From Devoted Wife to Avenging Slave

On your knees. Lick it.

The wet, suggestive sounds mixed with a man's low groans.

I was curled up inside a wardrobe, watching through a crack my husband and his mistress doing it.

My mouth felt dry, and a slow heat spread through my body.

Feeling lonely? Not to brag, but your husband couldn't handle like me.

A hot hand slid under my shirt from behind. The man who also hid in the wardrobe blew softly on my ear.

"They're playing outside, we're playing in here. This is gonna feel so good."

John and I fell for each other and got married.

I stood by him as he climbed from a poor nobody to the CEO of a major corporation.

As for my own company, I stepped back from the front lines when it got stable.

Once the career was set, I thought it time to focus on the family.

But I didn't expect John would stir the trouble.

"Honey, can you try being more like this girl in the video?"

John gave me a goofy grin on the bed. I took his phone and saw something that made me blush instantly.

A fair-skinned, young woman was on her knees, face flushed, eyes glazed with pleasure.

Several tall, muscular men surrounded her, playing with her like she was a pet.

They lifted her from the floor like holding a baby to pee.

Everything was on full display. I turned bright red.

But the woman in the video wasn't embarrassed at all. She seemed pretty much turned on.

She pulled a man's large hand, mewling and moaning.

"Master, please, be good to me."

I couldn't watch anymore and threw the phone back at John.

The video kept playing. Hearing those suggestive sounds, the images flooded back into my mind.

John leaned in, roughly grabbing my breast through my clothes with one of his hand.

"Babe, call me Master too."

He licked his lips. There was a flash of heat in his eyes.

I pushed him away without thinking.

"John! I am not some slut from your videos! You... you stop watching that trash right now!"

John didn't seem upset. He just picked up his discarded suit jacket and said he had a dinner meeting to get to.

I didn't stop him from leaving. My own mind was in turmoil.

Even though I scolded John, that video had really stirred something in me.

No matter how desperately I denied being turned on by that slutty behavior, I couldn't stop touching myself.

My long, pale legs felt weak. A secret thrill built up, wave after wave.

I couldn't help myself. I took one of John's suit jackets, laid it on the floor, and knelt on it, swaying my hips.

Soon, it felt like I was burning.

Gasping, my eyes met my reflection in the wardrobe mirror.

The reflection showed me with my tongue out, face flushed, body trembling slightly.

I turned away in shame, cursing myself softly.

Slut!

After that night, John started acting really strange.

Despite occupied by his business, he came home every night this month and went straight to sleep.

Not just a day or two, but every single night!

Now, even though I braved my shyness and wore a one-piece fishnet bodysuit, he just waved me off saying he was too tired.

Our sex life wasn't super frequent before, but it was always pretty good.

Except for that time he wanted me to get on all fours and bark like a dog, which I refused, I usually went along with his ideas.

I called my best friend to complain and ask for advice, but her response hit me like a ton of bricks.

My husband was probably cheating.

I immediately hired a private investigator to look into John.

The PI worked fast. Maybe John wasn't even trying to hide it.

On the third day, I received a compromising photo of him and another woman.

It was taken in front of a floor-to-ceiling window.

I recognized it as the villa John bought in the suburbs. He'd given me the key of it.

Pressed against the glass was a sexy woman, roughly tied with rope.

I'd seen this kind of tie on John's phone before, something called a "rope harness".

I didn't get a good look then because John quickly snatched the phone, turned it off, and scolded me for snooping.

The woman in the photo faced the window. The only things covering her were the ropes and her messy hair.

I unbuttoned my shirt, examining myself in the mirror with shame.

The woman in the photo was at least a D-cup. I was just a regular B.

Sure, pink might be cute, but the tips of that woman had swollen to deep, overflowing purple, which were much more tempting.

That woman radiated a mature sexiness even through the photo.

The PI had a weird angle.

I couldn't see the woman's face, but every other detail was crystal clear.

