Marriage Can Be Fun?-Part 3
By Wanderer
My wife Janice comes home-and Alice, our French maid, rats me out.


This is adult material. Please do not read if you are under age 21 or laws in
your country forbid you to do so. Any similarity to actual persons, living or
dead, is unintentional and purely coincidental.

Earlier parts of this story may be found on the Wanderer bookshelf. They
should be read in the following order:

Who's In the Closet Now? (Parts 1, 2, and 3).

We're Back In the Closet Again (Parts 1 and 2).

The Engagement Party (Parts 1 to 5).

The Engagement Party-Epilogue (Parts 1 and 2).

(You may have to look around a little for these).

The Engagement Party-Epilogue Two (Part 1).

(There is no Part 2 so don't look for it).

My Big Deal Social Wedding.

Marriage Can Be Fun? (Parts 1 and 2).

Although this part of "Marriage Can Be Fun?" can be read by itself, if you
haven't read Parts 1 and 2 yet it might be more fun if you read them first.

My apologies if I am guilty of inaccurate use of the French language. It's a
long time since high school French. But a French maid has to speak some
French, n'est-ce pas?

Copyright 2003 by Wanderer.

The pulsating power of the four jet engines of the Boeing 747 passing overhead
was positively scary. It felt like the Angel of Death was descending, and then
deciding to pass me by, maybe it wasn't my time yet. Realistically, I knew it
was one of the Witherington company's fleet of corporate jets bringing my wife
Janice home from her week at the university, and making its final approach to
the landing strip on the Witherington estate, only a matter of a few minutes
from our home. The jet passing overhead was my signal to begin my Friday night
ritual. Janice loved to have me greet her at the door of our mansion with a
vodka martini in my hand specially prepared for her, shaken, not stirred.
Somehow it was a confirmation to her, and to me, that I knew my proper station
in life, that while I was her husband I was nevertheless to do her bidding,
and that nothing had changed during the week she was away at the university,
earning her MBA.

But this week I had trouble making that martini. My hands shook wildly as
memories of what had happened yesterday flooded my consciousness, and I was
thinking as I felt the throb of those jet engines that maybe it was the Angel
of Death coming to get me. I heard the same sound weekly, every Friday night,
but this night the sound filled me with dread. I had violated one of my wife
Jan's strict orders-no late night carousing while she was away at school. I
couldn't help it-I get lonely for female companionship, and it was only one
night, but our maid Alice had caught me slipping in, and now I was sure I
would have to pay the piper, as they say.

As my shaky hands prepared another vodka martini after having dropped the
first glass on the floor, out of the corner of my eye I saw Alice, the maid,
proceeding down the hall to prepare for the arrival of her mistress, Janice.
On impulse, I ran after her and grabbed her by the shoulder, only to
find myself flying through the air to land with a heavy thump on my back as
Alice grabbed the hand on her shoulder with her hand and flipped me easily
over her hip. I landed heavily on my back, but crafty Alice, who was schooled
in all types of martial arts, held onto my hand so that she had complete
control of me as I lay on my back. Stupidly, in my haste and panic, I had
forgotten to announce myself. Alice didn't know who had grabbed her. Quite
possibly I was an intruder with a mission of robbery or kidnapping a wealthy
heiress. She was trained to act first and ask questions later.

I lay on my back with Alice's grip on my hand holding me immobile at her feet.
She straddled my head, a leg on either side, and I could look up at her
humongous calves, grown to an unreal size by her years of gymnastic training
and weightlifting, and up to her superbly oversize quads all tensed up to
stomp the hell out of her attacker.. Her skimpy white lace panties hugging her
hips were a sight to behold, and I was so engrossed in the view from below I
forgot to speak up and I almost failed to notice Alice's four inch stiletto
heel descending towards my eye orbit, about to make me a one-eyed voyeur.

"Alice! Alice!" I screamed, "It's me, it's me, Master Frank! Don't! Don't!" I
swear, that stiletto heel must have stopped no more than a half-inch from my
eye. Had it kept going it would have made a pancake out of my eyeball, maybe
even passed into my brain. That was an awesome set of leg muscles powering
that heel, and I'm sure I would have been a one-eyed Romeo if Alice's reflexes
were any slower, maybe even a dead Romeo. But Alice had very quick reflexes
from her days on the balance beam, her gymnastics specialty. I think she could
probably balance her weight on one big toe if she had to, and she recognized
my voice just in time, even though my scream was so high pitched I think I
must have sounded like a girl.

