Happy Anniversary

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Cheating spouse gets a special anniversary gift.
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The candles were lit. The table was set. The only thing missing was the guest of honor: my wife, Laura. After seven years of marriage I should have learned to expect this. She spent so much of her time and energy (and my money) being fashionable that she was almost always fashionably late. This was supposed to be a special occasion though. I sat at the kitchen table watching the minutes tick by on my watch.

She was now 45 minutes late when I heard the sound of the her brand new Lexus pulling up. I was so annoyed that I thought I'd just let her find her own damn way in here to me but soon enough I heard the doorbell ring followed by a familiar voice calling, "A little help here?"

I opened the door to find my little blond wife done up from head to toe, in her perfectly coordinated designer top and skirt teetering on 4 inch heels. Both arms loaded down with shopping bags from boutiques with names I couldn't begin to pronounce. I'd say that she had gotten dressed up for our anniversary dinner but the reality was this woman made sure she looked immaculate whether she was going to a formal dinner or going to spend an evening watching TV. She breezed past me with her latest haul and blew a little air kiss over her shoulder before chattering away. "I am sooooooo sorry but the woman at the salon took forever with my nails. I mean, hello? It's not like I grew any extra fingers since last time! And then the place next door had this amazing gown in the window..."

I zoned out a little as I typically did when she would start going on and on like this. Whatever the hell she did with her day would be spelled out in plenty of detail the next time I looked at the credit card statement. She finally started wrapping it up. "...she said they could get them in my size but I'd have wait a couple of weeks. Can you believe that? Anyways, I've been on my feet for long enough. I am wiped the heck out, sweetie. I was thinking I'd grab a glass of wine and... oh my!"

She had wandered into the kitchen to find the table all set. Even with her back to me I knew there had to be a deer-in-the-headlights stare on her face. She pivoted and threw her arms up in the air, shouting, "Happy Anniversary!' with far too much enthusiasm. I picked up the bottle of red from the counter and gestured for her to take her seat. "How about that glass of wine?" I poured two and came to the table. I pulled her chair back like a proper gentleman, pushing it in her for her as she sat. Just for a moment I saw a look of smug satisfaction as she gazed upon the large covered serving dish in the middle of the table. She thought I bought her BS. She looked up at me and asked, "So what's for dinner?"

She was answered by two metallic clicks as the plush handcuffs closed on her wrists, chaining her to the arm rests of the chair. Her eyes bulged for a moment and then a coy smile curled across her lips. "Mmmm, very kinky, Paul. But seriously sweetie I am starving and very thirsty. How about we leave the toys out of it until after dinner?' She pulled the cuffs up as far as they would stretch and shook her wrists expectantly.

I shrugged. "Sure, honey dearest, but let me at least show you what's on the menu first." She rolled her eyes and gave her best condescending smile to let me know she'd play along. I stood at attention like a waiter at a black tie event and lifted the metal dome covering the dish at the center of the table with a flourish. I kept my eyes fixed on my wife's face for her reaction and I wasn't disappointed. Confusion, then shock, and then the color running completely from her face. Sitting in the middle of a fancy silver platter in the middle of the table wasn't food, but photos. Photos taken by a private investigator I had hired. Photos of my pretty little wife fucking a man twice her age. He was tubby, bald, disgusting, and just happened to be my boss. The P.I. had caught them in plenty of places over the two weeks he had tailed her. There were a few shots at a hotel where the blinds were not quite drawn all the way. A few more at his house which looked to be even more palacial than mine. The clearest ones, the ones that couldn't be explained away by even the most desperate of husbands who didn't want to believe, came from my boss' office. Evidently when you're in the corner office on the 15th floor you expect a little more privacy than they got. From the roof of a building across the street the investigator caught them in all their glory. My wife was bent over his desk and practically looking right into the camera, with that sweaty pig of a man behind her clearly enjoying the view as he had his way with her.

What really amazed me was how quickly Laura went from shocked to angry, as if there she was the

aggrieved party somehow. "WHERE DID YOU GET THOSE, YOU SON OF A BITCH?!?' She furiously struggled against the restraints but they held tight. She kicked but with her legs under the table she only succeeded in kicking off one of her high heels. The heavy wooden chair didn't budge an inch no matter how much rage her 105 pound frame could muster.

