Decent Graces Covert Humiliation

Author's note: The following story is a work of fiction. Some of the scenes include nonconsensual sex or abuse may be disturbing to some readers. If you're one of those readers, please select a different story.

My Descent: The Covert Humiliation of Grace

The familiar bedroom lay before me. Set on one corner of the second floor, there were two windows in the bedroom, one facing east and one south. Both windows were covered with the light simple handmade curtains sewn by my wife, Grace, shortly after we moved to this upscale neighborhood of this midwestern university town.

The crack between the closet doors gave me a direct view toward the south window, which lay beyond our queen-sized bed. Grace lay breathing softly on the bed, with her face toward me, clad in just a pink T-shirt. With three pillows placed below her hips, I reveled in the view of Grace's toned legs, perfectly proportioned ass, and lower back. As I had extended her right leg, which was closest to the closet I had an unobstructed view of Grace's unprotected and slightly parted outer labial lips, and the two symmetrical shallow dimples of her lower back. I mentally traced the outline of Grace's elegant but now crudely displayed ass.

"I'm not sure I can do this," I said to myself, still vacillating, excited but with a sense of underlying doom. Glancing at my watch, I noticed my heart rate was thirty beats above resting.

*****

Grace and I had been married for a little over two years. I was seven years older than Grace (well, I guess I still am!). I had been smitten with her from the first time we met. Entranced for the obvious reasons. Accomplished and intelligent, athletic slender figure. Her face was enchanting with intelligent blue-grey eyes, and blond/light brown hair that fell to near her shoulder blades. At 5'8" we were the same height, but this didn't bother me.

From my perspective, the only thing that bothered me was her propensity to be overtly condescending to those she viewed as less intelligent or inferior in some way. "I wish we didn't have to put up with limited people as we work on our house," she said shortly after we moved in. "I know that some of them are okay, and that I shouldn't say things like this. I really don't mean to be a snob."

Though I was successful and accomplished myself, since my parents and both sets of grandparents came from a solidly blue-collar background I would talk about the obvious difference between education and intelligence. My parents were proud of how well I had done, while Grace came from a background in which high achievement and social status was the expectation.

The first two years we lived together were excellent.

"Why are you looking at me again Sam?" she asked from the bathroom mirror shortly after we started living together.

"I just can't believe how lucky I am."

Grace smiled in response. Later our sex, let's call it love-making because that's what it was, was creative, extended and everything any man could ever have hoped.

I'm on the Cell Biology faculty at the large university where Grace and I now both work. When I first met her, Grace had just finished her Ph.D. thesis in genetics. Her research was on on nematodes, microscopic worms with a small amount of genetic material. She was so talented that she was able to stay on as an Assistant Professor in the Genetics Department.

Today, at 37, I'm still in excellent shape and look younger than I am. So I've had opportunity with the young women in my classes, as well as a couple colleagues, had I wanted it. However, I avoided temptation not wanting to jeopardize my marriage.

I had already been married once and had a son from that previous relationship. My first wife and I just wanted one child so I was talked into having a vasectomy. I was torn about the decision at the time. At the emotional level, the idea of "shooting blanks" bothered me, but I was able to use my cerebral cortex to overcome my amygdala and went ahead with the procedure as it was the rational thing to do. Of course, back then, I hadn't envisioned that relationship ending or, obviously, contemplated a subsequent relationship.

My first wife and I split up a year later and I met Grace a year after that.

"So it's not enough being a stepmom?" I asked as we were discussing our upcoming marriage.

"Well, it will be okay, but I really would like to have our own kids, too. That's pretty natural," she replied.

"You want to adopt, do artificial insemination, or what?" I asked.

"No, I want to have your kids. For them to be a combination of the two of us. I'd like you to get your vasectomy reversed."

So I went through a vasovasostomy, a procedure where the two sides of the severed vas are rejoined and ligated.

We'd been trying for better part of a year. My surgeon told us not to get discouraged during our first visit. "It sometimes takes a few months for the passage through the vas to function normally due to short term inflammation. I clearly saw abundant healthy sperm prior to the fusion when I had a look during surgery. I expect this to be successful, or if it isn't, I'll try again using a modified technique that can reduce inflammation."