"Why it's you, M'sieur Frank, I thought it was some evil culprit. Why didn't
you speak up, sir?"

"I---I---I'm sorry, Alice," I gasped, "I was in such a hurry to talk to you I
just forgot myself. Janice is going to walk in that door any minute, and I
just so have to talk to you. Right now!" I added.

When Alice recognized me she released her grip on my hand so that I could turn
myself over, but instead of rising to my feet I rose to my knees, grabbing
onto the back of Alice's legs, marveling at the size and hardness of her
hamstring muscles. My mind started to wander a little bit here, distracted
from my original purpose of stopping Alice in the hallway, and I lay my head
on the front of her leg, onto her massive quad. I was just about to start
licking when Alice's giggle brought me out of my reverie.

"M'sieur," she laughed, "it is not last night, your wife Janice will be at the
front door any minute, and you must be there with her vodka martini, shaken,
not stirred, or I am afraid she will be very angry with you."

The reference to my wife's anger snapped me back to reality and my mission.
"Please, please," I begged Alice, "please don't say anything to Janice about
what---er---happened here last night. It was a mistake, a boo-boo, a faux pas,
I must have had one drink too many at the bar, I would never cheat on Janice.
I love my wife too dearly to ever be so foolish. It was enough that you
punished me for straying, do you also have to tell her about our
little---er---'liaison'? I mean, after all, you forced me, you know I didn't
want to be unfaithful to my wife, you made me do it, so do you have to tell
her?"

"Oh, m'sieur," she giggled, "if I had to force you I didn't have to try very
hard, your erection told me you were a willing participant." Well, fact was, I
was a willing participant. But it was kind of ludicrous. Here I was, a six
foot guy, accusing this little 5' 2" girl of forcing me to have sex with her,
of raping me, and anybody listening to this conversation would probably laugh
their head off, seeing this big tall guy accusing this little girl of forcing
him into the sex act. That is, until they saw her huge thighs and those
outrageous biceps that could curl a four hundred pound barbell. Hell, I
couldn't even lift a four hundred pound barbell, much less curl it to my
chest. I don't even think I could lift a two hundred pound barbell, but all
that was beside the point. I needed to set up my alibi.

"Well, Alice, since you were forcing me into the sex act the reason why I had
an erection was that I made believe I was making love to my wife Janice," I
lied. Actually, Alice was a little French hottie, and when she carried me over
to the bed I knew I was a goner. Hell, it had been very good, actually
wonderful, but now I was scared that if Janice found out what had happened she
would beat me badly, maybe even kill me because anger management was not one
of her prime virtues. On a scale of one to ten she rated zero. Classes hadn't
worked for her. Or she might get me kicked out of her father's company. There
would go my senior vice president title, my mid six figure salary, my perks,
hell, I would probably wind up being a clerk in some grocery store because the
Witheringtons carried enough clout to have me blackballed wherever I went.

So I was practically begging. No, no practically about it. I was begging. I
was seriously begging for my life. "Please, Alice, you know Janice will kill
me and I really don't deserve to die. I only stayed out until 2:00 a.m. at the
bar because I was lonely for my wife (Another lie-I was hitting on a gorgeous
redhead but I wasn't about to confess to that) and you were the one that
forced me to have sex with you, you know I resisted, but you are
so---so---strong, you overpowered me."

"Well, you didn't resist very hard, M'sieur Frank, but if you want I will tell
Madame Janice that you were, how shall we say-very reluctant, n'est-ce pas?"

"Oh, thank you, Alice," I said, somewhat relieved.

"But you need not worry, M'sieur Frank, it is true what I told you-Madame
Janice instructed me that should you be tempted to stray I was to be her
replacement until she came home, your surrogate wife, so to speak. I was
merely following her instructions. Although you do have cute buns," she added,
giggling.

