Chapter 1

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Coercion, Blackmail, True Story, Cheating, Slut Wife, Cuckold, DomSub, Spanking, Humiliation, .

Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - This is the story of how I became corrupted, and betrayed myself as well as my husband.

My name is Kimberly. I'm a thirty-two year old wife, mother of two, married eleven years. I work for a financial services corporation where I commute to work from our quiet, conservative suburban town. I'm active in my church group and consider myself a Christian conservative. I've always tried to uphold the values of my church, and to be a good Christian wife and mother. This is how I became corrupted, and betrayed myself, as well as my husband.

It all started at my job. There was a man there, named Tony, in accounting, who had transferred several months earlier. He was about seven or eight years younger than me, but very self-assured. He was ambitious; he had a reputation as "executive material," somebody marked for advancement. He was also known for the many women he had dated. He made no effort to hide his interest in me, from his first day in our division; he smiled when he took my hand, but as soon as he caught my eye, his eyes traveled down my body. When he met my eyes again, I remember I blushed and had to look away. He squeezed my hand meaningfully before he let me go.

After that I couldn't keep away from him. He would come around my cubicle to flirt with me. He would massage my neck, or try to guide my hand on the computer mouse, leaning over my shoulder. He would look pointedly at my breasts or at my legs. I should have been offended, and I was; but I was also a little flattered. Anyway, I never encouraged him, but I didn't report him either.

He was a very handsome man, muscular and dark-skinned; he had an Italian last name. I never thought of letting things go any further than that, though I admit I was attracted to him. Some of the younger women in the office were jealous of the attention he paid me. I sometimes found myself thinking about him late at night.

Things went on like this for a few months, until Tony learned my secret:

I'd been cheating on my expense vouchers. I'd started out small, a few dollars here and there. Everybody did it. But things were tight at home. We were on a budget. Soon I was stealing regularly, and in larger and larger amounts. I used the money to pay for things I felt I needed for myself.

Tony came by my cubicle one day, as usual, but he dropped some papers on my keyboard.

"You need to take a look at this," he said.

I examined the papers and recognized them. I felt a cold tingle in my chest. They were my weekly vouchers and my quarterly expense account. My numbers didn't match!

"You know Kimberly, your expenses are much higher than the others'."

I closed my mouth and studied them. "Tony," I scrambled, "I must have made a mistake!"

He laughed snidely.

"Kimberly," he smirked, "I have to ask you for your receipts now".

I swallowed. My hands were beginning to tremble.

I was desperate.

I looked up at him, pleadingly. "Tony," I whispered, "You've got to let me change these..."

He smirked playfully at me. "What's in it for me?" he asked. He put his hand on my shoulder.

"Please let me change them," I begged him. "I-I can't lose my job right now..."

His eyes dropped to the level of my breasts. I caught myself looking down as well.

His hand began tracing a line down the front of my blouse. He stopped at my nipple. He gave me a little squeeze. He looked back at me. I realized I had closed my eyes.

I looked down at my lap and then into his eyes. There was no mistaking his intentions.

"You'll let me change these, Tony?" I asked.

He smiled at me and began to slide his other hand along my thigh. I saw his hand disappear beneath my skirt. "Maybe, Kim," he said. "Like I said: It depends on what's in it for me."

Me continued to look at me, and when he saw I was going to let him, he leaned down and kissed me on the mouth. His hand continued down my thighs. I felt him through my panties. He squeezed my breast harder. I couldn't help myself: I opened my mouth for him; I raised my hips. He twisted the front panel of my panties aside, and I felt his finger at my opening. He entered me, roughly, all at once. The sensation was unbelievable. I couldn't believe how slutty I felt, yet how wonderfully erotic. He told me to meet him later, in the conference room. I let him put his wet finger in my mouth. I felt like a whore, but I was panting in my seat.

I can't say what I did next I was just for my job. That was part of it, of course. I couldn't afford to get fired. We were barely making it as it was. I told myself that I was doing it for my family, for my children, for my job. The other part of the truth is: I'd liked the way his hands had felt on me; I wanted him to touch me again.

