Grace's Covert Humiliation Ch. 03

"Hi Jonathan. How's your work on Drosophila going?" Jonathan's lab used fruit flies to try to understand the genetics of nervous system development.

"Still hammering away. Haven't had any big breakthroughs the way your wife has though. I'm going to ask Grace to collaborate with me on some of our work. I'd like to probe her brain."

"It bet that's not the only thing you'd like to probe," I thought to myself.

"Hey, I've got to run," Jonathan said as he hurried off. You still playing squash? Give me a call. We can play bit if you promise to take it easy on me,"

I chatted for a short time with a couple other faculty members that I knew. Then someone tapped me on the shoulder.

"Hi Sam." I turned to face Eleanor standing behind me, her amazing green eyes looking into mine. She was wearing a black dress that highlighted her medium sized breasts and her dark hair. I was momentarily distracted by her sudden presence and oblivious to other elements around me.

"Eleanor...good to see you again. Congratulations to you as well." I knew that Eleanor had done a lot of the work that went into Grace's gene network model.

"Thanks, Sam. Hey I wanted to talk with you about something. I hope you don't mind. It's a little awkward."

"Of course. What's up?"

"A lot went into developing our model. I was the one primarily responsible for developing the AI algorithms that enabled us to decode meaningful interactions between large gene sets and the informatics that made construction of the neural network possible...," Eleanor started. "But now Dr. Overton wants to use the AI and dynamic network model to justify some weird theory she has about people with superior gene networks. There's no basis for her idea. At least not from model."

My wife's idea was certainly was familiar to me. "Yes," I responded. "I'm acquainted with Grace's idea. She's been trying to convince me that her theory is reasonable."

"To be blunt, I think she's trying to incorrectly use the model to justify some prejudiced belief she holds about superior and inferior people," Eleanor said. "I'm really uncomfortable with it."

---

I sat at the computer, reading through the responses to "Sadie's" most recent photos as well as the hidden camera movie clip. The responses were uniformly enthusiastic. Something I had come to expect. Grace had now unwittingly displayed her body to enough people to fill a good-sized arena. She had posed to display her attractive breasts and projecting nipples, spread her legs to reveal her carefully trimmed light brown pubic hair, her attractive mons and pink vulva, and even posed with post-coital semen seeping from her pussy. And now, there was a movie with her enthusiastically giving a blow job, facilitating her sodomization, and getting fucked. She had been covertly humiliated.

At first, exposing my unsuspecting wife in this way had been extremely gratifying. But over time, I noticed it had become less fulfilling. Although I had been able to greatly increase the number of voyeurs, the thrill was starting to pale in comparison to times that I had set up Grace to be viewed in person. My mind flashed through images of my wife, legs spread, being viewed by the voyeur at the window, her pussy tightly grasping a cucumber, people seeing her performing fellatio and riding me and, of course the pinnacle, the two times she had been unsuspectingly abused and fucked by Hank, her pussy hungrily grasping the old man's penis.

I thought about new possibilities to help satisfy my candaulism and arrived at a conclusion. One that I had been turning over in my mind for some time. Grace had no shortage of admirers on campus, and I was aware of a few of them. This included both Jonathan from my wife's department and Javier from mine. There were doubtless many others that I didn't know about.

I logged onto Proton mail via VPN and set up a new email account. Composing separate messages to Jonathan and Greg, I wrote, "Stumbled onto an intriguing website from someone named "Sadie." I think she might be someone we both know. I heard that if you leave a message for her at the site and sign off with the password, "your secret admirer 69," she'll likely message you back. I tried it and it worked! I ended with a link to Grace's "Sadie" page.

Sitting back and looking at the message, I could think of multiple reasons that neither of them would open the link. The message seemed too like the ubiquitous spam texts and messages that pervade current communications. Most people know to be cautious about following links arriving from unverified sources. I thought for a moment, and impulsively attached a picture of Grace in her bikini, her face unblurred, to the bottom of the message and hit send. My inner candaulist was immediately stimulated by the possibility that one or two people who knew Grace from work, and who were interested in her, might soon be viewing her.

