I Really Fucked Up

OK. Blah, blah, blah, blah. Yes, it's stupid. Yes, it killed multiple brain cells just by reading it. Yes, y9u just lost an hour or so of your life on this. I don't care. A couple of things here. First, this in the non-consent reluctance category. If that offends you, WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU EVEN READING THIS???? Second, there IS incest in this story. This story contains multiple scenes where a mother has incestuous sex with her children. I am looking forward to all the comments that are offended by incest after I gave full warning about that. This story contains scenes of sexual slavery. While the slavery is consensual, it is coerced. This story contains scenes of BDSM. This includes bondage, whipping, caning, and other BDSM content.

This story contains scenes of a cheating wife. I was even thinking of submitting it in the Loving Wives category, but they would have crucified me on it. It's much better here.

FYI, I don't give a shit about ratings. I write stories that I like to write. If you don't like it and want to give it a low rating, have at it. Create a bunch of fake accounts and 1-bomb me on every one of them. I really don't care. I don't even look at the ratings. Want to comment on how horrible it is? Feel free. I rarely even look at the comments. I write stories for myself. If you like it, that's a bonus for me. If you don't like it, I really, really don't care. If you like it and make a positive comment, I appreciate it. If you make a hateful comment, I will simply ignore it. If you make a comment with some real CONSTRUCTIVE criticism, I will take it under advisement.

Anyway, if you are still reading, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

I really fucked up!

"Where was my cock just now?" Alex asked.

"In my ass, Sir." I replied.

"And what are you about to do?"

"I'm going to suck it clean for you, Sir."

"Why would you put a cock that was just buried in your ass into your mouth? That's disgusting."

"Sir, I am doing this so your magnificent cock will be clean and not filthy from being in my ass."

"Do you enjoy having a cock coated with cum and ass in your mouth?"

"No Sir. I find it repulsive and nasty."

"Then why do you do it?"

"I do it because your cock is far too wonderful to allow to remain dirty. It is my job as a nasty slut to clean it right after it is used, Sir."

"You called yourself a slut. I thought you were a whore."

"I apologize for the confusion, Sir. A whore is more respectable than a slut. A whore sells herself and gets either monetary or some type of financial benefit from using her body. A slut gives herself away for free. As I offer my body to everyone for free, I am a slut, not a whore. My only compensation for having anyone fuck me is the physical pleasure I get from it. Please Sir, allow me to use my mouth to clean your magnificent cock."

Humiliating? Duh. Degrading? You have no idea how degrading it was yet.

"By the way, slut. What is your son doing right now as I am about to have you lick my cock clean?"

"Sir, he has replaced your previous position and is now fucking my ass."

I was currently bent over the back of the couch. My ankles were tied spread apart to the back feet of the couch, and my wrists were tied to the front feet of the couch. All I was wearing at the time were a pair of 6-inch stiletto heels. There were also 5-ounce weights dangling from my nipple rings. I was bound so my shoulders were slightly lower than my ass. This was done so my mouth would be at the same elevation of my ass when my head was pulled back, which currently was the case. My 38DD tits were swinging wildly as Connor, my 20-year-old son, began fucking my ass with abandon. As Alex slid his dirty cock into my mouth, five more of Connor's friends were lined up behind me waiting for their turn to fuck my cunt or ass. I knew that once they shot their load, they would move in front of me and have me clean their cocks with my mouth. They would then move to the back of the line to wait for another turn until they decided that they had had enough. As Alex's cock slid between my lips, I thought back to how I got in this predicament.

*************

My husband and I had been married for almost 25-years. We have a 22-year-old daughter named Heather and a 20-year-old son named Connor. Mark and I were high school sweethearts. We married in June right after our graduation. We had a plan, and we put it into action. Mark had a full academic scholarship to the local college, and he majored in Engineering with a business minor. I became a receptionist for a local law firm and took night classes that would help me in becoming a legal secretary.