I met him in a conference room at noon. I made sure nobody saw me go in there, and shut the door carefully behind me. I was ashamed of myself. He grinned at me with a look of naked lust. I was humiliated at how he looked at me when he saw me come in the room like that. "What a slut," I thought, sneaking into a room to be with a man who was not her husband.

I almost backed out, but he took me in his arms and kissed me, pressing my body against his. I could feel every part of him; I felt even his dick, already hard, pressing against my belly. His hands caressed me through my dress, pressing against the backs of my thighs and my ass. I felt a rush of pleasure, and I felt my body melting against him.

He stepped back and admired me. He told me to unbutton the back of my dress, and I obediently did what he told me. He grasped my dress at my hips, and pulled it un-gently up and over my head, tossing it to the floor. I stood before him in my bra and panties, still breathing hard from the kiss he'd given me. He examined me.

"Kimberly," he said, "you have no idea how good this is going to be." A guilty thrill ran through me when I heard him say that. He told me he wanted to see me naked, and I hesitated for only a moment before unhooking my bra and sliding my panties down around my knees.

He smiled and wet his lips. The look of animal lust in his eyes made me quiver. I couldn't remember when a man had looked at me so boldly and appreciatively. My nipples stiffened under his gaze, and I felt a trickle between my legs. My sense of shame increased as I realized how slutty I must look to him.

He took my head and neck in his strong hands and I submitted to him. I let him kiss me and run his hands up and down my body. I wanted his finger inside me again, but he pushed me away. He told me to get up on the table.

He openly admired me while I sat there, legs apart, grasping the edge of the table with my hands. "This is going to be fucking great," he said, staring at my pussy. He put his finger in my mouth, and then he shoved it in my pussy. I watched him do it. He used one, two, and finally all four fingers to finger-fuck me on the table. I felt myself begin to move against him. I groaned very quietly.

He pulled his fingers out of me and he pushed me back on the table. He pulled my hips up, and then bent his face down toward me. When his tongue touched my clitoris I felt a rush of pleasure. I squealed for him. I covered my face with my hands as I felt him suck me into his mouth. This was something a man had never done to me, though it was something I often thought about. It felt even better than I'd imagined. The pleasure was indescribable. When I came I stuffed my fist into my mouth to stifle my cries, and then I moaned and slobbered around my fingers. He stood up, his face slick with my come. He studied me for a moment. I remember lying there, my chest heaving from my orgasm; my legs still open wide for him. I wondered what he'd do to me next.

"I want you to suck on my cock," he said. Lying naked on the table, my legs spread for him, my cunt-juices dripping onto the conference room table, I didn't care how he talked to me. It made me even wetter. I wondered if his dick was bigger than my husband's, and then I found myself hoping that it was.

His dick, when he pulled it out, was indeed a big, fat dick, bigger than my husband's. I raised my head so I could see it. He motioned to me and I crawled toward him on the table. He held it up to my lips, and I licked it. He put his fingers in my mouth and I licked and sucked his fingers for him too. He rubbed his cock across my lips and cheeks. A little bit of his come leaked out of his dick and stuck to my face. It made me feel sexy, knowing it was there. Then he turned me around so my pussy was facing him again. I hoped he'd put his fingers inside me again. I raised my legs high in the air and spread them wide for him. I closed my eyes. I wanted desperately to cum. I felt him touch my opening. I felt his shoulders on the backs of my thighs, and his hands encircled my waist.

In that instant I felt a sense of panic. Despite everything he'd already done to me, I was unprepared. I wasn't ready. I tried to open my mouth, to ask about a condom; I started to pull away. But he lifted me off the table and pulled me onto him. I felt my pussy expand around him; he slid deeper into me than I'd ever felt.

I suddenly couldn't believe this was me, lying there, with this man's cock in my pussy, pounding me, waiting for him to shoot his sperm in me. I had been loyal to my husband all those years. I wondered if he would make me pregnant. My husband and I had been trying for years, but I knew this could be different. It was uncomfortable at first, he was so much bigger than my husband. I was terrified to cry out, for fear someone would hear me, and he ignored my quiet pleas.

