Turnabout Pt. 01

(This is really a story about anal with a very small amount of non-consent involved, but I like the two characters and if anyone else does I may write about their further adventures...)

I don't remember exactly when I first suspected that my husband was cheating on me. I do remember the shock I felt when I found out who he was cheating on me with.

To begin with, his coming home late and his occasional absences at weekends seemed normal enough. He had a demanding job and sometimes he came home at nine, rather than six. At weekends he would tell me he was going for a run, or going to play some golf with friends.

But I remember one Sunday when he was supposedly golfing with a friend, and the friend's wife posted a message on Facebook about what a lovely birthday party they were attending--and there was her husband on her arm, looking like he was having a nice time, at a moment when he was supposedly on the golf links with my husband.

So I started to suspect.

At first it was almost like a game. After ten years of marriage, we were growing tired of each other. Neither of us had wanted kids, and it was getting late for me to have some anyway, and the spark that had brought us together had worn off in the weekly routines of work and TV and IKEA and occasional mini-breaks.

So, I didn't tell him my suspicions. Instead I almost enjoyed the process of piecing them together into a theory.

I slowly eliminated most of the women we both knew, mainly on the grounds that they seemed to me like perfectly decent people who wouldn't sleep with my husband. The one or two who I wouldn't have put it past, were both people that he and I couldn't stand, and I found it hard to believe that he was faking revulsion for one of those women just to fool me, and that he was secretly infatuated with one of them.

But then, one weekend, came the fateful afternoon that I found out who was taking my husband away on little breaks.

We were in the garden and he was helping me do some weeding. (I like gardening. Maybe that makes me dull. I don't care.) We paused for a breather and he went on his phone. He smiled at something and typed something.

'What is it,' I said.

'Dan suggesting a round,' he said. 'Think I'll go after. Be back around seven.'

'Okay,' I said. 'I'll get the dinner on.'

He went inside, but left his phone lying on a lawn table.

Impulsively I picked it up. The screen hadn't yet locked. I opened his messages but there were none from Dan.

Then I opened his browser.

And there was a whole conversation, on some website, between him and someone named 'bisubguy89', in which my husband was telling this person what to expect from him later.

Gonna hold you down and put my cock right inside you and fuck you till you don't know your own name, my husband was saying.

I exited the conversation and clicked on the link for the name.

And then I saw, from the numerous nude photos, that 'bisubguy89' was a man.

There were photos and videos of him kneeling naked on a bed, blindfold; prone on a sofa, a butt plug up his arse; photo after photo of this stranger who my husband had clearly been talking to for weeks.

Whoever bisubguy89 was, he had a quite nice body and a rather attractive arse, but I was momentarily stunned. I looked at his profile: he described himself as 'bi, out and submissive'. Liked older guys. If you're bicurious get in touch.

There were photographs of him being pied in the face while naked, with some substance that looked like shaving foam. There were 'verifications' of him by people who'd met him, confirming that he was a good submissive and a pleasant guy.

I knew my husband was coming back. I photographed the profile and then went back to the conversation, shut the browser, put the phone down and put it to sleep.

My husband came back out into the garden.

I got on with the weeding.

*

I drew two conclusions from discovering the existence of b-guy, as I thought of him.

One was that I was no longer interested in being married to my husband.

The other was that b-guy had to pay for what he had done to my marriage.

I knew that my husband was the cheater, not him; but I could not let this presumably cute stranger with the enticing arse simply rob me of my conjugal attentions.

I would find b-guy.

And I would punish him. Publicly, and in the most humiliating and enjoyable (for me) way I could think of.

*

I reasoned that since b-guy was out, he would be out on other dating sites, so I quietly downloaded some dating apps and created a profile and started looking for him.

It wasn't easy, and it took some detective work because on the site he'd been talking to my husband on he had been shy about showing his face, but I eventually managed, after a bit of spotting backgrounds in his photos, to track him down to two different profiles on two different apps. On both of them he was out about being bisexual, so that was further support.

I was pretty confident that if I were to swipe yes for him, if he saw my profile, he would match it. I had used some of my best photos, including one my husband had taken of me on a beach where I was lying prone on the sand and although you couldn't actually see for sure, I happened to be naked for real. (All you could see was my head, my bare arms and the out-of-focus image of part of my bum.)

