tagNovels and NovellasSeduction or Betrayal? Ch. 06

Seduction or Betrayal? Ch. 06

byTouch_type©

This is part six of a seven-part novella; it should stand alone, but beginning at the beginning is the recommended pattern. I'm posting all the chapters at the same time so you shouldn't have to wait long for the rest. A Literotica Box Set for the summer.

The original idea for this work came following a discussion at the authors' hangout about frustrations with the black-and-white depictions of adultery in the section-which-cannot-be-named. So thanks to all who chipped in to that debate.

As usual, comments, criticism and support welcomed.


*****

She did as she was told, abandoning thoughts of stripping, or even explanations. She was confused by the sternness in his voice; she'd never heard that before. She sensed John reach over for the remote and watched as the photograph of a Scottish hillside dissolved. The Celtic theme continued with the scene which replaced it, however. A plump woman about forty with shoulder-length brown hair which looked like it could do with a wash, was kneeling on the seat of a wooden chair wearing a far-too-short tartan kilt. Next to her was a similarly unattractive balding man with a prominent gut.

'What's going on?'

'I've instructed you to be silent once already; please follow my orders. Just watch the screen.'

Yvonne had turned to look down at John. Whatever's going on, she told herself, there was not going to be any strip show or hand job for this one. She vowed to tell him what he'd missed as she was showing him out. Ordered. Who did he think he was? No one ordered her about, not even Paul. But slowly she did as she was told and turned her face back to the screen; might as well get to the bottom of this before I see him out, she thought. She jumped involuntarily as the fat man's hand came down hard on the woman's arse. Yvonne started to laugh as the force of the blow quivered down her podgy thighs.

'So that's what this is about.'

'I thought it was time you got to see something of the punishment you've been asking for all evening. Just remember marigolds.'

John's tone had softened which allowed Yvonne to relax. She kept laughing at the spectacle in front of her, fascinated by the waves rippling down her subcutaneous fat. She became conscious that she was tensing her own buttocks in anticipation of each smack landing. But she was only aware that John had slipped his hand up under her dress again when she felt him exerting pressure on her bum. She dragged her gaze away from the screen and grinned down at him.

'Over my knee then.'

'Hang on a minute.'

'Too late now miss, it's time you learned your lesson.'

Yvonne's laughter was more nervous now. She could feel the pressure from his hand increase, pushing her downwards. He reached up and took the hand which was closest to him to manoeuvre her down. She stiffened, half-bent over and looked John in the face.

'I just wanted to ask why marigold?'

John was laughing now too as she relaxed and he arranged her over his slightly-parted legs. She turned her head in time to see the woman pulling the short skirt up to reveal an expanse of cheap, white cotton knickers. They were tight over her enormous bottom and outlined her pitted cellulite to perfection.

'Safe word.'

'What?'

Yvonne had stretched a hand back and pulled up her own skirt. John took the hint and fastidiously arranged the slippery folds up and over her waist. She started giggling again and wriggled against him to try and get more comfortable and enjoying the coolness of the air against her bare skin. John started stroking her bottom, outlining the the curves and valleys with long strokes. She didn't know whether he let his fingers stray lower between her thighs on purpose, but she felt herself moistening and tried to move her legs apart to encourage him to delve deeper.

'If you've had enough just say marigold and I'll stop immediately. 'No', 'ow' or 'stop', for instance, and I'll keep going.'

She froze.

'Marigold.'

John laughed louder and pulled the dress back down before giving her a gentle tap on the behind. It was even softer than the one he'd administered when she'd been stretching over him to reach the champagne earlier.

'I didn't think you were such a wimp.'

'Only joking. I just wanted to test the system.'

She wriggled against his legs. The woman on the TV's arse looked red and sore. The guy punishing her had pulled the sides of her pants tight between the crack of her bum leaving her as exposed as Yvonne's thong did naturally. The thought that maybe she shouldn't go through with being spanked flitted through her brain as she looked at the redness, but the growing wetness in her pussy pushed it away. John was rearranging the dress back up, tugging it even higher this time. He was shaking with laughter.

'Now you're really going to get it. You really have to learn to stop teasing. There are consequences.'

