Corporate Bodies - Pt 05 - Depravity free porn video

Chapter Twenty

Amanda was still fast asleep when I left the house very early the next morning after a sleepless night. She was still clearly exhausted, and the room’s faint smell of recent sex had turned stale. Even in the low light I could see that her chest and face were still flushed pink from the previous night; whoever she had been with had delivered orgasms at least as comprehensive as those she had been receiving from Andy for so many months.

With the huge expectations of the day ahead – no less than the actual signing of the deal with the Turkish Government - I knew Andy would be at his desk well before seven o’clock and I wanted to catch him before there was anyone else in the building.

My painful, swollen ankle was not making my temper any better and provided a constant reminder of the evening’s dreadful discoveries. I was as angry and spoiling for a fight as I had been the previous night but this time, I was sober and had serious justification.

Andy had cheated on our deal!

My lovely wife had been set up. Andy had put her in a position where she couldn’t refuse being fucked by a client. This was not what our agreement had been. My previously innocent wife had now enjoyed two other men’s cocks and felt two other men’s semen inside her, both of whom had apparently brought her to heights of orgasm I had never even come close to.

The first was Andy. We had reluctantly agreed to him, but the second? No way!

As I drove too quickly to the office, I heard my mobile phone beep and saw that a text message from Yvonne had arrived. I threw the phone onto the passenger seat without reading it, and two minutes later parked my car in its reserved space in the underground car park.

A minute after that I limped straight past the guard on reception and took the elevator directly to the Partner’s floor, my blood boiling.

Andy’s coat was on the stand behind his PA’s empty desk so I knew he would be in his office. I threw my jacket on the chair and stomped up to his door, throwing it open angrily and bursting into the room.

“We need to talk now!” I shouted as I strode towards him.

Andy was sitting behind his desk – the desk on which he had first fucked my wife – with papers strewn all around him and two video screens glowing.

“I know we do. Try and calm down!” he replied, rising to his feet and coming around the desk to meet me face to face. “I expected you to be upset. Take a seat; we’ll talk it all through.”

“I don’t want to sit,” I fumed. “I want to break your fucking nose! What did you make Amanda do last night? She’s obviously been fucked by someone, and I know it wasn’t you!”

“Calm down!” he tried again. “I’ll tell you everything, but not if I’m going to get attacked. Don’t make me call security!”

His hand was on the desk phone. I breathed deeply and tried to regain control, dimly aware of my fists opening and my chest loosening. But I still didn’t sit down.

“Did you make my wife fuck someone last night?” I asked directly, my voice hard and low.

“Pamuk? No, I didn’t!” he replied immediately.

“He didn’t fuck her?” I asked, suddenly puzzled. “She was definitely fucked by someone. I can smell it all over her!”

“Oh, Pamuk fucked her all right,” Andy continued.

“Bastard! You just said…” I began to protest.

“He fucked her, okay? That happened. It’s just that I didn’t make her do it.”

“Then who fucking did?”

Andy took a deep breath.

“She did!”

“What?”

“She decided all by herself!”

This unexpected revelation took a lot of the wind out of my sails, but not all. Sensing my continued fury, Andy chose his next words carefully.

“Mandy deliberately put herself in a position where Pamuk would try and seduce her. It seems he was unexpectedly successful.”

“That was NOT our agreement, Andy!” I snarled. “She’s not a whore; fucking clients was NOT part of our deal!”

“Maybe not, but things change,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm. “Talk to Mandy, she’ll tell you.”

“I’m talking to you!” I growled aggressively, the worm now turned. “It’s hard enough knowing you’ve been fucking her all this time, but this? She’s not a whore, Andy! I’m not going to let you pimp her out to anyone you fancy! The deal’s off!”

Andy’s eyes flashed with anger.

“You’re in no position to negotiate! You want to go to jail; just go ahead, back out and see what happens!”

I was too angry and disgusted with myself to reply as Andy went on: “Get real! Your lovely wife’s been whoring herself for you for months. She’s been fucking me just to save your thieving ass. Why shouldn’t she whore herself for me too if she wants to? Or for the Company? Or for herself? She’s a free woman. It’s her body after all.”

“Bastard!” I yelled, but knew better than to try and hit him.

“She’s damned good at it too,” he went on. “Mandy is one of the best fucks I’ve ever had, and believe me, I’ve fucked beautiful women all over the world! Your wife is as amazing in bed as she is out; you should appreciate her more!”

The last thing I needed at that moment was another man telling me how good my wife was in bed, even if he did mean it as some kind of perverted compliment. I stared him straight in the face.

“The deal is over, Andy! I’ll take my chances with the police and the lawyers. Leave my wife alone. You’ve fucked her for the last time.”

There was a silence in the room. Andy took a deep breath then seemed to come to a decision.

“I think you should see this first,” he said calmly, turning one of the desktop screens towards me.

“What is it?” I asked.

“It’s a piece of video. It’s not finished being edited yet, but I think you’ll recognise the main characters.”

“What’s it got to do with this?” I demanded.

“Just watch,” he said meaningfully, clicking the mouse on ‘play’.

I was about to tell him where to stick his video when the action on the screen silenced me instantly.

The footage appeared to have been taken from a ceiling mounted camera, because the first thing I saw was a door opening and a man and a woman entering a room. The picture quality was excellent; this was no standard security set-up, and there was good quality sound too. I could clearly hear their voices and make out most of the conversation.

The room was Andy’s office, the room in which I was standing now. The man was the overweight Turk, Pamuk, the woman was my lovely wife Amanda in the dress she had worn for the first time last night. With her blonde hair down and in her highest heels, she looked as stunning as I had ever seen her.

As I watched, they crossed the floor to Andy’s leather-topped desk where several small piles of paper were lying.

I felt Andy pat me almost paternally on the shoulder.

