Whipped on the Treadmill
As her husband grew fatter, she grew angrier. Her anger forced latent sadism into the open. Barely remembered dreams of punishing men became imperatives.
As much as she would enjoy hurting her husband, she sought an outlet elsewhere. The couple had grown apart. She knew he had girlfriends. She went looking for masochistic boytoys. The result surprised and gratified her.
Who knew that so many handsome young men wanted to be spanked by a mature woman? Spanking was the mildest of their desires. Her long suppressed sadism ran molten through her mind. She welcomed even the more outré experiences.
After a few months of rapturous recreational consensual sadomasochistic play, she finally grew calm. The mere site of her flabby husband ruffled that calm. The men she had been spanking all took care of themselves: they went to the gym and kept their bodies lean. Hard butts that deserved hard spankings.
She resented her husband for years of a passionless, sexless marriage. She wanted revenge. Her crazily elaborate scheme probably belonged on a prime time soap opera.
They were members of the one-percent. Their home was a huge mansion. Mostly unused empty space. The submissive guys she played with all pitched into help her. Some of them had impressive skills. After a couple of months passed, all was ready.
She added a modest dose of Flunitrazepam to the morning coffee. The roofie had him unconscious in moments. With a help of a couple of guys she had him stripped, handcuffs and in the special room and on the treadmill in less than fifteen minutes.
Assured that she could accomplish the rest on her own her friends left. Badly they wanted to stay and watch. At home, every one of them fantasized that he was her husband. Oh, those masochists!
She sat contentedly waiting for her husband to awake. It was not a long wait. He was groggy but realizing he was cuffed and chained brought him to full wakefulness.
His rage was immense. And futile. In the isolated, soundproofed room, he could yell all he wanted to know effect. Unyielding metal prevented escape.
His wife stared at him in seemingly disinterested silence. This more than anything else made him finally see his horrifying situation.
When he seemed completely subdued, she told him that it was time to lose that fat belly. She had kindly spent money and time constructing a special exercise machine just him. This treadmill was surely the most expensive aerobic exercise machine in the world.
The electrified wires behind him would serve as an extra incentive for him to try his best.
He started cursing her again. She flipped the switch and the treadmill began to roll.
His frantic response made her smile. He was trying so hard. He had no stamina he probably would not last five minutes.
The wires would not electrocute him. They would burn and sting bitterly. Murder had never been her desire. Just his pain.
She would tell people that he went on vacation. He had often arbitrarily disappeared into parts unknown. He would spend those weeks shacked up with a girlfriend.
How would she follow up that? Nothing she wanted to worry about now. It was going to be a pleasure to see her fattie husband become skin and bones.