I think I blushed a little. It isn't often that a maid has the temerity to
tell the master of the house that he has cute buns. However, as I said before,
Alice was much more than a maid, having been my wife's companion and
confidante since Janice was a child of twelve, and Alice was only fourteen. I
knew Alice's loyalty was to Jan, not to me, and that's why I was so worried.
And although Alice had punished me, only following my wife Jan's instructions
she said, spanking the hell out of my behind with my very own leather belt, I
had no idea what Jan would have in store for me when she found out what I had
done. And that's why the roar of the jet's four engines passing overhead
filled me with dread.

But I dutifully did what I always did every Friday night when my wife arrived
back home for the weekend after her week at the university, I whipped up a
batch of martinis, shaken, not stirred, and I made them extra strong, hoping
to push my wife into a relaxed mood or even a drunken stupor so that I could
escape her wrath when she found out I had strayed.

I greeted Jan at the door, as I always did, martinis in hand, one for her and
one for me. "Hello, darling," I said. "My, don't you look beautiful tonight."

Janice eyed me thoughtfully, and then said, "Give me that martini, Frank."

I handed it over to her and she downed it in one gulp. "Midterms this past
week, Frank," she said as she handed the glass back to me. "Fill it up again."

Dutifully I poured another drink into her glass, but I couldn't keep my hand
from visibly shaking, and I spilled a few drops on her dress. Janice was
immediately suspicious. "What have you been up to, Frank?" she asked.

"Why, honey, whatever do you mean?" I asked. How could she know already?

"Because you're never so complimentary, telling me I look beautiful tonight,
unless you want something or you've been up to something. Now, which is it?"
she questioned.

"Please, sweetheart, you look lovely, and I missed you, I'm so glad to see
you." I hoped my glib tongue would get me through this crisis. "Here, honey,
let me take your coat, why don't you stay a while?" I hoped my feeble joke
would help to ease the tension I could feel building up. I put down her
martini glass on the entryway table, and as I helped her remove her coat I
couldn't help but take in the broad sweep of her shoulders that she hid so
admirably with her dresses designed especially for her so as to minimize
shoulder width, and my legs started to get a little wobbly as my active
imagination created for me a picture of myself draped over one of those
shoulders being carried to whatever doom she had in store for me.

To cover up my nervousness I handed Janice her second drink, trying hard to
keep my hand as steady as I could. Janice took the drink out of my hand and
again downed it in one gulp. That surprised me because Janice is more of a
sipper, a social drinker, than a gulper. "Oh," I said, "thirsty, dear?" We
have a complete bar and a full time bartender on the jet that flew Janice
home, so I knew she hadn't been deprived of liquid sustenance, but she seemed
eager to slake her thirst.

"No, dear," Janice said, "I just want to loosen up a little, it was midterm
week and I was under some pressure to do good. After all, the daughter of
James Witherington II, and heir to the Witherington Fortune 500 company, has
to be outstanding. I'm sure I aced all the tests, but I got a little up tight
about them, anyway. I just don't want to have to get my "A" grades by beating
up the professors. Oh, I wouldn't mind on the male professors. There are some
I'd like to smack around real good. But a couple are female professors, and
that would pose an ethical and moral dilemma for me. But I'm sure I did well."
Did I mention that Janice had gotten her Batchelor's degree Magna Cum Laude
and had a photographic memory? I don't like to think about it as I barely made
passing grades when I was in school. What husband goes around bragging that
his wife is smarter than he is? I just attribute my lower grades to being a
party animal in college.

"But don't change the subject, sweetheart," Janice said. "You seem to be quite
nervous. The hand holding that martini looks quite shaky. You've already
spilled some, and you just never do that," she added.

Alice was standing at our side, taking all this in, and my martini hand was
getting even shakier. I just knew she was going to squeal on me, and she did.

"Oh, Madame Jan, I have some bad news," she began, and I felt my legs getting
ready to collapse.

Jan turned to her. "Hello, sweetheart (Jan and Alice were quite close), what's
the problem? Has my Frankie been a bad boy?" I hated to be called by the
diminutive, and Janice knew it. If she wanted to irritate me she would call me
Frankie. "Hasn't my Frankie been behaving himself?"

