Caroles Punishment

Mark Banning would forever afterward remember almost everything about the day that his life changed irrevocably, and not, at first, for the better.

It was a Wednesday afternoon in mid-July, yet another steamy, sunny, sultry Southern day. Mark was in the semi-private meeting room at one of the city’s swankier restaurants with a number of his colleagues from the large daily newspaper where he’d worked as a copy editor for many years.

The paper was in the final process of interviewing a hotshot reporter from a smaller paper upstate who was looking to fill a vacancy for an investigative reporter. The selection committee, of which Mark was a part, was looking to close the deal and make the young man an offer, so they wanted to impress the man by springing for a meal at a fine restaurant that specialized in Creole cuisine.

The group was in the middle of their salads, when Mark saw something he wasn’t supposed to see. He looked up from his plate just in time to see his wife, Carole, stroll in to the main dining hall on the arm of a tall, distinguished-looking man and trailed by two young men of about college age.

Mark’s stomach literally fell to his feet, and he wasn’t the only one who noticed his wife. Most of the men in the large room swiveled the eyes as she went past, as well they should have, for Carole was dressed in a very thin, pale pink dress that fit snug across her breasts, with very thin spaghetti straps over her otherwise bare shoulders. The dress stopped well short of her knees, and in back, it was tied in an intricate pattern that left most of her back bare. That and the way the dress fit across her chest – not to mention the dark impression of the nipples underneath the material – left no doubt that she was not wearing a bra. Carole’s shoulder-length dark brown hair, with the loose bangs in front, had been freshly trimmed and brushed to a silky sheen, and her pretty face had been exquisitely made up.

Because the room where the group from the paper was seated was off to the side of the main dining hall, and the group Carole was with was seated at a booth at the far opposite corner of the large room, with Carole’s back to the other diners, she never noticed Mark’s presence.

Mark felt like he was hanging at the edge of a bottomless pit, for seeing his wife like this was the confirmation of a lot of nebulous suspicions he’d had about Carole’s behavior over the previous few months. Ever since she had gotten that promotion to something called the liaison officer at Bourne and Bourne, the stock brokerage company where she worked, Carole had changed radically.

Yes, it all added up now, Mark thought, as a gnawing feeling began to grow in the pit of his stomach. Yet he was bewildered as much as he was angry. What had happened to his once-loving wife of 22 years that would cause her to have an affair? And there was no question that she was quite intimate with this man, whoever he was. As Mark picked at his meal, he watched as Carole, while consuming several margaritas during the course of her lunch, laughed delightedly, clutched at the man’s arm and frequently rested her head on the man’s shoulders.

In his mind, Mark went over all of the telltale signs from the past few months that seemed to indicate that Carole was cheating on him.

To begin with, Carole had suddenly become very vague about the duties of her new job, which was a complete departure from her previous jobs, which she had freely discussed with him. He had finally cornered her a week or so after she returned from her long weekend trip to New York with her bosses in April – another red flag – and the answer had not been reassuring.

“OK, if you must know,” she had said with an exasperated tone in her voice. “My job is to facilitate communication between the Bournes and management personnel, and between the company and some of our best clients. That’s all I can really tell you.” It was the stock answer she had rehearsed for weeks in anticipation of that moment. That seemed odd to Mark, since Carole was an accountant by trade.

There had been other changes as well. She had started going to the gym in the mornings before every workday now, instead of the three days a week she had gone before, and she was much fussier about her appearance than she had been before. Carole had also been working more and more evenings, and coming home late, often drunk and looking quite bedraggled. And that was another thing; Carole had never been much of a drinker, but now she was drinking far more than she ever had before, and had recently started drinking quite heavily at home on weekends, which she had never done before. They had argued quite heatedly about it after she had gotten drunk at a Fourth of July picnic, tripped over her own feet and fallen flat on her face.

It wasn’t that Mark was a stick in the mud, far from it. He had been known as a real hell raiser when he was younger, and he still enjoyed a beer or two, especially the dollar-fifty longnecks at his favorite watering hole, a funky old tavern just off downtown in the city’s university district, not too far from the paper. But Carole’s drinking habits had all the appearance of quickly becoming alcoholism, and that concerned him.