I took a seat on the edge of the table in front her, projecting all the calm in the world while she stared daggers at me. She was still fighting those cuffs quite hard, no doubt imagining how much damage she could do to my face with those freshly manicured nails. "You know, Laura, I think maybe it should be you answering my questions first. Lets start with, 'why?', shall we?"

She stopped fighting but her tone remained just as hostile. I thought she might at least try to fake an apology but instead she remained defensive and full of accusations. "Because you're never around, Paul! What did you expect to happen? I am a woman, I have needs. Ones that Rick was at least man enough to satisfy. This is your fucking fault if we're being honest. Uncuff me. NOW."

I took a deep breath. I wasn't going to lose my temper. Not yet.

"You want to know why I work all the time? Because for the last six months that asshole has been handing me more and more work. At first he said that the overtime pay would go a long way towards giving that pretty young wife of mine the good life. Then I started hearing rumors that he was dumping his work on everyone so he could duck out of the office and fuck some bitch on the side. I thought maybe if I had proof that he was doing that on company time I could get him fired and get a promotion out of it. Then I saw these."

I picked up a few from the pile and jammed them in her face one by one. "Remember these?"

She flinched as I literally rubbed her nose in it. A picture of them sharing a kiss in a hotel lobby-"that time you had to give Shelly a ride to the airport?" Another of her on her knees, sucking him off as he sat in his throne like office chair-"Or that baby shower for Karen?" A grainy shot of that slimebag on top of her in the same bed he shared with his wife - "What about that flat tire you had a couple of weeks ago?"

She tried to pull away, almost as if she was as disgusted as I was at the sight of her actions. Or it wasn't even her in the pictures, just some trashy tramp we happened to both know. She was finally realizing how bad she had fucked up. The slightest hint of tears started to well up in her eyes.

"Or maybe the question I should be asking is why I shouldn't just put your ass out on the street? The house, that car of yours, these credit cards. All in my name. Or maybe you forgot the terms of the prenup? That infidelity clause applies to you too, Laura. You'd get jack shit in a divorce now. Or do you think Rick's going to take of you like I have, you spoiled cunt? He's married too. Did he forget to mention that or did you just not give a damn? That's what I'm really wondering these days."

"Please, Paul. I...I know I made some mistakes. And that I hurt you. You have every right to be upset but we can work this out. I know we can. Deep down you know that too because we love each other. I love you so much, baby, I just want to make this right again. So, how about you undo these?"

God I wanted to believe that. She could see how badly I wanted that too. She always could read me like a book. I used to think that was what made her a good wife. Now I knew that it was what made her such a good liar as well. I sat there sipping some wine and studying her. Looking for any reason to believe. She must have felt she still had me on the hook. Her next words were going to real me in.

She was cranking up the charm; softening her voice and looking my body up and down with bedroom eyes. "Sooner I'm out of these the sooner I can start making it up to you. Please, baby. You're such a good man, Paul. I know you can forgive and we can move on. I've already forgiven you..."

I took one more long drink from wine glass without taking my eyes off her for a second. I stood, leaned in, and spit the wine right in her face. The liquid and the look of disgust spread across her face. I watched with satisfaction as dark drops ran from her forehead to her chin, rinsing away the false face she had spent at least half an hour putting on that

morning. The makeup around her eyes left thick black streaks running down both cheeks. With her hands still chained she couldn't wipe her eyes but even barely open I could see the anger in them. I could certainly hear it in the words she hurled at me.

"YOU FUCKING BASTARD! HOW DARE YOU!"

I grabbed her face in my right hand, pinching her mouth shut between my thumb and forefinger; holding her head in place as I got nose to nose with her again. "If we're being HONEST with ourselves? You FORGIVE me? That's fucking rich. Since you're such an honest, loving wife you'll find it in your heart to forgive me for this too."

I grabbed the bottle off the table with my left hand and turned it upside down right over her head. The gulp, gulp, gulp of the wine running out of the bottle was drowned out by her sputtering and spitting as it ran through her hair and down her face in waves. Whatever had been left of her make up was gone. The masterfully crafted look from the salon was washed away as well. Her shining blonde hair was stained a muddy brown as the wine matted down those flowing locks. It coursed down the front, sides, and back of her neck. Soon her previously white top was being dyed deep purple from shoulder to shoulder.

