Chapter 3
It took John until noon to get himself sorted out in the house. He'd managed breakfast, a good round of eggs and what he presumed was local bacon, given that it wasn't prepackaged like you find in the supermarket, then after, had called the estate agents to thank them, and in particular, Joanne, for setting everything up. The girl on the other end of the phone had said Joanne was out on holiday for two weeks, but they would pass on the message once she was back.
He had taken his bags upstairs, finding a neat bedroom, Lesley's influence all over it. The room occupied almost the entire of the upper floor, the staircase coming up into one corner, a wardrobe and chest of drawers along one wall, and the bed positioned against another, so that the light of the morning would stream through the windows and onto the bed. A small bedside table had a framed picture on it. Himself and Lesley, he dressed casually, she dressed in sweat soaked running gear, grinning from ear to ear, a London Marathon medal around her neck. He sat in the bed for a while, turning it over in his hands. It must have been the first marathon she had run, as she had run it more than once, but this was whilst they were still just boyfriend and girlfriend. He had massaged her aching muscles that night, he remembered. It was only a few weeks later that they had moved in together and a year later they were married.
Behind a door in the wall opposite the bed was the bathroom, a free standing bath taking up a lot of the space, a toilet situated in the corner, under the window. It suddenly occured to him that he needed to use both the toilet and the bath so he stripped, finding a stack of fresh towels on a stand, and both soap and shampoo on the bath. The water was warm in the bath, and he let it wash away the travel weariness and the stress.
Washed and dressed in jeans and a t-shirt he pulled from his bag, he had unpacked, placing things in the wardrobe and drawers, then had gone downstairs, grabbing another cup of coffee before he went into the living room. The pictures on the wall caught his eye, a series of framed photos, all of them of Lesley and him, all of her having done some running event.
All except one. The last picture, smaller than the rest. A young Lesley, before he had met her, maybe whilst she was at University, or even at school. She was again in athletic gear, with her arm around another girl, almost the same build and height, another runner for certain, but raven haired whilst Lesley was brunette. They both looked as sweaty and disheveled as each other. Both wore medals, Lesley's gold, the other girl's silver. He took the picture down, and on a whim, opened up the back. 'To my Darling Lesley... One day I'll beat you... Love Marie'
The way they held each other, they were more than just friends, for certain. John wasn't surprised to see this. Lesley had made it clear she had been bisexual from the start, but seeing his wife with someone else, even they hadn't met when this photo was taken, was a little odd.
He had a good lunch, and he made a mental note that he would have to do something special for Joanne when she got back from her holiday. Then he couldn't resist it any further. He grabbed the envelope with the key, and set off down the path to the 'pain cave'
The building was completely windowless, and the door was the only way in or out. The key moved in the lock easily when John tried and then he was inside. In the light if the day he easily found the light switch just inside, and flicked it on, closing the door behind him as he did.
A series of banks of lights, all hanging from the roof came in, lighting up the room brightly. The room would have put some gyms to shame. Off center in the room, closer to the left hand wall, and placed so they all faced a large flat panel TV on the wall were a treadmill, a stair climber and a multi gym weight machine.
The wall opposite them had a series of storage cabinets, like gym lockers, each closed, and in the far corner, an open shower stall, almost industrial in look, the showerhead set into the wall and the floor simply tile with what looked like a drain in the middle. Along the wall from the shower, opposite the door, was a thin mattress, with something covered in a dark cloth between it and the shower.
John wandered in, looking at the equipment. It wasn't the latest, but it all looked well maintained. He started up the stairs machine, and it came up just as expected, no glitches, no issues, nothing wrong at all. He glanced toward the flat screen, and saw that there was a remote pocket attached to the wall.
Curious, he went for it and turned it on. The screen came into life, and John started to see that it didn't go to a menu, or a TV show, but instead showed a series of video feeds of the room now, focussing on the machines from the front and, for the treadmill, from one side and also the back. There were even screens focusing on the mattress and the cloth draped thing by the wall.
