The Wrong Bag - with Epilogue

Her phone clattered loudly in the change dish, now louder due to the absence of the buzzing wand and her feverish bleating. Amanda struggled to catch her breath and pulled against the restraints to try to capture the fleeting and intense orgasm so cruelly teased by her husband. Clarity started to intrude, and she realized her phone had been squealing for attention at least as much as she had been.

"Brad, I think I need a break." He ignored her and picked up the riding crop again.

"We aren't done. I've got more fun planned." Much more.

"No, really, that was... very intense... but I need you to let me up now. I think something is wrong at work because my phone keeps going off." An edge of concern tinted her voice along with the bitter disappointment at her ruined orgasm.

"Oh, don't worry about work. That's not why your phone is exploding. But I guess we are done with these toys. They weren't the real star of the show anyway. The important stuff is over here in the closet." He went there, on his way picking up the remote control for the DVD player and punching the play button. In the closet he uncovered a black duffel bag from a few layers of blankets and debris, intentionally hidden there just before Amanda came home from work. He hefted the thing and brought it to the bed, laying it where the tray had been previously. He zipped it open in one quick pull.

"Now, I'm less familiar with this stuff. Let's see what we have here..." He had been through the bag, of course. He had cataloged its contents more than once. Of great interest had been the two GoPro cameras. Especially the contents of their memory cards, one of which was playing silently on the TV screen already.

"Maybe you can help me identify some of this." He reached for the blindfold and pulled it off her head entirely. She looked down at the black duffel bag on the be next to her.

"That's my gym bag," she said cautiously.

"That's what I thought. Imagine my surprise when I went into your office to get into this bag to drop off those new LuLu Lemons I bought you last month. I wanted it to be a surprise. But then I found another bag hidden in your closet. And the things I found in there..."

"Oh God!" Brad swiped the zipper open wide and pulled out the first 'toy.'

"Butt plug, right?" He dropped it on the bed next to her, then pulled out another. Her look was one or terror.

"A bigger buttplug. My goodness."

He watched her face as the reality of the moment landed on her. She saw her bag, her secret gym bag that looked exactly like the real gym bag, the secret bag she kept hidden in her office. She saw the two black rubber anal probes on the bed next to her and watched as her husband pulled a long, thick realistic dildo from the bag. She saw the TV on the far wall and instantly recognized the scene.

"Calico! Calico! Get me out of this thing!" She thrashed violently against the restraints but she was trapped.

Her phone clattered loudly in the change dish.

"I hear you but... that's not really your real safe word, is it? I'll turn up the volume and maybe we'll hear it soon." He knew it was only a few minutes in and had queued up the scene accordingly. On the screen, his wife was shackled to a concrete floor, her arms on the ground, her body bent up and her legs over her head, twisted into a pretzel so her ass was her highest point. Two men, one white and one black, both wearing black boots and nothing else, stood above her, both pushing their hard cocks down into her body at the same time, one in her pussy and one in her ass. Amanda, wearing the same white wedding lingerie, was wailing like a cat in heat as they fucked her roughly.

"Let's get back to this bag, shall we? Ooh, another huge dildo. Wouldn't have guessed you could take all that but sure, I can work with it. These are... nipple clamps, right? Or pussy clamps? Is there a difference?"

"Calico, Brad! Please, let me out of here! I can explain! Calico, Brad!"

"That's not the word. Ooh, rope, of course. Here we go! Now that's a paddle!" He held up a wooden paddle, the kind your old grade school principal was rumored to use on wayward children.

"Bradley! Bradley!" She shouted the word, but it didn't sound like she was calling his name.

"Yes, dear?" he asked with excruciatingly pure innocence. "Wow! That butt plug is even bigger than that last one. Do we need to get you to a doctor, honey?"

"My real safe word is Bradley! Please let me go!" She was in a panic, wrenching her limbs within the unforgiving straps that held her down.

"Don't hurt yourself, dear. Bradley? My name is your safe word? Aw, that's sweet. Wait... did you pick it out yourself or did those two give it to you?" Perfect timing.

In the video, one of the men pulled his thick cock out of her pussy and started trying to push it into her asshole along with the other man's already thrusting dick.

"No! Bradley! Bradley" she shouted on the video. One of them spoke angrily.

"Fuck! I told you she couldn't handle that yet." The men got off her quickly and the white one got down near her face on the floor.

"You said the cuck's name, now you are a weak little bitch like him, yeah? You know we don't want to hear you fucking speak, right? Only thing you are good for is your holes. So what's wrong with you, Fuckhole? Do you need a break?"

"Not both in my ass, please!" she sputtered breathlessly. "You are right, Master. I can't handle that yet."

From the bed, Amanda was crying and begging her husband to set her free. He shushed her.

"Stop it. I want to see how this plays out." He knew, of course.

"Understood. You need us to let you up or are you ready for more, Fuckhole?" asked the black man.

"More, Lord! Please fuck my dirty ass again. Master, please fuck my filthy pussy. Let me be your Fuckhole!"

"God damn right. I fucking told you she wasn't ready for that!" said the white man.

