John checked his phone. Again. For at least the fiftieth time in the last ten minutes. Nothing. He went into whatsapp, but Catherine hadn't been online since their last exchange, just before she went into her promotion meeting. That was four hours ago, and still no word on how it went. John had booked a restaurant, Catherine's favourite, as a surprise to celebrate. Now he was just annoyed at the lack of news from his wife, and he packed up his desk to head home.
Catherine had been a marketing associate at her firm for 5 years, and she felt she was long overdue a promotion when an opportunity had arisen. She'd certainly earned it. She'd worked bloody hard, and put in more hours than anyone else in her department. Of all the candidates, she was comfortably the most experienced at 40, a good 8 years older than the youngest candidate. They both knew she deserved to move up the ladder, but John had been engulfed by a sense of trepidation. There had been a few stories over the years, of Dario extracting a price for progression, but he wasn't sure he believed them.
Competitive offices are full of those kinds of whispers, usually borne from jealousy. And anyway, Catherine was different. Catherine was a proud, confident woman. Strong, determined, and was the last person to get dragged into Dario's nonsense.
Dario ran the firm, alongside his wife, Jane. He was about 6'3", a good looking guy, built like a rugby 2nd row forward, but he was gratingly flash, with the usual car and trappings of a guy in his mid-forties trying to pretend he was in his twenties. John had had always dismissed him as a bit of a walking caricature. Jane was more reserved, both in appearance and manner, but had always struck John as intense and controlled. According to Catherine, both were prone to angry outbursts in the office, often leaving junior associates in tears with their demands and tirades. In that sense they were well matched for each other, but a horrific combination for everyone else.
John had met them a few of times over the years, always at work socials. Regardless of the setting, Dario had invariably spent most of their conversations leering at some of the more attractive junior associates. John had always been relieved that he never seemed to pay that kind of attention to Catherine. Jane, slim and sporty, always looked like her outfits were forensically designed to impress. Neither Dario nor Jane exuded any great warmth either publicly with each other or to their employees. Ultimately, John was glad they had only ever had to see them occasionally.
Catherine's preparation for her meeting had been intense, and formally or otherwise, had gone on for weeks. They had rehearsed questions about her work, so that she was ready for any resistance. She had a folder full of documented evidence of achievements just in case. Everything was ready. He even helped her into her business dress, bought specially for the occasion. Catherine was a classic big beautiful woman and she wore her curves with confidence. Her shoulder-length red hair lightly curled, she stood in her outfit balancing seriously professional with a hint of sexy at the same time. There was a certainty about her that John had always found attractive. She was utterly convinced of her worth, but never arrogant or pushy about it.
"This is going to be a big day, I can feel it" She smiled, winked, and then bounced off to the car that morning.
Now night, John pulled into his driveway, and he immediately felt sick. Dario's Mercedes was parked on the drive, next to Catharine's car. Why was he here, at our house? Was this a celebration? It didn't feel right. Catherine couldn't stand Dario, so why would she invite him here?
The door was unlocked, and while the downstairs lights were on, everything looked normal. There was a leather jacket on the table, presumably Dario's, though John didn't recognise it. No glasses, no drinks, no sign of a celebration. John was about to call out, but he heard muffled noise from upstairs. He slowly moved up to the first floor, where John and Catherine's bedroom lay at the end of a hallway. John was already dreading what awaited him, as deep down he knew that there was only a couple of possibilities, none of them good.
The muffled noise that drew him upstairs was a now clearer, and did nothing to assuage his fears. There was a slowly rhythmic slapping sound, that John knew was flesh on flesh, complemented by regular grunts and muffled moans. It was pretty clear what was happening, even if John couldn't fully comprehend or accept it.
But why here? Why our house? Why our bed? John's head was a mess, filled with dozens of competing thoughts flying around at once. He crept along the corridor, the carpet masking his steps. The sounds got clearer as he approached the bedroom door. He peered through the opening and felt the blood drain from his face:
The floor was littered with clothes. John spotted Catherine's work dress, and saw that the stitching round the zip was completely torn - it must have been ripped off her back. Then there was the heat; the bedroom was roasting, and thick with the stench of sweat and sex - which had clearly been going on for sometime.
On the bed, Dario, with his toned and muscular back to him, was fucking his wife, doggy-style. She was at a slight angle, but It was definitely Catherine, as John spotted her tattoo on her foot. Her large breasts juddered with every thrust, and her soft belly wobbled back and forth from the exertion.