"GODDAMMIT, PAUL, THIS IS A $600 BLOUSE!"

She ranted at me with an itemized list of how much money she'd blown on her hair and clothes. She just kept buzzing like a hornet as I grinned at the now empty bottle in my hand. I shrugged and chuckled. "I don't know Laura, I'd say it's a pretty good use of a $50 bottle of wine..."

She was about to launch another barrage at me when I picked up the large serving knife off next to the tray. That changed her tone really quick. I had zero intention of cutting her of course, but she didn't know that. This was a side of me she'd never seen before and she had no way of knowing what my limits were. She suddenly got much more compliant.

"Paul...I...please. Sweetie, I lost my temper and that was wrong...I...I'll do anything to make this up to you, just please listen!"

"I'm just worried about this blouse, Laura. Wine stains so quickly we really should get it off you and get it in the washer right away."

I turned the knife over in the palm of my hands a few times as I watched her entire body tense up. I couldn't help but smile at the sight of her sudden change in tune. That smile just seemed to scare her even more. She drew a sharp breath as I layed the cold metal against her skin for the first time and lightly drew it across her skin to the neckline of her blouse. The edge of the blade sliced right through the threads holding the buttons with ease. One by one they popped off and rattled on the marble floor. For the first time since I could remember Laura was completely quiet. The last button gave way and her shirt opened to reveal a red lace bra. No doubt she was wearing the matching panties beneath her black skirt. I had given those to her for our sixth anniversary. "I always loved that bra on you."

She tried to seize on any opening she thought she had. "I'll wear it for you whenever you want, baby. Just uncuff me and I will wear whatever you want, whenever you want. Anything for you, Paul."

I chuckled at her transparent attempts to bargain with her body.

"And I always liked your hair shorter. But I guess we know who you started growing it out for."

I took another picture off the pile and dropped it in her lap. It was another one of her getting fucked from behind. Rick had a big fistful of her hair, yanking back on it like the reigns of a horse as he screwed her. It earned me more fearful babbling from her. "I can change it. Whatever you want my hair to look like I will do it for you. I love you so much baby you can make me look however you want."

I ran a finger along her shoulder and idly toyed with the ends of her wine soaked hair. She flinched at first when I touched her. "Anything I want? You'd do that for me?" I ran my fingers through her hair and looked into her eyes. She stared back with a desperate edge in her voice.

"Anything! Anything for you, baby! I'll dye it, I'll wear it short, I'll have them style it whatever way you tell me to!"

The fingers in her hair became a fist. I stretched it to as hard as I could from her scalp out to the side of her head and brought the knife to it. Her eyes bulged and then burst into tears as I sliced right through it. I dropped strand after sticky wet strand through my fingers, over her face and down to her heaving chest. She finally realized she couldn't simply talk her way out of this.

"Well that's a start."

She was sniffling, staring down at what used to part of her meticulously sculpted haircut. She was so despondent that she didn't even notice me standing up and moving around her seat until she heard the sound of my zipper going down. Her head jerked up and whipped around to her left to find herself inches from my crotch, only my boxers separating her face and a bulge that had been growing ever since I snapped those cuffs on her. Her eyes met mine. She could tell I wasn't joking anymore. Her arms discretely pulled at the handcuffs once again, still looking for any hope of a way out and finding zero. Her eyes dropped down once again. I eased my boxers down and freed my hardon. I took it by the base and began smacking her face.

"Mmmffff, Paul, no...no..."

I grabbed her mussed hair and yanked her head back so hard that she gasped and I took the opportunity to ram my cock in her mouth. I held her down on it as her body twitched and spasmed while she fought for air.

"I've got a whole lot of photos that tell me you don't know how to say 'no', Laura!"

I pulled her head back off my shaft. She coughed and drooled as she worked to take a deep breath between gags. I advanced on her again, this time my spit coated cock made far louder pops as I the smacks grew rougher.