---

"It's really amazing," I thought to myself, as we continued to celebrate Grace's award. "Aside from eye and hair color, Kylie looks so much like Grace. Well, even the hair color is not that far off."

The kids were finally in bed. I had just finished pouring a second glass of wine for myself, Grace, my sister-in-law, and my mother-in-law, Anneline.

"It had been a while since Grace and I had seen Kylie. They always looked like sisters to me, but the resemblance had now become more striking.

"We've spent a lot of time talking about Grace today," I said. "Let's hear what you've been up to Kylie."

Kylie smiled appreciatively, "I've mostly been traveling and working on my book."

Since my father-in-law was a successfully entrepreneur, the family had substantial resources. I knew that Kylie had not been shy about taking advantage of the opportunity and liked to travel.

"I was back in the E.U and stayed with some of the van Zoelen's in Amsterdam for quite a while," she said.

"It's such an advantage to have such exceptional relatives back in the Netherlands," Anneline interjected.

"What about your psychology degree?" I asked. "Are you planning on going back to finish your thesis?"

"Yes, indeed. The book I'm writing will be part of my doctoral thesis on the implications and predictions of the Dutch psychologist, Geert Hofstede. For my thesis I'm devising a way to experimentally test his ideas on Indulgence and Restraint."

"Are you still seeing Matthijs?" Anneline asked. She enjoyed discussion of other topics with her daughters, but her principal subject of interest was ever present in her mind. "We must remain diligent about keeping up the van Zoelen line. I like that Matthijs comes from a Dutch noble family. "

"Mom, please. I just turned twenty-nine. I'd like to get my thesis out of the way first," Kylie said.

"Well, don't wait too long," Anneline responded. "I can tell Grace's children are exceptional just like the rest of the family. You and your sister both come from the same high-quality stock." A notification on her cell phone interrupted her. "Oh, Henry's outside to pick me up. I'll see you again tomorrow."

As Grace and Kylie continued to discuss genetics and psychology, I could feel the wine gradually mellowing me. My mind drifted. I imagined myself going out and bringing Kyle's dad, Hank, back in through the front door. "Grace, it's time for you to meet the real father of your children. Yes, you're right, that is Kyle's dad. Oh, yes, that's right, I forgot you don't know his name. It's Hank. Hank filled you with his semen. You carried his babies and then enthusiastically nursed them. Yes, it's correct that Hank is a nickname for Henry. Right, it's a coincidence that he and your dad have the same name. No, we don't necessarily have to call your son Henry Jr. now, though I suppose we could if you like. Yes, I realize you don't like either Hank or Kyle and you think that Hank is a low-quality person. No, I'm not sure whether there's a chance his genetic networks might be superior. No, I don't know his IQ.

"Anneline, I'd like you to meet Hank, the man who inseminated your daughter. Yes, that's right, the next generation of van Zoelens have their genes inextricably mixed with those from Hank. I know - he is older than you - that's a good observation. Yes, Hank really fucked your daughter twice, it wasn't artificial insemination. I do understand that you don't like thinking about your daughter being filled with Hank's semen, or bearing his children. No, I'm not sure about his nationality or whether he comes from exceptional stock. I agree - the eyes of both your grandchildren do look remarkably similar in shape and color to Hank's eyes. They both have your nose though."

As my cock started to involuntarily rise, I reached for my large cloth napkin and placed in on my lap.

---

"I hate having to spend time dealing with losers," Grace commented, a scowl on her face. I had met Grace in her office so we could drive home together. "There are always a few students who just can't handle the material. Honestly, they shouldn't be at the university."

"Well, genetics, or other areas of science and math aren't necessarily for everyone," I responded. "I bet some of them have other strengths. It's not fair to call them losers. It's not easy for everyone to be strong in multiple areas."

"Three students failed this past exam," Grace continued. "Two of them might be ok since they did fine on the previous two exams. But one guy is truly hopeless. He's failed all three exams so far and it's too late for him to drop the class so even if he were to miraculously get an A on the final he's done so poorly that he would still fail the class."

"That's too bad. Is he upset, or do you think he doesn't care?"