It was the noises that disturbed John the most. The slap of flesh on flesh was one thing, but the wet, squelching sounds of Dario's cock pumping into Catherine's fanny, combined with the guttural sounds from his wife, were utterly chilling.
Despite John's best efforts, just as he peered around the doorframe, the floor creaked under foot. Dario cocked his head, but didn't look round.
"You're late John, I thought you'd have been home by now, today of all days. Cat and I have been here for hours" he said, calmly.
Dario finally turned his head, a smug expression plastered across his face.
Without breaking eye contact he smacked his hand across Catherine's plump arse cheek, extracting a groan from John's wife. Maintaining his rhythm, Dario slowly ran his fingers into Catherine's hair, firmly gripped a handful, and raised her head up and round, so she was staring straight at her husband. John realised it wasn't the pillow muffling Catherine - Dario had stuffed her knickers in her mouth as a gag, just one of a hundred humiliations unfolding. Catherine tried to say something, but her full mouth muffled it beyond comprehension. She only succeeded in drooling down her chin.
With that he angled his hips, and his cock sprung out of Catherine's fanny with a loud, slurping plop, like a lollipop from a mouth. This was followed by a short, spluttered queef. Catherine let out a quiet moan in shame.
John had never really worried about the size of his cock. He was pretty average, both in length and girth, and had never really worried about it. Catherine had always said he was plenty, and as a result he found the insecurities around it a bit absurd, based around insane porn-standards rather than real life. But the sight of Dario's rock hard and glistening dick in front of him, made John feel very, very small. Dario must have been a good nine inches long (three longer than John), but he was incredibly thick, more than twice John's girth, with a veiny foreskin pulled back to display an engorged head. He had two, plum-sized balls in a low-hanging sack. John could practically feel his cock shrinking.
Now that she was finally apart from Dario, John was agog at his wife's condition. Catherine was a complete state. Her hair was dishevelled and matted with what he could only guess was perspiration and saliva. Her make-up, so carefully and subtly applied that morning, was spread over her face - her mascara run down her cheeks, and her dark red lipstick smeared halfway to her ears. Her eyes were puffy, from tears, exhaustion or both.
Further down, her large (42G) breasts were flushed and slick with sweat, her nipples pointy and sore. They were littered with red marks where Dario had clearly pinched or roughly manhandled her. The same marks were on her arse and ample thighs. Her fanny was engorged, with the lips of her labia red and distended. A slick layer of sweat and juice covered everything, including her neat, dark-red bush, which was now a sordid mess. She looked at him, but her eyes were sad and glazed over.
"You should be happy John, Catherine got her promotion, and as you can see, the price wasn't too high for her". Dario chuckled. "Did you really think that little folder was going to seal the deal? How quaint" he sneered, as got off the bed and approached John. Catherine remained on all fours, panting heavily.
Dario firmly placed his hand on the back of John's neck, forcing his gaze directly at his defiled wife. He whispered in his ear:
"I was looking forward to breaking her - always so defiant, always so professional, now look at her. Look at what I've made her. She'll never be the same again. Not once I've finished with her. And neither will you. Take of your clothes cuck. Kneel on the floor with your hands behind your back and watch us celebrate"
John was no match for Dario, so he complied. He stripped off and felt achingly self-conscious. While both he and Catherine were overweight, she wore it with much more confidence than he did. To be exposed like this, with his gut hanging out, particularly in front of Dario, was an act of total submission for him. John knelt as ordered. A look of satisfaction spread across Dario's face - he clearly had both of them exactly where he wanted them: vulnerable and humiliated.
Back on the bed, Dario removed the knickers from Catherine's mouth and flung them at John. She immediately started to try and talk, but she only got a few words off, "John, I can explai..murlph" before Dario, firmly grasping her red hair, twisted her head around and plunged her mouth around the bulbous head of his thick cock. Catherine fought it at first, still trying to get the words out, but it was hopeless. After a few seconds or so she relented, and did as Dario instructed.
After a short period of Dario nodding Catherine's head up and down, he got more aggressive. He took to bunches of hair each side of her temple and gripped them, using them to slide her head back and forth on his cock. He began thrusting at the same time, deepthroating Catherine with his thick meat. Drool dangled from her mouth in ropes as she guzzled frantically.
