"You can't really want me to do this can you? We're married?" she asked as always. The answer to that and similar queries had transformed over time. For most, the idea of being with a person and they are yours forever is very exclusive. You get jealous when people look at them. You explode in rage when she comments about others. Having sex with somebody else is cheating and you expect that rage would be all that follows.
It started long ago with very simple thoughts. She's so beautiful and attractive. She's yours and you want people to know it. You want them to know what you have that they don't. So it starts by dressing her up and showing her off. In a crowded room you get her to flash everybody. She looks at you with apprehension at first, but the peer pressure gets to her and soon her tits are on display. Only for a second.
Time goes on and the seconds turn to minutes. Soon you have her participating in "Shirtless o'clock" with no bra on. You see the looks from the men that want her. You see the looks from the women that are angry at how audacious she is being or that she's stealing all of the attention. Every bit of it turns you on.
After each night like that you take her and fuck the hell out of her. Not realizing what you're doing by transforming it into positive reinforcement. The incentive for her becomes stronger each time because she loves you.
Then a mistake happens and she has sex with somebody else. You decide to take out your punishment and some of it becomes brutal and humiliating. You want to make her show more. She gets fucked harder. The cycle continues.
Then one day the sex becomes okay. When a slip happens, you demand her to do more with the other person to "get it out of her system." It turns you on more. It turns you on stronger. You like the feel of her pussy after somebody else has torn it apart. You like the feel of the old wetness and the men that came before you.
Over time you build on the humiliation. You build on the brutality. You build on the others. The lines are pushed further and further but you're moving ahead on it much faster. You push and press her into things she really doesn't want. This just turns you on more and demands more from you. Then the day comes that you want her with a complete stranger. The conversation takes a predictable tack.
"Still. It's something that's going on with me. One of my darker things. Let's go out tonight and find somebody."
"No. You can't be serious. I can't just have sex with some stranger? Why would you think that?"
"Are you sure?"
"Yes! No! It can't happen."
Not letting it stand there with so much pent up desire. In a way, you make a mistake here. A psychological one that's very simple. You're angry so you fuck her with the rage. She loves it. Now you're rewarding the wrong thing.
You take the time to try and turn her but it doesn't work. The psychological foil is gone and you're running out of options. You turn to others at another place. Maybe you could look to your friends but then she might find out. If they say no, or, when what you're thinking happens, she might recognize them. It has to be detached. It has to be a real stranger, and you must have a camera.
----
After many meetings online, they finally decided to meet in person at a local bar. The regular crowd filled the place with a din hopefully large enough to mask the topic at hand. Booze and smoke flowed for everyone around.
Two men sit at a table, one smoking and the other drinking. Both receding into their respective addictions to help deal with the weight of what's to be discussed. Neither is sure of where to begin and so far there has been nothing but silence except for chit-chat with the waitress. Finally, the smoking man begins.
"Thanks for coming out here. I know it's awkward, but I'm serious."
"Really? You're serious?" the drinker responds. He takes another sip clearly still uncomfortable with the whole thing. For a second the smoker wonders if he's made a bad decision, but the other man wouldn't be here if he weren't interested.
"I am. She's been a bad girl. This is actually how things work between us."
"That's a little hard to believe. I mean," he leans a bit closer, "what guarantees do I have? What if this goes wrong and she either gets away or reports the whole damn thing and I go to jail."
"Don't worry about that second part. Use a condom and there won't be evidence even if I don't manage to talk her down."
"Yeah, but you could just deny this whole thing."
"No. We have the online stuff. We'll both go down. We're both culpable and this needs to happen."
"Okay. You're way too confident in this. You must've told her about it right? This is just the fantasy?"
"If it was, could I tell you?" he began the mental foil to give his desired assailant the confidence he needed never betray that she knew nothing of what was to come, "You might give something away. You might act like it wasn't a crime and break the whole mold. So don't do that okay?"
"Okay. Okay. You have to get me another pitcher before I say okay to this."
He laughs, "Okay. We have all the time to talk it out. Here's what I was thinking."
More alcohol comes and the two continue to talk until nearly closing time. They manage to set a schedule that it should happen tomorrow night while the house is empty and she's alone. Between the two of them, they outline most of what can be outlined. There are a few contingency plans and everything seems together.
They depart smiling and shaking hands. Both walk away smiling. One about the girl he's about to fuck. Another about his wife's soon-to-be rape.
---
As the next day turned into the next night Sheryl began texting James, "When are you coming home tonight?" The message broke him out of his work trance. Everything suddenly became a vision of what he saw for the night. She would be in the bedroom kicking and screaming while Rinse908 ripped away her clothes. Her thrusts to remove him would do nothing more than add resistance to his cock while he forced it inside of her. Each bit of fight giving him more pleasure.
Suddenly he realized that he'd forgotten to respond, "I'll be late tonight. Work stuff." The first of what would be many lies to her while pursuing this endeavour. He waited a minute or so and sent a follow-up, "Put on something slinky and send pic. I want you when I get home."
Twenty minutes passed while he tried to focus on work. Every time he started to type another sentence he glanced at his phone. About twenty minutes passed and he began to worry that she hadn't noticed the next message. Then the familiar buzz came and brought with it a picture of her in a naughty negligee.
Sheryl was around 5'4" and 106 pounds. Her slender curves with nicely toned abs lead to B-cup breasts bordering on the next size up. Her curly brown hair is cut short and pops up at the top. She's wearing her sexy rimmed glasses and her face is shaped into a "come hither" look with just a bit of the left side of the lip raised.
The negligee starts just a bit too high on her thighs sitting loosely across her body. The thin straps come down to a fancy lace design over the breasts. The pink color is accented by the flesh beneath that is readily visible. Just enough to give solid view of her abs and freshly trimmed pubic area. The lace over her breasts sits atop the same sheer pink and her brings her hardened nipples into focus. Her areas are large to be plainly visible through the left but take on a darker purple due to the fabric.
Everything about it is perfect and he replies, "Perfect. Keep and prance around the house." He wants to get her into wearing it so there's less chance that she changes into something more conservative before Rinse908 arrives.
The stream of camera pictures comes through showing her in various places around the house. She takes a vulgar picture plainly exposing her vagina by putting her leg up on the kitchen table. She lies around seductively on the couch. She leans over the railing on the stairs to give accent to her cleavage.
After it is all done he sends one final text, "You better be wearing that until I get home. Gotta get back to work." Not even needing a reply he knows she'll comply. He puts everything at his desk away and heads home.
---