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"Julie" part 1

"Julie" Part 1
by c.w. cobblestone

Julie came bouncing into the house with her best friend Diana at her
heels. It was already past 7 p.m.; usually my wife came home much
earlier from her Saturday shopping trips. Since it had rained all
day, I’d thought she might get home even sooner than normal, but
apparently not.

I was on my hands and knees, scrubbing the flagstone foyer when they
came in. I was mortified to be caught in such a humble position, but
it didn’t faze either of the ladies as they regally swept past me,
tracking mud with every step.

My crestfallen eyes followed their path as they casually sullied the
polished foyer and then the beige living room carpet before plopping
down on either end of the sofa.

“Walter, our bags are in the car; bring ‘em in and then fix us a
couple drinks,” my wife said. Then, noticing the mud they’d tracked
in, she added nonchalantly, “Oh, and you better get this carpet
before that mud sets in.”

Diana giggled as she kicked off her mud-caked leather boots. “Poor
Waldo,” she said. “You just can’t catch a break, can you?”

I remained silent. Diana giggled again. “Hey, Waldo, guess what?
Julie’s got a big surprise for you!”

Julie grinned at her friend conspiratorially and I cocked my head
like a curious .... My wife looked at me and her smile disappeared.

“The bags, Waldo. Drinks. The floor. Don’t just kneel there with a
rag in your hand like a beached whale. Move!”

“Y-yes, ma’am,” I stammered, scrambling to my feet to the sound of
Diana’s bitchy laughter.

I fetched their bags from Julie’s Lexus; it took three trips to bring
in all their purchases, which, judging from the store names on the
bags, had set me back several hundred dollars. Then I made their
drinks: The usual Amaretto Rose for my wife, and a Bacardi Martini
for Diana.

As I set Diana’s drink on the coffee table in front of her, she
said, “C’mon, Julie, show the dweeb the gift you got him. Well, it’s
not exactly for him. But that’s okay.”

Julie shared a giggle with her friend, took a dainty sip from her
drink, and stood up.

“Okay, Waldo, I’ll let you see, but only if you promise not to cry,”
my wife said. I didn’t understand, and my mind was whirling as I
wordlessly watched her unsnap her jeans. In a single move she turned
away from me as she worked her pants down around her hips with one
hand, while lifting the back of her blouse with the other hand. I was
even more curious when I saw a bandage affixed to the small of her

She reached back and gingerly peeled off the gauze, revealing an
intricate, feminine “tramp-stamp” tattoo. My jaw dropped.

“Show him the other one, Julie,” Diana tittered.

My wife turned to face me and lowered her jeans even further. She
hooked her thumb into the waistband of her purple thong panties and
moved the material aside. I gasped when I saw another tattoo: A small
heart on the top right side of her pelvis, just above her pubic hair;
inside the heart was the fancy script lettering: K-E-V-I-N

I hung my head in shame. My wife was now marked forever with her
boyfriend’s sickening name. I would never again worship her pussy
without having it stare right at me.

“Whaddya think, Waldo?” Diana sneered. “Don’t those tattoos look sexy
on your wife? Don’t you think Kevin is just going to LOVE 'em?

I said nothing. Tears began to form around my eyes.

“You promised not to cry, Walter,” my wife chided me. “Don’t you want
me and Kevin to be happy?”

“Y-yes, ma’am,” I sniffled.

“Well, then you’d better quit your whining,” she said, pulling up her
pants. “Unless you want me to tell Kevin you’re bitching about our
relationship again.”

I froze with fear. There was no way I wanted to repeat the events of
last May, when I made the fatal mistake of trying to break up my wife
and her lover.


They had been seeing each other for a month, and I could tell Julie
was getting serious about him. So one night, as she was getting ready
to go out with him, I decided to make a stand.

I told her this had to stop. It was one thing for us to be in a
femdom relationship, as we had been from the very beginning of our
five-year marriage. And, I told her, I hadn’t even complained when
she began seeing other men. I’d shown great understanding when she
informed me that she was a “normal woman” who needed “normal sex,”
and that this “slave thing” had been my idea, not hers. I wanted to
make her happy, so I acquiesced. I stood by and said nothing as she
fucked other guys under my nose.

But this thing with Kevin was getting out of hand, I told
her. “You’re seeing him 4 or 5 times a week,” I lamented.

My attempt to get Julie to stop seeing Kevin couldn’t have went more
wrong. The whole thing backfired: Instead of listening to reason,
Julie flipped out and slapped the ... out of me.

“Listen, you fat piece of ..., I’ll see anyone I want to, as often
as I want to,” she snarled as I bent down in pain holding my hand to
my injured face.

She cuffed me on the back of my head. “Walter, if you don’t like the
way things are around here, then fine … leave,” she snarled. “I’ll
divorce your ass so fast it’ll make you head swim; and you’ll be
fucking homeless, too, because I’ll take you for every dime you’ve

I immediately backed down, begging over and over for her forgiveness.
An evil glint flashed in her eye as she realized she had me by the
balls. And that was that.

But my ordeal wasn’t quite over that fateful evening. When Kevin
arrived to pick Julie up for their date, she told him how I’d
attempted to break them up.

“But Walter and I had a little talk, and now the fat wimp understands
what’s what,” she told her boyfriend. “Isn’t that right, Walter?”

“Y-yes.” I said, averting my eyes so I didn’t have to endure Kevin’s

“It’s good you understand, Waldo,” Kevin said. “But I don’t
appreciate you trying to come between me and my woman. In fact, it
downright pisses me off.”