Unfortunately, when we next met with him, after looking through a microscope at my semen sample, he said, "Looks like the surgery didn't take. Let's give it another go. I'm sure we can get this to work. I have more than a 97% success rate, you're both young and healthy, and there were abundant motile sperm. When should we get this done? I have an opening in two weeks."

Grace and I discussed scheduling. It was the spring semester. We were about to go on vacation for a week, and then we would be busy for two more months, we decided to schedule for two and half months, in late May.

"Great, I've got you on the calendar," my doc concluded enthusiastically.

*****

My self-revelation started on our vacation to a coastal town on the Yucatan peninsula south of Cancun. Grace and I had been relaxing, swimming, and snorkeling in the shallow water between the beach and the reef, which lay about 100 yards from shore. Back at the condo, we were relaxing in the small garden surrounded by tropical foliage. Grace decided it was private enough to go topless. She removed her bikini top, reclining on a towel on the grass.

"I'll be right back," I said. "Since I'm on vacation I'm having a beer even though it's not quite noon."

"Alright Sam. Can you bring me a sparkling water?"

Entering the Condo, I realized we had left the water out in the rental car. I headed out to retrieve it and pour some over ice for Grace. At the car I saw a small motion out of the corner of my eye. A guy that looked to be in his mid-40s, in the adjacent garden unit, was crouching behind the vegetation, mostly out of sight, looking into our garden. My initial reaction was anger and jealousy. Curiously, this surprisingly and rapidly evolved into a mix of feelings. I was aroused by the fact that a boundary was being crossed by this stranger. I imagined what this stranger was seeing. Disturbingly, I was getting turned on by the idea of Grace being voyeured and viewed as a sex object. And I was simultaneously excited about the fact that Grace was unaware that she was being observed.

Unsure of my course of action, I reentered the condo and looked out at the sun-drenched garden. Grace was lying face up on a towel, reading a book held above her face to block the sun from her eyes. As I knew where to look, I could see the opaque outline of the stranger through the vegetation. He was still peering at my wife. I envisioned Grace through the stranger's eyes. Athletic woman, long toned legs, green bikini bottom, straight blond/light brown hair, eyes hidden behind Ray ban sunglasses. Lightly tanned skin highlighted by untanned C-cup breasts, areolas and nipples slightly darker than Grace's untanned breasts.

I came out into the garden with the sparkling water and my beer.

"Where have you been? I thought you'd forgotten about me."

"Sorry about that. I had to fetch the water from the car and wanted to give your drink a chance to chill."

For the next half hour, I sat on my towel next to Grace, drinking my beer, checking discretely to see whether the stranger was still there. As I watched Grace through my sunglasses, I realized that part of me had changed from a loving husband to perversely viewing Grace as a simple sex object being voyeured by another man.

Grace rolled over onto her stomach. Propped up on her elbows, her book on the towel in front of her. Her pert breasts remained on display, now hanging down enticingly. Her knees were bent, and lower legs and feet were pointed skyward and crossed at the ankles. This caused her lower back to arch and her round athletic ass to elevate slightly.

I stared at her beautiful contours. "You look good with your top off. Why don't you take the bikini bottom off as well. It's private here," I suggested, checking to make sure the guy was still there.

"Ha. You wish. That can wait until we're alone together inside," my wife replied. The answer I expected. Grace wasn't a prude, but she was modest.

"I'd feel uncomfortable doing that. I wouldn't be able to relax. I'd worry someone might come by."

The night after my wife had unknowingly exposed her breasts to our voyeur neighbor, I fucked her. Yes, "fuck" is the right word here rather than "made love to," etc., because I viewed her exclusively as a sex object. My mind was on the fact a stranger had a long look at her breasts while she was unknowingly on display. Rather than trying to connect with her mentally or emotionally, I focused solely on her body. Superficial yes but, as I've previously described, she is substantial in her physical attributes. It turned out to be easy.

