Justice of the Piece

This is the second of my stories in what I've come to think of as the "on the road" genre. There will be at least one more, but I have no idea how long it'll take me to get it finished and posted here.


JUSTICE OF THE PIECE


First off, I just want to tell everyone reading this story that the title is spelled correctly. Secondly, I want to say that you're not alone in thinking I've misspelled "Peace" as "Piece," because when my wife, Becky, and I saw that spelling on a building in the town she and I were visiting, we had exactly that same reaction. I remember how we laughed together and ridiculed the illiterate hillbilly who'd written it that way, and how we laughed even harder when she said, "Maybe it means the same sort of "piece" you're going to get tonight, Honey. If you ever get me to the motel, that is."

While we laughed and joked some more, we arrived at the motel where we had reservations for that night, and that began the process of the two of us becoming more educated about the difference between deliberate misspelling and twisted meaning.

Before I get to that part, let me explain what led us to that small town, the saloon and motel located there, and a night filled with experiences vastly beyond anything I'd ever before known. Believe me when I say that it took me a long time to accept what occurred during those fateful hours, and to come to terms with the way it changed our relationship while directing our marriage down a road we had never expected to travel.

It had become our habit to celebrate our wedding anniversary by driving to somewhere we'd never visited, and using the sense of adventure the trip gave us to spark our romantic feelings for each other. We came up with that idea about two weeks before our second anniversary, and it was Becky's suggestion that we do something different and exciting to celebrate. I'm sure that was her way of acknowledging what we'd both known for several months, which was that our lovemaking was becoming more habitual than romantic, and we needed to do something about that situation.

Her suggestion was that we take turns selecting an out-of-the way destination in our state, then drive there and get a motel room for the night, where, we hoped, the different surroundings would rekindle the very strong sexual attraction we'd had for each other right from the first. My suggestion, somewhat tongue in cheek at first, was that after we'd showered and changed clothes in the motel, she should walk to a nearby bar by herself, and act as if she were a single woman on the prowl.

After giving her about half an hour to catch the eyes of any interested men in the bar, I would show up and we'd act like we were meeting for the very-first time. We'd then hurry back to our motel room and have wild and crazy sex until we passed out.

So, I accepted her suggestion, and she, reluctantly at first, accepted mine. And that began our yearly forays to small-town Colorado, where our plan worked very well, thank you very much. In fact, I'd recommend that any other married couples, who have become too used to each other, should try doing that, even if only one time. I have no doubt they'll find their own marriage will be renewed just by being made to look at one another in a new light.

The particular trip we took that I'm about to describe for you was to celebrate our tenth anniversary. I was my turn to choose a destination, and as we usually did, we sat side-by-side on the couch one month before the fateful date, looking at a map of the state. I found a small town that was situated along a highway in the southern part, just a few miles across the border with New Mexico. The atlas showed its population as large enough to have both a bar and a motel, so that became our chosen destination for that year's anniversary night.

While I was at work the next day, Becky used the computer to look up a listing of motels in the town. When she called the only motel there, she made sure there was also at least one bar, preferably close to the motel, and when she was satisfied the place met our requirements, she made reservations for the two of us.

What I didn't know until several days later was that my wife confided in the woman at the motel that we had worked out a plan a few years in the past, hoping that it would make our marriage much more exciting. When the clerk asked what we did and said she'd really like to know, since her own marriage had gone stale many years ago, Becky explained how she would go to a nearby bar by herself and do her best to get a man interested in her. After several minutes of her flirting with the fellow, I'd come in and she'd suddenly become even more interested in me, with the two of us all the time pretending we didn't know each other. After that we'd rush back to our motel room and celebrate our anniversary.

With that, the stage was set for a very-special rendezvous on the night of our tenth wedding anniversary.

We left our home, which is approximately in the center of the Front Range of the Rockies, Saturday morning. We drove at a leisurely pace, because there was no reason to arrive much before evening. That put us at the motel in the late afternoon, giving us plenty of time for a nap to restore our energy, as well as time to shower, change clothes, and go out to dinner at a restaurant on the far end of town.

It was full dark by the time we left the restaurant, but just to make sure nobody would see us together that close to the saloon, I stopped the car a couple blocks away so my wife could walk to the place by herself. As soon as she was heading down the sidewalk, I drove on to the motel, then waited in our room for half an hour to give her time to "put some moves on the locals," in her words.

Believe me, it was almost more than I could do to wait, but at last I made my own way to the watering hole, fantasizing all the way about what might happen that night.

When I entered the place, Becky was sitting on a bar stool, with a man on each side of her and others watching from the tables, as if they were hoping for a chance to chat up a new woman. I know she saw me walk in, but never glanced my way to acknowledge me in any way. Everyone else in the place, including the dozen or so women who were obviously with their boyfriends or husbands, paid no attention to me, and there was no question every eyeball was staring avidly at my wife.

I'm sure you'll understand why when I tell you that Becky was wearing an extremely low-cut blouse with no bra, and her excitement was plain to see from her engorged nipples that were trying to poke holes through the thin cloth. That wasn't all that was attracting all those eyes, though. She was also wearing a short skirt, and as she sat on the stool, facing away from the bar, it was hiked high enough that her white panties were being openly displayed.

I took a seat at the opposite end of the bar, glad for the chance to be seated, because truth to tell, my cock, which had been half-erect even before I left the motel, had stiffened all the way as soon as I saw my wife was the center of attention. There was no question she was loving her part in our little charade.

I had made my way through my first bottle of beer by the time the men beside her began caressing her bare thighs. In a matter of seconds, her head had tilted back and her eyes closed as she sighed deeply. Her whisper of, "God, that feels so good," encouraged the two men, and both their hands disappeared under the tiny bit of skirt that did very little to protect her modesty.

I took that as my cue to rescue her from the men so we could run to the motel and screw each other's brains out for the rest of the night. But, like in so many other cases, fate intervened.

The bartender, apparently concerned about the reputation of his establishment, chose that moment to blurt out, "Hey! That's enough of that, guys. Take her in back if you want to do that sort of thing. This is a respectable place, and we don't allow sex in front."

That brought peals of laughter from everyone there, except me, and loud catcalls that detailed exactly what the two should do to the "whore," as most of them called Becky. For their part, the two men got off their stools, and while one of them lifted my wife into his arms, the other reached under her skirt, pulled down her panties, and threw them towards the crowd.

