Grace's Covert Humiliation Ch. 03

Author's note: The following story is a work of fiction. Some scenes include nonconsensual sex or abuse that may be disturbing to some readers. If you may be one of those readers, please select a different story.

"Genetics is fascinating for so many reasons," Grace espoused to her large introductory genetics class. The class was in a spacious lecture hall in the old biology building. The lecture hall, more than one hundred old, with dark wood and windows facing out toward the lake, had been occupied by generations of students. I enjoyed thinking about the spectral presence of students and faculty long gone, imagining their individual accomplishments and abandoned dreams. I was there to meet my wife, Grace, for coffee after class.

Grace was wearing a thin snug white sweater and thigh length burgundy skirt. In profile, the rounded lower contours of her breasts were appealingly visible, as was the subtle hint of her nipples pressing against the material. Her skirt clung to the globes of her ass. Her blond/light brown hair was pulled back and held in place by a barrette.

"Meiosis during gamete formation, and fusion of genes during subsequent fertilization, are the two main drivers of diversity and function. In humans, during egg and sperm formation, the 23 pairs of homologous chromosomes align before segregating into haploid egg or sperm cells. In contrast to somatic cells, which have two copies of each chromosome, egg and sperm cells only contain one copy of each chromosome. Crossing over, or recombination, takes place during meiosis to generate four non-identical haploid cells. This is one of the two main sources of genetic diversity."

A large blond student sitting immediately in front of me whispered to the guy sitting next to him, "this is so fucking boring. At least the prof slays and is a total babe. Wish I could understand half of what she's saying."

"No cap," his companion replied with a grin. "She's high end."

"Man, this exam is going to be a beast. If I don't pass I'll be toast," the first student continued. "Only my second semester and I'm already on probation. If I flunk out my dad's going to kill me. He told me since I'm almost twenty, he'd stop paying my way if I can't cut it in school. The last thing I need is some loser job."

The large, overweight blond student looked as if he spent most of his free time, and perhaps his study time as well, peering into a computer screen through his dark framed glasses. Incongruously, his hair was spiked up in a peculiar, tousled disarray. The start of an attempt at fashion.

His companion replied, "Chill bro. The exams are a cinch. The test questions always come straight from her notes, low key. Just memorize her notes." The blond student's friend, reclining back with a leg draped over the seat in front of him looked athletic which, for a twentyish person, is not too difficult. He had long wavy hair and exuded confidence, or perhaps overconfidence, with his arms extended across the adjacent seat backs.

Grace continued to wrap up her lecture, "During human fertilization hundreds of millions of sperm cells, which have matured in the epididymis, seek a single available egg as it's released from one of the ovaries into the fallopian tube. A single winning sperm penetrates the surface of the egg. This causes alteration of the egg surface to preclude the entry of additional sperm cells. The 23 chromosomes from the father and mother merge with each other to form a new diploid cell that develops into a new organism. This fusion of DNA during fertilization is the second main source of genetic diversity.

"At least when she starts talking about eggs and sperm I can get on board. The stuff about meiosis and recombination puts me to sleep. I just space out and look at her tits," the blond student commented to his companion in a low voice.

The second student grinned at his friend. "You need to find yourself another Bae, bro. Ever since your girl split you've been hopeless. Why don't you go ask the prof if she'd needs a sample from you."

As usual the end of class was marked by the rush of a handful of students to my wife. "Dr. Overton, a question about the exam," a pretty young student exclaimed as she approached my wife.

"I'll see you back at the frat, Brad," the blond student said.

"Later, man."

---

"Would you be able to pick up the kids this afternoon, Sam?" Grace asked, as we sat down at the table in the coffee shop. "I told Eleanor, one of my graduate teaching assistants for my genetics class, I'd meet with her to go over some of the material for the exam so she can try to help her study section. A lot of them have really been struggling with easy concepts.

Most of these people have no business in college, and are just here to have their hands held," my wife remarked disparagingly. "I don't think they have either the intellect or the potential to be in school at this level. When I was an undergraduate, I excelled academically. I know it's not fair to compare someone like me, of high intellect and proficiency, with these kids, but still..."

