This is an original work by Zeb_Carter and is protected under copyright by U.S. copyright law. It is only submitted at Literotica.Com and any submission to any other site has not been authorized by the Author.
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I had just returned from a month-long business trip to the UK. I was in a limo on my way home from the airport in Chicago. I had called my wife at each step of my way home to let her know when I would be there. As the limo pulled up in front of my house, I smiled. The house was dark, the front porch light was on. It was only nine o'clock at night. I paid the driver and he got my luggage out of the trunk. I grabbed it and walked up to the front door.
Grabbing the knob I twisted. It was open. Smiling I entered the house to see if my wife had been a good or a bad girl. I entered, flipping the switch to turn the foyer light on. I shook my head as I set down my luggage and closed the front door locking it behind me. There was my wife, kneeling naked in front of me. Her head was down, her hands were behind her back. She had been a naughty girl.
I had been gone for a month. I didn't fault her for her transgressions, but she was going to be punished depending on how naughty she had been and with who. She didn't say anything. Neither did I. In her hands behind her back she held a riding crop. An antique leather riding crop, that my grandfather had owned. He had passed it down to his son, my Uncle. My uncle, having no boys to pass it down too, passed it to me, his nephew.
With the riding crop, there was a book on how it was to be used. It was never to touch horseflesh. It was only to be used on women. Wives, actually. If they were naughty or disobeyed, they would get the riding crop used on her delicate parts. The transgression determined where and how hard and how many. For my wife and I, this had become a ritual every time a came home from a business trip. Whether it was a one night trip or a month-long trip. She would be waiting for me here just inside the front door.
If she was holding the riding crop, I knew she had been naughty. How naughty I didn't know until we talked. She would wait for me to come out and get her once I was refreshed and comfortable. While I was getting comfortable and refreshed she would unpack my luggage. She would be back at the front door awaiting my pleasure when I was done. I have never had to use the crop on my wife because she was disobedient, only because she was naughty. And sometimes my wife could be very naughty indeed.
I loved my wife very much. I knew she loved me very much. We had an agreement of a kind. An agreement where she could, when I was out of town, let herself be taken to another man's bed if she so wished. The only requirement was twofold. One, she had to tell me about it when I returned. And two, she would have to pay the price. There was a third unspoken requirement, she was never to use the same man twice and if she ever felt we should end our agreement we had to discuss it together.
Of course, she or I was to never get emotionally involved with anyone other than each other. Yes, I was free to take other women to my bed while I was out of town, but I was strictly forbidden to talk about it to her. All she wanted was a yes or no from me. We have been married for ten years come this September. We are both very happy with each other and our arrangement.
As I came out of the den where I had fixed myself a drink, I walked up behind her and grasped the crop. She let go immediately and sighed. She was waiting for my questions. Taking a deep breath I ran the leather end of the crop down her spine. She gasped at its touch her. I smiled to myself. She liked the foreplay. Going around front I ran the leather over her tits, her nipples were hard and the leather hung up on them a little. She gasped again. Taking a step back I addressed her.
"Follow me upstairs, sweetheart," I told her.
"Yes, dear," she answered. "I really missed you this time."
Our relationship was not a slave, master. It was a husband, wife. I nodded as her eyes came up to look at me. I walked to the stairs. She followed. She was so damn sexy in nothing but her high heels. I went to our bedroom. The room was neat as a pin. The bed was made but turned down for sleeping. The rest of the room was dimly lit by the lights on the nightstands.
"Lay down on the bed, please, sweetheart?" I asked her.
Without answering she did as she was asked. I gazed at her lovely body. God, she was absolutely beautiful. Auburn hair, cut about shoulder length. Blue eyes. Wonderfully, sensuous lips. Her face was perfect. Her tight body was also perfect. Breasts with dark pink areolas. A flat but not muscular abdomen. A perfect pussy, that was currently red and swollen. Nodding now that I have seen she has been very naughty, I gazed at her sexy legs. If she was on her stomach, her ass would have been small but cute.
"How many?" I asked a little gruffly.
"Four, dear," she answered.
"Four times? That pussy had been fucked more than four times," I almost shouted at her.
"No, dear, four men. Three of them were married and their wives joined us, honey."
I was a little shocked. This was the first time she had mentioned women joining her.
"How long did you stay with each man or couple?"
"Oh god. The first one was three days. The second one was two days. The third one was," she grimaced, "five days. The fourth one was four days."
"Which one was a single man?"
"The forth."