Since I was sitting towards the back end of the bar, the man carrying my wife was walking directly toward me as she threw her arms around his neck so he wouldn't drop her. I stood up to tell him to put her down, but all he did was dodge around me and continue toward a door in the rear wall. His friend growled, "Wait your fucking turn, asshole! You can have tired thirds if you get in line."

Well, what else could I do but shove him out of the way and try to rescue my wife? And by the same token, what else could he do but take a swing at me, which I had to return, and then there was a general riot as the bartender and some of the other people there tried to separate us.

The next thing I knew, two guys wearing deputy-sheriff uniforms were yelling at everybody to calm down, and even though it took a long time, peace was restored. One of the deputies asked the bartender for details, and when the situation was explained, he (the deputy) announced that the two men, along with my wife and I, as well as any witnesses who wanted to testify had to accompany us across the street to the local courthouse. To my utter shame the deputies pulled Becky's and my arms behind our backs and fastened handcuffs on them, leaving me helpless to resist, even if I were inclined to do so.

In case you're wondering about it, no, at no time in the saloon did my wife or I mention that we were, indeed, a married couple. I know I was too embarrassed to use that as a defense, since the two of us had set up the situation. I suppose Becky felt somewhat the same, because she didn't disclose our marital status, either.

As you have already guessed, the "courthouse" in that town was the building bearing the sign we'd seen earlier, reading "Justice of the Piece."

It seemed as if most of those who had been in the bar wanted to be a part of the legal proceedings, and as Becky and I, along with her two suitors, entered the building, at least twenty men and women crowded in behind us. We were escorted through a vestibule and then into what was obviously a courtroom, and to my surprise an elderly couple I'd seen in the saloon walked to the front and sat behind a large, enclosed desk that was sitting on a dais.

The man picked up a wooden mallet, rapped it vigorously on the desktop, and yelled, "Shut up, you peckerheads! This here is a court of law, and any outbursts will be treated accordingly! Now pipe down!"

Silence descended over the room as my wife and I were led to the front of the room, then brought to a halt in front of the desk while the deputies stood at our sides. The judge rapped his gavel once more before announcing, "Court is now in session. This is a hearing to determine guilt of the two accused, and to decide how they should be punished." He then added as an afterthought, "Why ain't those two wearing leg irons, Tim? We don't want them trying to escape like that pair of degenerates did last year, do we?"

One of the deputies hurried over to a nearby wall and took something out of a cabinet, then came back toward us carrying two things that appeared to be handcuffs held together with short lengths of chain. As he dropped to his knees in front of Becky and expertly snapped the cuffs around her ankles, his partner, whose name, according to his name tag, was "Brad," took the other set of leg irons and gave me the same treatment.

I opened my mouth to protest that the two of us were not the only guilty parties, but before I could utter even a single word the deputy at my side placed a large, rolled-up handkerchief around my head and between my lips, effectively silencing me. Becky, who also tried to speak was silenced in a similar manner, after which the judge continued with our "trial."

"All right, folks. I think I can save lots of time here by saying that Elsie and me saw everything these two did over at Bill's place. There's no question that the woman is a harlot of the highest order, and the stranger who tried to get in the way of her two customers caused a riot and probably lots of property damage over there. But, in the interest of fair and impartial justice, I'm going to ask for my wife's opinion, since she was there, too, and saw the whole thing."

He turned toward the woman sitting beside him behind the desk, saying, "Sweet Cheeks, tell us what you saw over there."

The woman, obviously the "Elsie" the judge had referred to, stood from her chair. After loudly clearing her throat, she gave her testimony.

"Well, hell, Clarence, there ain't no question the whore started the whole thing. She flounced in with her tits hanging half out and her nipples big as my thumbs, and did her level best to seduce every man in the place, and probably all the women, too, if I'm any judge of character. And that skirt of hers! Good God almighty! No decent woman would wear something like that, for sure. And then when she sat her ass on the stool, she spread her legs so everyone could get a good look at her gates of Hell. Why, her temple of sin was probably so wet it'll take poor Bill a month to get the stool dried out. She's a sinner, for sure, and needs to be punished. As for the man, well, anyone knows he who protects a sinner like her is just as guilty as she is, so I say we visit the wrath of God on both of them right here and now."

There was a loud outburst of clapping and words of approval, and it took almost a full minute of vigorous hammering with the gavel before order was restored.

"Sounds good to me, folks," he said. I don't think we need to waste any more time on other testimony, so let's get right to the sentencing." Then, turning again to his wife, he asked, "So, what do you think would be a fitting punishment for the two of them, my love?"

Elsie took a long time to stare directly at each of us, then pronounced, "There's only one thing that will let these two sinners atone for their crimes, and we all know what it is. The whore wanted to show off her body to everyone in the saloon, so I think we should help her do that. The man tried to help her, so he needs to receive the same punishment."

In the total quiet that held the room, her eyes swept up and down Becky's body for several seconds. Then, taking a deep, shuddering breath, she announced our fate.

"My decision is to strip both of them and give them a good stretching. After that we can let both of them give us the pleasure that was denied to us when that man got in the way." She took another deep breath before crying out, "Strip them! Get the sinners naked right now, and drag them to the back room!"



Chapter 2


Encouraged by loud cries of approval, as well as several lewd suggestions, the two deputies pulled large jacknives from their pockets, snapped them open, and before either of us could even begin to mumble in protest, the very-sharp blades had been inserted under my trouser cuffs and the waistband of Becky's skirt. A quick slice upward by my captor opened one leg of my pants almost as fast as my wife's skirt was sliced away. All it took was a similar cut up the other leg, and my trousers were lying on the floor in a pile.

Since Becky's panties had been removed in the saloon, her crotch was naked before mine, but a third slice by my captor soon had me in a similar condition. Then the two men rose to their feet, snickered at what they were seeing revealed to their eyes, along with the judge and his wife. Without waiting for further instructions, one man cut away my wife's blouse. Before it had touched the floor, my shirt was fluttering downward on the same journey.

After that all it took was a few seconds for our shoes and socks to be removed, and we were both naked as the day we'd been born.

Elsie's impassioned, "Great Jumping Jesus Christ Almighty! Would you look at that, Clarence! I told you they were both perverts and sinners, and right there you see it proved for all time!"

