Cheating Wives Always Get Caught - FTDS

Herb carefully released one leg, and loosened the restraint straps a couple of inches so she wouldn't be stretched out. Not enough to have a chance to release herself, but he hoped it would be enough to let her sleep. He searched through the medicine cabinet. He remembered the cream he'd received when he'd burned his leg, and found the Medi-First. He hoped it would do the job, it had 5% lidocaine and was supposed to prevent infection. He carefully tended her wounds, hoping she'd never need another one.

He took a few more pictures of his work, and then covered her with a clean sheet, and the bedspread. Afterward, he made himself something to eat. It was after six pm, and he had built up a bit of an appetite. She was still sleeping after he'd finished his sandwich, and he decided to do the same. After taking care of his own welts, he went to the guest room, took one of her sleeping pills, and nodded off.

~ * ~ * ~

He heard the sobbing, and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes before staggering toward the bedroom. It was still dark outside, and when he entered their bedroom, he noticed it was only 4:52 in the morning. Maureen was crying, and it broke his heart. Even after her insanity, he couldn't deny he still loved her. He had to, or that first evil action of hers would have had him walking out the door.

Herb sat down on the bed, and brushed her hair back from where it was hanging in her face, soaked from tears and sweat.

"Are . . . are we done?" she asked. Her voice was as hoarse as if she'd spent a lifetime smoking.

"One more, baby, and it'll be all over. Three strokes, just like you gave me, remember?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"You knew. Don't start lying again. I passed out, remember? Your lover told you what it would be like for me, and you went and did it anyway. Your plan was to torture me for hours, don't you recall? You'd beat me until I passed out, then abuse my ass with your fist, wasn't that your charming, loving plan?"

"I was hurt and angry. You had cheated on me, knowing how I felt about that. I had to set things straight, or I would have gone crazy!" She tugged at her restraints, remembering what had started all this.

"I know. I know exactly how you feel. And now that I know that you've cheated on me, I think it only appropriate that I do everything to you, that you planned to do to me. That sounds fair, doesn't it?"

"I never cheated!"

I sighed dramatically. "I thought we were past the lies. Have you forgotten your lover, Monique, who you got naked for, who whipped your ass, then gave you orgasms to dull the pain? That's not cheating?"

"But I didn't want it! I didn't even know she was doing that to me, I hurt so bad."

"You hurt so bad before you undressed for her, got naked for her, allowed her to cane you?"

"Stop it, Herb. You're twisting everything around. It wasn't about sex with her. I needed her advice and help."

"Funny thing, wife. You were willing to torture me based solely on circumstantial evidence. I had to accept it, or you would walk out on me, and use our money on lawyers and the courts, before listening to the truth. In your case, I actually have an admission from your lover of how you cheated on me, how you had orgasms with another woman, how you were naked for her. Everything else is just a way of justifying what you did. You know damn well, that if I was naked with a dominatrix, and she gave me an orgasm, you'd go ballistic. Like you did with much less evidence than I have."

"You cheated first," she said, sinking into the bed, wilting under his attack.

"So you keep saying, without ever hearing my side of the story. At least I've let you tell your side of your tawdry affair."

"Stop saying that. I didn't cheat. I didn't have an affair. I was taken advantage of. It's not the same."

Herb got up from the bed. "Still in denial. I think it's time for your last stroke. Shall we?"

She felt a lightning bolt of fear pass through her body, and her ass cheeks clenched closed instinctively. "Please, baby, no more. I'm really afraid you're going to injure me severely. I don't think I'll survive another one. I'm sorry I hit you three times, I only meant to do it once, I swear. All I wanted to do was give you one where it mattered. You've already given me two. Can't that be enough? Please?"

"A deal's a deal," he said, pulling the cover off of her. She was kicking with her free leg, struggling with all her strength. It took a considerable amount of effort to tighten the loose restraint, and she was sobbing, squirming weakly before he was done.

Herb made a big deal of swishing the cane in the air. Maureen buried her face in the pillow, grabbing the restraints, biting down on the material, determined to suffer this one conscious. Her entire body tensed as he told her to get ready.

