The Agreement

He walked around her suspended body, gently dragging his fingers along her exposed skin. It was a gentle warning that the game was about to change. She didn't visibly respond, but he wasn't worried. She would respond all too soon, whether she wanted to or not.

He stepped over to his bag and unzipped a long shallow pocket along the side. With his fingers he sorted through the contents within and retrieved a long cane made of multiple reeds bound loosely together. He made a show for the watching audience, acknowledging them for the first time, bending the cane to test its suppleness.

Convinced that it was appropriately flexible, he raised it up and brought it swiftly down on the exposed leg of his wife. She jerked and screamed, instantly removed from her dreamy state of contemplation. He had not struck her hard, but the slender profile of the reeds made even a moderate swat exquisitely painful, and the loosely bound reeds smacking each other caused a sharp report that belied the gentleness of his strike.

Now he had her attention. She craned her neck in an effort to see him, but he moved away from her gaze, stepping between her spread and bound legs, where she could not see him but could feel the warmth of his presence, mere millimeters from the tender skin of her thighs.

He reached down with the cane and brushed her left thigh. She flinched at the initial contact, but relaxed when she realized that he was not whipping her, but just brushing the cane along her exposed skin. He tapped it a few times against her inner thigh, making a gentle report, but not hard enough to do more than tease. He flicked her repeatedly, then brushed the cane down the length of her thigh again. Just when he felt she was fully relaxed. He quickly whipped the cane up and brought it down firmly on the outside of her right leg.

This strike was harder than the last and left a bright red weal where it had struck. Again she screamed, and began to cry, her sobs quiet, but obvious.

He reminded himself that this was her first time here, her first time being punished, and his beloved wife of many years. Her gentle sobs tugged at his heart.

He didn't enjoy causing her pain. However, he knew that it was necessary. There could be no forgiveness, no respect, no future, unless she agonized over the error of her ways and vowed to herself to not make the mistake again. Only by feeling that she had paid penance, would she be able to forgive herself for damaging their peacefully rewarding life of luxury, love, and contentment.

He drew the cane up again, eager to be finished with this part of her punishment so that he could begin the comforting that would follow. He brought it down once again, sharply across her bound left leg and she screamed holy hell. Her sobbing was not quiet and gentle anymore, but loud and uncontrollable. Her lungs heaved as she wailed, and his heart broke just a little at knowing he had brought her so much pain.

He cast the offending cane away and kneeled beside her, pulling her head into his shoulder, wrapping an arm over her shoulders. He whispered into her ear that everything was going to be alright, it was over now. He held her like that for several minutes as her sobs diminished and then entirely subsided.

He finally released her from his firm embrace and allowed her to look up at his face. Her eyes were red and there was snot running from her nose. He quickly pulled his button-down shirt off his back, and used it to wipe her nose and then dab at her eyes.

He pulled her face to his and whispered quietly so that only she could hear. "I love you with all of my heart and I never want to hurt you again." She began to cry gently and he wrapped his arms around her again. He used his semi-sodden shirt to again wipe her face and then turned back to his bag to begin the next phase of her punishment.

Digging in a small pocket at one end of the many-zippered bag, he retrieved a small pair of scissors. He kneeled again next to his wife and held them up for her to see. Her expression was one of puzzlement. She didn't yet understand his intentions. All would be clear in time.

He gently dragged the cold steel blades down the length of her, raising goosebumps of anticipation across much of her body. He began at the back of her neck and dragged the closed blades to her knee before coming back up the other side. When he got back to her shoulder he stopped.

Gently and carefully, he inserted one of the blades between her tender skin and the strap of her light-blue silken brassiere. With a quick snip, the strap was severed. His wife gasped, understanding now what he had done. Instead of moving himself, he deftly rotated his suspended wife so that she was suddenly facing the opposite direction and he was now able to access the opposite side of the bra strap. Carefully, but swiftly, he again inserted the blade and snipped.

Her bra was now held in place only by the overlapping ropes of her suspension. With his dexterous fingers he pulled the short section of strap off of her back and threw it on the floor beneath her face so she could look at the result of his ministrations. He then reached under her and pulled the front of her bra off exposing her breasts. Dropping the bra on the ground beneath her as well, he quickly stood and pushed her again, swinging her in a circular pattern once more.

Now she had to look, with each swing, at the destroyed bra, a symbol of their longstanding agreement and joyful life. She had to be reminded of her careless violation of their pact. She needed to consider the consequences of her actions, and acknowledge her role in the destruction of their secure faith and understanding in one another. She needed to atone for her transgression so that they could move on, and possibly rediscover the contentment they had once shared.