At times, Carole was still as affectionate toward him as she’d always been, but more and more, she was pushing him away, keeping him at arm’s length. And as for sex, that was a joke. Mark could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times they had made love in the past five months, so much so that he had finally resumed pleasuring himself, a practice he thought he had outgrown years ago.

There were other things, too. Once, a couple of months previously, he slipped into the shower with Carole, hoping to initiate some intimacy and had been alarmed to see red marks all over her torso, like she had been manhandled. When he asked Carole about it, she had laughed nervously and claimed she’d gotten a massage at the gym, and that the masseuse had gotten a little rough. And that had been the last time she’d let him shower with her, or see her naked.

And, finally, that very morning, Carole had seemed nervous and excited about something, but she had just told him he was imagining things.

It was truly bewildering to Mark. He loved Carole – and had since the first time he’d laid eyes on her back in college – and he didn’t want to lose her. But he could not abide being married to a cheater. He considered walking up to her table and confronting her right then and there, but decided against it. He was not one to make a public scene, and besides, he needed to gather some hard evidence and think through a strategy either for saving his marriage or for laying the groundwork for a divorce on terms favorable to him.

Carole had indeed been nervous and excited, ever since getting the call the previous afternoon from Henry Henderson, whom she had met in New York in April. Henry had said he was flying in to her city that evening for business and that he would like to see her the next day for lunch. He also said pointedly that he was bringing his two sons, Ryan, who was 21, and Blaine, aged 19. Both were out of college for the summer and working for him. She had immediately phoned Mary Jones, the Bournes’ private secretary, who supervised her activities as the liaison officer, and Mary had said she would gladly clear Carole’s docket for the whole day so she could take good care of Henderson.

Henry Henderson was the company’s largest and most important client, and keeping him happy was always top priority with the Bournes. Henderson’s account was also the one that the brothers had used to manipulate Carole into becoming the liaison officer, which was a cynical euphemism for the company whore.

The twins who owned and operated the company used the office as a cruel way of getting revenge on their father’s widow, his sixth wife, who had slyly conned them out of their rightful inheritance, a profitable plantation that had been in the brothers’ family for generations; never mind that the women they exploited for that purpose were completely innocent and ignorant of the brothers’ motivation for doing what they were doing. The liaison officer was expected to provide sexual favors to worthy employees and top clients of the firm in exchange for working off a debt they said the woman owed for misuse of funds, in order for her to stay out of jail and avoid prosecution for embezzlement.

It was all a scam, and Henderson had allowed himself to be used for that purpose, although he was increasingly uncomfortable with his role in their nefarious plots, especially after he and his wife had come to know and like Carole, who had given them one of the best nights of sex they’d had in quite some time when she’d visited them in April.

As for Carole, she remembered that night quite fondly, especially Henry’s classically proportioned 11-inch cock. She had been disappointed when he’d said he was bringing his sons, until a wicked thought crossed her mind, and as it did, her pussy began to drool heavily in anticipation. Why not fuck all three of them? Ever since the orgy that had climaxed her weekend in New York, she had come to accept occasional group encounters as part of the job. Sometimes she got off on them; sometimes they were a real ordeal, but she never questioned that that was to be part of her role as liaison officer.

When she thought about it soberly, which was happening less and less these days, she still became agitated. In fact, Carole was by now a hopeless basket case. Physically, her body had come to need the sexual stimulation that her job entailed, but mentally and emotionally, she was conflicted. Mentally, she still felt guilty about what she was doing behind her husband’s back, and her emotional state often swung wildly between exhilaration at the sensuality of all the sex that she was engaged in and depression over how she had allowed herself to be maneuvered into such a role. And her feelings were further conflicted by the fact that she still loved Mark quite deeply. He was the one certain thing in her life that she could depend on. But in her increasingly diseased mind, pushing him away was her means of protecting him from the harsh truth of her situation.