“If it gets too painful, just stop the video. You don’t need to watch it all if you don’t want to.”

I silently sank into his large leather chair and began to watch the two characters on the screen poring over the piles of paper in turn, talking animatedly. There were plenty of smiles, especially from Pamuk who I noticed kept touching Amanda on the arm and back rather more frequently than he had done during the more public receptions I had attended too.

For about a quarter of an hour there was little else to see; but as the camera angles changed and conversation continued, I noticed Pamuk’s hands straying more and more frequently onto my wife’s body, at one point actually sliding from her lower back onto her buttocks.

I smiled as the remarkably clear image showed my wife taking him by his chubby wrist and moving his hand away; though I noticed she only moved it higher up her back, not off her body altogether.

As the conversation on screen continued, I quickly turned my head, scouring the room for signs of the hidden cameras that I had completely missed before. I could see nothing, not even using the on-screen angles as a guide. Whoever had installed this set up had been a real expert. From the multiple camera angles I had seen so far, there must be at least half a dozen lenses scanning this office, maybe more, most of them showing the large desk in great detail from every conceivable direction.

Back on the screen, Pamuk’s hands had once again strayed to my wife’s bottom and had once again been moved away, but even through the camera I could see the half-hearted way in which she had reacted; almost as if her objections were a formality.

This puzzled me; why on earth should Amanda put up with this fat, ugly man groping her at all, let alone allow him to think his attentions might not be entirely unwelcome?

The conversation moved on to a set of documents towards the back of the desk. Common sense would have led anyone to walk around the side to get closer to them but instead my wife leaned right over the desktop appeared to be straining to reach the small pile of papers. As she reached out, her already short dress rode up higher.

I gasped, sitting back in my chair in surprise as her stocking tops and panties came clearly into view. Black stockings, hold-ups as usual, and microscopic black thong panties barely discernible in the cleft between her smooth, firm cheeks.

This was no accidental exposure; she was deliberately taunting the man!

No one who had risen to Pamuk’s level in any political establishment would fail to take advantage of an opportunity, and Pamuk rose to my wife’s apparent invitation like a shot. Moving quickly behind her bending body, he placed both hands on her freshly bared buttocks cupping them boldly then paused, his palms flat against her smooth skin as if waiting for her to remonstrate with him or worse, slap him in the face.

She did neither. To my astonishment, my sweet, formerly innocent wife stayed exactly where she was, bending over the desk, taking her weight on her arms an allowing the fat man’s hands to remain on the bare flesh of her bottom.

I gulped as adrenalin surged through me. Part of me wanted to rush to my wife’s defence and punch the ugly man in the face. Another part of me desperately wanted to see what would happen next, knowing full well that there was only one possible outcome; the one I had smelled on her body only hours ago!

Pamuk’s hands massaged Mandy’s unresisting buttocks slowly and tentatively. Then, encountering no resistance, his fingers began to run up and down her cleft, over the thong of her panties. Still, she stood motionless, taking no positive steps herself, but allowing her body to be explored.

The camera cut to her face. It was almost expressionless, her deep blue eyes opening and closing slowly.

The camera cut back to Pamuk, whose hands had now begun to reach around her slender waist to her groin. Slowly, Amanda pushed herself to her feet so that he stood at her back. Several inches shorter than her, the chubbiness of his body was accentuated by my wife’s slimness.

I watched as his hands began to explore her body, reaching round to cup her breasts through her dress while he showered the back of her neck with kisses. My wife made a half-hearted attempt at removing his probing fingers from her upper body but each time she slid them downwards, they returned within seconds and eventually she abandoned all resistance, allowing him to knead and massage her breasts freely.

Through the thin fabric I could see her nipples standing hard and proud.

A moment later he had turned her round to face him, his hands on her waist. I could see the blue flash of her eyes again, sparkling in the low light and telling me clearly that, despite her supposed resistance, she was getting significantly aroused.

A pulse of anger surged through me accompanied by an equally strong surge of my own arousal. I tried to suppress it, but my erect cock betrayed me.

Pamuk leaned forward to kiss her; she turned her head slightly at the last minute, so his lips met her cheek. He tried again with the same result then to my amazement, he abandoned this line of attack, placed his hands on her shoulders and gently but firmly pressed downwards as if trying to make her kneel before him.

“No! I growled aloud, immediately understanding his intentions.

To my relief, Mandy resisted. Pamuk pressed gain, this time harder. She still resisted, shaking her head and mumbling something I couldn’t make out. Then he leaned forward and whispered into her ear.

Amanda’s legs immediately gave way and before I could even guess what had happened, my lovely wife was on her knees in front of this fat man, her pretty face merely inches from the bulge I could see tenting his trousers.

“No, please! Amanda!” I whimpered, knowing my words were useless; what was going to happen had already happened. It was far too late for any protest from me.

I felt almost physical pain as I watched my wife’s slim dainty fingers fumbling with the fat man’s belt, then with the clasps on his straining waistband. Pamuk’s trousers sprang open as his huge belly escaped. Mandy jumped away in surprise then, recovering her composure, she slid first his trousers then his ridiculous yellow boxer shorts down to his ankles.

“Wow!” I gasped, astonished.

The man’s reputation wasn’t just a fairy tale. From beneath and between his front shirt tails, a long, thick, coffee-coloured erection stood horizontally. It was brutally ugly, curved sharply upwards and had veins prominent all around its long, twisted shaft. The head was almost purple in colour and surprisingly small given the huge shaft on which it sat.

My wife was obviously taken aback too. Her mouth fell open and I could see a look of fear in her blue eyes.

Was this monstrous appendage really going to penetrate her? I already knew the answer and I suspect at this stage my wife did too because a strange, glazed look came over her face, her eyes went a little cloudy and her body shook a little.

Was this Mandy appearing? Was I actually watching her alter-ego taking over?