He pinned me against the table, and savagely pounded me. The sensation was overpowering. I was helplessly trapped under him, unable to move or cry out. He fucked me hard, and he fucked me violently, pounding himself deeper and deeper into me, and jerking my body onto him with each thrust, completely filling a place in my cunt that had never before even been touched, until I began to feel myself beginning to respond to him. My pussy clenched itself around him, waves of pleasure radiated from around his cock. I was panting, now, and moaning.

When he saw me responding, he began to talk to me.

"Tell... me..." I said, "how... much... you... like... getting... fucked..." I gasped and tossed my head. He continued pounding me. I couldn't deny the pleasure he was giving me.

He repeated his command: "Tell... me... how... much... you... LIKE... getting... FUCKED... !"

I tossed my head again, but I found myself wanting to do it, wanting to humiliate myself completely. I felt an orgasm building up inside me.

He slapped my ass with his hand, making a terrifyingly loud smacking noise.

"I do... I do..." I moaned. "Oh God... Oh God... Oh please... don't stop..."

"TELL ME!" he demanded. He smacked me again.

"OH GOD..." I moaned. "Oh please... please, please, oh please FUCK ME! Oh please fuck me, FUCK... ME... !"

He came inside me then, his cock throbbing deep in my pussy. "Oh God," I cried, "Oh God, please cum inside me... CUM inside my pussy!" He leaned forward and squeezed my tits in his hands, continuing to cum. I wanted him to squeeze me harder.

He groaned. I wrapped my legs around him, squeezing him against me; wanting him deep, deep inside me. He squeezed me harder. I came for him like that, knowing he might have just made me pregnant. It felt so good I thought I might die with his cock inside me.

I worked the rest of the day with his come dripping into my panties. He left bruises on my breasts.

In the afterglow of my orgasm I didn't feel any real shame for what I'd done. When I opened the door to my own home, however, and saw my husband I felt a sense of panic that was almost overwhelming. I was terrified that my husband would smell or taste the evidence of Tony on me.

I left him standing there and took a scalding shower. The red marks on my breasts would not wash off, of course, but I washed his cum off of me and tried to wash it out of me as well.

I felt horrible. I was too embarrassed to let my husband make love to me that night, but when I dreamed I dreamed of Tony.

I knew I'd let him do me again, and I did. I let him take me in the conference room the very next day.

He fucked me from behind this time, bending my naked body face down on the big table. The possibility of getting caught like that, I think, just made me that much wetter. I came before he did, anticipating his spunk in my womb. He used my panties to wipe the table and handed them back to me. I put them in my purse and walked around like that for a while, his jism dripping down my thighs.

He fucked me whenever he wanted after that. He took me in the bathroom, where he had me blow him on my knees. He came on my tongue and down my throat, and then he squirted some on my lips and cheeks as well. He made me clean his cock with his tongue and then he fingered me to orgasm. He used my panties to clean his cum off my face. I came that time almost as hard as I had when he'd fucked me.

He had me meet him in a motel, late at night. I had to sneak out of the bed of my husband, praying he wouldn't wake. He tied me up. He fucked me tied spread-eagle, the ropes biting my wrists and legs. I came like that, while he threatened to put it in my ass.

He took me to his apartment. He felt me up while his girlfriend watched us, then he fucked me on their bed, and sent me home.

I knew things were out of control. I lived in terror. I was wracked with guilt. I wanted to cry every time I said "no" to my husband, because Tony had just cum inside me, or his marks had not yet faded. I felt even worse when I did let my husband have me, wondering if he could tell my pussy was freshly fucked. After being with Tony, I had to pretend when I was with my husband.

This went on for about four and a half weeks. Tony's dominion over me became more and more complete. The more I gave into him, the more demeaning and degrading his demands became.

I admit I enjoyed the sex. But I hated myself after. Once he called me at home, during dinner, and told me to come to his apartment. I had to leave my family so I could service him. The stress was intolerable. I would hyperventilate in church, imagining what the people would think if they knew what a slut I'd become.

I was relieved then, when Tony was assigned to another branch. It was "temporary," but there were rumors it would become permanent, and I prayed that it would. I promised myself that if Tony did come back, I would never let him have me again, regardless of the consequences.

Then things got much worse for me.

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