Her solution was to drown herself in booze, and, lately, pills. She had recently been introduced to the latest designer sex drug by one of the younger executives in the company, and she had also started taking a powerful sedative to help her sleep without the nightmares that had begun to intrude upon her subconscious. She had a vague sense that she was on a rapidly escalating downward spiral, but by now she was far too deeply involved in what she was doing to quit, and even if she had wanted to, the Bournes weren’t about to let her stop right then. Later, when she was a complete wreck and officially divorced from her once-loving husband, they’d turn her out forcibly, the way they had with the 13 women who had previously filled the position, but that time had not yet arrived.

Carole had left for work that morning the way she usually did, dressed in gym shorts and tank top with a sports bra underneath, a bra she quickly discarded as soon as she’d driven around the corner from her house. She had all but quit wearing underwear; the Bournes had originally forbade her from having anything on her body that might restrict access to her sex, other than her outer wear. And once she’d gotten used to the freedom that afforded her, she found wearing panties and a bra to be confining. The only exception was during her period, and while that restricted her from some sexual activity, it didn’t always. A few of her clients actually preferred fucking her during her period, and even those who didn’t like a red weenie could still access her asshole and her mouth.

She’d gone to the gym that morning and worked out hard, then had gone to her favorite dress shop and bought the sexy little number she was wearing when she met Henry and his sons. She had driven to their hotel and carried a hang-up bag with a change of clothes for later. Then they had climbed in his limo, and had brought her to the restaurant that she had suggested. It was out of the way and expensive, and she was certain she wouldn’t run into anyone she might have known. Along the way, she got to know Henry’s sons. The boys were slightly smaller versions of their father, ruggedly handsome, solidly built and as friendly and outgoing as their father. Carole wondered with growing excitement if they had inherited their father’s cock size as well.

By the time the group had finished lunch, everyone at the table knew what was to come. Each of the boys had surreptitiously felt her legs up from across the table, and Henry had already explored Carole’s increasingly wet, naked cunt with his hands. Everything was going on underneath the tablecloth so nobody else in the restaurant could see what was going on. Carole had a big shrimp salad and half a dozen frozen margaritas, so by the time they got up to leave, she was smashed.

Mark had slipped out unseen when the group from the paper left the restaurant, and he had quietly gotten in his car and moved it to where he could see the restaurant’s entrance, but he couldn’t be seen. He had told his boss, managing editor Penny White, that he needed to take care of some personal business and that he might be out the rest of the afternoon. Then he had sat back with a large bottle of water and waited. He wanted to see where Carole went after their meal.

A half-hour passed, and Mark was just about to make a quick dash to a nearby convenience store for something – anything – cold to drink in the sweltering heat, when he saw the group emerge from the restaurant. Carole was clearly drunk, as she was having trouble walking and was leaning on the older gentleman for support. Mark could see their faces clearly, and while the older man had something of a benevolent expression on his face, the younger men were ogling Carole with undisguised lust in their eyes. Mark felt a quick flash of anger rise in him at that. How dare they! That was his wife, the woman he loved, that they were leering at, but then Carole turned and laughed pleasantly at them, and his heart sank. It was obvious that she was enjoying the attention from the trio of men, and Mark began to suspect, correctly, that all three of them were about to get into his wife’s hot pussy.

The group waited at the entrance of the restaurant for a few minutes, then a long limousine pulled up to the entrance and the group got in the back seat. That impressed Mark, in spite of his consternation. Whoever Carole’s friend was, he was obviously very wealthy. And that depressed and puzzled him further. Mark knew he would never get rich working for the newspaper, and he had always thought that Carole was fine with that. She was of the same working-class stock that he was, and she had always had a disdain for the pretensions of the rich. But obviously, something had happened to change all of that.

Mark followed at a discrete distance as the limo pulled into the street then headed for the expressway toward downtown. The back windows were darkened, of course, and it was a good thing, because if he had been able to see in the back seat he would have seen his wife acting positively lewdly.