"Oh, he cares. He came to my office this afternoon. He gave me some excuse about being under a lot of pressure from his parents. I probably shouldn't have done it, but I pretended to play a very tiny violin as he was talking. He stopped and looked as though he was going to cry."

"That's really sad. I hope he's okay. The student's name isn't "Wilton" by chance, is it?" I asked.

"That's amazing, Sam. How did you know? You don't know the students in my class."

"I sat in on one of Eleanor's review sessions last week. Wilton was there and obviously struggling with the material. And when I was in the back of the room at your lecture I overheard him telling his friend that he was on academic probation and that his dad would be upset if he failed."

"Yes, he told me his dad has high expectations and that he's already disappointed with him. He claimed that if he flunks out he won't get any more help from his parents and that he'll be on his own and have to get a "regular" job. He asked me if he might do something for extra credit."

"Gee, he sounds desperate but sincere. Did you ask him about any of his other classes? Are you going to let him do extra credit?"

"If it were someone else, someone with potential, I might come up with a research paper or some other way to help them through. Wilton is such a failure though. I told him that not everyone is cut out to be successful. That there are a lot of average people without much potential that are best suited for regular jobs."

"That seems harsh to tell someone, even if you think it's true. If college isn't a good fit for him it doesn't mean he's necessarily a failure or that he won't be successful at something else," I said.

"Partly, it might be mean to say, but it's also the way he looks and carries himself. He seems like...like such a dweeb -- I honestly can't think of a better word to describe him. Yes, I know, you can't judge a book by its cover. But in this case, I think it's fair to conclude that both the cover and content are inferior."

When we arrived home, I looked through Grace's class roster, then opened the campus email address search, and logged back onto my Proton mail account to compose a message. "Hi Wilton. Stumbled onto an intriguing website from someone named "Sadie." I think she's someone we both know. I heard that if you leave a message for her at the site and sign off with the password, "your secret admirer 69," she'll likely message you back. I tried it and it worked! I ended with a link to Grace's "Sadie" page along with a picture of Grace in her bikini.

---

The next day I was trying to work on some writing at home but was having trouble concentrating. I had started to have second thoughts about sending out the link to my wife's nude pictures, and explicit footage of her performing sex acts with me, to Jonathan, Javier, and Wilton. In the email I had sent, my wife's face the bikini picture remained unblurred. I had intended this as a hook to get the viewer to follow the link. Though the pictures and footage on the website had Grace's (and my) face blurred, it might be possible for someone to make out enough of her features through the blur if they thought they already knew the person's identity.

I continued to be extremely aroused by the fact that Grace didn't know that she had been secretly humiliated in multiple ways and it remained important to me that she continue to remain unaware. It also excited me to think about the possibility that a few people that know Grace would have the chance to enjoy her most intimate moments and to think of my wife as a sex object whenever they spoke with her.

After vacillating for an hour, I decided to take down the pictures on the website. I could always start a new page with a different link if I wanted. Suddenly I thought of something that sent a chill through me.

I quickly logged on to Sadie's page on Expose Yourself and started viewing the movie footage on the site. My cock stirred as I watched the footage of my wife performing fellatio, deepthroating me, and enthusiastically being sodomized. Then as I carefully watched the footage when I was verbally abusing my wife as I fucked her, on the soundtrack I heard myself clearly say, "You really are a slut, aren't you Grace?" After my session using CapCut to blur our faces I hadn't bothered to watch the movie all the way through after posting. If Jonathan, Javier, or Wilton viewed the movie this would confirm that the images on the site were indeed of my wife. Strangers viewing the site would also learn "Sadie's" real name if they were motivated, though that was less of immediate concern to me. I deleted the movie from the site.

I noticed that there were more than fifty new messages to Sadie since I had posted the footage. I quickly opened and scanned the messages looking at the sign off from each. Most were typical of what I had learned to expect, comments about what the writer would like to do to satisfy Sadie, comments about her fine body, silly self-aggrandizing comments about the length and girth of the writer's cock, etc. I found one with the tongue in cheek comment, "Loved the sex tape Sadie, I mean Grace. Please post more." Then among the last five messages, there was one, "Hi Sadie. Would love to help you satisfy your fantasies. Signed, your secret admirer 69."