I fucked her in three different positions that I favored. At the end, she was face down with arms extended, ass in the air, her legs spread with my legs between hers, her wet pussy accepting my cock, labial lips grasping the rod during each partial withdrawal. The view was perfect. For that of a stranger. For I was indeed imagining a stranger seeing her this way.

Grace noticed a difference in me. "Well, you seemed unusually vigorous. I guess we should go on vacation more often," she said with an amused smile, her beautiful hair splayed and tousled, as we lay next to each other afterwards.

For the remainder of our vacation, I waited and looked with anticipation to see whether our neighbor might again be lurking. But he apparently was gone. I was disappointed.

*****

I assumed this would be a phase for me that would pass. I was wrong. My sexual fantasies now revolved around the idea of Grace being viewed by other men. Or by a stranger using her as a sex object in some other way. Reality and other fantasies paled in comparison.

Trying to shut off my fantasy only stimulated my new desire. One evening while Grace was in the downstairs shower, I quietly went into the room and raised the window blind by half an inch. Exiting the back door, I went out to our fenced yard and peered in through the gap at the bottom of the blinds. I was imagining what a voyeur would see, had one been standing at the window. After a few minutes, the shower curtains were drawn back. There was my naked unaware wife, wringing the excess water from her hair, then toweling off before moving to the mirror. I took stock of the scene. Long smooth legs, narrow waist giving way to a shapely ass, medium size alluring breasts standing at attention, damp hair halfway down the back. In the mirror, with the reflection partially obscured by condensation, cool grey eyes, haughty expression, tan nipples angled slightly upward, neatly trimmed pubic hair. From the back I could see the subtle split of her labia, along with the perfectly shaped globes of her ass. I jacked off against the side of the house. When I came, I came long and hard.

*****

We took a weekend road trip to a large city about 70 miles from where we lived.

"Why are you so quiet today?", Grace asked, as we listened to eighteenth century classical music on the ride.

"Oh, sorry, just thinking about work." I lied. In reality I was thinking about my plan to secretly expose my wife to another stranger. A plan I was unsure about whether I had the guts to execute. A plan that was risky and that clearly crossed an ethical red line. Something that I never thought I'd have to contemplate.

We had visited my in laws the previous week. After Grace had taken a permanent job at the university, her parents decided to move from the east coast to be closer to her. They now lived only about twenty miles from where we lived. Grace's dad was Australian. He had initiated as series start-up companies in the U.S. Her mother was originally from South Africa. However, both Grace and her sister had grown up on the east coast.

While in the bathroom, I opened the medicine cabinet out of simple curiosity. I noticed a bottle of meds labeled "triazolam." The prescription was for my mother-in-law. Later I googled the med and learned that these were a generic version of the sleeping pill, Halcion. Looking up potential side effects of Halcion, there was the expected list of warnings about not mixing with alcohol or operating machinery, and also the possibility of short-term memory loss. I immediately thought about the possibility of using these to expose Grace again and relive the thrill that I experienced during our recent vacation. I took ten pills home with me.

*****

We arrived at our Airbnb near the center of the city, within walking distance of the theater we were attending to see a touring version of an extremely popular musical. Prior to our trip I had scouted out Airbnb options and purposely settled on a ground floor efficiency on the corner of two streets. Both streets were active but not overly crowded.

"This is a great efficiency, and such a good location," said Grace. "We'll be able to get back here easily and there are so many restaurant options. Let's go get a drink and then some middle eastern food before we go to the play."

We walked the neighborhood a bit, found a classy bar, each had a glass of wine, and then went to the Middle Eastern restaurant Grace had found on her phone.

"The food in this place is fantastic," I said. And it was.

"Yes, the chicken shawara and hummus are delicious," Grace agreed. "But the waiter gives me the creeps."

The guy seemed fine to me. Although he definitely was not middle eastern. He seemed friendly enough.

"He keeps looking at my breasts instead of at my face when he's at the table." "And when I went to restroom, I thought he was staring at me. I wish didn't have to bother with lowlife like him."

"You're an attractive woman. You should be used to getting a lot of attention by now," I responded.

"The waiter is just someone I'd never meet socially. You know I'm particular about who I socialize with and let into my life. Maybe I'm a bit of a snob, but life is too short to waste time with dull and unintelligent people."