"Oh, Jan," Alice said, "I love you so much I am sorry to be the bearer of bad
tidings, but since you leave me in charge when you are away I am saddened to
have to inform you that M'sieur Frank has broken one of your rules."

Hell, I was feeling like some recalcitrant child. Rules? My wife's rules?
Alice, the enforcer? Was I a child or a grown man? Didn't I make decisions at
work involving millions of dollars? Do I then have to come home and obey the
maid because my wife says I have to? How about my own rules? Damn, I'll make
my own rules around here. I was getting upset.

"Listen, you two---" I began. My wife's sharp slap to my face stopped me.

"Shut up, Frank!" my wife ordered. You are not to interrupt when Alice and I
are discussing your behavior!"

"But---" I began again, only to receive a backhanded slap on my other cheek
from my wife that staggered me.

"What did I just tell you, Frank?" Janice said in a stern voice. "I don't want
to have to tell you again," she warned me. "You are to be silent when Alice
and I are talking. I will tell you when you may speak again."

There I was, standing there, head now bowed, chastened by my wife, beginning
to quake in fear at the prospect of the punishment that would come to me when
Alice finished describing my transgressions. It wasn't that I was yellow, or a
wimp, it was just that Jan had beaten me so many times before that I knew what
was soon to come my way. I could resist, but the more I resisted the more
severe my beating would be. It was as if the more I challenged Jan the more
severely she would punish me to reestablish her control over me. I hadn't won
a physical battle with her yet, not even close. I think she secretly enjoyed
the confrontations, her personality required her to be in charge, she could
overwhelm opponents mentally and physically, and she just enjoyed a good old
knockdown drag out fight, especially since she always won them, and especially
with me. She enjoyed being the leader in our marriage, and that's why my
married name was now Frank Thomas Witherington. Her family name was now my
last name, not the other way around. Well, I consoled myself with her beauty
and her millions. Maybe it wasn't such a bad trade off, but I sure hated the
occasional beatings I would get, they were so one-sided.

So Alice says, "Madame, last night M'sieur Frank did not come home until 2:00
a.m."

Janice gasped. "What!" she exclaimed. She turned to me. How dare you!" she
said.

"I was working late," I lied.

Another sharp slap across my face staggered me. "Don't lie to me, Frank, you
know I can easily check that with the night watchman at the company offices."

"Oh," was all that I could think of to say. I had forgotten about the night
watchman.

"You were working late with some bimbo, weren't you, Frank?" Janice asked.

"Well---I was depressed, I miss you so much when you are away, light of my
life, I thought going out to a bar would shorten the time until we could be
together again." Boy, am I good, or what?

"Don't hand me that, you lying piece of crap," Janice said. Well, I guess that
story wasn't going to work tonight. I'd better think of something else fast.

"I'm doing some work for the CIA, I can't tell you what, I've been sworn to
secrecy," I said. How about that one?

Janice stared at me incredulously for several seconds. Then she burst out
laughing. "Oh, you're such a charming rogue," she managed to say between
giggles. "I guess that's why I love you." Wow, did I feel relieved. But all of
a sudden the smile left her face. "But even so, I am going to beat the shit
out of you, you need to learn that you must obey me!"

"The CIA won't like that," I said. "I need to complete my mission." Actually,
I wish I had one, and the farther away the better. Afghanistan would still be
too close.

"Well, when I finish with you the CIA will have to bring the mission to your
hospital bed," Janice stated. She bent down and before I knew what was
happening she effortlessly hoisted my two hundred pounds onto one brawny
shoulder. I always hated that. I felt so helpless staring at the floor from
this position, and even watching her marvelously sculpted calves flashing
underneath me as she carried me didn't do much to reduce my feeling of
helplessness.

"I think we'll be out at the stables," Jan said to Alice.

I heard Alice's sharp intake of breath, followed by "Oh, no, not the stables,
madame!"

But Jan said, "Yes, I think it's better that way. It's far enough away from
the main house that the staff will have trouble hearing Frank's screams. Of
course, he might stampede the horses," she mused. "Are they all in their
stalls?" she asked.

"Oui, madame," Alice replied. "All secured. They would have trouble breaking
out, regardless of how loud Mr. Frank screams," she said.