"She just needs more training," said the black man. "We'll get you properly stretched out, Fuckhole. I can't wait to punch-fuck your cunt while we both fuck your ass!" Quickly the men were back at it, facing each other as they plundered the bound woman's holes. Her renewed wails of pleasure echoed from the concrete walls. Brad muted the TV.

"Bradley it is then. That really is your real safeword. I never would have guessed."

"Bradley! Calico! Let me go, Brad!" she pleaded again through sobs.

Brad lifted the bag and dumped out the rest of its contents. Vibrators, a huge pump container of lube, clothes pins, a towel, more and more filth poured out on Amanda's body. He tossed the empty bag aside and sat next to her, then put a hand on the bed across her body and leaned down, hovering over her face. He looked into his wife's tear-ruined eyes but she wouldn't meet his gaze.

"I understand how the safe word works, Amanda. It's a bond of trust between the dom and sub. The sub is able to give herself over to her dom because she knows she is safe and she trusts him. Tell me, Amanda... Fuckhole, if you prefer... Do you feel betrayed right now? Like someone you trusted, someone you loved, told you a big fat terrible lie right to your fucking face?"

She looked at him then. She recoiled from his cold, hard eyes. She didn't speak, but slowly nodded her head.

"Yeah. I can imagine you do," he said quietly. "Perhaps you can imagine how I felt when I found your secret bag and got to watch that for the first time. And all the rest of it." The video evidence of Amanda's willing defilement was extreme and extensive. He'd never be free of those sights and sounds. The other GoPro was apparently used for close-ups.

"Brad, I can explain!" He put a gentle finger on her lips and slowly shook his head.

"You know, I thought about that. I thought about allowing you to talk and explain and lie, to let you spew some bullshit just so I could cut you down with evidence. I think it would be fun to watch you try to wriggle off this hook and fail over and over. But ultimately, I know everything I need to know and nothing that comes out of your noise hole will make much difference. So, as much as I am fascinated by the idea that you can explain any of this, we won't be doing that. The private investigator I've had on you this past month has all the explanation I need." He didn't think the look of despair on her face could have become more dire, but he was wrong. She looked at him in renewed horror with panic in her eyes.

"Ooh, that got a reaction. Yeah, he caught you at the sex club in LA three weeks ago. He was in the room. He said he even thought about getting in on the gang bang, but decided you were a bit too much of a whore, even for him. The guy is effective but he comes across a little skeevy. And since he wasn't sure if I was trying to take you back he didn't want to screw up his paycheck. I told him she should have gone for it. He did great work, though. The pictures and videos he brought back are amazing. My divorce lawyer laughed out loud when he saw them."

"Divorce!" She shrieked the word as if it gave her physical pain to utter it. "No, Brad! Let me up, let me explain!" He waved away her words, then pushed up off the bed and stood, stretched a bit, and went to put his shoes back on. He desperately wanted a shower but he could do that later at the apartment. Amanda kept sobbing quietly on the bed.

"Brad, I have a problem."

"Ha! Yeah you do. Several of them."

"I have an addiction! It's a sickness! I need your help!"

"Long past that, Mandy. You've been helping yourself to my trust, my love, my money, my dignity, my life... anything you could think to take from me, you have. So I am helping myself now."

"What are you going to do, Brad? You need to let me up eventually." She hoped. There were outcomes where she never got off the bed alive, she realized.

"What am I going to do? Well, I'm going to leave you, obviously. I was off work today and moved out almost everything I wanted to keep. I've been planning this for a while so it's all set up. I have an apartment, not close, so don't bother looking. What's left is just a bag and my laptop in the other room that needs to be collected."

"Wait, no! You can't leave me! I love you, Brad!"

"I find it hard to believe you can love me while a room full of strangers runs a train on you. Just can't wrap my head around that."

"But I can! I've always loved you! I just have a problem with sex."

"I disagree. You seem to have no problems at all with having all the sex you can get. I am curious, though. If your sex drive was so off the charts, why did you cut me out? If you'd just kept me happy with plain old real-people sex, I might never have known." As if she had any pride left to salvage, any shame yet to feel, she turned away from her husband.

"That hit a nerve," he said. Unsure if he actually wanted the answer, he offered her a deal. "Answer the question and I'll set you free."

"They... Master and Lord... would punish me if I had sex with you. That's what the paddle was for." Brad stood there in silence, staring at the wad of meat he once called a wife, lost in the utter betrayal of this 'woman.'

Her phone clattered in the change dish.

"Wow. Even after all I already knew, just... Wow." Brad stood still for a moment, absorbing this new insult, sorting it with all the others, feeling the pain. He was surprised there was more pain he could feel at that late stage. He took a deep breath and sighed it out, purging the thought and moving onward.

"Well, no worries there. We didn't have sex just now, and we never will again, so you'll avoid the paddle."

"You said you'd let me go," Amanda said hopefully.

"I lied. Like you did. Get used to it. OK, then. There's not much left I really need. There's this..." He pulled a folder with papers from his empty nightstand drawer and put it on her dresser, along with her still buzzing phone.

"Divorce papers, obviously. On top is a copy of the prenup your father insisted we sign, with the infidelity clause highlighted. My lawyer asked me to tell you that he is going to fuck you much worse than what he saw in the videos."