Henry had gotten in the middle seat, facing back, while Carole got in the back seat between the sons, facing Henry. As soon as they were off, Carole licked her lips lasciviously and winked at Henry before plopping each of her hands on the laps of his sons. It was time to find out how far the apple had fallen from the tree, she thought, and as she massaged their rapidly growing bulges, she concluded that the apples hadn’t fallen far. Both Ryan and Blaine were quite well endowed, not, it appeared, as well-endowed as Henry, but then who was. Nevertheless, both boys appeared to have fine cocks in the 10-inch range, more than enough to satisfy her itch for big dicks.

As she rubbed her hands over the swelling cocks that hung low in their slacks, she leaned over to her left and gave Ryan a deep, sloppy kiss, then turned to her right and gave a similar kiss to Blaine. She was drunk and horny, and she was eagerly anticipating this encounter. Ryan and Blaine needed no coaxing, but both ran their hands up the insides of Carole’s thighs to her hot, dripping pussy. Although they were fairly young, they were experienced cocksmen, having bedded more than their share of hot, willing coeds at the college they both attended. This trip, and this afternoon’s experience, was their father’s way of thanking them for their hard work that summer. Henry had put them on the line, with the working grunts, the same way his father had when he was their age, and they had responded favorably, diving into the hard physical work with gusto and without complaint.

While one brother plunged two fingers deep in Carole’s cunt, the other rolled a finger around her throbbing clit; then they’d switch. For several minutes they did this, switching off frequently while Carole leaned her head back on the seat and reveled in the feelings, until she finally pulled their hands away, and told them to slow down, that she didn’t want to cum just yet.

Besides, it was her turn to work. First, she moved her hands back to Ryan’s crotch and opened his fly, fishing out his rock-hard boner. Carole gave a little cooing sound as she ran her hands lightly over the smooth, hot shaft. Then she opened Blaine’s pants and pulled his cock out, and set about lightly jacking them both off at the same time, while alternating deep, sensual kisses with both young men.

Grinning wickedly at Henry, she broke the kiss and leaned over, putting her head in Blaine’s lap. She licked the underside of his cock, slathering the shaft with her saliva. She paused when she reached the head, and her eyes sparkled as she saw a big dollop of pre-cum boil out the tip. She licked the clear fluid into her mouth, savoring the taste with a hum of satisfaction. Then she opened her mouth wide and slowly covered the head with her lips. She methodically slid her mouth over the shaft, feeling the head scud into her throat, until she had him completely embedded in her mouth. She made furious sucking motions for just a couple of seconds before beginning a slow up-and-down motion on his cock.

Blaine thought he must have died and gone to heaven. No college girl he’d ever had could suck cock like this mature beauty, and he told her just how good she was making him feel. At the same time, she continued to lightly stroke Ryan’s purple-veined dick, getting him warmed up.

When Carole felt like she needed to come up for air, she pulled her mouth off Blaine’s cock and turned her attention to Ryan. She gave him the same slow, seductive treatment she’d given his brother, and Ryan decided then and there that he wanted to be the first to shoot a big load of cum down this woman’s throat. Carole sucked on Ryan for a while, then returned to Blaine, and spent the rest of the ride alternating between the two young men. Occasionally, she’d steal a glance over at Henry, and was gratified to see him rubbing his hard-on under his pants as he watched her blow his sons.

As for Mark, he was glad they were in a limo; it made it easier for him to hang back so he couldn’t be suspected of following them, yet he could still keep them in sight. Along the way, he began working out the details of how he would catch his wife in adultery, and amass the proof he needed, although he still wasn’t sure what he would do when he had his evidence. He’d let events figure that out for him, he finally decided.

After about a 20-minute drive, the limo reached its exit, and headed for the bustling downtown. Mark stayed several car lengths behind, until the limo reached the city’s most exclusive, most luxurious hotel. The long vehicle pulled into the circular drive, stopped and allowed its passengers to disembark. Mark watched as the foursome entered the hotel, blissfully unaware that they were being spied upon. Satisfied that Carole was headed for an afternoon tryst, Mark drove on to the paper, which wasn’t far away. Let her have her fun, he thought grimly, his day was about to come.