with a mug of tea for both of us. I don't think we've used cups for ages. What's the trouble, Darling," I asked as I put our mugs on her bedside chest.

"I want you to do something for me, but I know you're going to be angry with me."

"I won't be angry with you," I told her.

"Promise?"

"Yes, now sit up and drink your tea while it's still hot."

"I can't till you put some cream on my ass. It's there." I'd seen a tube of cream on her bedside chest.

"Remember, you promised," Samantha reminded me as she turned onto her front.

Rather hesitantly I lowered the sheet until her ass was bare.

"Jesus Christ girl! What have they done to your ass." I was stunned. Samantha had a beautifully plump ass and all of it was marked with black and blue and red stripes. Some had even broken their skin. It was horrible. Like someone had whipped her ass with a cane. My God! Someone had whipped her ass with a cane.

"Who did this?" I demanded, more in shock than anger.

"The scene master," she replied quite calmly.

"How were you being restrained," I was so angry that someone had done this to my wife's beautiful ass.

"Only a little bit, Darling. I wanted to be caned, it was part of the scene."

I think I found that admission more shocking than the marks of the caning.

"Please put the cream on my ass, Darling," She told me while my mind was still in shock.

I heard what she said, but could only stare at her ass and wonder what my wife had turned into. In a dazed state, I think I put nearly half the tube on her ass. All that wonderful plump, soft, smooth flesh I loved to maul and kiss was now rutted by the marks of the cane. The feel of it was even worse than the sight.

I put the tube back on her cabinet, pulled the sheet back over her ass and turned away. "I'm going back downstairs," I said, even leaving my mug of tea where I'd put it.

I poured an almost full glass of whisky and sat in my recliner with one phrase she had said going over and over in my head.

"I wanted to be whipped, it was part of the scene.' Over and over, again and again. I just could not get it out of my head.

I was still there, now holding an empty glass when I heard my wife come downstairs. I'd been thinking a lot and one question kept recurring. If a scene only took an hour, what the hell was she doing between when she left home at seven and mid-morning the next day. Anyway, I had made my decision and I just hoped it wouldn't result in a flaming row.

Wearing a skirt and jumper she carefully sat in the chair opposite me. "Thank you for putting the cream on my bottom, Darling. It will all be gone in a few days and then you won't even remember it."

I wondered why she thought I wouldn't remember how her ass looked, let alone how it felt. I took a deep breath. "I am not going to let you go to that place ever again," I told her very firmly.

I got a quizzical look. "Oh, Darling don't be silly, I may not be in another scene like that for at least a year." I started to protest. "Anyway, Darling," she continued. "Why have you never wanted to fuck me in my ass. I know how much you love my ass because of how upset you were when you saw all the marks of the caning the scene master gave me."

I stared at my wife in horror. it was something neither of us had ever mentioned. "Why are you asking me that now?" I was getting angry again. "You've never been interested in me doing that."

"Well I am now and I would love to feel your cock in my ass."

As I glared at my wife I knew I was rapidly losing my way in this conversation. The next thing she said really shocked me.

"Now I've had my ass fucked I know we will both like it."

"You've had your ass fucked." I was fast losing it." Who's fucked your ass?" As soon as I said it I knew I shouldn't have asked.

"The Scene Master of course."

I did it again. "What, after he'd whipped your ass?"

"No silly, after he'd flogged me until I was begging him to fuck my ass."

"He flogged you till you begged him to fuck your ass. That's insane," I told her. "Flogging you with what?"

I got her look of annoyance and wished I hadn't asked. "Don't you know what a flogger is? Oh, for God's sake, look it up on the internet. After he'd fucked me in the ass he caned me five times. He's a specialist and only visits the club a couple of times a year." I ignore that worthless piece of information.

As my wife was telling me all this her total lack of shame was increasing my lack of respect for her. I didn't want to hear anymore, it was just too distressing, but my wife just wouldn't stop.

"After he'd caned me five times he fucked my ass again then after another five canings he let Bruce fuck my ass."

I could hear her going on and on but somehow, I stopped listening.

"Anyway, Darling I wanted to ask if you enjoyed your night with Susan?"

Susan, what about Susan. As I stared at her she asked me again. "How was your night with Susan?"

I suddenly realised she had asked me about Susan. "Fine," I told her. Then I made another mistake and asked her who she spent the night with.

"The scene master, of course. That's his privilege," she told me.

Somehow, I couldn't stop myself. "And Bruce, where was he all night?"

"He was also with me all night, he always is."

It was the way she said it, just like she had told me everything else. As though it was all perfectly normal. Well, it might be normal for her but it certainly wasn't normal for me. It was all too much for me, this wasn't my wife I was having this conversation with, this woman was a total stranger. Suddenly I had to get away.

"Tom, where are you going?"

I was already at the front door and turned toward her. "I'm going to the pub for something to eat. Please don't follow me." I added.

Our local didn't have a room large enough to serve restaurant meals. Instead, you could have a burger in a bun or any type of omelette you wanted, with chips. Provided you weren't in a hurry. For several months some of the regulars had a wager going on about who gets the fastest omelette. Every time we had an omelette we put a fifty pence piece in a tin kept behind the counter. The fastest so far was seventeen minutes. My fastest was just under twenty. Today I didn't care how long it took, I was just glad to get out of the house and have time to think.

With a strong pint in front of me and the expectation of a succulent cheese and mushroom and ham omelette, I was ready to consider what I was going to do.

For a start, why had I listened to her because my head was now full of the most horrible images, even though I knew some of them couldn't possibly be true. Then I wondered if Samantha had always had a desire to have pain inflicted upon her. The term, pain slut came to mind from somewhere. I had occasionally looked at some porn sites a long while ago but got put off when I found some quite nauseous things.

Then I started to think back to the time I found out about the Slut and the Bastard and realised there had been changes in my wife's behaviour even before then. At first, they had been minor, mainly her being a little more revealing in how she dressed and undressed when around me.

It was after her first visit to this club that the real changes began. I know now, though I hadn't realised it at the time, that deliberately refusing to know anything about her activities at the club had dulled my perception of her behaviour.