He reached over and stopped her from swinging. He knelt beside her and looked at her face again. She turned her head and looked deeply into his eyes, gentle tears of shame begging his forgiveness. He leaned his face close and gently brushed his lips across hers. "I love you," he whispered again.

"I know," she responded, "I love you too. I'm sorry... I'm so, so sorry."

"I know," he replied, "but we're not done yet."

She looked puzzled and hurt. What more could he do to her? Her shame was already unbearable. He could tell that she was ashamed, and sorry, and willing to do whatever it would take to again earn his trust. But he also knew that he had to make the message clear and undeniable.

He again dragged the closed blades of the scissors down her torso, to her legs, and back up the other side. He stopped this time at her waist and clipped the slim band of silk on her right hip, instantly swinging her around and clipping the left hip as well. He pulled the back of the panties off, exposing her exquisite posterior and pulled it down between her legs, removing it completely in a single hourglass shaped strip of cloth.

Throwing the panties on the floor beneath her, he again set her to swinging, giving her time to ruminate on her transgression and consider yet again the end result of her actions. As she swung, he removed his pants and stood out of her view in his red boxers. He watched her precisely timed undulation, the pendulum in a clock made of ropes and rings, counting out the years of their relationship.

He thought back to their early years, how happy they had been, and remembered the growing void inside of his heart as he realized that as much as he loved her, cherished her, she just couldn't meet all of his needs. He remembered their discussion on their first anniversary and how they had agreed to give each other a little freedom to continue to explore and grow so that they could share most of their lives together in peace and joy.

He thought then of their children and how happy they had been so many times in their lives, a content family unit, with the same challenges and joys of any family, but ultimately functional. The kids had never known of their extra-curricular activities, and the surreptitious explorations had provided relief without interfering in their day-to-day lives. Everything had been so perfect.

He thought then of when their last child had moved away, and how he had worried that without the kids to keep them together, their lives might disintegrate. But they quickly rediscovered the shared interests that had sustained their love prior to the birth of their first child. They had entered into another chapter of their lives, different, but still rewarding, and still full of love.

He felt that love now, swelling in his heart. He knew then that he could forgive her if she could only forgive herself. His punishment was nearly finished, her atonement nearly complete.

He knelt at her side once again, and stroked her left leg where a bright red welt had risen. He bent to kiss it gently, his way of acknowledging to his wife that he knew how much pain he had inflicted and that he was sorry too have done so. He rotated her gently and stroked the right leg as well, kissing it too in turn. Then he rotated her so that her face was near his and gave her a deep soulful kiss, his arms resting on her body as he did so. He felt the tension that had built up within her release, and he hoped that her forgiveness of him was complete and that she had forgiven herself as well.

He began to rub her firm body, his hands warming her skin, and rebuilding the attachment between them. Now that the shame had been purged, it needed to be replaced by love. Swinging her around swiftly, but playfully this time, he grabbed her knees to stop her rotation. Bending very slightly, he was able to run the stubble of his cheek against her inner thigh, and she actually giggled a little as he tickled her with his face. He continued to stroke her legs with his hands, keeping constant movement, the friction of their skin a comfort to both.

He began to place little kisses on her thighs, a few to the left, a few to the right, working his way inexorably toward her exposed vagina. A small drip of milky cream hung from her clitoral hood. She was once again getting excited. He continued to flurry kisses upon her legs, but took a slight detour and began placing smooches on her derriere, hands still massaging and kneading her legs.

He could feel her warming to his ministrations and straining against the ropes that bound her. He continued to handle her as he quickly and secretly examined the bindings to verify that there were no developing issues. He ran his hands up her sides and across her arms, feeling for cold spots and looking for untoward discoloration. Content that she was still well bound and that there were no issues he once again returned to kissing her exposed skin, working his way down her left side, pausing briefly at her hip to draw a little loop with his tongue where he knew she would respond. She giggled. Good.

He gave her another playful spin and when her face approached his, he reached out to stop her and holding her head in his hands drew her in for another deep and soulful kiss. She was really getting into it when he suddenly and playfully spun her again. Once again grabbing her knees, he pulled her close this time and thrust his tongue into her dripping pussy. She squealed with delight, lost in the moment and totally unaware of the crowd that had gathered to watch.

He licked and teased with his tongue, and spreading her buttocks with his hands, darted his tongue swiftly around her anus before returning once again to her sodden pussy. He continued to tease and toss in a well rehearsed pattern that he knew she would respond to. He reminded her kinesthetically of the great history they shared, He rebuilt their physical connection stroke by loving stroke of his tongue.

Over the years their sex-life had waxed and waned to some extent, especially in periods of great stress and hardship, but it had remained active to a greater or lesser degree. As a result, he knew well how to read her reactions.