Now I was getting seriously worried. I'm not much of a screamer. I'm more of a
moaner. If I was going to be screaming I was going to be getting some serious
whipping from my wife. "Please, Jan," I begged, "the FBI---er---the CIA is
going to be really upset. I mean the security of the country is at stake."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Frank, will you please shut up?" Does nothing, not
even national security, impress this woman?

Janice proceeded to carry me towards the horse stables, but Alice piped up.
"Please, madame, be considerate. I am sure M'sieur Frank will not transgress
again." I hastily agreed.

"No, Alice," Jan shot back over her shoulder, "if I permit even a slight
deviation from my rules the next time it will be worse. I must nip this horror
in the bud."

"It was only 2:00 a.m." I mumbled, half to myself, but Janice heard me.

"It's not the lateness of the hour, Frank," Janice said, "it's the idea that
you would dare to disobey me. I can't tolerate such conduct. The next time it
will be 3:00 a.m., then 4:00 a.m., then all night. I simply won't permit it.
So your punishment today will be the same as if you had stayed out all night.
Do you understand, dear?"

"Yes, my love," I mumbled, "but couldn't you be a little soft-hearted just
this once? After all, it is the first time."

"Honey, I can't afford to be soft-hearted. I intend to take over a Fortune 500
company when I get my MBA, and my brother Jim stands in my way. What am I
supposed to say, 'Oh, pretty please, Jimmy, let me be CEO, please, please,
pretty please.' No, I love my brother, just as I love you, but in marriage as
in business there is no room for sentimentality. I must be obeyed!"

"Boy, you're a hard-hearted bitch," I blurted out, and I instantly regretted
that I had said it.

"No, just practical," responded Jan. "Oh, and by the way, 'hard-hearted' I
consider a compliment, and will draw no extra retribution from me, but 'bitch'
is going to add severely to your corrective treatment."

Damn, I knew I had blundered. All this conversation was going on as I lay over
Jan's shoulder as she marched with me the quarter-mile down to the stables. My
two hundred pounds certainly didn't seem to tire her at all, and I was getting
an erection just from looking down at those large calves as they flashed in
and out of my gaze, even pumped up a little by the extra weight Jan was now
carrying on her shoulder. Although I knew I was going to suffer some terrible
retribution for my transgression of breaking one of Janice's rules I couldn't
help myself. Looking at Janice's legs always turned me on, and the prospect of
the pain to come didn't lessen my response to those whopping calf muscles. And
the bouncing of my body against Jan's muscular shoulder certainly didn't help
any as my penis rubbed up and down against her deltoid and pec and large
breast.

I was on the verge of having a mighty come incident when Jan got to the
stables, opened the stable door, and carried me inside. Carrying me the
quarter-mile on her shoulder didn't faze her in the slightest. She dropped me
on the stable floor and before I could move she knelt and had her right knee
in my stomach, pinning me down. The next thing I know she picks up a thin rope
laying on the stable floor and grabs my right hand. I tried to pull it away,
but no dice. She's holding it below the wrist and easily pulls my hand up in
the air despite my desperate effort to pull my arm away. She ties the rope
around my wrist. "What are you doing?" I inquire as she grabs my left hand and
also ties the rope around that wrist. Who needs handcuffs? I am effectively
tied up. Then she pulls another rope off a nearby hook, drops it over my
chest, picks my two hundred pounds off the floor effortlessly, and flips me so
that I land on my front. She pulls the rope up around my chest to my back and
ties a knot so that now I have a rope under my armpits encircling my chest and
back, with one long free end. The free end she throws over a rafter about ten
feet up and pulls on the rope so that I feel my body lifting off the stable
floor into the air. All this takes longer to tell than to do-in about thirty
seconds she's got me suspended about three feet in the air by this rope
encircling my chest. I don't even have time to figure out what's going on and
get scared, it happens so fast. Janice walks over to a rack and pulls down a
riding crop and starts swishing it through the air. All of a sudden I realize
what's going on and now I'm plenty scared. Janice has never used a whip or a
riding crop on me before. Only her hand to spank me or her fists if she was
really mad, but then I had a chance to move and duck a little so as to soften
the blow. Now I was utterly defenseless, hanging in the air.