Mark's parents had several real estate investment properties. They set us up in a two-bedroom apartment, rent free until Mark graduated and got a job. It was just after our second anniversary that I came up pregnant. Mark's parents set us up with a nice 4-bedroom house. Obviously, Connor made his appearance two years after Heather was born. I took three months of maternity leave with each birth. My parents and Mark's parents took turns babysitting while I was at work and Mark was in class. Mark took summer classes and managed to graduate in three and a half years. He then went on to get his MBA as well. I never actually graduated, but I took enough courses to get moved up from receptionist to Legal Secretary. When Connor was born, I had my tubes tied to prevent any more children. Mark and I had discussed it and decided two was enough.

I should mention here that Mark's family was rather wealthy. Because of that, a prenuptial agreement was a foregone conclusion. There was not discussion about it. Mark proposed to me in a very romantic way, I accepted, then we spent the rest of the night celebrating. I the morning over breakfast, Mark handed me a manila envelope and told me to take it to a lawyer to review. I figured what it was. The lawyer that I went to was a bit concerned about how harsh the penalty for infidelity was, but, since it applied evenly, he didn't see a problem with me signing it. He mentioned that it was extremely fair for all parties. It mainly said that everything that each of us had prior to the wedding was off limits to the other in case of divorce. Also, any inheritance was not to be community property. That was fine with me. I was not marrying him for his money anyway.

So, here I was in my early forties. I always took care of myself, so I was in pretty good shape. Mark made really good money, plus he was already quite wealthy. I didn't need to work and was just doing it to get out of the house. Besides, I actually did enjoy what I was doing, and I liked all the people I worked with. Both kids were still living at home while attending the local university. We weren't really empty nest, but the kids were grown and pretty much self-sufficient.

It's not difficult to figure out how it began. A new young lawyer in the office. Tall, handsome, in really great shape. He was in his second year, so he was no longer working those 100-hour weeks and studying for the bar exam. He had started as an intern, then became a 1^st year associate, now was doing his second year. He was always friendly and complementing me. Sure, he had done that ever since being an intern, but now he had more time for it. He began showing up in the break room when I was having my coffee break. A few weeks later, he asked if he could share my table for lunch. There were other free tables available, but he said he hated sitting alone and wanted someone to talk to while he ate. That quickly became a ritual. We slowly became closer and closer.

I should mention here that he never even once bad-mouthed Mark. Of course, he knew I was married, but he never even mentioned my husband. The compliments increased. I have to admit that I was very flattered that a young, late twenties man still thought that I was attractive. It never even occurred to me that the only thing he really admired about me were my three holes and my tits. Men will say anything to what they see as a susceptible woman in order to have the opportunity to stick their cocks in them. I ate up every compliment he gave me. After all, I had worked very hard to keep myself fit and in good shape. I went to the gym four days a week and ran two miles every morning.

Eventually, I was working on almost every one of his cases with him. He said that it was because I was the best legal secretary in the firm. Not to be arrogant about it, but I really did work hard to be the best, and I was very good. Looking back, I believe that a couple of the partners saw what was going on, but it didn't occur to me at the time. One partner, Sarah, did take me to lunch one day and tried to warn me, I guess. Unfortunately, she was much too subtle in her delivery, and she was an out and proud lesbian. Instead of me picking up on her warning, I took it as her trying to seduce me. How ironic is that? She was trying to prevent me from what was about to happen, and I thought that she was trying to do it instead. Hindsight is 20/20. Perhaps if she would have seduced me, things might be a bit different now. Maybe Mark could have accepted me being with another woman, but another man was completely out of the question.

The first time was when we worked late on a case. The court date was the next morning, and we wanted to make sure that everything was ready. We took a break, and he began to rub my shoulders. They were sore from hunching over my computer all day. I didn't stop him when his hands moved from my shoulders to my tits. Everyone else was gone, so we did it right there on the conference table - three times. Him being young and in good shape really cut down his recovery time. It also helped with his stamina.