Chapter Twenty-One

It could well have been the case because the next thing I knew, her dainty hand was wrapped around that thick shaft, sliding up and down slowly. The camera kept switching angles to try and get the best view but when her mouth opened, and her lips closed around Pamuk’s smooth, dark head my imagination needed little prompting.

With an expertise I never imagined she possessed, my sweet wife delivered a world class exhibition in oral sex, her hand, lips and tongue working in harmony on that man’s horribly ugly erection. One moment her lips were sucking his tip, the next her tongue was in the groove below its head, her hands all the time either caressing and fondling his large, full sack or encircling the thick base of his shaft.

Pamuk’s moans of pleasure came low and clearly through the monitor’s sound system and I couldn’t tear my eyes away. Amanda and I had been adventurous in our sex life but when had she learned to give head like this? My own erection had never received treatment this passionate and professional in all our marriage.

Eventually he must have decided that, however good it undeniably was, a blow job was not going to satisfy him because he gently took Mandy’s face in both hands and brought her incredible oral ministrations to an end.

She looked up at him, his cock still in her mouth. I could see those big blue eyes almost pleading – but for what I could only guess.

Pamuk took her hands in his and raised her to her feet, making another unsuccessful attempt to kiss her lips as her face drew level with his. Not pleased by this failure he tried a second, then a third time but in every case was presented only with a cheek.

Annoyed by this apparent lack of success, Pamuk had clearly decided it was time to claim the ultimate prize because, after a very brief exchange of words I strained unsuccessfully to hear, my wife was once again turned to face the desk. She tried briefly to resist but the man was apparently too strong for her because a moment later she was bent over, face down, her bottom pressed against the monstrous erection sticking ridiculously out from under his shirt.

I stared at the large computer monitor as if frozen. On the screen in front of me, Pamuk had roughly pushed my wife’s head down onto the desk and was holding her neck with his left hand while his right fumbled with the hem of her dress, trying to raise it onto her back. Mandy was putting up a little resistance, but it seemed only for effect because he was making headway fast.

After a couple of failed efforts, her dress was raised, revealing the firm, toned flesh of her buttocks and the tiny thong panties that concealed next to nothing. I heard a chuckle followed by a low mumble of protest then the panties were simply torn away in a single proficient movement.

Pamuk paused for a moment as if inspecting the treasure he had uncovered. From the camera angle I could see most of what he could see and for a moment felt perversely proud that my wife could look so good; so incredibly sexy with her bottom and hairless vulva so obscenely displayed. Shame followed immediately, made worse by the terrible tangled swelling in my trousers.

My mind suddenly flashed back to the night six months ago when in that very office, on that very desk and with his own pants round his ankles, my boss Andy had fucked the woman I loved for the first time, beginning a journey that had led to the terrible scene on the screen before me.

There was a sudden movement on the monitor that brought my eyes immediately back. Apparently delighted by the quality of the vulva he was about to enjoy, Pamuk had moved directly behind my wife and was crudely kicking her feet apart. The camera changed back to side view and zoomed in to where the action was about to take place.

His belly bulged forwards under his tight shirt but under its tails I could see Pamuk’s right hand holding the shaft of an impressive erection, the tip of which he was rubbing up and down my wife’s slit, searching for the entrance to her vagina.

“But I’m married... You’re married…”

Mandy’s face was still held down on the leather-topped desk. I could hear her protests but even I could tell they were at best half-hearted and would be to no avail. As I watched, the man quickly and efficiently found his target.

I saw his flabby buttocks flex, pressing his hips forward. Mandy’s body tensed, her head raised, her mouth opened as if in pleasurable surprise.

Then almost in slow motion, I watched Pamuk release my wife’s neck, grab her by her hips with both hands and with a single powerful thrust, drive his long, thick, misshapen cock deep into her vagina.

Mandy’s body arched as he penetrated her, her belly pressed into the desk’s leather top, her hips thrust high as if she was trying to raise them even higher to meet his incoming shaft. A loud, high-pitched yelp escaped her lips.

“Oooohhhhh!”

The camera angle switched to show Mandy’s face, her eyes closed, features contorted in a mixture of pleasure and pain as Pamuk began to thrust into her, starting slowly then building in speed and power.

“Ohhh! Ohhh! Ohhh! Ohhh!

Harder and harder he slammed into her, his rhythm rock steady, his hips slapping noisily against her pale slender buttocks. Low wailing sounds from the computer’s sophisticated sound system filled the room where I sat motionless, spellbound; completely unable to tear my eyes from the compelling images in front of me.

For the second time in my life, I was watching another man fuck my wife. I had done nothing to prevent it the first time, but this time was different; it had already happened; there was nothing I could do. The terrible action on screen had already taken place, the damage had already been done and there was literally nothing I could do to protect her. Nothing!

My bright, intelligent wife had already been fucked; all I could do was watch and feel the empty sickness growing in my belly.

There was no way I could tear my eyes away from the screen either, staring helplessly as the fat, ugly man fucked my wife hard and expertly, taking his time, clearly in charge, his own passion and arousal kept tightly under control as he thrust himself repeatedly and rhythmically into her vagina.

This would be no quick wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am fuck. This man knew how to fuck a woman and was doing it well; very well if the speed of Mandy’s increasing arousal was anything to judge by.

A grudging, unwanted but unavoidable respect for him began to grow inside me.

The camera changed again, this time showing the mating couple from the side. Pamuk’s rounded paunch hung far over his erect cock and my wife’s slender bottom, his bloated flesh wobbling grotesquely with each purposeful thrust of his hips. Crushed under his weight, Mandy’s arousal was mounting rapidly, her protests silenced, her head falling until it hung close to her chest where her small breasts dangled almost comically downwards.

Then with a loud moan she raised her head high until her closed eyes pointed to the ceiling. She was beginning to cum!

