Stop struggling, you’ll only give yourself rope burns. And stop trying to talk. I stuffed your wet, nasty panties in your mouth because I don’t want to hear it. I told you to SHUT UP, bitch. You were talking in your sleep. I’ve suspected for a while, but now I know for sure. It’s not like you weren’t obvious. All the signs are there. You’re always talking about him. You haven’t sucked my cock in forever. Every time I try to cop a feel, you push me away. Don’t look at me like that. Don’t deny it. You’re a fucking terrible liar. Tonight was the last straw. You came home hours late from work, with a lame assed excuse and jumped straight into the shower. I had a look at your scrubs while you were bathing. Your bra and socks were balled up with them in the hamper, but your panties weren’t there. Should I take a look for them in your purse? Well, should I? Do they have his cum all over them? I told you when we married that if you saw another guy you wanted to fuck, all you had to do was ask my permission. I only demanded that you not go around behind my back and you promised not to. Did you think I would refuse to let you fuck him if you really wanted to? Now, you’ve broken your promise and I have to prove to you that you won’t get away with it. I told you not to struggle. You’re tied spread eagle to the bedposts by your wrists and ankles. You can’t loosen the knots, no matter how hard you pull. I was a Boy Scout, remember. You can’t avoid your punishment. Should I use my belt on your pussy and tits? I cut a nice limber switch from the willow in the back yard. It’ll leave some reminders on your labia and nipples. Will your new boyfriend be upset when he sees them? I could go get that round curling brush with the stiff bristles that hurts your head. He wouldn’t see any marks but you’d have to suck his cock or take it up the ass for a few nights. I’m going to pull your panties out of your mouth now and you can tell me how I should punish you.