He started to look closely, and he could see where the cameras were placed now. He noticed an outline around the screen showing the treadmill, and he pressed a red button on the remote, and the screen filled with the view just from that camera. Another press, and it went back to the series of views. A few more button presses, and he even managed to get the screens to switch around, showing the view of each gym machine.
There was a small button on the remote labelled menu, and he pressed this, the screen presenting a series of options. One was marked files, and he navigated towards that, and hit enter, revealing a series of dated files, all of them earlier than when Lesley had stopped coming here, due to the cancer. He picked one at random, and pressed enter again.
The screen switched to the composite shot of the room again. He scanned the screens, but then his attention was drawn to Lesley walking into shot, the remote in her hand. She was naked bar the running shoes on her feet. The screen changed to show just the treadmill, and she climbed in board, setting it in motion. She went from a jog, to a trot, to a steady distance eating run, a distance runners pace, and John felt his heart soar. She was so fucking beautiful.
He carried on watching, seeing her focus on her pace, her breathing, watching the sweat start to sheen her body, hearing her breathing echo in the room. He realized that the lights served to heat the room as well, and he realized that he also was sweating. There was a clock in the bottom corner, 15 minutes had elapsed. At 30 minutes, she slowed the machine and stopped it, then stepped off the machine, heading out of view to where the gym lockers were. He couldn't see what she was doing, but could hear her opening and closing one of the doors.
When she came back into shot, a little under 10 minutes later, he gasped. She was still nude, but now there was some kind of leather harness around her head. He could see what looked like a bit for a horse pulled between her teeth, a series of straps holding it in place. He could clearly see a chain was around her waist, one end of it pulled down between her legs, obviously pulled tight, as he could see how it nipped in her waist, and how it disappeared between the folds of her cunt. She climbed back into the treadmill, and she reached forward to set up a program, and John noticed the handcuff locked around one wrist, the other dangling loose. She set the program running, then pulled both wrists behind her back, obviously cuffing them together there.
John didn't know what to think, he had no idea that this was something his wife, his Lesley would do. Is this what she meant by unorthodox training techniques? Lesley started to walk, then jog, and then finally settle into the same long pace she had before. With her wrists behind her back, it pushed her chest forward, and John couldn't help but see how hard her nipples were. He also couldn't miss that due to the gag in her mouth, she was drooling, strings of it dripping from her open mouth, coating her chin and mixing with the fresh sweat on her chest.
John couldn't tear his eyes away from the screen, seeing his wife, running like she was....a race horse. He felt his erection rising, and as he realized how turned on he was, he wondered what the chain through her crotch was doing to her. As he freed his cock from his pants, he suddenly realized that perhaps she wore a chain when she ran in London, and when she did, she came home and fucked him.
Ten minutes, twenty minutes, on she ran, and John couldn't help but marvel at her. He also couldn't help but masturbate, coming just as the treadmill seemed to kick into a higher gear, forcing Lesley into a near sprint for what seemed far longer than he knew she could maintain. Then, with an audible moan on the soundtrack, the machine slowed, and Lesley slowed with it, her chest heaving, her hair hanging lank around her face. The machine stopped, and she staggered off it, and John wondered if that was the end of the recording.
The view changed to one of the mattress by the wall, Lesley, still wearing the harness, but free from the chain and the cuffs came into view, pulling the cover off the thing by the mattress. What it was was instantly clear. She pulled the machine closer to the mattress, then dropped to all fours in front of it. He could see the dildo on the end of an arm, and watched, his erection springing anew, as she impaled herself on it. Then, she twisted a control in her hand, and with wide open eyes, he watched his beloved wife be fucked by a machine.
Even though he hadn't seen his wife for six months, hadn't had sex for at least three more months before that, he knew when she was about to come, and he wanked himself, holding himself back until she tossed her head back and screamed behind the bit. As she came he came, then sank to his knees crying, as she carried on coming, twice more, until she pulled herself off the dildo, slumped down onto the mattress, and shut off the camera.