This is an off my chest post. My wife got violated by her high school schoolmates on video and I secretly watch it all the time.
After spending our late twenties on collecting money to put down as a down payment for our house we discussed where we'd want to live. I wanted to stay in the city where we are closer to our families who've moved there and jobs. Though I can work remotely, she needs to be present for her job as she is a psychiatrist.
She wasn't the prettiest in high school judging from the photos and she had terrible skin. She was also a little overweight, as opposed to being quite skinny and toned now. Her acne was completely out of control, but now her soft white skin is very attractive.
She has quite a large nose but I'd say it fits her face well and her lips are thin but meaty when kissed. She's excellent at kissing and her eyes are blue enough to take a dip in.
Her breasts are on the low side of a C cup, she's tall as a former high school basketball player and her ass is to die for. She doesn't shave but her pussy hair is decently trimmed as to not look overgrown and is well groomed enough to look good in a bikini. Her haircut is on the short side, reaching only her shoulders and is golden brown.
She finally wore me down and we settled for a large 5 bedroom apartment in her hometown, close to her former school. It does offer decent access to public transportation and her community of friends is not far away so we can always have company.
A few weeks ago though she went through a bit of an ordeal. She had her high school reunion at her old school. A lot of the people there hadn't seen her since graduation so her so her vast improvements in appearance garnered quite some attention she told me later.
As is tradition, the high school hosts a basketball match between the alumni and since she'd played in high school, quite well actually, she was added to one of the teams. The concept was having the old guard of six 40-something mommies square off against the younger generation which is where my wife played as well.
Before the match, she and her team did a lot of training but she told me she doesn't expect to win as the old guard has some players who are still active and play often. Furthermore, even with her being the tallest in her team, towering at 178cm, she would be middle height in the old guard as they were supposedly composed of stockier women some even taller than her. I said that I would think that she can win still, they just need to be clever about their tactics.
Though I wasn't invited to the actual party, the spouses of the teams were invited to watch the games. When I arrived, I saw that she wasn't kidding about the opponents. Some of them were big, almost manly even and in seemingly very good shape.
The game was scheduled to start at 4 PM so I arrived at 3:30 PM and I saw the teams warming up, practicing their throws etc. As a statistician, I thought I'd look at the shots they take and at least try to calculate the percentage of successfully throwing a hoop for each team. One of my wife's friends who I also got along with was there so I asked him to count the other team, we noted the attempts down in our phones.
My wife's team:
(0,0,1,1,0,0,0,1,0,0,0,1,0,1...)
It seemed to converge at around a 35-40% accuracy depending on the difficulty of the shot
The opposing team:
(1,0,0,0,1,0,0,1,1,0,0,0,0,0...)
Their accuracy seemed to converge at around 30% or less.
So before the game, though I don't know or care about basketball at all, I told my wife that based on simple analysis, their advantage would likely come in the form of number throws attempted on each side. Of course they should not allow the opponents to do shots from directly below the hoop etc, but essentially they themselves should just keep throwing, and instead force the other team to make shots. The more shots each team takes, the more the discrepancy in throwing skill will manifest in the number of points.
Now, my wife has for her whole life been almost like a boy in terms of temperance. What do I mean by this? She is extremely compliant, very funny - disarmingly so. Seriously, I myself am considered quite humorous but she is leagues beyond. Another example of her boyish demeanour is that she completely underestimates herself. When we first met I had to spell it out for her that I'm interested in her, she considers herself ugly. She never says anything to offend and in medical school she often thought her professors stupid, never considering that she's much smarter than she gives herself credit for. She was also very modest, most her female schoolmates were sluts, making out etc according to her.
The clock struck 4 PM and the game was on. Initially everything was going according to plan. The teams were evenly matched but as the number of shots taken increased, so did my wife's team lead. The scoreboard was behind us though so I didn't see the score but in my mental accounting, I knew that my wife's team was dominating.
However after the first half finished, the other team shifted their gears. Instead of playing fair, they started committing fouls, running my wife and her team on the ground often and overall running roughshod over them. I was becoming quite upset - the referees were not at all whistling with the frequency the fouls were occurring. I said this to my friend and it turned out that both the referees were the husbands of the old guard.
So even though my wife's team was technically superior, it suffered from this constant abuse. My wife was at a point literally restrained by one of the other team's butch player, clocked in the nose with an elbow, luckily no blood drawn, many more examples, never whistled upon.
As expected, the dirty tactics employed by the old guard eventually won the game. I couldn't take into account that blatant corruption was part of their strategy. However my wife seemed in good spirits as I hugged her and gave her a kiss. They took the obligatory - ironically calling out "smile" after the shameless cheating - group photo and she sent me back home, and went with a few friends to do her hair and makeup for the evening.
An hour and a half later she sent me two pics of herself, one with her tits slightly showing from her dress for my personal enjoyment. Another was the complete result. She was wearing a black somewhat uncharacteristically low-cut dress, a dark red lipstick with spice to pop the lips more, a dark eyeliner and lushed out eyelashes. She was just crazy hot in both pictures. She objected against me buying the lipstick for her but she did admit it was sexy.
Usually when she goes out without me or girlfriends, she sends me messages and pics of her night. It's not by my demand, but also I'm glad to get the occasional confirmation that she is okay as our region has the occasional GHB drug incident.
It therefore slightly worried me that night that after she left her girlfriend's place to go to the party, she didn't contact me for hours. No "what's ups" or "hey we're going to club x or y" or "this is a pic of us dancing". "Whatever" I thought though, as fun can make one absent minded and I often forget to extend the same courtesy myself when out and I'm always fine.
Several hours later, she sent me a message "party's over, coming home".
No picture, no screenshot of her Uber, no ETA which was her usual MO. Again, I had no reason to suspect anything though.
I was playing Cyberpunk alone and having a few beers myself so I didn't worry too much but then I heard the key at the front door of our apartment. When she comes home, she usually opens the door lickety split, but this time her keys were fumbling. I went to see her at the door, and what I saw, sunk my heart beyond the apartment floor and right to Earth's magma core.
My sweet angel, my beautiful wife... her dress was in tatters, breasts showing, no bra. There were scrapes and bruises on her arms and legs, her hair was completely frazzled. She had even bruises on her face and she'd clearly had a nosebleed. She always wears stockings with a dress but those were not on her. It was immediately clear what had happened in the broader sense.
She collapsed through the doorway onto her knees, quietly sobbing. I closed the door behind her, fear gripping my guts, and knelt beside her, wrapped my arms around her. I wanted to cry out of anger, sadness and disbelief - who the fuck would do something like this to my lovely, sweet wife?
I knew better but still asked:
"What's happened, Sienna?"
No response, but she was gathering her faculties.
"Sienna?" I said again.
She looked up from the ground, into my eyes, giving me a good look at her face. She'd been beaten and her makeup was almost nonexistent, what was left of it.