The pillow holding her ass raised up was soft enough that with some effort she could force her way down on it. She figured she might be a little less exposed that way. Then she heard the fluttering of the cane.

It came down across her cheeks side-to-side. Stinging, but not the mind-numbing pain of the previous two strokes. She was still trying to come to terms with what had just happened, when her husband freed her ankles. She turned her head and watched him in shock as he released one hand, then climbing over her, he released the other.

"Hold still now," he said. "Let me put this on you."

She imagined the worst. Hot sauce, or Tiger Balm, on her stinging welts, but the cool cream seemed to help. "That's the best I can do," he said.

She turned, the pain flaring up as her weight came down on her ass. She saw the concern on his face, and then, mindlessly she was beating on him with her fists, crying. She struggled when he took her in his arms, fighting him off until she surrendered in exhaustion. "I hate you," she hissed. "I hate you for hurting me like that."

"Now you know how I feel," he said. "And that's a start."

When she stopped sobbing, he released her and started a bath. He helped her into the tub, and while she was soaking, he changed the bed again, scrubbing where she'd lost control before flipping the mattress and re-making it. He got dressed for the first time in nearly twenty-four hours, and laid out some clothing for her.

Then he went down and prepared them both some breakfast, as the dawn of a new day cast its first dim light through the dining room bay window. He imagined she'd be starving.

They ate seated as far apart as the table would allow them. Neither spoke, each glaring at the other. Both wondered if there was anything left of their marriage. When they'd finished, he cleared the table, and left the dishes in the sink. Then he walked past her and into the living room, waiting to see if she'd follow, or if he was wasting his time.

It was several minutes before she came into the room, gingerly sitting on the couch opposite him.

"Will you hear my side of things? If you insist on tying me down, caning and fisting me before hearing my version, you can forget about it. You might as well leave, because that's not going to happen. I'll see you in court, and I swear I'll come at you with everything I have."

She glared at him, sipping at her hot coffee. "Go ahead," she said after a long wait.

"Her name is Laura McGowan. She was slick. She left me some anonymous emails at first, outlining the series of affairs you'd had to get where you are today."

"I never—"

"NO!" he shouted, jumping up and staring her down. "You don't speak. You listen. You had your turn, now it's mine. When I'm done, then you can say whatever you want. I don't give a fuck what you think or want to say, until I'm done. Then you can drag your cheating, lying, evil ass out of this house like you promised, or we can try to salvage something of the mess you made!"

Maureen, almost spilled her coffee at his angry response, and leaned back into the couch as far away from him as she could. She stayed quiet.

He sat back down, and had a sip of his own coffee, then started speaking calmly as if nothing had happened. "As I was saying, the first emails were anonymous, describing your perfidy. I figured they were just some jealous co-worker's attempt to cause trouble. I knew you'd never cheat on me. At least I thought so.

"Then it was a phone call, to my cell. I wondered how she'd gotten my number. She offered more concrete evidence, and set up a meeting. By that time she had me curious.

"She must really hate you. The evidence was quite incriminating, but still I had my doubts. It was mostly circumstantial, and I wouldn't judge you on that alone. I was prepared to confront you, but Laura urged me to wait. She said she could get hard evidence.

"Three more meetings, each time with a little more proof. Pictures of you entering hotel rooms with a man. Eyewitnesses who tracked the time you spent with him. With them, I should say. The legal papers showing one of their wives had caught them and divorced them for adultery. Photos of you leaving your client's room after hours spent together, looking a mess, with that joyous 'just fucked' look on your face.

He watched her face, and saw how much she wanted to argue. "I'll show you the evidence shortly. But that's not our primary concern now."

He took a moment to put his thoughts together. "I did a stupid thing. I allowed myself to get into a compromising position with her. I did things I shouldn't have. I kissed her, or I should say I didn't stop her from kissing me. She was the aggressor at all times, and I was so upset, so confused, so hurt, I didn't stop her. Not at first. I'll admit it, I came damn near to cheating on you. She had me half-undressed before I stopped her. She was already down to her panties and bra by then. But I did stop her. I just couldn't accept what she had said, no matter how much evidence she had. I needed to hear it from you.