I waited to see if he would take the bait.

A few days later, he did.

He messaged me one evening, and I had to pretend that I was talking to a friend. I had mentioned in my profile that I was married and had to be discreet.

-Oh, I can be very discreet.

-Can you, indeed?

-I would never, ever tell on anyone. What people want to do in their marriages is their business.

-You don't even feel slightly naughty?

-Well, that's part of the thrill, isn't it? But the way I look at it, I'm not hurting anyone as long as the spouse never gets to hear about it.

-I suppose god forbid the spouse ever gets to hear about it, eh? ;-)

-Well, I won't tell if you won't.

-I'm kinda intrigued by the fact that you're bi. How does that work exactly?

-It's pretty simple. I like to do whatever, with whoever I'm with. I don't need to put my penis into someone else to have a good time.

-I see, I see... so with guys how do you do it?

-I prefer to be a sub with guys, so I'm more into giving BJs or being fucked, but with women I love giving oral and I have enjoyed pegging...

-Very interesting.

-Have you ever done that?

-Pegged a guy? No. Kinda curious though. I don't have the equipment for something like that.

-I do.

-Do you? Of course you do. :-) But you're not averse to giving someone a good hard fucking, if that's what they want?

-Of course not.

-Because I kind of just want something very uncomplicated, no strings, just pure sex and you sound like you'd be open-minded...

-I'm very open-minded.

-Good. Then let's talk times. I can't accommodate.

-That's fine, I can do that.

-Great. :)

*

It was almost disgracefully easy to get b-guy to agree to meet me, but that's because it's disgracefully easy to get guys to meet you, if you happen to be a woman and reasonably attractive.

I pretended to my husband that I was going to have a spa day by myself, and I drove to the street address b-guy had given me. He lived in an apartment.

I had with me a bag of things that I'd quietly acquired for use in this very situation. It was an ordinary handbag, but inside it I had stashed all my tools.

I parked the car and rang the doorbell.

'Hello?'

'Hi, it's siren here,' I said, using my dating app name.

'Hi! Come on in. Third floor.'

He buzzed me in and I ascended the stairs. I suppose many women would have been very apprehensive about seeing a single guy at his place, and if it had been a normal date, I would have been too, but this was going to be no normal date. He didn't realise it, but I was going to be in control from the first minute to the last.

When I got to his door, it was ajar but it swung open and he was inside, holding it, smiling. He was good-looking, not in an arrogant or preening way, just a guy who, if things had been different and I had been single, I might have imagined getting together with: short dark hair, blue eyes, nice cheekbones, a slightly shy affect, as if he didn't want to come on too strong.

'Hi,' I said, smiling.

'Hi,' he said. 'Welcome.'

I went in and he closed the door behind me. I was glad to see that this was obviously his home, or at least someone's home, not an empty flat he was renting for hookup (or other) purposes.

'Would you like a drink?' he said.

'What do you have?'

'I've got some chilled prosecco.'

'That sounds great.'

We sat at his kitchen table sipping the wine.

'How are you feeling,' he said.

'I'm feeling fine,' I said cheerfully, and I was. I was enjoying being with this pleasant, good-looking guy who had seduced my husband into fucking him, and who I was soon to going to sexually humiliate in public. It was lovely to imagine what his reaction would be when I utterly destroyed him.

'What's your name,' I said.

'Sandy,' he said.

'I'm Cat,' I said. It was close enough to my real name to be familiar.

'How long do you have?' Sandy said.

'Oh, the next three hours,' I said. 'Then I'll have to get back. But I'm sure we can have some fun.'

'Well,' he said, 'you know what I'm like. I think you should lead the way and let me know what you'd like me to do.'

'I hope you're not disappointed,' I said.

'God, no,' he said, smiling. 'You're gorgeous.'

'Thank you,' I said. 'Why don't you kiss me.'

Sandy got up and came over and bent down, because I was still sitting, but I took his arms and pulled down so that he was kneeling on the floor, and we kissed.

It was a good kiss, long and slow. Our tongues twisted around each other. It was going to be a pleasure to turn this man.

When we emerged, he was smiling at me.

'Why don't we take this to the bedroom,' I murmured. We got up and he kissed me again, this time putting his hands on me, moving down to my ass inside my deliberately tight skirt. I liked that and pushed my hips into his. Then we disengaged and he led me to the bedroom.