As for John, he looked like a wild animal. I could see the sticky trails on the glass.

My mouth felt dry.

A month without sex, seeing that incredibly tempting photo made me hot and bothered.

I almost wished it was me in that picture.

I remembered my husband's strong body on our honeymoon, that feeling of being completely filled.

He would teasingly ask me then.

"Feels good, doesn't it?"

"You like it when I do this, babe?"

Looking at the two in the photo, my hand somehow found the empty wine bottle I hadn't thrown out from drowning my sorrows a few days ago.

"Ding!"

A sudden notification on my phone snapped me out of my daze, and I quickly pulled my hand back from the bottle.

How... how could I think about using it!

I remembered a few months ago, John held a bottle and asked me suggestively.

"Hey babe, look at this."

"Think it could fit?"

I thought he was joking then and told him to get lost, but now I couldn't help imagining it.

If that bottle had really...

The cool glass, my heated body...

"Pop. Pop."

I shakily brought the bottle close, making suggestive sounds.

"Slap!"

I slapped my own face hard, deciding to stop these crazy thoughts.

"Chloe, how can you be so cheap!"

Furious and embarrassed, I threw the bottle aside, forcing myself not to look at it.

I clicked on the new chat message on my phone. It was from John.

"Babe, big dinner meeting tonight, a huge deal. Won't be home for dinner."

Another dinner meeting!

He's definitely seeing that slut again!

All my desire vanished. Fuming, I threw my phone across the room.

I pestered his secretary for John's location. It wasn't some fancy restaurant, but a well-hidden members-only club.

At the club entrance, I saw two men half-carrying, half-dragging a woman out.

Their hands were roaming all over her shamelessly.

The woman didn't resist. Her soft body leaned weakly into the circle of the two men.

The security guards at the door watched like it was nothing.

Looking at that scene, I felt a weird sense of longing.

I tried to enter the club, but the security guards stopped me, saying I needed a reservation.

I was sure John was in there messing around, but I had no way to get in.

My anxiety must be obvious. The two guards exchanged a smile, and reached out.

"Maybe we can let you in, but it depends if you can pay the price, miss."

A rough hand started rubbing my smooth shoulder.

I tried to run, but couldn't break free from men's grip.

A few patrons who had just come out gathered around.

"New arrival? Looks fresh. Has anyone booked her yet?"

They greeted the guards and closed in around me.

In the jostling crowd, I felt hands groping me, someone even slapped my ass hard.

"Smack! Smack!"

"Stop... stop that."

I was blushing furiously. My initial resolve to escape wavered under those slaps.

My chest burned.

Suddenly, the crowd parted, and someone draped a coat over me.

Burning up, desperate for some relief, I eagerly pressed myself against that man, mewling and pleading.

...

Next morning, I found myself lying naked at home.

I scrambled up to check myself, but I felt normal.

I couldn't remember what happened that night. But because of it, I didn't dare confront him anymore.

Just as I was trying hard to keep up the facade of a happy marriage, the private investigator sent me a ten-plus-minute audio file.

I downloaded it and tried to message the PI, but he'd already deleted me.

No explanation, just the audio file left behind.

Hesitantly, I played the audio. A woman's seductive voice came through, fragmented and breathy, utterly captivating.

"Master... mmm... who makes you feel better, me or that hag wife of yours?"

"Of course it's you, you little minx."

I wanted to smash my phone, but somehow kept the audio playing.

Using my husband's affair recording, I slowly picked up the wine bottle I'd just put down.

I was just so lonely.

My hand tightened slowly. Lying in the bathtub, I started moaning softly along with the woman in the recording.

The woman's breathing in the audio grew faster, ending with a cry before settling down.

Then came the sound of clothes rustling, and both of them leaving one after the other.

I was getting restless, my thighs tense.

Just as I was about to reach the peak, the woman's teasing voice came from the audio:

"Did you enjoy the show, Mrs. Wright?"