I don’t love your husband, Lucy. I cheated because I love my husband. I truly do, and this makes it sound stupid, I know, but hear me out.
Your husband, James, is in reality a weak man hungry for power and frustrated that he could never wield it without limits. He’s the type who’s cruel to those beneath him but sucks up to those above. His ego is a black hole, consuming everything, and I knew that I could exploit it. Without James’s help, Mark never would’ve risen at work. His skills are limited; he’s honest and hardworking but lacks that ruthless edge to climb in a corporation. With James pulling the strings, though, Mark could ascend the hierarchy easily, if only James were motivated. That was the key. Seducing him came naturally, almost inevitably. As his employee’s wife, I was the perfect tool to inflate his ego, letting him dominate Mark by claiming me. I let him believe he’d seduced me, playing the part flawlessly, even as I questioned my own choices. I have no actual proof, and it’s no excuse, but I’m certain he’d cheated on you before. Not only did he take the bait, but he moved through the mechanics of it with a familiarity that made me wonder.
Our affair began mostly in our home as James ensured Mark’s absence with fabricated projects. Urgent reports kept him late. Sometimes he made me visit the office, pretending to wait for Mark in the lobby or James’s office. The door was locked, but the risk of colleagues passing by was ever-present. And it worked. Mark got the corner office, the salary that bought our dream home. Call me a whore; I don’t care. In my heart, it was sacrifice, wrapped in the scent of our shared sheets, justified by knowing James’s weakness for women like me wasn’t new.
I understood that what he craved was control and domination. Sex was the purest way to hand him that sensation. I’ve always had a natural tendency toward submission, so offering it felt almost instinctive, like slipping into a role I was born for. When I told him, “If I feel safe, I’ll do it. No limits,” his eyes lit up like a child in a candy shop.
My relationship with James was nothing but control, power, domination. I knew exactly what he wanted, even if he was too weak to admit it to himself. At first, he mistook my submission for absolute control and domination, without any considerations, and it almost turned into plain violence. I corrected him quickly, and he learned little by little how to properly assert his domination. It wasn’t really about sex. It was about reassurance, because deep down inside he needed me to confirm that he was powerful, since he could never quite believe it on his own.
I think I got him hooked with my blowjobs, or if I’m being more precise, the way I let him fuck my mouth. He loved having me on my knees, begging, thanking him for his attention: “Please, sir, let me taste you.” I thanked him, took every inch, always swallowed, my eyes locked on his like he was a king, eyes watering, gagging as he pushed hard, all in, deep and relentless.
He quickly grew bolder, asking for anal with almost a shaking voice, like it was a forbidden line, though I think it had been on his mind for some time. Not only did I accept, I became his toy. He’d make me reach back and spread my ass cheeks wide with both hands, holding myself open while I begged him to use me. Then he’d order me to spit on his cock, to coat it thick with my saliva until it dripped, making sure it was slick enough to force its way in. I’d crawl onto the bed on all fours, knees apart, back arched, cheeks pulled open, and look over my shoulder at him. “Please,” I’d whisper, “Use that hole that’s only yours. No one’s ever had it, and no one else ever will.” I’d hold the position, palms replaced by my own fingers digging into my flesh, waiting until he stepped behind me. He’d grip my hips, still clumsy with the rush of it, and push in with one hard thrust. Every thrust was his dominance and my submission. The bed creaked as I obeyed his commands, sometimes forcing me to keep spreading myself even while he pounded deeper, reminding me who owned every part of me.
It soon escalated as his cruel need to possess me and to humiliate Mark grew. After he finished deep in my ass, he expected me to clean him off, to lick off the cum from his dick and to praise this gift while he would comment something like “this is a real man” or “Mark is not man enough to fuck your ass” or “I love how you can dedicate all of you to me.” Sometimes he’d make me thank him for using the hole my husband would never touch, to show how grateful I was for his superiority, and for him allowing me to be myself.
His imagination surprised me as we went deeper. Blindfolds came next, soft bondage, some roleplay. It was fun, I won’t deny it. Sometimes, I felt that James loved me, in his egoistic way, but it seemed he made some efforts to enhance my pleasure. Maybe it was just a way to see himself as a great lover… I don’t really know. He started to give me sex toys. Anal plugs, big dildos to double penetrate me, roleplaying it as a threesome. The hardest part was I had to hide them so Mark wouldn’t see them in the house. I was so afraid we would find them!
The parties at our house for you, James, and the other friends were never really about catching up or celebrating anything. They were just a carefully staged playground where James could toy with me in plain sight. There were moments where I wore an anal plug for hours and he would drop subtle comments like “the situation is tight” or similar, or simply found a way to get me alone, enough to fuck my mouth and to make me swallow him.
And yes, at the resort on that day when you and Mark went for that run, we fucked. James was so damn proud of his master plan. How he made Mark go with you, how smart he thought he was, using Mark like a fool to buy us time. After you left, he stormed into our room, the door slamming behind him like a thunderclap. “On your knees,” he suggested, and I dropped instantly, hands behind my back, my heart racing with that familiar mix of dread and desire. He pinned me to the wall, his fingers tangled in my hair, and practically fucked my mouth aggressively, ruthless, not caring about anything else. He came fast, like usual, deep down my throat, no warning, holding my head until I swallowed every bit.
But he wasn’t done. He invited me onto the bed and ordered me to masturbate, telling me exactly how to do it, like slow circles on my clit at first, then faster, harder, slipping one finger inside, then two, then none at all. “Pinch your nipples,” he’d command, his eyes locked on mine. “Harder!” Just as I was about to come, teetering on the edge, he’d snap, “Stop.” Again and again, to remind me who was the boss, drawing out the torture until I was begging, tears streaming down my face.
Finally, he took over, fingering me next with a powerful intensity, curling his digits just right, hitting that spot over and over while his thumb worked my clit. I came hard, so hard that I wet the bedsheets in a gush, squirting like a fountain. He was so damn proud, watching every drop like it was a trophy he earned. He even scooped some up and made me lick it from his fingers, sealing the moment with a kiss that tasted of salt and submission.
I never thought of you, Lucy, as someone to hurt, or like I was stealing your husband or replacing you in any way. For me, it was about protecting Mark, ensuring his wins, our life, even as I betrayed him in our home. Maybe it’s cruel, twisted, but it was love. I don’t ask for your forgiveness, but I hope you find in your heart not to hate me.
Across the table from Ann, Lucy observed her with a mix of intrigue, pity and anger. After she finished her confession, Lucy said softly and calmly:
“I don’t hate you. You are not that important. I pity you and somehow, I can understand it, but I don’t feel like forgiving you. Here’s what’s going to happen. You will keep quiet, exactly as we agreed, and I will try my best so Mark knows nothing about it. I will deal with James my way, when the time comes.
You gave James that much, and I feel left out. You owe me. And to settle your debt, I want a night of your total surrender. You and me!
What do you say, pet?”