"Oh, no, Janice, please, not the riding crop," I begged. "That could cut me,
that could draw blood, I'm squeamish about my own blood," I offered.

"Oh, you're right, hon, thanks for reminding me. I'd better take off this
blouse. It's one of my favorite designer blouses and it's so hard to remove
blood from this delicate fabric," she said, as she started to unbutton the
sleeves and the blouse front.

Of course, there were a couple things that helped to balance out Janice's mean
streak for me. One was her money, and the other was her magnificent body. I
guess a lot of guys would be turned off by all those muscles, but the muscles
produced some delicious curvatures, the pecs held up some awesome breasts,
and, whereas some guys like skinny, boney arms, I liked nice full arms that I
could feel when she wrapped them around my neck to pull me tight against her
body for a hug or a kiss. It wasn't that she lacked warmth or affection, she
was just downright mean and nasty to go along with them. One minute she'd be
all lovey and kissy, the next minute she could be beating the hell out of me
because of something I had or hadn't done that displeased her. Now, as she
pulled her blouse off to reveal her full, awesome chest, I got a unique view
from my elevated position looking down on those boobs. Wow, despite the peril
I found myself in I could feel my penis coming to full attention. Janice was
wearing a bra, which she didn't need, but which she wore anyway to maintain
proper decorum while she was away at the university. Even so, those nipples
looked like they were about to pierce the fabric, and Janice didn't help my
situation any by starting to limber up. She swung her arms around and back
which pushed her chest out to prodigious dimensions. I couldn't see her feet
anymore from my position above her, only two big balloons, fully inflated, and
now my penis was inflating to prodigious dimensions. Janice had a sudden
thought.

"Darling, did you know I'm ambidextrous? I can use a whip in each hand, that
way I can discipline you in half the time, or maybe double your punishment, I
can't decide which. Hhhmmmm."

Janice walks over to the shelf and pulls out another riding crop, and now
she's swishing them both in the air, loosening up her back and arm muscles.
I'm always amazed at the fullness of her arms, and now she starts to flex them
back and forth, and her biceps spring into view. Well, I think sexual
responses arise partly from desire located in the mind, and partly from the
adrenaline that starts flowing through the body in anticipation of what's to
come, fight or flee, and as I watched those huge biceps rising on my wife's
arms as she flexed, the adrenaline was flooding my body. Next to my sister,
this woman had the most enormous arms. Like nineteen inches, at least, and
they look a helluva lot bigger and more menacing when they're about to launch
a couple whips at your body. The desire to hump that body, combined with the
adrenaline flowing through my veins, was propelling my erection straight out.
Being as how I was suspended in the air so that my crotch was about at eye
level with Janice, she couldn't help but notice.

"Gee, honey," she says, "maybe I should whip you more often. That hard-on
looks like one of the best you've showed me since we got married. Let's have a
closer look, shall we? I need to remove your pants, anyway, so I can get at
your rear end with my whips."

Janice undid my belt and unzipped my zipper, and slipped my pants down to
around my ankles, and then pulled my shorts down also. Thus released from
captivity my erection sprang into action. I must admit I think it was one of
my best ever. I almost put Janice's eye out with it. She jumped back, shocked,
but I got her anyway. I released a stream of come all over her face and I
think some even got into her eyes. Somehow I felt good about that. If I were
going to get the hell beat out of me at least I got in a good one first. My
juices started dripping off her face, down onto her big boobs, and even some
onto her skirt.

"You asshole," she yelled, "just for that I'm going to double your
punishment!"

"I---I---I couldn't help it, honey," I alibied. "You---you're so sexy, I just
couldn't contain myself any longer. If you let me down, I could entertain you,
I think I could do it again," I offered, hopefully.

"Fat chance," she said. "You're going to take your punishment like a man. And,
like a man, you'll probably blubber all over me."