Sensing her impending climax, Pamuk’s thrusts grew faster and deeper. A long low female wail filled my ears as the first of what I instinctively knew would be many orgasms rippled through my wife’s slender, athletic body. She began to pant noisily, her arms shaking as Pamuk’s flabby hips slammed into her buttocks relentlessly, his pace quickening to match her arousal but still entirely under control.

“Oh my God! Oh Jesus!”

Her voice was hard and coarse, barely feminine, twisted by the first wave of her orgasm.

“Oooh! Oh Yes! Oh, fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck meee!”

A second, much stronger wave of orgasm washed over her and still the ugly man maintained his unyielding, unforgiving pace.

“Mmmmnnnnnnggghhhhh!”

My wife was almost incoherent now, her body out of control, entirely at her lover’s mercy. I saw her arms buckle, her long blonde hair fell over her face and a third, even more powerful wave of orgasm robbed her of speech entirely.

Her surrender now complete, Pamuk hissed something in a language I couldn’t understand. The camera angle changed once again to bring me face to face with my wife’s, twisted and contorted expression as she climaxed monstrously, her body totally unresisting, completely at this man’s mercy. Her once beautiful mouth was first wide open then tightly closed, then twisted in an ugly grimace as she came wildly but silently before my eyes.

I stared at the image on the screen; at the beautiful young woman I had married being brutally and expertly fucked by this fat, ugly man; the woman who even now was being totally overwhelmed by her orgasms; the woman who had reluctantly taken on the role of whore that she now played so very, very well.

If it really was still just a role she was playing.

From what was taking place before me, the distance between performance and reality, between Amanda and Mandy could not be great. After this total surrender, could she really separate what was happening to the body they both shared?

And having seen all this, could I?

Chapter Twenty-Two

Pamuk’s thrusting into my wife’s vagina slowed then stopped. They both paused, chests heaving, as if gasping for breath. I gulped in air myself, realising I had been holding my breath; wondering for how long; doubting my reeling senses.

For the second time in less than a year, I had watched my bright, pretty, highly intelligent wife being fucked by another man. The first time, my guilt had rendered me helpless. This time, the terrible scene had been on video and had already happened.

I had been incapable of intervening on either occasion, but for very different reasons.

But there was more still to come! From what I could see with the poor camera angle I guessed the Turk hadn’t ejaculated yet and felt instinctively that all was not over. I was right. As the camera zoomed in again, I saw his cock, still huge and very much erect, being slowly withdrawn from my wife’s vagina.

Mandy sighed in what to my horror, sounded like disappointment as the thick shaft left her body. There was a movement of the man’s hands and hips and a moment later, she let out a sharp squeal of pain and her hands flew back as if trying to push Pamuk away.

A cruel smile crossed the Turk’s lips; he thrust himself forward again, producing an even louder yelp from my wife, whose fingernails dug hard into the flabby flesh of his lower belly.

Mandy’s voice was low and distressed; I couldn’t make out her words, but she was protesting. Pamuk’s voice was equally low but had a persuasive, reassuring tone. I couldn’t make out his words either, but he continued to stroke her buttocks lovingly with both hands as he spoke, teasing the cheeks of her bottom apart and running a finger up and down her cleft.

He could have had only one aim in mind and was clearly determined to achieve his goal: nothing less than the penetration of my wife’s rectum by his oversized cock. At no time in our marriage had we even attempted this, nor would I ever have dreamed of suggesting it.

As far as I knew, Amanda or Mandy or whoever she was right then was still a virgin as far as that orifice was concerned. But it was clear that her status quo ante, if it still existed, was not going to remain for long.

To my shame, I wished hard that the camera would get in closer so I could see better. My erection was now almost painful; was I really watching my wife being induced into anal sex and being turned on?

What kind of man was I?

To my frustration, the camera didn’t zoom in. Instead, its angle changed again and in close up, I saw Mandy raise herself onto her elbows then reach for the small evening bag she had placed on the desk alongside her head.

Still pinioned over the desk, she fumbled inside it then pulled something out, waving her find towards Pamuk. The man took her offering, laughed in obvious pleasure, then began to fumble with it and with his groin.

The cameraman had clearly tried to get a better view but to my extreme frustration I was unsighted. When finally, Pamuk’s flabby body moved out of the line of sight I could see that the index finger of his right hand was deep inside my wife’s anus, turning rapidly from left to right. As I watched, he squirted something onto the top of her cleft from a small plastic tube and worked a second finger alongside the first, twisting and turning, loosening her tight, puckered sphincter.

Lube? My wife had brought lube with her! Had she come that night expecting to be fucked!

Oh Jesus! Had she known was going to be fucked in the ass when she left home? My stomach twisted in anguish.

Less than a minute later, the head of Pamuk’s cock was once again at my wife’s now well-oiled anus. Again, he thrust himself forward, again there was a squeal from Mandy but this time it was cut off in mid wail as the man’s smooth, rounded head finally passed through her loosened sphincter and into her rectum.

“Oh, my Goddd!”

The camera switched to Mandy’s face. I could see the shock, pain, humiliation in her expression but there was something else too. Maybe it was resignation, maybe surrender, but to me who knew her so well, it looked almost like delight, perhaps even triumph.

As Pamuk pressed himself further into her back passage, there was more discomfort, more humiliation on her face but by the time his pubic hair ground against the soft skin of her buttocks there was an expression of pure lustful pleasure on her once familiar, formerly innocent features.

I sat back in my chair, shocked to the core. An ugly, fat, old man had just sunk his large, erect cock into my wife’s rectum – something I had never been allowed to do in all our married life – and she had very obviously enjoyed it!

The action from then on was inexorable. As he had when deep in her vagina, Pamuk began to thrust into her in his calm, measured, controlled way. With his hands on her hips and beginning with slow, shallow strokes, he gradually but relentlessly built up both the speed and power of his thrusts, his cock plunged into Mandy’s ass over and over again.