'I'd like you to undress,' I said. 'Completely.'

He nodded and quickly took off his t-shirt, then his sneakers, then jeans, and finally his boxers. He stood before me, naked, blushing slightly.

I came up to him and kissed him and pushed him against the wall. I liked how obedient he was. He put his arms around me and moaned into my mouth as I sent my hands all over his naked body, down into his crotch, handling his cock, stroking his bare ass. He had a nice body, not incredibly jacked or anything but smooth and slender, and his ass was as firm and smooth in real life as it was in photos.

'Good boy,' I murmured. 'On the bed.'

I stepped away and he got on the bed and sat on it, looking at me. I kicked off my shoes and got onto the bed and pushed him back so he lay flat, then I indicated to him to roll over. He smiled and rolled onto his belly.

I looked down at his naked body, his cute ass sticking up, and reflected that my husband had been here many times.

'Are you up for a little role-playing?' I said,

'Sure,' Sandy said, his face turned to the left.

'I brought a few toys,' I said.

'Nice,' he said, smiling.

'Let's just get you ready,' I said.

I rummaged in my bag and realised, to my annoyance, that I'd forgotten to bring my handcuffs.

'Damn,' I muttered.

'What's wrong?'

'It's ridiculous,' I said, with a light laugh, 'but I had some handcuffs I meant to bring, and I forgot them.'

'Oh, I've got some,' he said. Of course you do, I thought. 'You can use mine.'

'Great,' I said. 'Thanks.'

He got off the bed and opened a drawer and took out a pair of handcuffs, and with a quick smile to me he got back on the bed, handing them to me, and lay prone. I cuffed his wrists behind his back.

'Comfortable?'

'Yep.'

'Good boy. Okay.'

The next things I had were some ties. I spread his bare legs and cuffed his ankles to opposite legs of the bed.

'Can you guess where this is going,' I said in my most seductive voice.

'I think so,' he said with a slight chuckle.

'Now it's just time to cut you off a little bit,' I said, and I slipped the ball gag into his mouth and tied it behind his neck, then put the sleep mask over his eyes.

He wriggled a little to get comfortable, and then he was prone and spreadeagled before me, my naked, bisexual victim, the cheat who had stolen my husband.

I took out my phone, turned on the camera and started to record video.

'Before I go on,' I said, 'I want to let you know something.'

He was still and quiet.

'I've known for ages that you've been seeing my husband,' I said. 'I didn't come around here to have nice sexy times with you. I came around here to show the internet what happens to cute bi guys who make people's husbands cheat with them.'

'Mmm mmm!' he moaned, a sound of panicky protest. He shook his head no.

'I realise that this is a little unfair,' I said, 'since technically he's the cheat, not you. You're just a slut, with the morals of a street mongrel. But it was easier to get you into this position than it would be to get him into it. Him I'll just divorce, but you I want to humiliate.'

'Mmm! Mmmm! MMMM!' he moaned into the gag, his naked body squirming.

'Stay still,' I said, and I took out a lipstick and held him down as I wrote SLUT PUNISHMENT in large letters along his back.

'I'll be videoing this and posting it online,' I said. 'So that everyone can see what happens to the guy that took my husband.'

'MMMMFF!' he moaned.

I took out the dildo and the lube. I placed the dildo unhurriedly on the bed and squirted lube between his tight buttocks. He was squirming helplessly. He couldn't get away.

'How do you like it when your boyfriend's wife fucks you up your ass,' I said, and I pushed the dildo between his buttocks. He made an impotent, muffled scream. I found the hole and pressed at it. He was making incoherent noises. I penetrated him and pushed the dildo into him, up to the base.

I wrapped his t-shirt around his head to muffle him further, and so it would be less easy to identify him. I didn't want to do anything that might make me liable for punishment, just so that he would be able to see the video and would know it was him being stripped and blindfolded and bound and sodomised.

I walked around the bed, taking it in from all angles: the neat, good-looking man of about thirty, naked, blindfolded, cuffed, restrained and with a dildo shoved up his asshole, moaning as he was violated. It was so sexy that I reached into my own pants and stroked myself.

'Oh yeah,' I said, 'you look so good like that. How do you like it? How do you like knowing that the wife of the man who fucked you is fucking you now, and you can't do anything about it?'