His only response, other than his gaping mouth and bugged eyes, was to whisper hoarsely, "Sinners for sure, Mother. They need our help to walk the straight path, and tonight we'll all help them." Pausing to draw another deep breath, he struggled to draw his gaze from Becky's crotch as he said, "Turn them around. Let everyone here see what sort of sinners have come to our little town to cause trouble."

The two men placed their hands on our shoulders, and with seeming ease rotated our naked bodies until we were facing the crowd. The startled gasps and excited comments told me they agreed with the opinions handed down from the bench just seconds before.

I probably should explain what was so interesting about our crotches, other than the fact that our private parts were exposed to the ardent gazes of everyone in the room. You see, right before our fifth anniversary trip, my wife had suggested that we both have our pubic hair removed by waxing, and even though I was more than a little reluctant, I had at last agreed. Ever since that time we had returned to the beauty shop every month to have the waxing renewed, and the result was that our crotches were as smooth as they could be.

That was not the only part that excited the crowd. When my wife had been forcibly turned so the onlookers could have a clear view of her naked body, my eyes had been drawn to her wonderful crotch. What literally made me pass out was that her inner thighs were glistening with her pussy juices almost all the way down to her knees. There was no question that being placed on public display and humiliated was exciting her more than I'd ever thought possible.

And, ashamed as I am to admit it, my own humiliation was causing an increasing sensation of heat in my own crotch, and I could feel my cock growing, even though I tried to fight it with all my strength.

The judge gave the crowd a minute or two to settle down, then rapped his gavel on the desk to call for silence. When he had it, he said, "You've all heard the sentence Elsie wants passed on these perverts. So, I ask you, do you want them to be taken to the back room and given a good stretching and anything else we can think of?"

The answer roared from every throat, and the tumultous, "YESSSSSS!" shook dust from the ceiling above us.

Again pounding his gavel for silence, the judge declared, "Then so be it. Deputies, drag these sinners to the punishment room, and let's get started on them. We'll teach them tonight just what we mean by the 'wages of sin.' "

The men placed one hand under our armpits, then almost lifting us off the floor escorted us through a door behind the desk. The room there was dark, but when a switch beside the door was flipped, the blaze of light showed me what was in store for us, and I know that if I hadn't been gagged, I'd have begged for release. If I hadn't been handcuffed and shackled, I'd probably have tried to flee the room to avoid what I was sure was going to happen, but those actions weren't possible, so I just stood there transfixed by what my eyes saw, but my brain had yet to process.

Dangling from several pulleys attached to the ceiling were ropes that almost touched the floor. Their other ends ran from the pulleys to brackets on the walls, and it didn't take much imagination for me to know how the ropes would be used to provide the "stretching" we'd been sentenced to receive. Then, to confirm my worst fears, Becky was dragged to a position beneath two widely-spaced pulleys and held in place by Tim, the deputy who was guarding her.

Two women from the crowd of onlookers grabbed two ropes and rubbed them against her beautiful breasts, leaving no doubt at all about their intentions. Neither the vigorous shaking of my wife's head from side to side, nor my frantic mumbles through my gag did anything to stop what seemed destined to happen, and Becky's fate was sealed.

After giving the ropes to the judge's wife, who had hurried to take her place in front of their prisoner, each woman gripped one of Becky's breasts in both hands, then squeezed and pulled them straight out from their usual home. Then, to my horror, Elsie wrapped each rope in turn around the stretched breasts, pulling each loop as tightly as possible, until at last six turns imprisioned each one, and the free end had been tied in place.

As for me, while that was being done to my wife, two other ropes was being tied to my wrists. As soon as both were secure, the handcuffs were removed and the free ends of the ropes were vigorously pulled. The result was that less than a second later, only my toes were touching the floor and my shoulders were popping with the strain.

I had been watching my wife all the time, and just as my own body was experiencing very-painful stretching, the same thing was done to hers. As her breasts took her weight, they stretched higher and higher, until at last her nipples were directly in front of her eyes, and her own moans of fright and pain blended with mine.

One of the men in the crowd came up to Becky at that moment. He was bent over almost double, and was pushing a flat cart that had four casters mounted beneath it. That part was innocent enough, but it was the thing on top of the cart that frightened me, and my attempts to protest grew louder and more frantic.

Actually, the thing sitting there at her feet was very innocent looking, except for the short length of rope that was tied to a ring in its top. The ring had been cast in place inside a huge block of concrete, which surely weighed at least 50 pounds, and when the old woman tied the free end of the rope around one of her ankles, I felt a bolt of fear surge through my body.

Attention returned to me at that point, because the other deputy, whose name was Brad, was busily tying ropes to each of my own ankles, after which he removed the leg irons. The pulleys through which those ropes ran were widespread, and when I saw that, I was almost as afraid for myself as I was for my wife, because I knew what was going to happen to me.

Sure enough, when the ropes were pulled through the pulleys, my feet were not only lifted higher than before, but were drawn apart so far that I was sure my body would split at the crotch. Even though the pain in my shoulders eased somewhat as my ankles were forced to carry half my weight, my legs and hips were stressed to the point that there was no gain, and I continued to moan and whimper in pain.

I was given a couple minutes to adjust to what had been done to me, and the crowd once again turned their attention to Becky. The first thing that was done was to tie another rope to her free ankle, that one running to a pulley mounted far to her side, at the meeting place of the wall and the ceiling. And then, to my mounting dread, that rope was tightened, drawing her foot farther and farther not only to her side, but also higher than her head. The result was that her crotch was stretched so widespread that her pussy was gaping open farther than I would ever have thought possible.

She tried to protect her modesty, as well as ease the horrible stretching that was being given her, but as she moved her dangling foot to bring her legs closer together, the two men who were controlling the ropes attached to her breasts chose that moment to lift her body still higher. That caused the block of concrete to be lifted above the cart, and her lower leg could no longer resist its pull. Soon her crotch was gaping open even more than before, and the juices that were dripping from it and running down her leg brought cries of approval from the onlookers.

One more thing remained to be done to me, and it involved, of course, one more rope. My body, which was bent almost double as both my wrists and ankles were pulled toward the ceiling, was given at least a tiny amount of support by the fact that my butt was still barely touching the floor. When I saw another rope, directly above my midsection, slowly falling toward my body, I was dumbstruck as I suddenly knew what else was going to be done to me.