Her moaning began low, mixed with short yelps of pain but quickly grew into a sustained soft wail, reaching a crescendo every time his cock bottomed out in her rectum.

“Yes...Yes...Yes...YES!”

My wife’s voice matched her lover’s strokes, growing faster and louder as his pace increased, her face twisting and contorting as the powerful sensations grew and grew until all sound was choked off by the arrival of the first real, anal orgasm I had ever seen.

The camera cut to her face again; the look of surprise, astonishment and fear that this apparently wholly unexpected climax had brought was unlike anything I had seen on my wife’s face before. Mandy, Amanda or whoever else she now was had clearly not been expecting this to happen. As a second then a third wave shook her impaled, helpless body she choked and gasped for air, her fists clenched then opening wide as her head rose and fell, twisting from side to side.

In all my life I had never seen anyone climax as completely, as uncontrollably or as violently as this before, even in the most extreme of porn movies. Whatever his appearance, the fat man was clearly a sexual expert and was giving my beautiful, sexy wife the full benefit of his considerable talents.

And all this had happened here, on the desk at which I was now sitting, less than twelve hours ago!

On the screen, Pamuk’s thrust were growing faster and faster, though he was still very much in control. Beneath him Mandy’s knees had long since given way and she was lying flat on the desk, face down, her legs grotesquely splayed, her body now totally compliant with whatever her lover wanted.

I heard him speak again. I couldn’t make out the words, but the response was clear.

“Please... Please... Enough...!”

His pace then increased again, becoming short, sharp and much more violent. My wife squealed in pain then moaned loudly as Pamuk began the rapid strokes that surely must bring him to climax.

Loud, wet, slapping sounds from the computer’s sound system filled Andy’s office as I stared at the screen, rooted to the spot. A moment later Pamuk’s fat, ugly face contorted as my wife’s had done and with a coarse, almost animal grunt his body began to shake and spasm.

He had finally started to cum; deep in her rectum, growling crude, violent words in a language I could not understand as his body flexed and spasmed, emptying its thick creamy load deep into my wife’s bowels.

After what seemed an age, the thrusting slowed for a final time, then stopped. Mandy’s moaning was replaced with the sound of heavy breathing. Pamuk leaned heavily against my wife’s grotesquely presented bottom, his chest rising and falling as he recovered his breath, his cock still buried in her rectum.

I watched as he ran his palms admiringly over her long smooth back, then around her slender her hips before reaching up to stroke her shoulders with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the violence with which he had just buggered her.

My lovely wife lay with her head on the desk, her breasts crushed, her bottom sticking awkwardly upwards, still impaled on Pamuk’s softening cock. Her face was turned to one side, facing the camera. She looked drained, dazed, perhaps still in some pain but with that strange, triumphant expression still on her normally pretty features.

The camera changed to the rear once again as Pamuk leaned heavily on Mandy’s hips and pushed himself upright, still panting. A moment later his flaccid member had slipped messily out of her rectum and a small stream of dark messy goo was running down the back of her pale thighs, the thin dark line eventually merging with the dark lacy top of her hold-up stockings.

Stroking her buttocks gently, he took half a step back, his cock now long, soft and hanging darkly between his thighs, his shirt front almost obscuring the dark tangle of pubic hair above his now-useless member.

Pamuk murmured something which I couldn’t quite catch. My wife slowly raised her head from the desk and achingly pushed herself upright, her dress still bunched around her waist, her panties twisted around her ankles.

Her most recent lover took her fingers in his, steadying her as she wobbled unsteadily on her high heels. Releasing one of his chubby hands, she reached for the box of man-size tissues on Andy’s desk and began to wipe between her legs.

I saw her wince as the tissue touched her violated anus and my tummy ached.

Then she bent over and with both hands wriggled her tight-fitting dress back down over her slender hips until it covered the elastic tops of her hold-ups once again, then smoothed herself down until there were few clues remaining as to the extraordinary events that had just occurred.

Pamuk took her by the hands again and spoke. His voice was very soft, almost loving and certainly reassuring. My freshly violated wife smiled rather bashfully as if at a profound compliment.

Then he leaned in to kiss her on the mouth again. For an instant it looked as if she was about to offer him her lips and I felt a surge of pain in my heart, but to my relief, she merely presented him with her cheek as before.

After all I had just seen him do to her, why had this tiny degree of restraint mattered so much to me?

There was a brief conversation between them during which the fat man looked several times at his watch. Then he lifted her hand to his lips, kissed it and with a strange, formal bow, left her alone in the room.

I stared hard at the screen to see what she would do now it was all over.

My poor wife stood dead still next to the desk for a long time, her chest heaving. I wanted to see her face; to see the look in her eyes; to see if there were tears and if there were, would they be tears of shame and humiliation or elation and joy?

But the camera angle denied me.

After a while, she took her mobile phone from her handbag, sent a brief message to someone then walked stiffly and unsteadily towards the closet where the washroom was concealed.

The video ended. I stared blankly at the screen.

*

“You have an amazing wife,” Andy said softly.

I had barely heard the footsteps approaching from behind. There was no irony in his voice.

“How long have you had cameras?” I began.

“A couple of years. They were for originally for security, but I had them upgraded and, as you can see, several of them are remote controlled.”

“Are they always on?”

“Almost always, and there are some in other offices too. In fact, they’re one of the ways I was able to catch you and your little earnings scheme.”

He chuckled at the irony as troubling thoughts buzzed through my mind.

“Why did you do this?” I asked quietly.

“You know the risks of this contract. You know how much money we could make or lose. It if goes well, the business takes a giant leap onto the international stage, we all get a huge bonus, and your little misdemeanour gets a lot closer to being dealt with. If it goes badly, we lose millions, and I won’t need all the Junior Partners.”

