This is a redacted version of a previously published work. It originally contained a scene with a surgical procedure that is against the rules. Without it, the ending may seem a bit rushed but I hope you enjoy it anyway.
WARNING: This story deals with those who deserve nothing other than pure wrath, but would never serve a day in jail for their crimes. Certain predators beg society to dole out justice, and the more severe the better. Even the worst criminal knows what happens to child molesters in prison. But what do you do with the sick sexual predators that haven't broken any laws? You see to it that the crime takes place where you have exclusive legal authority and then deal with it yourself.
THIS IS FICTION! No real people were harmed during the writing of this story but it does contain severe retributive violence. It is about many psycho-sexual needs and may seem to be about cuckolding on the surface but it is not. It is about eliminating that problem from unwilling participants. If you don't want to read about 'Anger Arousal', Raptophilia, or other power structure-related fetishes please pass this story by. If you've been unlucky enough to have had a spouse seduced or you're curious... read on. ;)
Bulls To The Slaughter.
A story by R.C.PeterGabriel, all rights reserved.
It was a beautiful clear night with uncountable stars shining above the calm ocean waters. The full moon rising just over its surface, painted a wide silver streak to the shore of my private beach. A pleasant steady breeze, making the eighty-six degrees feel sublime.
I stood on the dark balcony overlooking my veranda filled with three dozen of my closest friends and their friends. Taking a sip of my 20-year-old bourbon, then sniffing my unlit Cohiba, I watched the latest of many succumb to a fatal attraction.
"Are we taking the yacht out tomorrow?" asked my most loyal bodyguard as she stood nearby observing the same thing I had.
I smiled, sensing her eagerness. "It would seem the likelihood has reached a high probability."
We continued to watch as my wife lifted a flute of Champagne from the tray carried by a passing servant. In the process, she failed to notice her companion had taken a half step closer to the stairs. Turning back, she unwittingly followed his lead to maintain their established conversational distance.
He expertly turned to the incredible view, with a flourishing sweep of his drink-laden hand and ever so lightly touched my wife's bare arm with his other. He was no doubt commenting as to how the beauty of the scene could not compare to that of my wife's.
Her downward glance and involuntary step forward were followed by coyly looking his way instead of toward the view. Knowing her as I do, her response told me that my assumption had been correct.
The suiter motioned again with his glass and took the first step down towards the beach and the shadows it offered. And with his hand on her arm, she allowed herself to be led like a dancer at a ball.
Alessandra pressed into my side guiding my drink to her lips before purring her excitement at the unfolding event. As soon as she released my glass her hand slid past my belt to rub along my hardening shaft.
"How soon do you want me to stop them?"
I lifted her chin, lightly kissing her. The breathy moan and the squeeze she gave to my now fully hardened member told me she hoped I'd let things go too far.
"The usual time," I replied, smirking at her disappointment.
"Although," I teased as she started to leave. "Maybe I'll let them finish on the yacht before the fishing starts."
The look that followed was almost hot enough to light my cigar. I turned back in time to see which direction my wife was being led.
Smiling inwardly at the common choice, I reached for a match, struck it, and waited for the sulfur to burn off before lifting it to my Cohiba. The first creamy draw of sweet tobacco and leather caressed my palate and filled my lungs before I moved inside.
My wife's seducer had chosen the darker path as they all seemed to do. So I topped off my drink and proceeded down the hall to the room I shared with my wife.
Passing through on my way to the balcony, I paused to admire the life-sized boudoir painting of the love of my life. Her nudity strategically positioned to maintain minimal modesty. I took a sip of my drink and then drew from my cigar while studying her stunning form. I never grow tired of admiring her. I've found a few that could walk in her shadow, but none beside her. She is Aphrodite incarnate.
That being the case, I understand why so many want to experience her. After being drawn in like a moth to flame, it takes only moments of hearing her innocent giggles, or causing her naïve glances, to realize that you've already sold your soul.