The play was as good as the reputation and reviews that preceded it. However, I couldn't focus on the play. My mind was on my plan and my calculations about the chance of it succeeding.

After the play we walked back to the unit. "How about a brandy or cognac," I asked, trying to hide my nervousness and stay low key.

"It's pretty late." I was going to put on that teddy you like and thought we'd go to bed.

"Oh, come on, the night is young" "Why don't you put on the teddy, we'll have a quick drink and then go to bed," I replied.

"Well, alright, but I'll have a glass of the cabernet we brought with us. I'm not usually a cognac girl."

I opened the bottle of red wine, poured two glasses, and emptied the crushed triazolam into one of the glasses. The previous day I had crushed three of the pills into powder and placed the powder in a small vial. As I sat waiting for Grace to return, I was aware of nervous sweat under my arms.

"Wow, you look fantastic," I said when Grace returned. She had on her light green teddy that she wore for special occasions. I could see the outline of her breasts and her nipples extended the sheer material slightly. The garment came down to the top of her thighs, and with the light from the bedroom behind her I could make out the triangular "Toblerone" tunnel where her legs met her crotch.

She smiled and sat down at the table with me. "I know you like this. I also know you've seemed distracted lately. Maybe this will get you back on track."

She took a sip of wine. "You've seemed so distracted lately," she repeated. "What's going on with you?"

"I'm not sure. I've had a lot going on with work, and I've been trying to get that new research project off the ground," I replied, lapsing into jargon that we both shared.

"Yes, but you're always busy. Since our vacation you seem to be off in another world. Guess your brain is still on vacation. But I'd like to have my normal Sam back soon."

We sat chatting and each slowly finishing off our glass of wine. I discreetly glanced at her glass. There were a few residual specks of powder on the side but nothing too obvious.

"When we drive a train home tomorrow," Grace said, laughing as if this were an excellent joke.

"I mean, when we take a train tomorrow we should get home head," she giggled. I noticed her eyes drooping just a bit.

"A train head, get it?" she said continuing to laugh as she stood up. "Gee I'm so tired. I'm not making any sense."

"Let me take you to bed," I said guiding her by her arm.

When we got to the bedroom she lay down on the left side of the bed as she always does, quickly asleep on her side. The bedroom had a single window to the left near where Grace lay. I waited five minutes and tried to wake her, shaking her arm, then more vigorously shaking her shoulder. I lifted one eyelid then the other. There were the familiar flecked blue/grey irises. When I released the lids, each slowly closed.

I rolled Grace from her side onto her back. Her nipples were still protruding, now toward the ceiling. It was a bit chilly in the room, but I was too engrossed with what I was doing to bother finding the thermostat. I slowly lifted the teddy above her waist, reaching behind to pull up the back past her ass. Her long legs extended, I visually feasted on this woman. Her flat stomach, symmetrical hip bones protruding slightly. At the bottom of the trimmed triangle of her pubic hair, the mons projected upward enticingly. I moved both legs further apart to fully reveal her and moved to the foot of the bed. Outer lips now slightly parted revealing a hint of the pink inner lips. Her vulva angled slightly upward. The fit globes of her ass pleasingly visible below the hidden vaginal opening.

Moving back to the side of the bed, I bent her right leg at the knee and placed the foot flat on the bed. The weight of her leg caused the leg to fall open retaining the bend at the knee. In this splayed position her outer lips spread further, revealing the tip of her pink clitoris, and her inner labial lips. The lateral walls at the entrance to her vagina were slightly parted.

Lifting her upper body, I rotated Grace so that her lower body was positioned toward the window. I turned on the light next to the window to illuminate her and opened the blinds about six inches.

*****

Now on the sidewalk outside and breathing raggedly, I glanced at the window. One of Grace's legs extended toward me, the other bent and open, exactly matching the view that I had lustily viewed from the vantage point in the room.

Having purposely parked across the street from the bedroom window I sat in the car and waited. It was late, and at this time of night there was limited activity. The sidewalk was only five or six feet from the window.