I nodded silently. The threat to the business was real. The threat to me and my liberty was even more so.

“Pamuk was a weak spot. He presents himself at home as a straight, reliable, religiously sound, family man. He was elected on that belief. Overseas, he has a well-known reputation for welching on deals at the last minute. What’s less well known is that he also has quite a reputation for persuading other men’s wives into bed.

“We needed to have some hold on him in case the contract went sour. Now we have it.”

“So, my wife’s reputation has to be destroyed? She has to be exposed publicly as a whore in order to help the business?”

“It probably won’t be needed at all!” he insisted. “And if we do need to use it, I’m sure he’ll come into line without any need to air the video outside these walls.”

I had not expected this.

“Your wife is a very intelligent and attractive woman. You’re a lucky man.”

That might have been so, but right then, it didn’t feel like it.

“Did you know he would actually...”

I couldn’t bring myself to use the words, but the grimace on my face told him what I was thinking.

“That he’d sodomise her?”

The word was much harsher than I would have chosen, but I nodded.

“We knew his tastes ran in that direction, so it was always a risk. That’s why she had the lube in her handbag. But Mandy was sure she could handle him and that it wouldn’t come to that.” He shrugged. “Clearly she was wrong, but to her credit she saw it through to the end and everything turned out all right.”

If that was Andy’s idea of ‘all right’ then he lived in a different world from me.

“Talk to her,” he said, encouragingly. “Let her tell you what happened. I understand it’s difficult for you...”

“You’re bloody right about that!” I hissed.

There was a long pause as we looked at each other. Then a disturbing thought suddenly occurred to me.

“Hold on! If the cameras are always on, does this mean you have video of...”

“Me and your lovely wife at the Partnership party? Yes, of course I have. I was going to use it if you refused my deal, but as it turned out, I didn’t need it. And the way things are going with that remarkable woman, I suspect I never will!”

He turned the laptop screen towards himself and began to play the video again. The figure of my wife’s face filled the screen, bent over, her long legs spread and with Pamuk’s hips thrusting backwards and forwards as he drove his cock into either her vagina or her rectum.

From the camera angle I couldn’t tell which but from the pained look on her face I guessed it was the latter.

“This is still just raw footage,” Andy said as he paused the video with a full screen image of Amanda’s normally pretty face on the screen; her eyes and mouth were open wide and contorted, obviously in the throes of a full-scale orgasm. “The video of our first night has been properly edited now, and by a professional. Don’t worry, he’s very discreet. It makes a great fifteen minutes’ viewing; I can assure you.”

Andy laughed then added, “If you do ever see it, I’d better warn you that you look more excited and interested than outraged. It’s kind of revealing.”

He turned and looked me straight in the face.

“Go and talk it through with Mandy. Let her tell you all about it. I know you two have certain rules about our... arrangement; I would hate to undo the good work you two have done so far.”

It was a dismissal and, my anger now largely dissipated, I shuffled towards the door, stunned. As my hand fell on the handle he called out:

“She still won’t kiss me, you know. I’ve fucked her every week for six months. She and I have done things that take even my breath away, but she still won’t kiss me on the mouth. I thought you should know that too!”

I closed the door behind me and walked blindly to my office where I sat at my own desk, stunned. For a moment I took out my phone meaning to call Amanda but then put it away, unsure what on earth to say to her.

I barely noticed the four new messages from Yvonne that had arrived.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The rest of the day passed more slowly than almost any day I can remember despite all the excitement of the impending ‘Turkish Deal’. I was desperate to go home and confront Amanda with all I had learned and to hear her side of the story, but the deal was my responsibility and the main reason I was a Junior Partner at all.

There was no way I could possibly leave until it was all done and dusted. Three times I got halfway through calling my wife on the phone, but all three times I gave up before the call rang out.

I did, however, finally read Yvonne’s increasingly frantic messages.

‘Was it you?’

‘Answer me. Was it you last night?’

‘Please answer me. I can’t stand it!’

‘I know it was you. We’ve got to talk’

‘Oh my God I can’t bear it. Please can we talk? Please answer!’

I should have replied straight away and reassured her, but my heart was like stone. All I could bring myself to say was:

‘Very busy today. Maybe tomorrow.’

It was cruel, I know, but right then I was incapable of anything else.

All day long, the meetings dragged. For long periods my concentration was in pieces, but I forced myself to endure it and eventually, at five minutes past six in the evening, all the necessary signatures were on the contracts.

It was finally done! A real triumph both for Sandersons and for me.

But I barely felt the congratulatory slaps on my back, and the champagne with which we toasted our success might have been vinegar.

There was a further reception later to which, thank God, wives were not invited. Pamuk was all smiles and several times asked where my ‘beautiful, intelligent wife’ was. It was all I could manage not to punch him in his smug, flabby mouth, but I kept my hands in my pockets and my mind on the substantial prize that the contract represented.

It was late when, as soon as protocol permitted, I absented myself from the group and drove home, pulling into our long, tree lined driveway and coming to a halt far enough from the house for the security lights not to come on.

For a minute or two I sat in the darkness, poring over all I had seen and learned that morning.

My lovely wife, the mother of our children had deliberately put herself somewhere she knew a known womaniser would try and seduce her. She had then let him fuck her – in places even I had never been – and had apparently enjoyed it immensely.

And all this had quite deliberately been done on camera.

With Andy there had always been the supposed coercion, but this time there really was no such excuse. My sweet, intelligent, formerly inexperienced wife had willingly allowed herself to be fucked by a stranger.

Whatever the reason or justification, she had become a whore. My tummy ached with the pain, and I blinked away the tears that kept forming in the corner of my eyes.

As I sat frozen in the driving seat, my phone buzzed for the umpteenth time. I looked at its screen to find yet another message from Yvonne.