Julie kissed her lover’s bicep and purred, “That’s it, baby. The wimp
really needs to be shown who’s boss. Show him who’s boss, Kevin.”

“No problem,” he answered, leaning over and tongue-kissing my wife
for a brief moment. Then he snapped his fingers and pointed to the
ground in front of him. “Come on over here, Waldo; get on your knees.”

Trembling, I knelt in front of him. My ... ran cold as I saw him
start to remove his belt.

“Drop your drawers,” he said resolutely. My hands shook as I fumbled
with the zipper. I lowered my pants as far as they would go to my

“Tighty-whiteys, too, lard-ass!” he said. Julie cracked up.

After I complied, Kevin walked behind me and ordered, “face to the
carpet, Dumbo, ass up in the air.”

Julie snickered again as I struggled into the kowtow position. Then,
suddenly, I felt a jolt of pain as his belt slashed across my
ass. “Count ‘em out loud, Waldo,” Kevin said in a sing-song voice.

“Ow! One. Ow! Two. T-Three …quot; Ow! Four.”

He finally quit after 30 strokes. I was crying like a baby; the
carpet under my face was completely soaked from my slobber and tears.

“Sit up, Waldo,” Kevin said. Through the tearful haze, I could see
him unzipping his pants as he moved closer to me. Silver pins of fear
chilled my ... as I wondered what he was about to do.

He whipped out his huge dick and I couldn’t help but gasp.

“I know,” he sneered. “Impressive, huh?” Julie chuckled.

I didn’t answer him. “Get over here,” he finally said after a few
seconds of silence. The tears in my eyes welled anew as I shuffled
toward him on my knees until his dick was two inches from my face. He
grabbed his cock at its base and suddenly slapped me hard across the
face with it, causing Julie to go into hysterics. I cringed as he
brought it back across the other side of my face, this time smashing
his flesh blackjack across my eye, causing it to throb violently. I
was thoroughly humiliated. But I hadn’t yet hit rock-bottom.

“Now tell me, ‘Thank you, sir, for dick-slapping me,’” Kevin ordered.

I choked on my shame and could barely utter the words: “Thank you,
sir, for slapping me.”

“For DICK-slapping me,” Kevin corrected.

“For dick-slapping me.”

Julie interjected, “Say the whole thing, asshole … show some respect
for my man.”

I swallowed hard. “T-thank you, sir, for dick-slapping me.”

“No problem,” Kevin said flippantly, zipping up his fly. “Julie might
be your wife, but she’s my woman. Understand that, do as I say, and
we won’t have a problem.”

“Yes, sir.”

“It’s great to have a man around the house, baby,” Julie said,
tilting her head back to allow Kevin to kiss her.

Then, having established the new world order, they left for their


I vigorously scrubbed the mud off the living room carpet while Julie
and her friend Diana chatted on the couch.

Suddenly, Julie’s cell phone beeped. It was the tone that told her
she had a text message.

She flipped open her phone and read the message. A sly smile slowly
crept across her face.

“It’s Kevin, the horny bastard,” Julie said, holding her phone out so
her friend could see the message.

“Oh, my!” Diana laughed. “That sounds serious!”

I wondered what Kevin had texted to my wife, but they never did say.

“He’s so damn horny … I mean, he wants to do it all the time,” Julie
said as she texted a reply to her boyfriend onto the small keypad of
her phone. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”

“Well, he’s gonna be a lot hornier when he sees your tattoos,” Diana
said. “You said he’s been after you for a long time to get them.”

“I know; I can’t wait to see the look on his face tonight,” Julie
said excitedly. “Although I’m not sure if I want to do any fooling
around until the tattoos heal up.”

“You’ll just have to get on top for awhile … and tell him not to slap
that ass,” Diana offered, and they shared a sisterly laugh.

I burned with shame as I toiled below them, listening to them
casually discuss my wife’s infidelity as if I didn’t exist.

Julie leaned back and took a sip of her drink. “Maybe you should
invite <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Roy</place></city> over for dinner one night,” she said, referring to Diana’s
arrogant boyfriend.

“Oh, yeah, <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Roy</place></city> gets a kick out of Waldo,” Diana said. “Hey, Waldo,
remember when my boyfriend came over here last time? Remember he made
you shove a hot ... up your ass?”

“Yes, Miss Diana, I remember,” I muttered, bitterly recalling <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Roy</place></city>’s
punishment for having put mustard on his hot ... instead of ketchup.

My wife drained her drink and rattled the ice. “Hey, Waldo, I’m ready
for another one here. How 'bout you, Diana?”

“Nah, I’ve got to get going pretty soon,” Diana answered. “Besides,
you’ve got to get ready for your date with Kevin tonight.”

“I know, it’s getting late,” Julie sighed, handing me her empty glass
without even looking my way.

When I returned to the living room with my wife’s drink, Diana was
holding one of her boots, frowning at it.

“Damn, I got mud all over these from that stupid unpaved parking
lot,” she said. “Julie, do you mind if I have the wimp clean them for
me before I go?”

“Of course not,” Julie said.

Diana tossed the boot she was holding at me and kicked the other one
in my direction. “Hurry up, Waldo, make ‘em spotless.”

They talked some more while I cleaned and polished Diana’s boots.
When I was finished, I presented them to her.

“Okay, Julie, I’ll call you,” she said, taking the boots from me
without so much of a thank-you. She put the boots on and walked out
the door.

After Diana left, Julie told me to draw her a hot bath. While she
soaked in the bathtub, relaxing before her date, I got back to
scrubbing the mud from the carpet.


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