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The Road back from hell - my ending to abob1's series I Had the Best Intentions. He has generously invited me to see what I could do for an ending. I'm certain it will be different from his.
http://www.literotica.com/s/i-had-the-best-intentions
abob1's story is about a wife with self-esteem issues. She turns to the neighbor for support, only to find out he and his wife are into BDSM, and she is abused in their basement, with the husband willingly watching. She's not aware of his presence, and the situation is not what he had intended. She has the most extreme sexual response of her life, and the husband is left wondering where things will go next. At the end of the story, he's discussing the future, after getting a blowjob, then being released from his own restraints, which he wanted no part of. The wife has been instructed to either get dressed and leave, or go upstairs and like naked on the bed for more punishment.
In my version John, the aggrieved hubby wants to take back control of his life. He does so, very aggressively. Very. This is not a nice story, but as with most of mine, I try to make the punishment fit the crime.
Thanks to abob1, for generously providing permission to work with I Had the Best Intentions.
I like finishing stories. I guess I'm a little weird. Sometimes they are stories that have been abandoned. Others are open invitations. In a case like this, the author is still active, but he has invited me to offer up my own ending to his story.
When offered the opportunity, I'll give you my idea of an ending. Fair warning though, I don't write about total wimps. May not be BTB, all nuclear and shit, but no voluntary cucks, or whiny simpering wimps.
Some of you won't like my endings. That's fair enough. I'm happy to hear your reasons. This is only one author's idea of a fitting resolution. You're welcome to try your hand at writing your own. I hope you enjoy this one.
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"Well," he said, "I left her upstairs and gave her two options. I told her she could either get dressed and go home, or she could go up to our bedroom and lie naked on the bed and wait for us."
"What did she do?" I asked.
"We will find out. I gave her five minutes to make up her mind. Until then...we wait."
The five minutes were the longest of my life. I stood quietly, trying to decide what I wanted to do. I was torn. I had seen a new side of my wife that I had never expected. I watched her experience the pleasure I desired for her, at the hands of another.
I had been excited to see her orgasms torn from her, but in the afterglow of the incredible blowjob I'd recieved, all I could think about were her screams, her begging to be released, and her shame afterward. It hurt.
At the same time, I was furious. That Mark had come on to my wife, used her without my knowledge, and then abused her sexually the way he had made my blood boil. I had agreed to let them dominate her, but I had never expected the torture she'd been put through. Raping her virgin ass was beyond the pale.
Heather was supposed to be on my side. She'd been enraged when it all started, but once she had me handcuffed and gagged, she was the more vicious one. I started to suspect I was setup. She had gone along so easily, acting furious at my wife, with no repercussions for her cheating husband. Instead, it seemed like he'd been rewarded, with complete access to my wife's mouth and ass. I recalled her first words to my wife, that she'd only been upset that she wasn't invited.
I feared where this would lead, if I didn't take over control of my wife and my life. I wanted to know how to pleasure her, to give her what she needed, but at this rate, she'd soon be someone else's woman not mine. I couldn't allow that to happen. Certainly not to that backstabbing asshole.
While I stood there pondering my potential actions, Heather looked up at the clock. "It's been seven minutes. I think I should see where the night will lead us." She smirked as she said it, and sauntered up the stairs. My heart leapt into my throat, at the idea of the two of them continuing to use and abuse her, torturing her, slowly stealing her from me.
Mark was avoiding looking at me, putting away their toys. His nakedness was a constant reminder of what he'd done. I don't know what came over me, it was unplanned, but I saw the steel leg spreader he'd used on my wife laying on the table. I picked it up, and when he leaned over the cabinet to put something on the bottom, I hit him across the back of the head with all my might, the impact making a loud crack. He dropped like a rock.
In moments I had him handcuffed, and gagged with the same ball-gag used on me. The gag made him inhale through his nose, but at least he was still breathing. I scanned the cabinet, and came up with a long whip, like a bullwhip, but only six feet or so long, and a second pair of handcuffs. I pulled Mark out of view, and waited for the return of Heather.
It was only a few moments later she came down the stairs. I heard her long before I saw her. "She's not in the bedroom. I have to admit I'm surprised . . . AHHH!"
She screamed out as I whipped her the moment she appeared in the room. I wrapped the whip around her neck, and pulled her to the ground. Putting her on her belly, she was screaming as I pulled her arms behind her and handcuffed her.
"John!" she screamed. "What the hell?"
I lifted the whip and made her shriek as it came down across her back. Even through the black leather, it seemed to cause her significant pain. "I'm not John down here. You will call me Master, you conniving cunt, or you will suffer."
She shook her head. "No! This isn't what... AAAAAH!" she cried as I whipped her again.
"Shut up, or I will flay the skin off your body, slut. This is not a game."
She was shaking. "Please, John. This...AAARGH!" I struck her three times in a row, on her legs, her ass, her back. She finally shut up, shaking, crying. I figure an experienced woman like her should be able to handle a little pain. The tears were as likely from fear as from the actual whipping. Good, she should be afraid.
I returned to the cabinet, looking at my options. First, I needed to make sure I had absolute control over both of them. They had plenty of ropes, in different colors and thicknesses. I found a gag for Heather, and forced it in her mouth. I tied her feet together, and added some rope around her hands, doubling up with the handcuffs. I dragged her to the corner by her hair, and dumped her there.
Mark was still unconscious. I was a bit concerned I'd overdone it, hitting him as I had. I checked and he was breathing. I had some ideas for how to wake him. I tied his feet together, and wrapped his hands in rope. It was sloppy, but I didn't do this for a hobby. My only purpose was to immobilize him. When I was happy, I found what I was looking for, near the center of the room. A metal hook hung from the ceiling. I threw the rope up through it, attached one end to the handcuffs around Mark's wrists, and started pulling. It took a good bit of effort and I was sweating heavily by the time I had him standing, his hands stretched out above him, dangling from the hook. I tied off the rope to the hook where my wife had previously been hung. It seemed fitting.
With the instigator taken care of, I returned to Heather. She shrunk away from me, and squirmed while I dragged her to the table where they'd punished my wife. I bent her over the padded table, and it didn't take me long to have her legs positioned exactly as Nicole's had been. I returned to the cabinet, where I'd seen Mark hang the keys to the handcuffs, and retrieved them. I climbed on top of the table, sitting on her back, to avoid too much fighting. Once I unlocked the handcuffs, she tried to wriggle free, but was helpless against my full weight pinning her down. A couple of minutes later, her hands were cuffed, a perfect copy of my wife's predicament less than an hour earlier.
I had been acting solely on instinct, but I finally felt fully in control. They weren't going anywhere. I spent a few minutes familiarizing myself with the cabinets contents. In a drawer I found a pair of surgical scissors. They were inspiring, and for the next few minutes, I cut the dominatrix clothing off of Heather, until she was lying naked, her outfit in shreds. She struggled, screaming against her gag. I laughed at her helplessness.
"I think we're almost ready to have a long needed talk, slut," I told her, once I had her fully naked.
I reached around and pulled the gag from her mouth. She immediately started cursing me. "You bastard! That was a custom made outfit! It cost me over six hundred dollars."
"Consider it the price of adultery, lying, cheating, and forcing your way on another." I hefted the whip she'd used on my wife. "What was the number? Twenty?" I whipped her across her back, very hard.
Her scream was delicious. "I thought you'd be tougher than that, Heather." Another stroke of the whip had her gasping. I liked the feel of the leather in my hand, the weight of the strands, the bright red welts that raised almost immediately.
"Too hard," she whined.
"Too hard,