This time he let his flat hand fall heavily against her left cheek once he'd finished with the dress. It came as something of a shock, she'd been expecting more caresses first. She pushed her groin down more firmly against his thighs.

'Harder. Come on.'

*************

John let go a tattoo of smacks, alternating cheeks and with a noticeable increase in sharpness. By about half-a-dozen Yvonne had stopped laughing and was squirming against him, now trying to avoid the blows. John gripped her firmly by the back of the neck, keeping her head pointed towards the TV, but resting his forearm across her back to stop her sliding away from him. He stopped after a few minutes and recommenced massaging Yvonne's buttocks. He could see the outline marks of his hand and feel the warmth rising from her glowing bottom. She was panting and trying to keep him from hearing the beginnings of sobs. He began talking softly to her about naughtiness, obedience, punishment and pain. He wasn't really thinking about the words, his mind had drifted away.

The first time his ex had asked him to spank her, he'd refused. He'd been brought up to eschew violence of any kind against women. Even though she begged him to do it, it somehow went against the grain. He had to sleep in the spare room that night, he remembered. He'd seen a lot worse than spanking at some of the group sessions they had started attending. There was one guy, in particular, who brought along bondage paraphernalia as well as paddles, whips and some other things he'd never seen before. He knew some of the girls there were into it; a couple had asked if he'd discipline them in the aftermath of sex sessions. There was a woman who loved being watched as she was tied up, gagged, beaten and humiliated. This usually involved her being kissed and fondled by other women while her husband fucked them from behind.

He'd been sitting alone on a sofa one evening at one of the group sex sessions watching his wife being screwed doggy-style by someone he'd never seen before. There was another guy standing beside her waiting his turn. He was absentmindedly playing with her nipples, but slowly increasing pressure on them until she cried out in pain. Then he'd laugh and start again. In front of her face, another bloke had her pony tail wrapped around his fist and was using the grip to force her mouth back and forth along his cock at the tempo he most wanted. He could hear her choking and gagging, her panting and muffled screams, but somehow felt detached from it all. It was then that Grace slumped down beside him. They knew each other, of course; had had sex a few times alone and with others and had somehow got to a place of unspoken affection for and comfort with each other.

'Want me to take care of that?'

'Uh?'

He'd been in a world of his own, he realised, and had no idea what she had said.

'That. I love a stiff cock as you well know.'

She put her hand over his and he realised for the first time that not only did he have the biggest erection ever, but that he had been sitting there slowly stroking it while he watched.

'What's it to be? Blow job? Want me to wank you off? Fuck me? Though I've got to admit I'm a bit knackered. Just been given the ride of my life by two newbies in the upstairs bedroom. Want me to watch while you do it yourself?'

She increased her grip on his hand and forced him to work his dick more vigorously.

'Nah. It's OK. I was just thinking.'

'And watching my husband fuck your wife's face while she gets shagged rigid by Mike and Andrew?'

'Yeah. Do you mind if I ask you a question?'

'Not at all. We're mates, aren't we? You're the only guy here who ever said thank you when he finished screwing me.'

'Really?'

Grace nodded. She released his hand and jumped further up onto the sofa, crossing her legs. She was completely naked and made no attempt to hide her gaping pussy. Tell-tale streaks glistened on her thighs, a mixture of condom lubricant and pussy juice he knew only too well. She was looking at him eagerly, waiting for his question.

'Do you ever get jealous? Of Howard, I mean.'

She laughed and looked back over to where the second guy was now balls-deep in his wife and the guy who had just cum in her was making her lick him clean. Howard's hand was still in her hair and he was using his cock as a cudgel to smack her cheek while he waited for her to finish.

'Me? No. Used to mind, when we first started. Is that what all this is about?'

She put on a dreamy expression, then crossed her eyes and let her tongue flop out of the side of her mouth. John had to laugh.

'A bit. Maybe. I suppose I'm still working through a few things. It's not like I'm not joining in. Have you met that little blonde? She's new?'

'Tiny little titties and a face that looks like butter wouldn't melt?'

'That's her.'

'I think she's the partner of one of the guys who just fucked me. Cute.'

'You fancy her?'