"Some of the undergrads are extremely capable and will be successful." I replied. "Sure, some will fail, but at least they're giving it a shot. Some people are late bloomers.

"And, yes, I can pick up the kids today. That works."

Grace's two children, Kylie and Henry, now four and two, both serve as unremitting reminders of the consequences of my candaulism and the events I had engineered to satisfy my sexual craving. But I've finally accepted fully this facet of myself. I have fond recollections of strangers viewing my naked wife in her most intimate moments. My memories of Grace getting fucked and being unknowingly subjected to various sex acts by Hank, a guy more than forty years older than her, remain vivid in my mind. The image of her athletic legs spread wide to accept the old man's cock, being filled with his semen, the image of her belly swelling to accommodate a baby resulting from her illicit coupling with the old man, of her nursing and eagerly and unwittingly raising his babies is something that continues to arouse me. So too does the fact that Grace would be utterly humiliated if she knew that she had been degraded by someone she considers to be beneath her, both socially and intellectually.

Even though I know that I'm not Kylie or Henrys' biological father, I pretend to be. I am their functioning dad. Both kids look like the biological siblings they are. And both look like a combination of Grace and old Hank, although I'm at an advantage because I'm aware of to look for familial features shared by Hank and his son, Kyle.

I've tried to dial back my sexual kink, but I've only been partly successful. As I just said, I've accepted that this is an integral part of my sexual tapestry.

---

"You can't be serious, Sam," Grace exclaimed as we sat at the kitchen table. She was removing the red short skimpy lace satin nightdress from the box that I gave her. "I'll gladly wear this to bed for you, but I can't let you take pictures of me wearing this. What if someone saw them?"

In fact, I already had many pictures from several photoshoots in which my wife had unsuspectingly participated. I had assembled a portfolio of photos of my wife clad in a bikini, her underwear, in partial undress, and even fully nude. She knew and had happily complied with the bikini shots, but the others had been taken under the influence of the Halcion that I had used to spike her drink.

"You want some more pinot noir?" I asked. "Might as well kill the bottle. It's almost gone." I noted a few residual flecks of the drug on the side of her glass as I split the remaining wine between our two glasses. From trial and error, I had settled on spiking my wife's drink with one and a half tablets. This put her under but not completely out, instead rendering her partially responsive and compliant, and with impaired memory of events the following morning.

"I know you feel self-conscious about having your picture taken in revealing clothes. That's why I bought you this as well," I said, removing a matching eye mask from the box. "This way you can go incognito and don't have to worry so much about someone seeing your picture."

"Why are you so interested in taking pictures of me?"

"Because you are so beautiful," I responded truthfully. Grace was looking at me intently with her blue/grey eyes, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

"Well... I hope I don't regret this. Okay, I'll let you take just a few pictures since the kids aren't here." Kylie and Henry were with my in-laws for the weekend.

Grace changed into the red nightdress in the bathroom as I waited in our bedroom.

"You look fantastic," I said as she came in. She really did look excellent in the revealing garment. Her breasts were visible through the sheer fabric, the short nightdress scarcely covered her crotch. She was smiling, her light eyes amused behind the matching red mask.

I led her through a series of progressively more provocative poses while she was in standing position as well as sitting on the reclining chair in our bedroom.

"Grace, you look enchanting," I said as she sat in the chair.

There was a long pause. She closed her eyes. "Just like a Gregorian monkey," she giggled. "I mean monk, not monkey... a chanting monk."

"Can you sit back on this chair and smile at me?" I requested as I moved closer to my wife with the camera.

"Okay," she replied, a peaceful smile visible below her mask. Grace reclined with her hands behind her head on the headrest, legs on the ottoman in front of her, her eyes betraying sleepiness. The position conveyed relaxation but simultaneously caused her breasts to thrust forward, her nipples elevating the nightdress. I couldn't have asked for a nicer pose. I snapped several pictures.

Grace's eyes were closed. "Grace, can you put your feet on the ottoman and pull in your knees?"