The single rope continued to slowly approach my crotch as another woman came to stand beside me. She gripped my cock and balls around the base, then tightened her grip even more as she struggled to lift my midsection. At last satisfied with the result, she said, "Get them tied off."

A man hurried up beside me, grabbed the free end of the dangling rope, and as soon as he heard those words, wrapped the rope twice around my stretched flesh before tying it off. As he stepped back he called out, "Take him up! See how far they'll stretch before they tear off!"

In a room completely silent except for Becky's and my muffled cries, the center rope was pulled higher and higher, until at last my crotch was at least two feet above my head. The rope was tight against my cock and balls, and the tightly-stretched skin that connected them to my body was becoming thinner by the second. All I could do was stare fixedly at it, knowing that it would tear free at any moment.

At last the rope stretching those precious parts of my body was tied to the wall bracket, and once again the only sounds in the room were our moans of pain.

At some point in time I heard the judge's voice as he announced, "Looks like they're ready, folks. Everybody needs to get undressed so you don't get blood on your clothes, then grab your whips and teach these fucking sinners a good lesson!"

That caused a mad rush to a nearby wall that was lined with several clothes hooks, and as I watched I saw every man and woman in the room almost tearing off their clothing. In what could have been no more than ten seconds, the final pair of undershorts had been stripped down and thrown toward one of the hooks, and then it was a competition to see who could be the first to reach a cabinet mounted on another wall.

Eager hands grabbed for the knobs on the four cabinet doors, and when they were flung were flung open I saw dozens of whips of all types hanging from brackets inside it. The judge and his wife were apparently in charge of distributing those instruments of torture, and they quickly pulled one whip after another from its hanger, then offered it to an outstretched hand.

I tried to keep my eyes from staring at the spectacle those 24 men and women were presenting as they frantically grabbed a whip, with every man sporting either a full erection or a stiffening penis that was very close to it. The women were displaying breasts of every shape and size, from the pendulous melons of the judge's wife, which in her case were dangling almost to her waist, to the perky breasts of a girl who looked like a teenager. The other nine women were all younger than Elsie, with their ages ranging from the mid-50s down to the young girl. Her beautiful nipples were just as erect as any of the others, and I could see she was panting harder than anyone else, undoubtedly in anticipation of what she would soon be doing to her two victims.

In less time than it takes to tell, every man and woman was holding a whip that looked so vicious to my untrained eyes that I could no longer breathe. All of them were identical, with a tubular, black leather handle about one foot long. Hanging down from the top of the handle were several thongs, also made of black leather.

The crowd split as evenly as possible, then the two groups gathered around the two of us. As their eyes stared avidly at our stretched bodies, they swished the thongs through the air, producing a sound that was far beyond menacing, more than terrifying, and holding the promise of red welts and shredded flesh. I know I was unable to utter even the slightest sound, and the lack of anything from my wife just told me she was as terrified as I was right then.

The judge was standing right beside my midsection, which was still settling by small increments toward the floor as my tender flesh stretched more and more. I saw him glance toward my wife's body, and when I looked that way also, I saw that Elsie was standing directly in front of Becky's stretched and exposed crotch, staring up at the gaping pussy like it was the most-beautiful sight she'd ever seen.

As if some agreement had been reached by telepathy, every arm raised its whip high in the air, and at the judge's cry of, "Whip the sin from their bodies!" each arm descended and the thongs found their targets.

I saw them striking my wife's breasts so hard that those parts of her body were flying from side to side from the force of the strokes. Elsie, along with two other women and one man, was aiming every stroke at the gaping pussy, and the sounds of the thongs impacting the moist folds were loud enough to be heard even over the sounds from my own tortured flesh.

As every part of her body was quickly covered with red welts, Becky began to moan twice as loud as before, and to my utter amazement, her crotch began to thrust back and forth and her eyes were clamped tightly shut. I could only think that she was unconsciously trying to move her midsection to avoid the punishment, but as she humped the air more vigorously with each passing second, I gave up on trying to analyze what she was doing.

Most of the strokes I was receiving were aimed at my tightly stretched genitals, slowly turning bright red high above their usual home between my legs. Not all of those whipping me were concentrating there attention there, though. Probably one-third of the strokes were finding my wide-open crotch, especially my puckered opening and the thin tube of flesh that still connected my cock and balls to my body.

Most painful of all were the strokes to the soles of my feet, and it was those that elicited my loudest cries and most-vigorous attempts to avoid the stinging lashes. I don't know why my brain chose that moment to remember an article I had read years before that dealt with the tortures inflicted during the Spanish Inquisition, but it did.

It was in that treatise that the author claimed the bottoms of our feet possess the most nerve endings per square centimeter, and for that reason they are capable of giving more agony than any other part of a person's body, including the genitals. He then went on to describe the instruments that had been designed to give excruciating pain to the feet of anyone who fell captive to their torturers.

As my own feet were whipped, I no longer doubted the truth of that writer's words, and it was when they were visited by lash after lash that I was the closest to passing out.

At last the whipping stopped, probably due more to exhaustion of those swinging the whips than to any sympathy they had for what we were experiencing. When I at last came back to full consciousness, my head turned toward my wife, and I saw her hanging limply in place. It was only the heaving of her chest, causing her striped and welted breasts to swing back and forth, that told me she had been able to bear the agony we'd both been subjected to.

The judge's voice rang out again, declaring what was to come next for the two of us.

"Okay, folks, I think we've given them a lesson they won't soon forget. Now let's give them a chance to give us the pleasure we've earned by helping them so much. Get the tables out, and let's show them how we do it around here!"

That declaration brought cries of agreement and excited anticipation from every throat. Other than ours, that is. As for the two of us, we could do nothing but hang there with dread filling our brains, and I'm sure my wife was trying to imagine what was to come next, just as I was.

That question was soon solved when I saw two tables on casters being pushed toward us. At the same time as that was being done, Becky was being lowered until the concrete block touched the floor, and then the rope holding her leg so high in the air was untied. Then, as helping hands guided her, she was lowered onto the table until she was resting there on her back.

The ropes that had been strangling her breasts were removed, and those parts which had been almost black just seconds before suddenly blazed bright red as the blood returned to them. That brought louder whimpers of pain from behind her gag, and the way she writhed as she lay on the table was all I needed to see to know she was in horrible pain.