And I did. Oh, not the first few whacks. I just gritted my teeth and told
myself not to whimper or cry. Then I began to understand why horses run so
fast to the finish line when the jockey starts to use those riding crops on
them. First I gave off a little moan, then a soft sob escaped my lips, then a
tear formed in the corner of my left eye, then my right eye, and pretty soon
there are tears rolling down both cheeks and I'm sure the servant staff can
hear my cries of pain even though the main house is a quarter of a mile away.
And watching those deltoids bunch up on my wife's shoulders as she swung one
whip and then the other and those trapezius come up around her neck as
sometimes she swung both arms back and hit me with both whips simultaneously,
one on my front and one on my back, well, I knew she was never going to tire
enough to stop before she killed me.

So this is how it is to die. Gradually my sense of pain faded, my sense of
self also faded away, my head sank onto my chest, and I started to lose
consciousness. Before everything went black, from far away I heard Janice say,
"Damn! What a wimp! I'm only up to 180 strokes and he's blacked out already.
Well, no sense in going on since he won't feel it anyway. I think I'll just
leave him hanging there until morning so he can think about the evil that men
do." Janice wiped my blood off the whips and replaced them on the shelf,
picked up her blouse and walked back the quarter mile to the main house,
leaving me suspended in mid-air by the rope around my chest. 'Hard-hearted
bitch' was an understatement. My semi-consciousness faded into oblivion,
probably a blessing.

Some extended period of time later my consciousness told me that I was
descending-into hell?-gee, I had expected to go the other way. But then I felt
my body flop on the cold hard floor. Well, can't be hell. Hell had to be
hotter. I felt myself being lifted off the floor and carried, and then the
movement stopped and I could feel myself seated on someone's thighs. Someone
was holding me on their lap, running their soft palm over my face, wiping away
my dried tears, smoothing the hair back from my forehead. Our stable man? No,
he didn't have soft hands. It must be that my wife Janice had a change of
heart and came back to apologize. Yeah, fat chance.

Gradually, a soft voice impinged on my consciousness. "Ah, M'sieur Frank, you
dear boy, at least it is over, hopefully your scars will heal nicely, and the
loss of blood cannot be more than a pint or two." The voice was assessing my
condition, talking to herself more than to me. Alice?

"Alice?" I mumbled.

"Oh, M'sieur Frank, you are awake. How nice. For a while I feared for your
life, I was unable to revive you. But here you are, my sturdy little man.
Hopefully, now you will learn to behave yourself. You know Madame Jan's
temper. You should not antagonize her. I am always here to attend to your
needs," and through my unfocused eyes I think I saw her start to blush.

I had nothing to say, I was trying to cope with my pain. Alice continued to
brush away my dried up tears, and smooth my hair back, and then I must have
been such a pathetic sight and she felt so sorry for me she gave me a little
kiss on the cheek. I felt so safe and secure sitting there on her lap, held so
tightly against her body by her muscular arms, the heat from her soft skin
radiating through me. I put my arms around her neck and hugged her tightly.
Why couldn't my wife Janice be as even tempered and understanding as our maid
Alice? I rested my head on her shoulder, and as my eyesight returned I could
see her prodigious breasts filling my vision. It always amazed me how a little
5' 2" cutie could have such amazing mammaries. No wonder she had to give up
gymnastics.

Gazing down on that chest and the cleavage there was awe inspiring, and,
despite my pain, I began to feel a response between my legs. Damn, I didn't
want to, I needed to focus on my physical condition, not my prick. But Alice
noticed. How could she not? My pants and shorts were still down around my
ankles.

"Oh, m'sieur," she giggled, as she took my engorged penis between her thumb
and forefinger and wiggled it back and forth. "You are incorrigible. But first
I must take care of your wounds. Some of them are bleeding openly and may get
infected. We can't have serious complications over a simple whipping," she
said, as she prepared to remove me from her lap to place me on the bench or
the floor.

But I panicked. Right at the moment what I needed more than anything in the
world was to have a warm body comforting me, helping to ward off my pain and
my distress. I tightened my grip around Alice's neck and I pleaded. "Oh, God,
no, Alice, please, no, I feel so bad, don't leave me, I hurt so badly."

"Oh, Frank, I'm just going over here to the horse medicine cabinet to get some
liniment and some bandages," she reassured me. But I was adamant.

"No, no," I begged, "please hold me, that wife of mine is a monster, please
hold me, she could come back any minute. The next time she might kill me!" I
was desperate.

