tagBDSMCheating Slave

Cheating Slave


Cheating Slave: Mina

It had been one of those days for me. The kind that leave you drained and longing for a subbie to draw you a bath and wash all the day's tension away. I had decided to go home early from work that day; I have to admit that I felt guilty leaving early but the thought of Chris waiting for me at the door was enough to coax me into it. It was hard to mask my excitement as I said 'goodbye' to all of my coworkers and I secretly wondered if they were so lucky as to have a subbie like mine waiting for them at home, most likely not. As I pulled into the driveway, I noticed the unmistakable shadow of two people in my living room. They were sitting on my kitchen table, and they were laughing. The one, of course, was Chris. But the other, I had no clue. Whoever she was, she was laughing. It was one of those flirty laughs and as I sat there, in my driveway, I felt my breathing quicken. My stomach was in my throat and I had to slow my breathing down to calm myself. I couldn't take my eyes off of them. They looked so happy, so excited. Then, my eyes beheld the vision that they never thought they would see. I barely had enough time to open up my car door and deposit my dinner onto the driveway. And there I stayed, heaving onto the driveway for a second or two. Tears were soon streaming down my face and I sat in my car for the next five minutes watching my slave and his lover through my sheer curtains.

Looking over my shoulder, I pulled the car out of my driveway and parked half a block away. Like a stalker, I waited and watched my house for any signs of movement. I waited for her to leave; more accurately, I waited until I had enough sense to decide what to do. Twenty minutes passed and I watched him open the door for her. He kissed her. It wasn't a goodbye peck, it was an "I can't wait to see you again and you were wonderful" kiss. The next thing he did struck me as the most audacious thing he could have done. Without her more than two paces away he knelt by the door in the position he assumes for me everyday and waited for my arrival. How dares he, I thought. How can this be? Isn't this what he wanted? Aren't I who he needed? Had I been too presumptuous and imagined that his only true need was to serve me? Did he want this vanilla lifestyle that he most obviously had with her? With all these questions reeling in my mind, I drove home and very slowly and deliberately walked up my driveway. When I opened the door, there he was, obedient as always. "Good Evening Mistress" is what he said to me. I said nothing back. Instead I walked to the chair in which she was sitting in not too long ago and fought every urge I had to break down and cry.

After five minutes I opened my mouth to speak, "slave" the word stuck in my throat. I couldn't speak, instead I cried. I cried in front of him; I let him see what he had done to me.

"How long? How long have you...has she been...How long?"

"Two weeks," he whispered truthfully.

"I hope those two week were wonderful, Chris. I hope that you enjoyed them greatly. I hope that they were worth it. Were they worth it?" I finally stood and faced him; he was still kneeling by the door.

He didn't speak. He was smart not to speak instead he pressed his nose against the hard tile of our foyer and sobbed onto it. I've never seen a man so stricken by his sobs that he heaves as he cries. But, that was my slave this day, on his knees crying with his nose to the floor. He looked strangely beautiful. It was mesmerizing; I couldn't help but watch him. But, eventually I did pull myself away from him and retired to my room, locking the door behind me.

The following morning, Chris was still in the same spot; he had eventually fallen asleep but his face was still puffy. I kicked him, hard enough to startle him and wake him up real fast. In an instant he was on his knees again. I asked him all of the questions that had been swarming in my mind the night before. Did he want this? Was he unhappy? Did he want out? I never asked him why, though. I couldn't bring myself to ask. Instead I looked him in the eyes and asked him very bluntly, "What should I do to you? Should I punish you?" but more importantly, "Are you willing to take punishment for this most severe infraction?" Soon his mouth was at my feet begging me to punish him, begging me to forgive him, to give him a chance at redemption. He rambled on for minutes, babbling, begging, crying, and I let him. Half of me was relieved to know that he didn't want to leave me. My heart would have shattered if that were the case. But, the other half of me was so incredibly angry that I wanted to kick him when he was down. I wanted to smash his balls in my hand. Instead I grabbed a handful of hair and shoved him over the sofa.

"Slave, I'm going to give you the worst whipping you will ever have. I promise you that. Are you willing to accept this punishment?"

"Yes, Mistress." He answered.

"No slave, you may not call me your Mistress. That privilege you have jeopardized with your selfish actions."

"Yes, Ma'am"

The toy box was in my bedroom, but instead of bringing just a paddle or a whip, I brought the heavy box out to the living room. What followed was the longest and hardest whipping that I have ever given anyone. Once my hand got tired I switched to a paddle, then to a whip, then came a cane, lastly I finished him off with his own belt. It must have taken at least an hour to complete his punishment. My body was tired by the end and he was gone. He'd cried until he couldn't cry any longer but he took his punishment bravely and sobbed into the cushions. When I let his belt fall to the floor, his ass was crimson-purple and was ridden with welts. There was a spot or two were the cane broke his skin. I fought back every urge I had to rub ointment onto his battered behind. Instead I ordered him to sit on the hard kitchen chair. I tied his hands to the lattice on the chair's back and I left him there to think over his actions some more. In truth, I went and took a long shower. My body was tired and sweaty from the whipping and I thought long and hard about what I would do next.

When I returned to him his head was hanging down in shame. I giggle to myself when I noticed that he was shifting his weight from one cheek to another trying to alleviate some of the pain.

"What's her name?" I calmly asked.


"What's her number?"

"Ma'am...please no"

Out of no where my hand went flying and landed smack on his left cheek.

"What's her number?"

He gave it to me and I dialed it. Her voice was sweet, not threatening.

"Hellooo?" she said.

"Hello, Sharon, I have my slave here and somehow I've learned that you two have been having a little affair. He needs to end this, I'll let him explain."

I held the phone to his mouth and ear and he explained using all the right terms of "Mistress" and "slave" and "punishment." He told her all about the whipping and about our relationship and I just listened as he ended it with her. She must have been surprised, maybe even a little appalled, but I was happy. It pleased me to see him admit his place to this little tramp he'd been fucking. I hung up the phone and looked straight into his hazel eyes.

"To whom do you belong, slave?"

"To you Mistress."

"Ah...tsk, tsk, tsk."

"To you Ma'am."

"Yes, you are mine. If ever again you forget that, you will no longer be mine. Do you understand, slave?"

"Yes, Ma'am...I'm sorry."

"Oh slave you'll be sorry all weekend long and by the time that Monday rolls around you will wish you'd never set eyes on a little minx called Sharon."

He did nothing more than lower his gaze, but I couldn't leave him like that so I broke down and said, "Chris, I love you. I'm going to put off being a hurt wife and spend the weekend as your punishing Mistress. It hurts me to have to treat you this way, but you've proven to me that you need it badly now." I finished untying him from the chair and ordered him to take a shower and put on decent clothes we were going to go out today. Hmmm, I thought to myself, I might take some pleasure in punishing him after all.

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