It was right then that my own body was lowered to the second table, and as I lay there on my back, trying to guess what was to come next, the ropes around my wrists and genitals were removed. The two ropes tied to my ankles were left in place, and they were still holding my legs widely spread.

Our positions on our respective tables were adjusted until our crotches were right at the edge of one end, after which my leg ropes, as well as the two that had been tied to Becky's ankles, were pulled upward until our bottoms were barely touching the tabletop. With that part done, the final step in securing us in place was taken care of.

The size of the tabletop was small enough that when my arms were pulled downward and cuffed to the table's front legs, my head was beyond the edge of the top. Becky had been placed on her table, which had been located so it was parallel to mine, but with her in reversed position to me. She was far enough away that just by turning her head she could see all of my body, while I could do the same thing to see hers. Surprising to me was the evidence that her pussy was still lubricating strongly, and I was glad to see that, because I knew that would help her endure the ordeal that I knew she would soon be facing.



Chapter 3


Strangely enough, instead of ****** or further torturing us, the people surrounding our tables began to caress and kiss every part of our bodies they could reach. It took only a few seconds for what had been groans of pain from my wife to become moans of pleasure, and when I looked toward her, I saw her nipples were standing as proud as I'd ever seem them. Her pussy was responding to the caresses of eager fingers, and when one woman removed her hand from there, it was glistening with pussy juices.

In my own case, the touches and caresses that were given me had the predictable result, and my abused cock, even though wracked with horrible pain, began to writhe as it stiffened. As it became fully erect, it must have been the signal for the next part of the night to get underway.

I was looking at my wife's helpless body when I saw one of the men step up to her crotch, and with no hesitation at all, guide the head of his rampant organ into her wide-open pussy. That sight was enough to freeze me in place, because it was the answer to all the fantasies I'd had about her ever since we had first met. My primary dream about her, literally every night, was that she would take a lover, or sometimes more than one, and force me to watch as they made love to her. There was no other fantasy that could get me more aroused, and now that I was watching that occur in reality, I was stunned by the power the sight had to arouse me.

When his organ was about halfway inside her, Elsie removed the gag that had reduced her voice to nothing but muffled moans and groans, and I heard her clearly ask, "Sweetie, do you want me to make him stop fucking you?"

My wife's response was instaneous and charged with emotion, and her words did nothing but fan my own increasing arousal.

"Oh, God, no! Please make him fuck me as hard as he can! Make all of them fuck me until I pass out! Please!"

The elderly woman's only reply was to push Becky's head down, and then to step forward until her pussy was pressing against the prisoner's lips. Elsie's sigh of pleasure told me that she was being licked, and that it was good, very good.

It was at that moment that my own head was pushed down, and the gag removed from my lips. I barely had time to understand that an engorged penis was rubbing against my lips before my mouth automatically opened, and the invader filled it. As the man slowly thrust back and forth I frantically licked and sucked him, reveling in the taste of his semen, something that I had craved so much when I was much younger, but had denied that craving ever since I first discovered girls when I was in high school. Suddenly all the intervening years melted away, and I was once again in the basement of my childhood home, with my brother's penis, or one belonging to one of his friends, buried deep in my throat.

I licked and sucked with all my strength, as if trying to draw the wonderful taste directly from the man's body, when all of a sudden I felt another sensation that I'd know many times during my childhood. That sensation, of course, was caused by something long and hard being rubbed against my puckered opening, and from long habit I forced that part of my body to relax and welcome the second invader.

From far, far away I felt something being done to my penis, but I had no idea what it was, since the only thing I could see were a man's balls striking against my eyelids every time he thrust forward. His final thrust took all my attention from my own organ, and as his sperm filled my mouth, I suck and swallowed with all my strength, until at last he had no further need of me, and he stepped back.

I raised my head far enough to see that a second man had taken his place between Becky's legs, and the teenage girl had taken the place of the judge's wife. I could hear muffled moans coming from beneath the girl's crotch, as well as see the way my wife's hips were continuing to frantically hump her rapists. Then, as my head was forced back down for further use, a quick glance at my genitals showed me that a small cord had been tied tightly around the base of my cock, and I knew I wouldn't be able to cum until it was removed.

A second penis was welcomed into my mouth just as my own rapists was cursing me for a "fucking queer" as he found his own release deep inside me. Again I licked and sucked, hoping against hope that the cord would be removed and I'd be able to find a release of my own, but that didn't happen.

When the second man ejaculated and stepped back from my head, I quickly glanced at Becky, just in time to see one of the women on her knees between those widespread legs. As I stared and stared, she inserted all four fingers inside the pussy dripping with two loads of semen, and then worked them deeper and deeper, until at last her entire hand disappeared inside my wife's treasure. She then pistoned her arm back and forth, doing her best to ram it as deep as possible in the gaping opening.

As movement at the other end of the table drew my eyes that way, and I saw one of the men standing at Becky's head, and I watched as her mouth fell open and he stepped forward to give her what she wanted. Just as he was starting to thrust his organ deeper inside her mouth, a woman pushed my head back down and fed me her own dripping pussy, and I did my best to give her as much pleasure as I could.

There were eleven women and thirteen men in the room with the two of us, and all of them used us in one way or another. I lost count of how many times I was ***** in my mouth and my bottom, or was required to service one of the women while she forced her pussy against my lips. I do know I had swallowed at least seven loads of semen, because that was something I had loved to do many years ago, and old habits are hard to break.

Becky told me the next day as we returned to our home that she had orally serviced three men, and disgustingly enough, all three of them had started with ****** my back door, then used her mouth for their final release. I knew well the taste and sensations that came with doing that, for like all the rest of my perversions, that one dated from when I was just a boy.

Apparently, everyone in the room, except for me, had experienced at least one orgasm and was ready to call it a night. They cooperated in untying the two of us and helping us set up on our tables, and then with no words of explanation, Brad, the deputy who had been guarding me earlier placed his hands under my back and lifted me into his strong arms. I was barely able to register the fact that he was now fully dressed before my eyes turned towards my wife. I saw the other deputy, Tim, who was also dressed, was lifting her limp body in the same manner.

We were carried through the door and into the courtroom, then out of the building and into the night air. The cool, night air brought me back to reality just a little bit, and I could see we were being carried to the motel that was just down the street from the Justice of the Piece sign. For some reason, the fact that both Becky and I were completely naked didn't concern me in the least, and instead of struggling to be put down, I put my arms around Brad's neck and nestled my head against his strong shoulder.