‘Thank God you replied. When and where shall we meet? Please answer I’m going out of my mind!’

This time I knew I had to put the poor woman out of her misery.

‘Country Park. Eleven o’clock tomorrow. Bring the dog’

Yvonne’s response was immediate, as if she had been waiting, phone in hand.

‘I’ll be there.’

*

One job done, now it was time for the much harder task. Steeling myself, I put the car back in gear and drove the last few yards to the front door. The house looked warm and inviting and the security lights came on to greet me as if nothing had changed.

In a daze, I let myself into the hallway, put my briefcase down and crossed to the lounge where I could hear the late-night business news on TV. At least the kids would be asleep, I thought as pushed open the door and silently entered the room.

‘… and in the City this evening, Sandersons, the prestigious, secretive Management Consultants have just announced the signing of an important deal with the Turkish Government as part of their EU accession plan. A spokesman for Sandersons said…’

Amanda was sitting on the sofa dressed in dark blue leggings and a blue and white long-sleeved top. She looked as she used to look; pretty, sweet, an innocent wife and mother. As unlike a whore as I could imagine a woman looking.

Her appearance wrong-footed me and for a moment, I wondered whether the morning’s incredible revelations had been some kind of dream. But deep down I knew they had been real, as real as her weekly assignations with Andy. Somewhere underneath those normal, everyday clothes, would be the physical evidence of her guilt.

As I approached, she looked up at me and smiled.

“Congratulations!” she beamed at me, her deep blue eyes sparking with delight. “You did it! They’re talking openly about another promotion soon. You’re the man of the moment!”

“How do you know that?” I began.

“Andy called,” she replied. “He’s thrilled of course, and taking the credit for appointing you in the first place.”

I crossed to the armchair and sat silently watching as the news bulletin ended.

“Are you okay?” Amanda asked cheerfully. “You must be exhausted.”

“I’m more shocked than tired,” I sighed.

“Why shocked?” she asked, apparently surprised. “I thought you’d be on top of the world tonight!”

I took a deep breath. “I know what you did last night, Amanda.”

Her mouth fell open in horror, but she tried to cover her shock.

“What… what do you mean?” she asked, unconvincingly.

“I know what you did with Pamuk?”

“With Pamuk?”

“Don’t play the innocent. I’ve seen the video, for Christ’s sake,” I snapped in a cold, numb tone.

“Oh my God!”

My wife stood up like a shot, turning to face me, her body rigid with tension.

“When? How?” she stammered.

“Andy showed it to me this morning.”

“Why did he have to do that?” she demanded angrily.

“Why did HE have to do it?” I asked gobsmacked. “Why did YOU do it, Amanda? Isn’t that more important?”

There was a pause while she wrestled with the horror of being found out.

“How much did you see?” she eventually asked.

“All of it!”

“All of it?”

“Every last thrust!”

“Oh my God!”

“In close up!”

“Jesus Christ!”

“That about covers it,” I replied. “How could you do all those things? And with a fat slob like him?”

The surge of emotion that suddenly overwhelmed her shocked me and reduced Amanda immediately to a sobbing, tearful wreck. No matter what she had done, all I could see was the woman I loved in terrible anguish. I rushed to her side, took her into my arms and hugged her close as her shoulders shook with sobs.

She smelled sweet; the sour odour of old sex long gone from her body. All I could smell was the familiar soft aroma of my lovely wife and mother of our children.

“It’s okay... it’s okay...”

It most certainly was not okay and we both knew it, but the love I felt for my wife was far stronger than my anger. I whispered into her ear over and over again, holding her close until her trembling had started to subside. Then I put my finger under her chin and turned her head until those big blue eyes met mine.

They were red and her cheeks were tear stained. My lips touched her cheek, then her neck then I kissed her wet, salty mouth.

“Did you really watch it all?” she asked anxiously once she had recovered some composure.

“Yes. I was so angry I told Andy the deal was off. There would be no more visits from Mandy. I told him that he could stick the Police and his Lawyers up his arse! That’s when he showed me the video.”

“Then you know what...”

“Yes, I know what you let him do,” I interrupted.

There was a pause during which I could feel the strength returning to her body.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen,” she insisted. “It went too far, too quickly. You weren’t supposed to know anything about it!”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you’d disappeared? And did you really think I wouldn’t know you’d been fucking when you came home? How stupid do you think I am?”

“There wasn’t supposed to be any fucking,” she insisted. “And I was only supposed to be gone a short time. We only needed enough physical contact to look bad on the video.”

“So, what went wrong?”

Amanda took a deep breath.

“It seems he was more insistent that she expected, and Mandy got carried away. Once she’d been aroused, she couldn’t stop herself going all the way, even though she knew it wasn’t right.”

“I can’t believe Andy even suggested it,” I said angrily. “It’s way outside our deal and put you… her at terrible risk. He’s a cruel bastard!”

She froze for a moment then looked away.

“Andy didn’t suggest it. It was my idea.”

“Yours?”

“Mine. I’m supposed to be the Psychologist,” she said wryly. “Andy’s not the monster you think he is.”

Her voice was soft and low, but her words sent a chill through me. Even though it was exactly what Andy had told me, I still couldn’t quite believe my ears.

“That’s what Andy told me, but I didn’t believe him.”

“It’s the truth. We needed a hold over Pamuk, an insurance policy in case things went wrong with the contract. You told me how slippery he was, and you were right.”

“What happened? The whole thing was ready to sign.”

“He told Andy that there was a problem.”

“What problem? When?”

“Last night. He said another firm had come in with a better offer at the last minute.”

“Why didn’t he tell me? I’m the one negotiating.”

“Because Andy’s in charge. He said he could make the problem go away if Andy sold five percent of Sandersons to a secret Swiss-based company this morning.”

“Andy would never part with any of the business.”