"Come on, Laura, you love me, right? Don't you care about my needs?" She looked up at me with red eyes and nodded as she parted her lips for me. If she thought her new found obedient streak was going to buy her any mercy she was sorely mistaken. I grabbed her head on both sides ride above her ears and stuck my hard cock in mouth until my balls hit her chin. This time I wasn't holding her still though. Her obnoxious sobs turned into a high pitch squeal as I face fucked her with absolute brutality. Over and over and over until her gags subsided and her throat began to loosen up. I started assaulting her pride as well her jaw with each word puncuated by a thrust of hips.

"That's right, Laura, show me how you sucked him. Show me how much practice you got being a cheating slut."

I finally eased off and pulled out of her. Her ragged breathing nearly matched mine shallow panting Amazing how a little bit of fun can wear your hips out. I took another sip of wine. "Ahhhh, this is pretty good. Want some, baby?" Her head raised up at the sound of me offering a hint of kindenss.

"Mmmm hmmmm...(sniff)..."

Her eyes lit up when I dug into my pocket and pulled out a key. I knew I didn't have to worry about her running out the front door looking like that. Her pride would never let her. The cuffs popped open with quick turn of the key and her hands immediately reached for the glass in my hand. I held it up in the air, just beyond her seated reach. I shook my finger and scolded her. "Ah ah ah, Laura, where are your manners?"

"Please!" she whined. Her face was now a mask of ruined makeup, ruined hair, and ruined vanity. I picked up a small bowl off the table and poured the wine into it. I placed it on the floor with a smile. "Enjoy."

She slumped down off the chair. All that struggling and so little chance to breath had left her too exhausted to do much else. Her perfect nails clicked and clacked on the marble as she mustered what was left of her energy crawl to it. She took one last defeated look over her shoulder at me and then leaned in and lapped at it like an animal. She was still lapping when she felt the blade of the knife tap her inner thigh. I couldn't see her face but the sound of her gasp told me enough. Her body tensed up like a statue once again. I was taking all the care to not cut her but all she could tell was that an angry man with a knife was not standing behind her as she was down on all fours. The honed blade eased it's way up her thigh until it hit the bottom hem of the designer mini skirt she was wearing. With a flick of the wrist the knife cut just enough of a slit in it. With a firm grip and a sharp pull I ripped the skirt nearly in two, confirming my theory that she was wearing the panties to match her bra. The other thing I noticed was the sight of her ass shaking. She was shivering. It could have just been the temperature. She was wet, nearly naked on a cold floor. All I can say for sure is she trembled even more as she felt my hands on her hips sliding those pretty lace panties down to her knees.

"Paul..." she quivered.

SLAP! I smacked her ass. I was thinking back on our anniversaries over the years. One of those evenings where couples are supposed to spice things up. After one of her idiot friends turned her onto 50 Shades a couple of years ago she had suggested a little light spanking. As usual with all her ideas it was up to me to do all the work, and then me getting bitched at for not doing it right. Not on the right spots, not hard enough, not this, not that. Wasn't the first time that one of these nights ended up being very little fun for one of us. Tonight though I was having an absolute blast.

SLAP! "Usually the husband's supposed to ask if his wife's been a naughty girl or something like, but we know the answer, don't we?"

"I'm so sorry, Paul!" she bleated.

I slid the belt out of the loops around my waist and took my pants off completely before my next move. The sound of the leather cracking across her ass echoed across the first floor of the house. The red line it left across her bottom almost glowed in the candlelight. Something in the shocked moan that escaped her urged me on. I gave her an even harder one and she let out an even louder one, something that sounded straight out of a porno.

"Don't you ever just shut the fuck up?" I felt around the floor until I felt the handle of the knife and made one last cut. A bra for a woman that petite isn't very strong. Especially one built for looks for the bored housewife who has the money to replace it whenever she wants. So the steel went straight through the strap on her back with little effort and the bra slid right down her trembling shoulders to the floor. I scooped it up, belt in the other hand, and marched around to stand in front of her as she stayed on all fours. I pulled her up to kneeling by her hair. With my hard cock still dangling in front of me she must have thought I had one thing on my mind because she kept shaking her head and tucking her lips in to seal her mouth tight as she could. The defiance in her eyes felt like a dare.

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