A few seconds later we arrived at the motel, and I was startled to see the same teenage girl standing by the door to our unit, holding it open so we could be carried inside. The only one of us who said anything at all when we entered the room was Becky, who said sleepily, "I really need to pee."

Tim said, "Don't worry about a thing, Sweetheart. After the good time you gave us tonight, you deserve to get anything you need." He then kept walking to the back, and as he entered the bathroom still carrying my wife, he very carefully turned sideways so her head wouldn't bang against the side of the opening. By that time the girl had already turned back the covers on the bed, and Brad bent over and placed my almost-numb body on the sheet and my head on the pillow.

When she saw I was situated for the night, the girl said, "Bye now, Todd. I have to get back to the office in case any late arrivals need a room. I just wanted to tell you how much fun it was to have you guys here for a visit. When Grandma told us all the things she'd been talking about with Becky, we all knew it was going to be the most-exciting thing ever around here, and boy, was she right about that! I just can't wait for you to come back to us so we can do all the other stuff she wants."

Then, with a final "Bye" she walked out the door, closing it softly behind her.

It was at that moment that I heard Becky's voice one last time that night. She wasn't actually uttering any words, but rather the sound she was making was a high-pitched keening noise, something like a coyote makes at night. Since I had never, ever heard her make sound like that, my first thought was that Tim was hurting her even more in the bathroom, and I struggled to make my body get out of the bed and run to her.

All Brad had to do was place one of his strong hands on my shoulder and press me back down against the sheet as he chuckled and said, "Not to worry, Todd. She's fine. I would have thought you'd recognize the sound she makes when she's cumming, but maybe she's never done that with you. We all heard her do that four times tonight, but maybe you had other things to think about."

Any reply I may have had was stifled as Tim very carefully carried Becky out of the bathroom, and as I saw her body lying limply across his arms I at first feared she had passed out because of all the pain she'd been given. Then I saw her face nestled against Tim's chest, and the sweet smile on her lips told me she was the most-relaxed and most-happy I'd ever seen her.

As Tim placed her comatose body on the sheet beside me, he whispered, "That was number five, in case you were wondering, partner. I'm going over to Bill's now and make sure everybody knows about the extra one I gave her just now. My bet was five for the night, and I'm just hoping no one else chose that number for the pool. That two-hundred bucks would help me buy a real nice present for the wife."

Then, giving my sound asleep wife a gently kiss, he looked up at me and said in a firm voice, "Todd, I just wanted to tell you that I was in Airborne during Desert Storm, and I know how to handle myself. If I ever hear that you're not treating this little gal right, I'll use every skill I have to hunt you down and make you suffer like you wouldn't believe. Understand me?"

I don't know whether it was exhaustion or fright that made me unable to utter even a single word, but I guess my head nodding gave him all the answer he needed, and he headed out the door, leaving Brad alone with the two of us.

It was only as he moved his hand toward my crotch that I remembered the cord tied around the base of my penis, and that memory rekindled the flames that had been setting my whole body on fire most of the night. I had needed to cum for at least an hour, and had been beyond desperate to empty my balls for half of that. All I could hope for was that he would let me do that, if not help me.

I guess he chose the latter option, because without a word his head moved toward my engorged organ, and I just about passed out from the sensation of his lips closing over it, and his tongue caressing it. And then it was all over, and I was so far past exhaustion that I feared I couldn't even remember to breathe.

He had been on his knees beside me ever since placing my body on the sheet, and as soon as my last spasm passed he moved up to my head. Not a single word was spoken by either of us, but the strong bond I had with him by that point left no question in my mind what he wanted when he leaned over my head.

I threw my arms around his neck and drew him down to me, and as our lips met he sighed deeply and the kiss we shared was the strongest I'd ever experienced. It must have gone on for several minutes before at last he pulled away, and then as he hugged me close he whispered in my ear something that has kept me awake for many nights since our return to our home.

"Todd, I have to tell you something, because I think you might be the one I've been looking for most of my life. I was raised on a hog farm over by La Junta, and every year we cut the new piglets so they'd do a better job of getting fat. By the time I was ten years old, I was in charge of my own cutting station where we put them in a squeeze chute while we cut their balls off. I think I started having daydreams way back then about putting my brothers in the chute, and cutting them just like I was doing to the pigs.

"Every since then, I've been trying to find a man who needed that sort of thing just as much as I do, but I never found him." Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he continued, "Well, now I think I've found him, and it's you." Another breath, and then his quivering words burned themselves in my brain.

"I want to cut you more than I can say. I want to make you a eunuch, so you'll never be able to have sex again. I want to put you in a squeeze chute, then cut your ball sac right down the middle, just like I did with the pigs. I want to watch your balls fall out and hang by the cords, and then I'll tie the cords and cut both of them off and catch them in my hand and make you watch when I crush them.

"Please, Todd, come back to us so I can do that to you. I want it more than anything else in life, and if you feel like that, too, then come back to me and I'll make you my eunuch."

Giving me another lingering kiss, he then stood and pulled the covers over our bodies. With tears running down his cheeks and his voice shaking with emotion, he whispered as he opened the door, "I love you. I'll always love you."

And then the door was pulled closed behind him, and I passed out from exhaustion.



Chapter 4


I awakened with a start from the soundest, deepest sleep I'd had in many years, and immediately curled up in a fetal position as the throbbing pain in my crotch descended upon me in full force. My mind simply couldn't deal with the horrible, pounding noise that had awakened me, and before I could remind myself that Becky probably felt worse than I did, and she needed her sleep in order to recover from her ordeal just hours before, I heard her chuckling softly beside me.

It was just about all I could do to turn my head toward her, but my pain was forgotten as I saw the wonderful smile on her beautiful face. The first words out of my mouth were, "What in hell is all that racket?" The most-important question came next, and it was, "Was it all a dream, or did it really happen?"

She laughed softly, then answered, "Well, as for the 'racket,' as you call it, those are church bells. It's Sunday, Honey, and the motel is next door to a church. Believe it or not, we both slept straight through until almost 11:00, and I suppose the bells are calling our new friends to Sunday services."

She threw the covers back, exposing her gorgeous body to my sleep-fogged eyes, and all I could see were the red stripes that covered every square inch of her skin.