“Right. He told me what had happened. I knew about Pamuk’s reputation with married women and came up with the idea. He’d been touching me up all evening so I had a good idea he would take the bait.”

“You expected him to try and seduce you even though I was there?”

She nodded again.

“The slimy bastard!”

“He’s not the first of your colleagues to try, is he?” she challenged pointedly.”

Given she had been having sex with my boss for over six months, this question required no reply. Her point well and truly made, she carried on.

“This deal is the most important thing that has happened since Andy caught you. We couldn’t afford to lose it. It simply had to work.

“Andy had already explained. Pamuk’s completely dependent on religious orthodox voters. I thought it would be enough just to have him on video groping and trying to seduce a Western woman. We thought we could put pressure on him by threatening to make it public back home.

“Mandy didn’t need to get fucked for us to have a hold over him. The way the religious parties are getting so strong in his country, just being seen alone in a room with her would have been a serious problem for him. With his family and his hardcore voters. And if it looked like he was trying to seduce her too...”

She paused. It did have an awful logic about it, I had to confess, but she hadn’t finished.

“We really believed that all Mandy would have to do was let him grope her; maybe strip her a bit at most. And even then, just enough to get a few good, incriminating minutes on tape. Then she would break away and call foul.”

She sighed and shrugged.

“But it went wrong?” I suggested.

“I misjudged both him and Mandy. She thought she could control him. I thought I could control her. Wrong on both counts.”

“What happened?”

“I underestimated him and overestimated Mandy,” she said shamefaced. “I just hadn’t bargained on such an ugly man being such an efficient seducer. Or frankly, on Mandy taking over so completely. She was supposed to be cold, calculated and cynical. Instead, once it had started, she couldn’t stop herself. She didn’t want to stop herself. She just let him keep going and going until… well until it had gone much too far.”

She laughed mirthlessly, then added:

“It seems I can understand everyone’s psychology except my own. I got it wrong. Spectacularly.”

Spectacularly was the right word. The image of that man’s cock ploughing into my wife’s vagina and anus was burned into my mind and would remain there forever.

“I didn’t do it for pleasure,” she insisted firmly. “If you and I are ever going to get out of this Hell, then the deal had to go through. I did what it took, however bad it might look now.”

That much was undeniable.

“And I suppose I thought if she helped Andy out in something this big; if Mandy did something this important for him then he might think again about how often he…”

“Fucked her himself?” I completed her sentence bitterly.

She nodded. I thought for a moment. This was plausible too, if very naïve. I believed it.

“Andy doesn’t trust the Turks or the EU,” she continued. “That’s why you were put in charge of the deal. It turned out he was right not to trust them. Pamuk tried something so we needed a solution quickly. I had an idea that might just work. It seemed obvious. We had to act fast, but the risk was low, or so I thought!”

“It was a big price to pay in the end,” I said bitterly.

“Maybe,” she said enigmatically. “It was enough to get the deal through. The video must have been good enough.”

“You haven’t seen it?” I asked, amazed.

“No. And I don’t want to.”

“Well, you can take my word, it shows everything!” I laughed hollowly.

Amanda sighed. She was still subdued but her confidence was definitely returning.

“Then it’s what we needed. It worked.”

There was a long pause.

“Did it... Did it hurt?” I eventually asked. “You and I have never done... that sort of thing before.”

I couldn’t bring myself to say the words; to point out that despite our adventurous sex life, she had never offered her anus to me. To my surprise, my wife flushed pink and her deep blue eyes flicked away from me towards the window.

I understood the meaning immediately. The thought made me feel slightly sick and very jealous.

“It wasn’t your first time,” I said coldly. “You’d done it before. Andy’s already fucked you up the arse. He took your virginity.”

If I had expected her to deny it or be ashamed, that idea was immediately quashed. Amanda’s body tensed, then to my surprise, she looked straight at me again, her expression defiant.

“Before you pass judgment, just remember who put me in this position,” she said slowly and clearly. “Do you really think I wanted that fat man’s oversized cock in my rectum last night? Do you think I wanted to be humiliated like that, knowing it was all being filmed? Do you think I wanted to bleed into my panties all day today?”

She was getting angry herself now.

“Yes, Mandy’s been fucked up the arse, as you so crudely put it. More than once if you really want to know. Sometimes it hurts but sometimes it feels amazing! She’s done other degrading things and some of them felt amazing too, but before you get all self-righteous, remember this; “If Mandy’s a whore it’s because you’re a thief. It’s your stupid dishonesty that made her one. She didn’t have a choice, remember!”

Her blue eyes were wide open now and fixed on mine.

“You think she wanted to have a strange, ugly man stick his cock down her throat, in her cunt and up her arse? Do you think she liked losing all self-control and self-respect when he made her cum, however much she tried not to? You think she liked having her body fucked so hard that she nearly peed herself?”

I stared at her, stunned. Was this what sex with Pamuk had been like?

“Of course, she didn’t!” Amanda hissed in fury. “But she did it anyway.”

“But you looked like…” I began, but she cut me off.

“Okay, some of it does feel good. I can’t deny it. Sometimes with Andy it feels so very, very good that I…that Mandy can’t control herself. Sometimes it feels better than she dreamed sex could ever feel, but that’s not the point.”

I didn’t want to hear this; it was unbearably almost painful - more so because I knew it was nothing but the truth.

“And why shouldn’t she enjoy it?” she snarled. “Mandy has no choice but to let them use her body; if I… if she can get a bit of real physical pleasure from the whole sordid thing, I would say she deserves it, wouldn’t you?”

She looked me hard in the face, her deep blue eyes burning into mine, her voice low and cold.

“Don’t ever forget, Mister Junior Partner, if I’ve become a whore,” she hissed, abandoning all pretence at being Mandy, “it’s because I would do anything - absolutely anything to protect my family.”