"Yes, for quite a while there, while she was slowly feeding me her information, things were not good between us. I doubted you. I was also feeling guilty for listening to her, and the continued meetings. I was slowly becoming convinced that where there was that much smoke there had to be fire. Your meteoric rise within the company, which I had always believed you earned, now made me wonder.

"Still, I turned her down. I'll admit, it was difficult. She's a very attractive woman, she was half naked, throwing herself at me. I was pretty sure by then you'd been cheating on me. It would have been so easy to give in, but I didn't."

He stood up, and started pacing, angry, at himself, at her, but mostly at the people he saw were behind everything.

"I imagine your evidence includes information about me and that last meeting. Entering a room with her, eyewitnesses to the time I was in there, and my disheveled state upon leaving. The lipstick on my face, which I didn't notice until much later in the day. I don't think it's a coincidence that your good friend Anita was in the hotel that day, and just happened to see us leave together.

"We were set up. I'm convinced of it. You and I were both led to believe the other cheated. I'm sure your evidence was probably just as strong as mine. Of course I didn't know that at the time. I only came to realize the extent of their treachery while I was sitting alone, waiting for you to wake up.

"If you were to ask Laura, I believe she'd probably admit to sleeping with me, even though it never happened. She obviously detests you, and I'm convinced her goal was to split us up. To cause enough upheaval in our marriage to make you ineffective at work, or maybe there's something else at play, but I'm absolutely convinced that it was a setup from the start."

He turned away from her, and retrieved his briefcase. "Perhaps you'd like to see the evidence I was given," he said, spreading out photos and photocopies on the coffee table in front of her.

"Here, you're seen getting into an elevator, with some man who has his arm around your waist. You both appear to be laughing having a good time," Herb said, pushing a picture forward. "Here, you're entering a room with him, number 217. The picture is time-stamped. Here, you're leaving the room, almost two hours later. You look a mess. And that smile on your face? You sure seemed to have a good time."

"No, baby. These pictures are wrong—"

"Shh. Let me finish, so you can see what I was shown." He pushed another picture across the table. "How about this one? You're leaving a man's room with your hair wet. Why would you have wet hair? A shower perhaps, after your hours together? This picture shows you were leaving his room at seven in the morning. A week later, mister Arthur Mellon was served with divorce papers."

He started pushing the papers across faster. "Here, the signed contract, signed the same day you spent two hours in room 217. Here, another big contract from mister Mellon's firm. Here, an expense report, no meals purchased, for the entire weekend, not even breakfast. Pictures of you eating with your client, sharing wine, sitting close, obviously flirting. Entering an elevator, dancing, more dancing, here, with a hand on your ass, here a close up of his hand in your skirt—"

"Stop it," she cried. "It's a lie. All of it."

Herb sat back, nodding. "I believe it might be. Convince me."

She started with first picture. "Room 217 is not a bedroom. It's a hospitality suite. That was a team building exercise. There were eight of us in that room. I'm a mess because they were doing those stupid team-building things like catching you when you closed your eyes and fell backwards, trusting your peers to make sure you didn't fall. That's Bill from accounting. He works for us, not Smiths, who the contract was with. He's gay, Herb. We were talking about his planned trip to California, so he and his partner of twelve years could get married. When I left, I was grinning because I'd just gotten word that the contract had gone through."

She grabbed another picture. "This one, Art Mellon. My hair is wet because it was raining out. My hair was wet when I went into the room, and wet when I left, not five minutes later. And this timestamp is bullshit! It was nearly four in the afternoon, when I stopped in to make sure he had the updated contract. If he got divorced, it had nothing to do with me."

She looked at more of the pictures. "Some of these are real, but they don't tell the true story. Yes, I flirt with my customers. You know that. I've never denied it. You know I use everything I have to win - my looks, my personality, my acting classes, and a lot of hard work. I'll flirt, I'll flatter, I'll faun all over them, but I don't cheat. I never have. I've never needed to. Yes, I'm dancing with a client. He probably put his hand on my ass, a lot of them do. I don't let it stay there, but I'm gracious in denying them. That hand was probably there for all of two seconds. That hand up my skirt? Never happened. That's not me. I don't know who it is, but I know for sure it's not me, because I've never allowed a client to do that." She looked at the papers, again, reading then pressing on. "It's all a big setup. All of it. I never cheated on you, I swear baby! How could you even believe this shit!"