"Frank, I wouldn't let her do that. I think you and I might have some fun in
the future, n'est-ce pas?" she giggled. "Here, I will take you with me, my
poor baby." I don't know how she did it, she's only 5' 2" and her arms are so
short, and I'm a six footer, but somehow she got her left arm under my knees
as I rested my head on her left shoulder, and she got up from the bench we
were sitting on so that she was carrying me on her left hip, my knees almost
touching my chin as she pulled my legs up to secure her grip on my body. She
carried me that way over to the cabinet, took what she needed, and then
carried me back to the bench, holding my two hundred pounds on her left hip as
if it was nothing. She rearranged me on her lap once again and ministered to
my hurts. Well, with all that attention from this beautiful and kind young
woman I began to feel considerably better, and the tender ministrations and
soft kisses on my neck and forehead, and on my cheeks to wipe away my tears,
helped to return a little sanity to my shattered mind. Soon I gave Alice a
little kiss back, and another, and another, and the pain my body was feeling
began to fade away. My anguish over the cruelty my wife had exhibited towards
me this evening started to fade behind the passion I was beginning to feel for
my nurse Nightingale who was being so kind and loving to me, as opposed to the
cruelty my unyielding wife had showed me this evening. Alice rose and
maneuvered me onto her shoulder. What was next?

I let out a really big moan. It was half pain from the pressure of her
muscular shoulder on my open wounds, half from the fear of the consequences
that follow being carried on someone's shoulder as my wife Janice had just
done to me, and half from the desire being created in me of staring directly
at Alice's sweet little ass.

Alarmed, Alice put her hands on my waist and raised me up off her shoulder,
holding me up so she could examine my face closely. There I am, my body
bending in half at my waist, my face almost on top of hers, looking down at
her gorgeous face as she held me suspended at arm's length overhead,
scrutinizing my pain anguished face. "Shall I put you down?" she asked,
concerned.

"No, no," I gasped, "I'm OK, it's just your shoulder was pressing into this
cut on my stomach I got from one of Janice's whips."

"Oh, my poor baby," said Alice. My penis had been resting on one of Alice's
firm breasts, and the contact had aroused me even more. Now, as she held me
out from her body to inspect my pain racked face, she could feel my throbbing
erection banging into her nipple. Curious, she raised my body a little higher
to inspect my pendulous penis.

Up, down, up, down, my swinging penis keeping time to the beating of my heart,
which at this point was quite rapid. Blood dripping from my open wounds, my
penis swinging wildly in the air, well, put it all together and at this point
I guess it was quite funny. Alice started laughing.

"Oh, sir, you're nothing but a hound dog," she giggled. She brought my body a
little closer to her face so that she could capture my undulating prick
between her lips, gave me a couple licks with her facile tongue, and then gave
me a little sucking motion. Well, needless to say I went off like a rocket. My
juices spurted into her mouth, over her face, down her body.

Alice raised my body again so she could inspect my face. "Do you feel better
now, M'sieur Frank?" she asked.

"A little," I mumbled.

"Well, Madame Janice has always cautioned me that I must do s competent job,
so I guess I must be a little more thorough," Alice said as she placed my two
hundred pounds on her right shoulder without even putting me down. I guess my
weight really wasn't a big deal to anyone who has been known to curl a four
hundred pound barbell to her chest. "Here," she said, "I think on this
shoulder there won't be so much pressure on that ugly whip cut on your
stomach."

What was up? Well, my wife Janice had instructed Alice that she was to attend
to my needs when Janice was away, and right now Alice knew that my need was
for caring and softness and love, something that Janice in her present anger
towards me wouldn't be able to supply. Alice had in mind a little privacy in
case someone came into the stables, and what better place than the stable's
hay loft? With my wounds I couldn't climb the ladder and Alice couldn't carry
me up in her arms because she needed both hands free to climb the ladder, so I
was now on her shoulder watching her big calves flex as she scampered up the
ladder with her two hundred pound burden now resting on her right shoulder.

Suffice it to say, Alice made me feel considerably better that evening.
Hopefully I made her feel pretty good, too. I do want to keep her happy. It's
so hard to get good help around the house nowadays.

Next: My wife Janice gets her MBA, but who gets the family's Fortune 500
company?