She stretched with every fiber of her being as she added, "And, yes, Honey, it really happened. We met all those wonderful people in the bar across the street, and then you tried to fight with two men who were in the process of taking me to the back room so they could fuck me. After that we both got arrested and taken to the Justice of the P-I-E-C-E, which I suppose could be called the correct spelling, given that he made sure everyone there got a 'piece' of my cunt and your ass, as well as both of our mouths, which I just have to tell you was the hottest thing I've ever seen. God, Honey, I've dreamed about watching you sucking off other men for years and years, and now that it's actually happened, I think it's even hotter than I ever imagined. I just love you so much for doing that for me, and for letting all those men put their cocks in your mouth so I could watch you sucking them and then eating their stuff like you were starving. You're just the best husband ever, and I love you ten times more today that I did yesterday."

I actually think she'd still be talking if I hadn't leaned over and kissed her to make her shut the fuck up. My head was pounding and every joint in my body was throbbing, and I needed a few seconds of silence to get myself together.

At last I got control of myself and asked, "Jesus Christ, you mean it wasn't just a dream? I really did that, and you really let all those men . . . do that stuff to you? That part was real, too?"

She laughed again, then answered my impassioned question in a sultry voice.

"Yes, Honey, it all happened just like you remember. You got fucked, you sucked off a dozen men, and ate at least that many cunts. Then I got fucked by another dozen men, and their wives sat on my face and made me eat their cunts. Not to mention that we were both stretched out above the floor and they all whipped us. So, yes, it was all real. And I've never felt more happy or more free. I've wanted all that stuff for years and years, and I'm glad it finally happened."

All I could do was lie there as if frozen, trying to deal with the fact that my "nightmare" was actually reality, and that everything I remembered was true. It took me a long, long time to finally accept the truth of Becky's words, but at last I did. I moved closer to her, took her in my arms, and put my head beside hers, because I knew that I had to know if what she'd said about her reaction to last night was the truth, or if she was just pretending out of love for me.

With my mouth close to her ear, I very quietly asked, "So, you're not just trying to make me feel good about what happened. You really and truly wanted all that stuff to . . . to happen to us? You wanted us to be whipped and to be forced to . . . have sex with all those people? Is that what you're telling me, Sweetheart?"

She pulled away far enough that she could look directly at my face, then apparently satisfied that I really needed to have her confirm what she'd already said, she went through everything once more. When she could see that I was satisfied, she added, "Now it's time for us to get ready to go, or it'll be dark before we get home. Let's grab a quick shower and get loaded up and go check out. When we get back on the freeway, I'm going to tell you how this all came about, and we need to talk about some other stuff, too."

So, with that settled, we took turns showering, then got dressed in the spare clothes we'd packed for the trip (thank goodness for that, since the clothes we'd worn yesterday had been cut to pieces the previous night). We loaded up and drove to the office to check out, where there was another surprise waiting for me.

When we walked into the motel office to return the key, the teenager from last night was seated behind the counter. After we'd checked out, she walked around the counter, threw her arms around my wife's neck, and kissed her in the most-sexual way I'd ever seen it done. Then, when they were done kissing, she came to me and did the same thing, with the result that by the time she pulled away from my lips, my much-abused penis was trying its level best to get hard, but wasn't having much success.

As we bid each other good-bye, she said, "Grandma told me you two were going to be something special, and that was the God's truth. I've never had anybody eat my pussy as good as you did, Becky, and I've never loved more whipping a guy's dick that I did yours last night, Todd." Then, taking a deep breath and gathering her thoughts, she added, "I hope you'll come back and see us real soon. I know all of us are already thinking of other fun things to do to you, so I can promise you a real good time."

After another round of good-byes, Becky and I got in our car and got on the highway heading home. Just as we passed the church, we saw Clarence and Elsie standing on the front steps. He was dressed in a minister's robe and she was wearing the robe of a deaconess. When they saw us driving by, both of them waved vigorously and blew kisses our way, as did several other people we recognized from last night.

The drive from the motel to the freeway took less than an hour and a half, and most of it was spent in silence. I'm sure Becky was just as lost in thought as I was, and she was probably busy trying to come to terms with everything we'd been put through just a few hours before. However, once we merged with the sparse traffic heading north, and I had set the cruise control, she lay her head back on the seat and turned toward me, then proceeded to explain how the night had come about, and what it meant for our lives from that point on.

"I've already told you I wanted everything that they did to us, so I guess you're just going to have to accept that it's the truth. In case you still don't think I'm serious, then think about this: When I called to make our reservations, I talked to the young girl who was there with us last night and in the office this morning. She's actually the granddaughter of the judge and his wife, Clarence and Elsie. She was really curious when I asked if there were a saloon close to the motel, but she didn't go any farther than that after I said we'd be celebrating our tenth anniversary, and we wanted to have a few drinks before we went to bed.

"Well, I guess she was more interested that I'd thought, because just about an hour later the phone rang, and it was Elsie. She at first said she just wanted to confirm our reservations, and wanted to make sure she had the right phone number and all that stuff. Then she said her granddaughter had mentioned it'd be our tenth wedding anniversary, and we wanted to celebrate it in a bar close to the motel, and . . . one thing led to another, and before I knew it I was telling her all the details about how for the last seven years I'd been going to the bar by myself dressed like a prostitute, and then you'd come in a few minutes later and watch me flirting with all the men who were interested. And how after that we'd run to the motel and fuck each other's brains out.

"She said she completely understood why we did that, and she thought it was a really wonderful way to renew our marriage, and other stuff like that. Then there was this big pause before she finally said, 'Becky, if you're truly interested in making this anniversary one you'll always remember, I think we can help you out. It's a big committment, because once you tell us you want something really special to happen to the two of you, then it'll happen even if you change your mind. Now, if you understand that, then I want you to tell me every dirty thing you've ever dreamed about doing or having done to you, and every dirty thing you want to see your husband do or have done to him, and when you guys come down here, that's the way it'll be.'

"Well, I guess there was just something so friendly about her that I never even though about being shocked or offended, but instead just started confessing and the next thing I knew I'd told her about all my fantasies about being kidnapped and whipped and then gang ***** by a bunch of men and women. And then I told her that right from the first night of our marriage, I'd wanted to see you having those same things happen to you. And she said all we needed to do was show up on time and she'd make sure my fantasies came true.