Grace looked over her shoulder and then leaned forward to speak to him more privately. She had beautiful large breasts, the kind for which melons was not an inaccurate description. They fell forwards and rested on her knees now. John noticed she still had a string of drying cum stuck to one nipple. Without asking, he leaned forwards and wiped it off with his finger. Grace looked down in surprise, realised what he'd been doing, and sucked on his finger before lifting her heavy breast to her mouth and finishing cleaning up.

'Thanks. I thought I'd got it all.'

She smacked her lips and grinned at him.

'Always think I should go on a diet after one of these sessions. What were we talking about?'

'The little blonde.'

'Oh her. Yeah. I was going to let you into a secret.'

'Uh huh.'

'I'm not really into women at all. But I'm sure to have her tongue in my mouth and her fingers up my snatch once Howard sees her. Just hope she stays off the garlic.'

'She does. I know this isn't going to help you much, but she's got a mouth like velvet and she deep-throats like a professional.'

Grace leaned over even more and tickled his ribs.

'You dog, you. You know why all the girls here love you?'

'Like me?'

'Don't pretend you didn't know. It's 'cos you're one of the only blokes here that likes women.'

She smiled at his blank expression. He'd had no idea he was really accepted, let alone popular.

'You really are that dumb, aren't you?'

She kissed his cheek and whispered I love you in his ear before pulling back.

'These men just like dominating women. Wouldn't be surprised if most of them weren't closet-gay underneath it all.'

She swept her arm out to indicate the room. John couldn't really see what she was talking about. Everyone just seemed to be having a good time. And in his wife's case, a really good time. Mike, Andrew and Howard had all finished with her, but two new guys were putting her through her paces; this time with double penetration. She was straddled over one man's prick while the second was pushing her forward onto his mate's chest and tugging at his dick to get it fully hard.

'I'd love you to give me a good spanking.'

'What?'

'You heard me. I want to you tan my arse. Make it glow like a warning light on a seven-four-seven. Spank me.'

'Thanks for the offer. But I can't. I don't do that sort of thing. Besides, we're friends. You said.'

'That's why you should.'

'I don't get you.'

'You know I like a bit of punishment, come on. Nothing you can do is going to be a tenth of what you've seen me put through by Howard and his chums.'

She looked across at her husband, John followed her eyes.

He was standing at the improvised bar drinking a bottle of lager. He'd found the tiny, blonde woman he and Grace had been discussing. She looked trapped between him and the other two who had so recently been screwing his wife. It was clear from their laughter which drifted across the room, and the way they were touching her, what was going on. John was also pretty certain she wasn't having as much fun as they obviously we're.

'Look. I know exactly where you're at. From your hard-on it's clear you like watching while your wife enjoys herself. But it takes some getting used to, right?'

'You got it.'

'You've got to get that out of your system or these little gatherings will become a living nightmare.'

'I wouldn't say it's that bad.'

'I would. I remember when me and Howard started. It was like every time he fucked someone else I got this nagging itch. And not one that whatever I was getting up to was making go away.'

'Go on.'

'You've got to get your, what? Anger? Jealousy? Humiliation? Guilt? Whatever it is that's causing you to itch. You've got to get it out. Get rid of it. Make your emotional self accept what the rational part of your brain already has.'

She suddenly reached out and grabbed his dick through the chinos he was wearing. The yelp John let out was drowned by the cry from his wife as her arse was finally stretched by a stranger's cock.

'The more you make me look at that, the more I want to get your opinion on how my cock-sucking skills match up to that little tart's.'

The blonde was now on her knees in the middle of the three men. She had taken Howard in her mouth and had hold of Andrew and Mark's still-drooping penises. There was a firm hand on each of her shoulders keeping her down. John looked back at Grace.

'I'm not quite sure how smacking your bottom would help either of us.'

Grace rocked back laughing. Her pussy gaped and John gazed at the deep-pink colour of her inner labia and the way they still glistened with whatever had been lubricating them.

'I'd love it. I really like the pain. It turns me on. Makes me randy.'

She watched her words sink in to John's sceptical brain.

'You've seen me in action. Take my word for it, I wasn't faking. And you.'

'Yes?'

This was the bit he didn't get.