"Brad, no! I love you! What we have is special! We can get it back!" Her words made him vaguely nauseous and he didn't respond.

"Now, about your phone. Before I came into this room with that tray of toys, I sent email proof of your new hobbies to a few people. More than a few, really. That's why your phone is blowing up." On cue, her phone lit up once again with an angry rattle.

"Oh God, no!"

"Fraid so, Mandy. In addition, 'Lord' and 'Master' will both be served with alienation of affection lawsuits tomorrow. The lawsuits won't go very far in court but it'll be enough to annoy them and, here's the important part, it will force this whole mess into the public eye. Hopefully, it'll ruin a reputation or two. 'Lord' in particular, being a teacher, may be looking for a new profession soon. 'Master' is a janitor, in case you didn't know. It'll cost him to respond to the lawsuit, so that will probably be rough on a janitor's salary. Same with the teacher too, I imagine."

"Also, probably in your messages, are 'Lords' wife Trish and 'Master's wife Anna. They had no idea their husbands were into this stuff. Thought they went fishing, apparently. That dungeon they fuck you in is a building where 'Master' cleans the bathrooms. Appropriate, I guess. I like to think of what they did to you as plunging a toilet. Anyway, they got all this information just as we started because I sent it to them from the other room."

Amanda was wrenching her arms in the restraints, trying in vain to get free.

"Somewhere in there might be your boss. Or his wife. They both got the emails too. Along with your HR department, of course, but I wouldn't expect them to call until business hours tomorrow. Thank goodness that PI was good! He even caught you sucking off your boss in the parking lot. Dude has four kids, did you know that? Your boss, I mean, not the PI."

Amanda was sobbing and hyperventilating, drawing deep wracking breaths and trying not to pass out.

Brad picked up his keys, wallet, and phone, which had been recording the entire incident.

"Just need to grab my laptop from the other room. Your mother should be here any minute. I'll set you free when she gets here. I told her too, obviously, and asked her to come check on you. I told her a different version, so this scene will be a lot for her. I gave your dad the full version, with video. That guy was always a prick to me so fuck him. Back to your phone... likely some friends in there, maybe coworkers, your 'book club,' if that's what it really is. I half assume that's where you got into this whole deviant sex shit so you might have a friendly place to go there. Oh, and your sisters. I told all of them. Essentially anybody I ever suspected of giving a shit about you now knows all about it."

"I've taken everything I want so I don't need to come back here ever again. With any luck, this is the last time I'll have to look at you. The divorce should go quickly and in my favor. With all this evidence I've basically got you over a barrel. And just so you know, my lawyer doesn't have a safe word."

The doorbell rang.

"That'll be your mother. Here we go..." He reached out and undid the strap at her wrist, then circled the bed and let loose the other straps as the doorbell rang over and over. Amanda just lay there in shock. Brad headed for the door one last time.

"I love you, Brad," she said weakly.

"Go to Hell, Mandy."

Epilogue

Brad had done his homework. The prenuptial agreement Amanda's father had been so insistent upon turned out to be his greatest weapon. The vast amount of proof of infidelity was overkill, and far away enough to skew the divorce in his favor. She was entitled to no support or alimony, and a simple 50/50 split of existing marital assets which didn't amount to much.

Amanda's boss Jerry was fired the next day, and she followed him out the door a couple of hours afterwards. She did her best to wind a tale of how she was innocently preyed upon by the man with the power, but a quick search of their work texts and emails proved that she was the aggressor. Two other coworkers were put on probation for lewd and illicit acts performed on the job site.

The alienation of affection lawsuits had the desired effect on 'Lord' and 'Master'. It was little more than harassment and an unexpected legal bill for the men, but the damage was done. Adam 'Lord' Walters managed two more weeks teaching high school math before the lawsuit was spread all over the school message boards. His reputation was destroyed and his wife left him, but the real damage was done by his partner in crime.

Carl 'Master' Easton didn't lose his job - nobody cares what a janitor does on his off time - but the fallout caused his best friend Adam to break off their fun time activities. Carl, in desperation, confessed his love for Adam. He told him how he only wanted to be inside Amanada together so he could feel his friend's cock rubbing against his. Adam rebuffed him cruelly, and Carl took his own life in the very room where they had taken the videos Brad had found.

Amanda moved in with her parents for a short time. The divorce was quick and painful for her, and none of her texts, calls, emails, or other forms of contact ever produced a response from Brad. Eventually, she moved away, trying to find a life that had not been thoroughly burned to the ground, people who didn't know all of her darkest secrets, and a job where she could start trying to rebuild. Being so easy and willing to do anything to keep a man's attention, she was popular. For a while. She never did find a man gullible enough to do more than use her and leave. Once her beauty left her, she started keeping cats for company. She finally found life partners who didn't care what a whore she was.

Brad survived, eventually thriving after throwing himself into his work and obtaining a string of promotions. His business occasionally took him to the Far East, where he found a woman who understood what a wife should be. He took his time and vetted her properly. When he asked her to marry him, he used the same prenuptial agreement forced on him years before to ensure his safety. He never needed to use it.