Continuing my journey, I moved out to the balcony's wall and looked down. There below were the lost and the hoped-for. The pair were talking softly. Neither realizing the acoustics of their position allowed me to hear most of what was said over the soft sounds of the waves. I also noticed that they had set their glasses down somewhere along the way.
"Thank you. But you shouldn't say such things. I love my husband."
"Maybe so. But he has to know how exceptional you are. Letting you out of his sight for a single second is too long. You deserve someone that worships you."
He moved into her space and she put a hand against his chest. Their dance was evolving as it always did.
"Please, I have to taste your lips," came the near desperate plea, as a hand moved to gently slide over her shoulder to the back of her neck, and the other to her hip.
I watched her shake her head in refusal, but I knew she couldn't help but eventually submit. A goddess of lust cannot be expected to reject an advance. That would be against nature.
He leaned in to take what hadn't been offered and she turned her head but the restraining hand on his chest gave a little.
"Why follow me out here if not to enjoy each other?"
"I was enjoying our conversation. There needn't be more."
Pressing himself closer forced her against the smooth rock of the wall cutting off any possible retreat he brought them into full contact. I heard the startled intake of breath as their hips came together and their eyes met.
"No, please. I don't want to be unfaithful."
He glanced down and then leaned in closer bringing their chests together and their mouths within an inch.
"If that were true, why are your nipples hard?"
"I... Please, you mustn't."
He pulled her neck to his mouth, nibbling behind her ear as the hand on her hip slid lower, contacting the smooth skin of her thigh at the top of her gown's slit.
She gasped again feeling him push his hardness more fully against her. Both of her hands moved to his hips trying feebly to push him away. The action allowed his chest to press tighter against her breasts.
After several moments of teasing her neck, he pulled back to look into her eyes.
"Tell me the truth. You must always have men staring at you. They certainly long for you to the point of undressing you with their eyes. You notice, don't you?"
I smiled seeing my wife's lips part and her chest rise as her breathing started to increase. The inevitable was looming quickly.
"Don't you?" he asked again.
She glanced down but nodded.
"Say it," demanded the man holding her.
"Yes. I notice them."
"You like the attention, don't you?"
Again a downcast nod.
"Say it, Rory."
Her eyes lifted at the sound of her name. "Yes. I like the attention but I still don't want to be unfaithful."
"Then tell me. Has anyone other than your husband kissed you?"
She closed her eyes as her forehead pinched. A moment later she nodded as she met his eyes again. "Yes."
"Did you kiss him back?"
Still looking worried, she continued to confess. "Yes."
"How many?"
"A few," she declared as I refilled my lungs with the creamy sweetness of my cigar.
"Don't lie. Isn't it true that you're approached every time your husband is out of sight?"
"Yes," came the slightly stronger response.
"You can't possibly believe he wouldn't realize that you're sought after. And yet you've been allowed to wander off. You deserve more. Someone to make you the center of his life..."
I scoffed. Rory is my every waking thought. All I do is for her. The others around me may benefit from my efforts but no one else matters.
"... I can give you pleasure. The pleasure I can tell your body craves."
"He will kill you if you persist."
"He will never know," was uttered just before he leaned in again. This time their lips met and her eyes slid shut. I watched as her hands slowly slid around his back and the hand on her hip journeyed further into the dress's slit.
As their kiss deepened, I took another sip of my drink.
The hand behind her head slid down her front and began kneading her breast, as the one inside her dress fully grasped her ass cheek. I began to wonder where Alessandra was hiding. Another thirty seconds and he'd be trying to have her against the wall.
I was considering dropping my glass on the man's head as Rory lifted her leg over his hip and moaned loudly, breaking the kiss and throwing her head back. The man's hand was fully under her leg and no doubt had access to the treasures.
All it would have taken was for my wife to open her eyes to see me above her but they remained closed as her paramour continued to finger her.