'If you spank me until all you can think about is making love to me, you'll have exorcised your demons.'

John let out a short laugh, and immediately apologised.

'I'm serious. The only other way is therapy, with or without the missus. And I can't see her going for that. Can you?'

He looked at his wife as she lay splayed across what turned out to be a coffee table with a couple of cushions tossed on to it. Her grin and most of her make up was smeared all over her face. She had fresh cum mingling with older deposits on her tits, pussy and thighs. By the looks of it there was a fair dollop matting her hair as it dried. She'd been deserted by the last pair and was clearly waiting to see if there were any more takers.

'So how do we go about this?'

Grace clapped her hands softly and smiled.

'You've really never spanked anyone before?'

'Never.'

'Couple of things for starters then. Keep your hand flat at all times and only slap me on the meaty part of my bum.'

She lifted herself up on her haunches and slapped herself hard on a buttock.

'That should give you something to aim at.'

She gave him a sweet smile. All friendship, but conveying clearly that she wasn't joking.

'We'll get on to the more advanced stuff when you're ready to admit you enjoy it.'

'Ain't going to happen.'

'We'll see.'

There was that smile again.

'Artichoke.'

'I beg your pardon?'

'Artichoke. It's my safe word. If I say that you're to stop immediately, got it?'

'Got it.'

'Whatever else comes out of my mouth, ignore it. My bottom's still fair game as far as I'm concerned. Any questions?'

'Are you sure about this? I mean...'

Grace kissed him on the mouth. She said later it was the only way she could think of to keep him quiet.

'Right. Let's do it. Get those clothes off.'

John stood up looking confused, but started unbuttoning his shirt anyway. Grace leaned over and started on the chinos, stripping out his belt and expertly unbuttoning his flies. He tossed down the shirt and carefully eased pants and trousers over his throbbing cock. Grace's smile widened and she leaned over and kissed the shining purple tip. She shook her head as if resisting the temptation to do more and then turned her back on him. She carefully arranged her forearms on the back of the sofa and pushed out her back before easing her knees apart. Her skin was ivory white and bore no tan lines, or even the imprint of discarded clothing. John remembered thinking he had never seen anyone look so naked before. She had a head of shaggy ginger, shoulder-length hair cut in a style which gave the impression it had never seen the inside of a hairdressers. She ran her hand over her head, gathered it in a hank at the nape of her neck and tossed it over her shoulder as she turned her face towards him. It was a gesture he had seen her perform many times before; the smile, however, he knew was just for him.

He coughed nervously as he tried to find the best position alongside her. The faint trace of her own hand print was still visible on her skin. He raised his own and brought it down almost precisely over it. He felt a stinging in his palm and heard the satisfying thwack. Grace giggled and swayed slightly in place as if inviting his next attempt. He adjusted position and delivered the second slap directly opposite the first on the unmarked cheek. He stood back to admire the symmetry as Grace wriggled again and let out an almost whispered murmur.

'Maybe a little harder?'

They laughed a lot about that night when they dissected it several times over the next few years. Grace generally used the sort of terms you'd use with a deflowered virgin you wished to encourage to try the experience again. It took John a lot longer to gain a similar perspective. For him it was a voyage of discovery.

For the first few minutes he performed like a metronome fixed permanently on slow. At Grace's urging, he did increase the force he was using slightly. He was concentrating on striking the right place and grew concerned as her bottom reddened and then deepened in colour. Grace's gentle encouragement and occasional giggles changed imperceptibly to sighs, sharp expressions of pain and soft grunts. As each slap struck home he noticed that she was beginning to clench her buttocks, but always she shifted her hips to encourage the next one. His head was full of questions: why was he doing this? Why would she let him? Could she really be enjoying it as much as she seemed to be?

He stopped, mostly because his dominant right hand was beginning to hurt. The individual slaps were not causing him discomfort, but the accumulation of the dozens he had inflicted on her had taken their toll. Besides, he remembered seeing other spankers pause during punishments to stroke and fondle the bottoms of their victims and thought he should do the same. Grace became instantly vocal.

'You're so good, you're making me so hot.'

He could feel the heat in her skin as he stroked her and rested his palm to enjoy the sensation.

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