"And we did, and they did, and here we are covered with whip marks and my cunt and your ass are hurting like hell, and your dick probably won't be able to get hard for a month, and your balls are big as baseballs, and I saw how much you loved sucking off other men and being fucked by them, and you saw how much I loved being fucked by dozens of men and being forced to eat their wives' pussies."

She then lapsed into silence, and if her eyes weren't still wide open, I'd have thought she'd fallen asleep. After a couple minutes, though, she started talking again, and that time it was to tell me her ideas for our sex lives in the months and years to come.

"Honey, I've been thinking non-stop about how we can keep from going back to the way we used to be, because I don't think either one of us could stand to live like that ever again. We've both admitted that we loved watching each other have sex with other people, and I think we have to have that sort of thing in our lives. So, here's what I think we should do.

"I think the best thing for us would be to have another married couple we could get together with at least once a month, and more if it proved to be good for all of us. I actually think that I've already met them, but I'll have to explore that some more after we get home."

I asked her if I knew the couple, and she answered, "Well, I doubt it. They moved into a house two blocks east of us a few months ago, and you never mentioned anything about them. He teaches in the math department at the University, which isn't all that close to your building on the campus. She's a part-time paralegal in a lawyer's office downtown, so I can't see any reason you'd have met either of them.

"I met her a couple months after they'd moved in when I was taking some trash out to the cans by the alley. She was running around in the alley picking up trash that had blown our way after some dogs tipped over their can, and when I helped her she thanked me and then introduced herself as "Clarissa, but please call me 'Rissa.'

"I told her my name, and when she put her hand out I shook it like usual, but instead of letting go, she just kept holding my hand and caressing the back of it with her thumb. Do you know what that means when women do it to each other, Honey?"

I had to confess that I didn't have any idea women had signals like that, and she proceeded to tell me just how limited male knowledge of women can be.

"Well, it basically says, 'I'm interested in you. Are you interested in me?' So, what else could I do but return the signal, and we stood there talking for a few minutes, just trying to get to know each other. She was the first to take charge, which tells you something about her personality as opposed to mine, and that was the start of something that's been going on ever since that day.

"Since we were still sort of feeling each other out, she invited me to follow her home to have a cup of coffee and trade gossip about the neighbors, which is always a fun thing to do. Well, to make a long story short, I walked back to her house with her, both of us picking up pieces of trash along the way, and then putting it back in their cans.

"Their back door comes directly into the kitchen, and she got a couple of cups and filled them with coffee, and then we sat side by side at the table and talked for a long time while sipping the stuff and looking out the big window there. All of a sudden it occurred to me that not only were we holding hands again, but that we'd been doing that for quite a while. When she saw me looking down at our hands, she got right to the point and asked me, 'Do you do women?'

"Well, what else could I say but, 'Only every chance I get.' I guess that was the answer she was looking for, because she put her hand on my neck and pulled my head toward hers, and next thing I know we were kissing, and then she was nibbling on my lips and doing it strong enough to make it hurt. When I didn't pull away it must have sent the message she was looking for, and she told me to stick my tongue in her mouth, and when I did she bit down on it and tried to pull it off.

"That still didn't make me try to get away, so she got right to the point by telling me to, 'Get your fucking clothes off, and be quick about it!' and I stood up and pulled my tee-shirt over my head. I wasn't wearing a bra, as usual, and she really liked that part and told me to play with my nipples so she could see how big they'd get.

"After I'd done that for her for a couple minutes, she told me to get on with it, so I stepped out of my loafers and pulled off my socks. As I unfastened my slacks I wiggled my hips around in a circle just to get her turned on even more, and then when I pushed them down and kicked them across the room, she almost yelled at me when she said something like, 'Get those fucking panties off right now!' So, I did that just as quick as I could.

"She told me to gather up all my clothes and throw them in a closet which had a locking knob, which I thought was pretty strange, but I was too turned on by then to give it much thought. As soon as she locked the door so I couldn't get to my clothes she told me, 'If you don't do everything I tell you to do, you'll never see your clothes again, and I'll make you walk home naked.'

"God, Honey, you'll never know how that turned me on, and how much it made my cunt drip. It did that lots more when she led me upstairs to their bedroom, and by the time I had undressed her and kissed every part of her body that I could see, we were both dripping. She pretty much threw me down on her bed and then got on my face, and by then I didn't need any more instructions, so I gave her the best pussy licking ever and then she climaxed all over my mouth.

"As soon as she had rested up, she made me lie flat with my arms and legs spread so she could drive me crazy with her teasing. She told me not to move, but I just couldn't do anything to stop my crotch from humping her hand, and I guess she took pity on me and let me cum before I passed out from frustration.

"After that, we just cuddled and kissed for a long time, while I told her about the part of my early life that made me about 75% lesbian, and then she asked about you, and I told her everything she wanted to know. She made me give her another climax, then told me she needed to get busy on typing up some notes for a case she was working on, and we went back downstairs to the closet. I guess I was afraid she was going to make me walk home naked, 'cause it was a big relief when she unlocked the door and let me get dressed.

"The very-next morning I got a text from her, and I've memorized it since she sends the same message when she wants me to come to her house so I can make her cum. 'Get ur cute ass down here, bitch!' was all she's ever sent me, but it's enough to make me drop whatever I'm doing and run to her back door. She's always waiting for me, and as soon as I'm inside I strip and she locks my clothes in the closet, and then we run upstairs to their bedroom and she spends about half an hour doing things to me like last night, and then I give her two orgasms, and if I've done a good job she'll give me one.

"Anyway, Honey, I think you get the idea where this is going. What Rissa wants me to do is bring you to their house for dinner two weeks from last night. I've never seen her husband, Jamaal, other than his photograph beside the bed, so it'll be the first time for both of us. She always tells me how handsome he is, and how huge his cock is, which always gets me off. And just in case you're wondering, yes, they're both black.

"I'm not sure what the plans are for after dinner, so I guess we'll just have to play it by ear and follow their lead. I wouldn't be surprised if they make us spend the night with them, which I've wanted us to do since forever. Let's keep our fingers crossed that they'll want us to do that. Okay, Honey?"

Do you have any idea how difficult it is to type with your fingers crossed?



The End


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Questions or comments? Please write to me at: sharon_smif@gmx.com.