"Funny you should ask. How could you believe that I ever cheated on you?"

She shook her head. "You . . . the way you were acting, what I heard, what I saw, you have to understand, they had the hotel room, witnesses, even a picture of you, after . . ."

Herb just glared at her. "And that was enough to see a dominatrix, and to make your evil plan, without ever confronting me."

She was quiet, slowly pushing the evidence around. When she looked up she had tears in her eyes. "You . . . you didn't, did you?"

"No. I kissed her. She touched me inappropriately. I'm ashamed I let it go that far, but that's all!"

"But you have to understand how it looked, baby," she whined piteously.

"I do. Especially seeing how much effort they put into convincing me that you were cheating on me, and not just once but serially, to win business." He leaned forward, his voice dropping. "But I never, ever considered torturing and abusing you for it. Never. Unlike you, I love you too much to consider something that disgusting, that evil. No, I was going to confront you, but then your behavior changed so dramatically, I was confused. You were the one cheating, but then you suddenly behaved as if I was somehow guilty. I decided to wait until the weekend, so we could have it out, without work interfering, but you decided to act first."

She moved back in her seat, wincing at the pain. The pain she'd earned by accusing him and acting on it. By lying to him about what she had planned.

"How bad are we?" she asked.

"Very bad. Very, very bad," he said.

"I was set up. We both were. Don't you believe I didn't cheat on you? I couldn't."

"Monique?"

She lowered her face. "I didn't mean to. You know that. I wasn't naked. I raised my dress, and removed my panties, but only so I could understand what it was like. The rest of it, I didn't want that. She did it on her own. She took advantage of me."

"And would you accept that argument from me, if I was the one coming from her touch?"

She was slow to respond. "I don't know. Probably not. Maybe, God, I don't know, baby. I'd hope I'd at least be able to give you the benefit of the doubt."

"Honestly?"

She slowly shook her head. "No. Probably not. There's no excuse." She slowly looked up, offering a half grin. "I'd probably be a lot less pissed if it was a guy. I'd know you didn't want it then."

For the first time since the beginning of their discussion, her husband smiled. "Well played. You're right. If you'd gone to a man, I don't think this little talk would have gotten this far."

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know. I'm still finding it incredibly hard to accept what you had in mind for me, without ever giving me a chance to respond. Trying to blackmail me into accepting a punishment I didn't deserve. Lying to me about what was going on, and hitting me with that damn cane. I never knew you were so deceitful and vicious. You enjoyed that way too much. The things you had planned . . ."

"I'm sorry. You have to know how much I regret—"

"No! You don't get to say you're sorry, or how much you regret it. Have you already forgotten? Those are your rules. Accept the punishment, the pain, the humiliation, but you don't get to say you're sorry."

"What can I do? How can I make it up to you?"

"Damn it, Maureen! We both know you're not stupid. Far from it. Have you already forgotten your own evil, disgusting rules? You're not allowed to talk about making it up to me. Remember?" He stood, pacing the room. "You have no idea how close I came to walking out, Maureen. Let you take it to court, and then deny you when you were on your knees, begging me to take you back. You asked if maybe we'd run our course, and if what you were doing proved you didn't love me. That's exactly what I was thinking. Nobody who professed to love someone could do what you had in mind. Impossible."

"But I do love you! It was a way to get us past your betrayal."

"Right. The betrayal that never happened. Only one of us cheated, and it wasn't me."

She finally realized just how bad things were. How her actions had led them to this. She could lose him.

"Are you going to leave me?" she asked.

Herb sat down, holding his head in his hands. "I don't know. I honestly don't know. It would be so easy to hate you for what you did, and what you wanted to do."

"Can I ask you for one favor?" she pleaded.

"Really, Maureen? A favor? After all this?"

She nodded. "I won't ask for anything else. I love you, baby, and I'll do whatever you decide is best. If that means us no longer being together, if I've destroyed your love and trust, I'll accept it. I'll hate it, and I need you to know that I'll do anything to avoid that, but if that's what you need, I understand."