Sandy was bucking his hips in and out, and making muffled whimpers.

Just watching his pale, smooth ass split by the dildo, knowing he was feeling it inside him, knowing that I had feminised him in this way, made me feel powerful and dominant. He was my helpless little victim, and I was taking my revenge.

I wanted to get more from him. I balanced my phone on a dresser and quickly stripped down to my underwear, then I grabbed the phone again and got onto the bed and got between his spread legs. I took the shirt from his head--his face was quite red, it must have been hot in there--and I unbuckled the gag from his mouth.

'Oh please,' he whimpered, his eyes still covered by the sleep mask.

'I wanted to know what it was like to be my husband,' I said. 'I wanted to feel like he felt when he was buggering you.'

'Please,' he sobbed, 'you're in my ass...'

'You should like that, bi boy,' I said. 'You told me you love to be fucked, when we were arranging this. I don't see why you shouldn't love it when it's a woman doing it.'

'Oh god... please...'

I wished I had a strap-on and a double dildo. Instead, I had to be content with videoing my groin leaning on the base of the dildo in him, and pushing it into him with strokes of my hips. He was making high-pitched, girlish whimpers which were incredibly hot.

I have sometimes had fantasies about fucking other women, and this was as close as I would ever get to it; Sandy was very feminine when he was being sodomised, receptive and vocal and abandoned. If I leaned over and looked underneath him, I could see that he was even aroused despite his helplessness: his cock was rock-hard, and I almost regretted that I wasn't here to let him fuck me because it was longer and narrower than my husband's and looked like a good fit.

'I'm sorry,' he whimpered, 'I'm sorry, I'll never do it again...'

'Of course you won't do it again,' I said, 'not after I've posted video of you being punished for anyone to see. You accept that you're a slut?'

'Yes,' he wept.

'You accept that you're a cheating queer slut who fucks other women's husbands?'

'Yes.'

'You accept that this is the punishment you get? To be tied up and ass-fucked by the wife?'

'Yes,' he wept, 'I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, oh please...'

'We're not done yet, bitch,' I said, pleased at how well he was responding. 'I looked up some of your other fetishes and I brought some more things.'

'Oh god,' he whimpered.

I reached for my bag and took a couple more things out, then I leaned over and pulled his sleep mask off his head.

He only had time to blink before I picked up the can of shaving foam and sprayed it liberally over his face, holding the button down while he gasped and spluttered, covering his whole head with it so he was blinded. It was all over his sheet and he couldn't get his face out of it. Then I used the other can, too, so that his entire head and shoulders disappeared under a mound of shaving foam. All the while, I continued to vigorously ass-fuck him with the dildo. He was making unrecognisable moans and whimpers under the sheet, his girlish cries rising higher and higher and coming faster and faster.

I felt his hips twitching and was delighted to see that he was cumming helplessly over the sheet. It was perfect.

So I had completely destroyed him: getting him to strip, blindsiding him, tying him up, blindfolding him and then brutally buggering and humiliating him until he actually came on my camera.

I stopped humping him and he lay there, prone, making muffled, bubbling little whimpers, naked and exhausted.

It was beautiful. But I needed to finish what I had started.

'I'll leave you there to think about what you'd done, for a bit,' I said. 'I need to get this online.'

I got off the bed, still in my bra and panties, and sauntered to the kitchen and sat down with the wine and the glasses before me.

I took my time and edited the video on my phone, and then saved it, and uploaded it to an amateur porn site. I wasn't identifiable, he barely was, but what mostly came across was how he was completely taken over by the woman cameraman who got him naked and then sodomised and humiliated him for a good half an hour, before leaving him prone and nude in a puddle of his own semen, his head obliterated with a fluffy mound of shaving foam.

'Bi slut gets assfucked and humiliated by vengeful wife', was the title. I was very happy with it.

I got up, having drunk about half the bottle, and wondered if I could get a last clip of myself sodomising him with the neck of it, except that I wouldn't do that if there were alcohol still in there and I didn't want to drink the whole thing. I walked back to the bedroom.

'I've got something I think you need to see,' I said as I went in, and then I stopped in my tracks.

He wasn't on the bed.

The ties that had been on his ankles were there, but untied. There was still the fluffy mound of shaving foam, but it was smeared all over the upper part.