He could feel her thrumming beneath his ministrations and knew that she was nearing orgasm. That simply wouldn't due. Not yet. He had one last lesson to deliver. He pulled back from her sodden mess and raised both hands above his head, bringing them down firmly and swiftly against her exposed buttocks. She screamed and he stuffed his smarting hands into his armpits, waiting for the sharp pain to subside. After a few seconds the immediacy of the pain lessened significantly, and he raised his hands up once again and brought them crashing down against her now red butt. She screamed again.

He rose from his knees and dropped his boxers, simultaneously swinging his wife around to face him. As her face rotated into view, he could see the hurt in her face and the tears in her eyes. And underneath that anger. It was clear to him that they could never really return to the old way; that had been shattered. So he was going to establish a new way that he thought might work. He grabbed her head, one hand to each side of her face, and stepped forward placing his semi-erect member just in front of her face. She looked up into his eyes, briefly defiant, then she looked down and nodded, opening her mouth.

She took him into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the head of his stiffening penis. In mere moments he was fully erect. He pulled himself from her mouth, stooped down to quickly kiss her on the forehead, then spun her around. Stepping between her bound legs, he savagely thrust into her sodden quim. She gushed and moaned, and he grabbed her firmly by the hips, swinging her against him as he continued to thrust furiously, violently against her.

She was moaning louder and he was reacting. Knowing that he was bringing her pleasure was always the greatest stimulant, and she was now screaming obscenities at him that she had never uttered before.

"Fuck me! Harder! Yeah! Rip me up! Make me your whore!"

He had never heard this kind of language from her and it was sexy as hell. He pulled out knowing that if he didn't, he was going to lose it, and he wasn't ready yet. So instead he brought his hands down hard against her ass once again, the loud smack much more impressive than he had imagined it would be. He thrust his smarting hands into his armpits once again, but his wife continued to shout obscenities.

"Yeah! That's it baby. Smack my ass again! Make me your bitch!"

So he spanked her again, the smarting in his hands pulling him well back from the brink. He shoved his dick into her snatch again and resumed the ferocious pace of before, viciously slamming against her. She just ate it up and asked for more.

"Fuck yeah! Keep on fucking me! Oh god, I'm gonna come! Keep Fucking Me! DON'T STOP! DON'T STOP!! DON'T STOP!!"

Not breaking stride, he continued to thrust but also brought his hands down on her ass, not as hard as before, but hard enough to sting a little, and she just kept yelling encouragement.

"OH YEAH, BABY! HURT ME! BEAT ME UP!"

He continued to thrust and spanked her again.

"OH YEAH! OH..."

And suddenly she went silent. He could feel her body quivering against him as he continued to thrust. He knew that feeling, but it was more intense than he had ever felt from her. She was coming harder than he could ever remember, and knowing that drove him over the edge. He stayed inside her but froze, his muscles locking in a rictus as he spurt deep inside her. Her pussy locked down on his throbbing cock as he shot over and over again into her sopping fuck tunnel. She was still bucking and vibrating, but silent.

Finally, with a mighty heave, she began to breathe again. "OH MY GOD! I have never come so hard. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god." She was mumbling.

An aftershock tore through her body, threatening to pull his now spent penis from her sopping gash, but he continued to hold on to her bound legs and kept himself firmly inside of her.

"Oh my god! That was intense." She was still shaking.

He looked down at the glowing handprints on her ass. He had to admit that it was some of the best sex he had ever had. He looked around at the crowd, then looked back at her ass, admiring his handiwork.

It occurred to him that after tonight, she might very well become a part of his extracurricular activities on a regular basis. How would that affect their lives together? He couldn't answer that question, but for tonight he really didn't need to.

He pulled his softening member from her sloppy cunt and began to lower her to the ground. Once she was resting safely on the ground her carefully released each leg in turn, cautiously moving them back into normal position, doing his best to prevent muscle cramps brought on by sudden movements. After freeing both legs, he loosened then removed the bindings on her arms and wrists, again moving her slowly back into normal position. Now free of her bonds, she curled up against him, his arms wrapped around her.

The crowd that had gathered for the show mostly dispersed, or started quiet conversations about other subjects, leaving them to their privacy in plain sight, sharing the intimate closeness of each other and the afterglow of great sex. Eventually, they rose and showered.

Returning to the scene of the crime, she gathered up the sheet as he coiled ropes and returned his gear to his bag and returned the bag to his locker. The scene cleared, they joined a couple on one of the longer couches. Having no clothes to wear, she stayed wrapped in a towel until someone handed her a clean sheet which she gratefully accepted.

He knew that there was still negotiation to be dealt with, but was confident that a great new chapter was in the making. There would be a new agreement. Good.