"Mm..hm." She drew her feet in, lifting her knees. As I moved to the opposite side of the ottoman I was presented with an amazing view. My wife reclined, eyes closed, hands behind her head, breasts projected, slim waist tapering appealingly outward to her hips. The triangle of her neatly trimmed, light brown pubic hair pointed downward to her naked mons and vulva, all framed nicely by her long well-toned legs. As she drifted into sleep, her knees dropped further apart, opening her outer labial lips, revealing her pink inner lips and her entrance, and the projecting tip of her clitoris. I took several pictures.

Moving to the side of the chair, I carefully removed the mask and returned to position. "Hey Grace, just a couple more pictures. Can you open your eyes and smile?"

"I'm sleepy..."

"Just for a minute." As she opened her blue/grey eyes and smiled feebly I took a rapid series of pictures of her body and unmasked face.

"Let's get you to bed," I said as I guided my wife to the left side of the bed.

I lay down beside her and slowly kissed my wife, first gently then more passionately, inserting my tongue past her lips. She responded, slowly exploring my mouth in kind with her tongue. I moved between her legs and mounted her in missionary position. As I resumed French kissing my wife, she wrapped her legs around me.

I inserted my penis just a short distance past her entrance, hovered there for three slow shallow strokes with only the head of my cock inside her, then used a complete stroke to fully enter her. As I repeated this shallow and deep thrusting pattern, Grace responded. "Ah Ah Ah Ohhh, Max" she moaned. She became increasingly wet, a combination of her fluid and my pre-cum.

I increased pace, dispensing with the shallow strokes, irritated that she had again subconsciously mentioned her old boyfriend Max. "Oh Oh Oh Oh..." she involuntarily responded. With a satisfyingly protracted orgasm of multiple contractions, I filled her completely.

After recovering for several minutes on top of my wife, I dismounted and stood beside our bed. Grace looked beautiful with her blond/light brown hair splayed across her pillow. Her left leg was fully extended. Her right foot was on the bed with that knee wide. A stream of semen issued from her pussy, channeling over her perineum and down her butt crack to the bed. I arranged her left leg, creating symmetry with the right to fully expose her. Moving to the foot of the bed, I captured full-length pictures of my wife, along with closeups of the creampie. "After" pictures to go with the set of "before" shots, I thought to myself.

---

It would be fair for you to ask, "why?" I do thoroughly enjoy my wife and our sex life in all the "normal" ways. But, by now, you know that my full sexual desire is only sated by exposing my unknowing wife to voyeurs for their gratification. That she would feel utterly humiliated knowing that she was being viewed as a sex object by people she viewed as less intelligent, or not worthy of being in her social circle, also enhances my drive. I had reconciled myself to the fact that I had allowed my anomaly to run rampant previously. Even now, when I look at Grace, I must reluctantly admit that the consequences of my extreme candaulism arouse me.

I went to my computer in the office adjacent to our bedroom, used a double VPN to obfuscate network IP tracking, and logged onto the website, "Expose Yourself," a site for exhibitionists. I went to Grace's page where I had used the pseudonym "Sadie." I had prepared the page as if "Sadie" herself had set up the page. It included some accurate biographical information but lacked sufficient detail for easy identification.

Over the past year, I had uploaded a select set of pictures of my wife, her face blurred, from my portfolio, a few pictures of Grace in "regular" clothes, a couple in her bikini, several in various stages of undress, and three completely exposed. I was gratified to see that there had been more than 17K views of the page so far. I pictured thousands of men viewing Grace's body without her knowledge, objectifying her, and even jacking off to her image. In perusing parallel websites, I noted that some viewers had reposted my wife's images elsewhere, exponentially expanding the number of people that have viewed my wife's intimate treasures. Technology has indeed facilitated the candaulist.

I also loved reading the mix of complimentary and lewd comments people left in response to Grace's posted pictures. There were also sincere propositions and requests, mostly from men but also some from women. I communicated directly with a handful of women from the site, and traded with them a couple of pictures in which Grace's face wasn't blurred. A side benefit of exchanging pictures with women was that I received sets of explicit pictures from attractive women. I set a few unblurred pictures to a select few men as well but wasn't interested in receiving pictures from them (just not my thing). The level of arousal I experienced from sending unblurred pictures was augmented by risk of my wire's potential identification.