---

I exited the website and turned off the computer. I was shaking with excitement and dread. I had to think before acting. It was clear that one of the three emails I had sent had hit its mark. However, due to my carelessness in posting the movie, it was also safe for me to assume that whoever had sent the message to Sadie was able to confirm that the pictures on the web were those of my wife. Although he couldn't be sure, the message writer would also probably assume that Grace had posted the pictures herself and that she was a secret exhibitionist.

There was also the strong possibility was that the message writer would approach Grace directly and let her know that he knew her secret and would offer to "help" her. Or the person could even attempt to blackmail my wife. Since it was important to me to keep Grace in the dark, I decided to buy time in an attempt to keep the message writer from contacting Grace.

I went back to the computer, logged onto the site and opened up the message.

"Dear admirer 69," I wrote. "Thanks for the password and your comment. For obvious reasons I want to keep my identity a secret. But would you like to message over Signal or some other secure platform? I have time tomorrow. How about noon Central time? Unless you're in a very different time zone. Let me know." Here I paused, quickly went to Signal, used my "Burner" app to create a Signal account for Sadie then returned to my message response. "My Signal handle is "Sadie Secret. Hope to message tomorrow."

I then removed all of the photos from the website.

---

"Sam, something disturbing happened today," Grace said as we got ready for bed that evening. I reflexively held my breath. I had been on edge all day after going through my self-inflicted emotional turmoil. I was wondering whether my attempt to regain control had been in vain.

"Javier called me this afternoon. He said he received a strange email with a picture of me attached. He said there was a weblink embedded in the message, but he wasn't going to open it. Apparently, he was hacked previously and had vowed to never again open link embedded in a suspicious message.. He asked me whether I had sent it to him. I told him no.

"Anyway, it's disturbing to me. I wonder what's going on."

I thought to myself, "I guess Javier didn't write that message then, or maybe he did and wanted to talk to Grace to see whether she might admit to something."

"I wouldn't worry about it too much," I replied. "There are a lot of pictures of all of us on the web. It would be easy for some hacker or con artist to use one of them in a pathetic scheme. What picture was it?"

"He said I was wearing a swimsuit," Grace replied, blushing modestly.

---

I waited in my office to log onto Signal to message with Sadie's admirer. I hadn't slept well the night before and was now unable to concentrate on my work.

"Hi Sam," my sister-in-law Kylie said from the doorway. "It's been great seeing you again. I just stopped by on the way to the airport since you were gone when I got up. Thanks for letting me stay at your place."

"Any time, Kylie. You're always welcome. Hope you're able to get back here soon."

"Actually I'm planning on coming for the holidays next year. So maybe you'll let me stay with you then as well."

"Thanks for taking such good care of Grace."

She came over and gave me a goodbye hug. We both simultaneously turned to give each other a kiss on the cheek and accidentally kissed each other. I probably held the kiss for two or three beats too long. I realized that I also had my right hand on her hip.

Kylie's face turned bright red. I thought it was amusing, but I found myself staring into my sister-in-law's light brown eyes just a few inches from mine. For a moment, I thought we might spontaneously resume the kiss. (Yes, I'm aware that I'm a regular guy in most ways and know that, as such, I'm subject to rapid arousal and wishful thinking, but Kylie really did continue to stare into my eyes without moving away.)

"Sorry about that, Kylie," I said smiling and taking a step back, trying to lighten the moment. "Honestly, I quite enjoyed that," I continued with a small laugh.

Kylie smiled back. "Uh, yes, please don't tell my sister. It was an accident, but she'd still be mad at me. She always thinks we're in competition with each other. I don't want her to think..."

---

"Admirer 69 has sent a message request. Do you want to accept the message?" I read on Signal. I paused for a moment, reminding myself to respond the way that I would expect Sadie/Grace would respond. I clicked the accept button.

"Sadie?"

"Yes, this is Sadie. How were you able to get the password for contacting me? I don't give it out to very many people."

There was a full minute pause. "A friend told me that you would be ok with my using it. So my friend must be someone you trust. He only gave it to me. I can also be trusted.