Jailed Young Housewife
Copyright© 2025 by Gwen Holden
Chapter 12: Bound by Betrayal
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 12: Bound by Betrayal - Young, happily married couple falsely imprisoned in Mexico and wife forced to share isolated cell away from her husband with another male inmate.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Drunk/Drugged NonConsensual Rape Heterosexual Fiction Crime Horror Cuckold Wife Watching BDSM MaleDom Humiliation Rough Spanking Interracial Black Male White Female Anal Sex Double Penetration Facial Oral Sex Pregnancy Caution Violence
“That wasn’t so bad, was it, Señora Jordan?” Torres sneered as he led her from his office, hands bound. Defeat crushed her—she’d signed a false confession, unaware it was futile. “Where are you taking me? This isn’t the way to Steve’s cell,” she rasped.
“No, it is not,” he replied, steering her back to Reggie. “No, p-please! I can’t!” she wailed, but he was unmoved. With each step, her heart sank deeper, Reggie’s leering eyes and touch a sick flood in her mind, dread pooling like tar.
“I’ve seen how he reacts to you—how your body responds. You’re growing closer, despite your fight. I won’t disrupt the romance blooming from your physical bond. Though devout, you crave his dominance,” Torres taunted, Jaime blind to the substance in her food spiking her libido, her sensitivity a cruel betrayal.
“It’s not true—I hate it, but my body won’t stop,” she whimpered, shame pooling. “I haven’t had birth control,” she confessed, dread lacing her voice—unprotected, Reggie’s seed a shameful specter.
“Three weeks off, hmm? Afraid of a child with Reggie? Imagine the explanations,” he mocked, eyes gleaming. “He forces me—if I resist, he punishes. You threaten compliance—please,” she whispered.
“What about condoms?” she forced out, desperate. “None here—not like your soft country,” he sneered, eyeing her crucifix—a relic of her lost virtue now pleading for protection with another man. “Have him pull out—I won’t dull your intimacy.”
Her body, molded to Reggie’s size, took him with shameful ease—no barrier to blunt the raw invasion she loathed yet craved, each thrust a humiliating echo. “Look who’s back—says she misses your big Black dick,” Torres taunted. “Growing on her.”
Torres unlocked the cell, shoving her in, and there stood Reggie—his erection a monstrous bulge straining his orange pants, thick and rigid with a hunger that pulsed for her alone, a testament to the drugs twisting them into each other’s orbit.
Cold bars pressed her back as Reggie loomed, his cock a steel rod aching for her, crucifix glinting—a mockery of her broken vows. “That be true, baby? Longin’ for me?” he growled, voice thick with lust.
“Uh-y-yes,” she stammered, trembling. “You fuck him?” “N-no—just minutes with him...” A slap seared her cheek, vision blurring. “Ow, oh God!” she cried, shielding herself.
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