I transferred the pictures from this past evening's photo session to my encrypted external hard drive and erased the data from my camera. It was titillating to see the new set of Grace's provocative nude photos came up on the screen knowing that they would soon be seen by a large throng of waiting voyeurs. I first selected the most revealing shots of my wife wearing her mask, including Grace relaxing and smiling, her blue/grey eyes visible through the mask eye holes, with her legs open wide in the chair. Then I opened several photos after I had removed her mask, including a full-length image of her with semen seeping from her vulva. In photoshop, I used the "spin blur" filter at 10 degrees, to obscure her face in the photos where she wasn't wearing her mask. This filter still allowed a general impression of her features to come through. For a final picture, I placed an inset closeup photo of her creampie in the corner of her full-length picture. I cued up the set and uploaded.

---

"Sam, come over to my lab this afternoon!" Grace said over the phone. "I have some sensational news."

"Really? I'll be right over. You've got me curious," I responded.

On the way out of my building I decided to swing by the office of a new Assistant Professor who had recently joined the department. I was serving as a faculty colleague and advisor for Javier until he found his footing. He had only been here a few months. Grace and I had him over to our house, and I could tell my wife liked the guy. Originally from Argentina, Javier was gregarious, an enthusiastic storyteller and grateful to be invited over. I thought he might enjoy coming with me to see why Grace was so excited. As his office door was ajar, I opened it slightly and saw Javier, with his back to me at his computer, apparently engrossed in his work. I suddenly recognized the image on his computer screen was the collage of pictures from Grace's Instagram account.

"Hi Javier!" He immediately clicked off the screen, and when he saw that it was me his face colored noticeably. I played dumb. "Hey, I'm going over to Grace's lab. She's excited about something. You feel like going over with me? Or are you too busy working?"

"Hi Sam. I..I'd like to explain what I was doing," realizing that I'd seen his screen. I'm trying to expand my social media network here in the U.S. since I don't know many people yet. What a coincidence that you came by just as I was looking to connect with you and your wife. I'd love to come with you, but I better stay here. The Department Chair wants to meet with me in just a few minutes."

"That was quick thinking, Javier," I thought to myself. I decided not to ask him why he was rubbing his cock while he was looking at my wife's pictures.

---

When I arrived at my wife's lab and her adjoining office, she was standing and conversing excitedly with a group of graduate students from her lab.

"What's the big news?" I inquired.

"The university is presenting me with the "Most Promising Young Investigator" award," she replied happily.

The award was prestigious and well known on campus. It was a real honor to receive the award, not to mention the $500K that the recipient could use for their work.

"The university is recognizing the importance of my work on genetic networks, I mean my lab's work," Grace corrected as she remembered her lab members were there with her.

"That's fantastic!" I responded, coming over to give her a hug. "It's well deserved. I'm so proud of you!" Grace is a smart woman, and I truly was proud of her.

"There's going to be a presentation ceremony next week," she continued. "I'm going to see whether I can get my sister to come out for a visit so she can attend. But this afternoon we're having an impromptu celebration. Have a glass of champagne! Here!"

I took the glass of champagne. "Here's to my wife, Grace, and to all of you in the lab," I toasted. "This is truly a group effort and the result of a tremendous amount of hard work by all of you. Congratulations!"

"And due to my intelligence and vision," Grace added. I could tell she already had a glass or two of champagne and could see she immediately regretted speaking without a filter. "I mean, that's right. It couldn't have happened without all our hard work," a blush of embarrassment coloring her cheeks from her self-congratulatory faux pas.

As a few other faculty and students from nearby labs joined us the expanding group grazed on snacks and socialized.

I felt someone touch my arm. "Hi Sam."

"Oh, hey Eleanor. How are you?" I responded. "Exciting times."

Eleanor was one of Grace's grad students. In Grace's opinion, Eleanor was the smartest and most creative member of her lab. I had met her numerous times before when people in Grace's lab visited our house for combination work/social events. She is an intriguing young woman with a lot of interests. I've enjoyed extended conversations with her on a variety of topics.