The next night, I 'went out with the girls from work'. In truth, he took me to a very expensive restaurant on the other side of town. It was to celebrate the victory he had in court and to thank me for everything I did to help. It probably won't be a surprise to tell you that the restaurant was inside one of the fancier hotels. It probably also won't surprise you to know that he had already booked a room in said hotel. Two hours after walking out of the restaurant, I rode the elevator back down to the lobby. Yes, I made use of the shower in the room. I was careful to not get my hair wet, though. He used condoms, so I didn't need to worry about cleaning anything inside of me out.

We got together two or three times a week. Typical clichés, long lunches in a motel room, working late on the conference room table, 'girls' night out', bent over his desk with the door locked for a 'meeting'. He wasn't any bigger or thicker than Mark. The only thing about him was that he was younger, more fit, better stamina, and a quicker recovery. Mark kept himself in good shape. He was an attentive lover as well. It wasn't his fault; it was just that age was beginning to catch up with him.

I really don't know how he found out. He never told me. When I asked, he just said that if he told me, I would change that and make it harder to for him the next time. Unfortunately for me, he meant the next time when I cheated on my next husband.

The confrontation happened when I came home from work one evening. It happened to be a day that I hadn't even seen my lover. I knew something was wrong when I walked in the door. Heather, Connor, and Mark were sitting in the livingroom waiting for me. I noticed that they all had angry looks on their faces. It was bad. It was worse than bad. There were photos. There was documentation. There were even high definition and in living color videos. I had thought, stupidly, that we were somewhat discrete. Nope. There were even signed testimonials from several of my coworkers and bosses. Even Sarah wrote and signed one. The last folder contained the divorce petition. Included in the paperwork for that was the prenup.

Oh, yes. The prenup. Remember how I mentioned that the lawyer was concerned about the harsh penalties? Perhaps I underplayed that a bit. Although it was basically a moot point now, the injured party got full custody of the children and could dictate the terms for visitation. Even though that would no longer apply because the kids were now adults, the kids made it clear that I would be eliminated from their lives. The injured party would get 100-percent of the assets, minus what the other party brought into the marriage. What I brought in was a decrepit car on its last legs, two suitcases full of clothes, and $203 in my checking account. There would be no spousal maintenance. I was about to leave the house with just over 200 dollars in cash, two suitcases of clothes, and driving a beater car with just over a quarter tank of gas. Since I couldn't take all my clothes, I had to decide on functionality over anything else. Sure, the $4,000 designer gown was awesome, but how often would I wear it? OK, I could sell it for about a quarter of its value, but was that worth taking up valuable space in my suitcase?

At least I still had my job. Sure, my lifestyle would be taking an abrupt hit, but I was still making enough money to afford a small apartment and survive. Sarah's letter about my affair should probably have given me a clue. Seriously, who reads the company manual regarding workplace romances? No, there wasn't anything there about any fucking morality clause. It was a law firm; morals are large paintings on the walls. What there was in there was a paragraph about sexual harassment. OK, I was not being sexually harassed, but he was technically a supervisor. He was a lawyer, and I was a secretary. He held power over me. As soon as I arrived the next morning, security escorted me to HR. Following a very unpleasant meeting, security escorted me to my desk and watched as I packed up my personal belongings. I have no idea if it was a coincidence or not, but my lover and I were both escorted out of the building at the same time. I can now laugh about that. Not only did the four security officers see him punch me in the face, but it was also caught on the security cameras. He did 6-months in lockup and lost his license to practice law. I didn't bother to sue him. There was nothing to take. He wasn't rich yet, and he just lost everything he had. Anything I would have managed to win would just be taken by the lawyer anyway.

It would be two years later that I would find out that he was arrested for trying to rob a convenience store. He used a gun that he somehow managed to acquire. Unfortunately, that gun had been used in a drive-by shooting previously. He was sentenced to 20-years. Naturally, the gang members of the banger that was shot wanted vengeance. In order to protect himself from retaliation, he had to make a few deals with his cellmate and his cellmate's friends. I should probably mention that he was completely straight and just the thought of homosexuality made him sick. He wasn't the husband in the relationship, and his cellmate had no issues with allowing his friends access to his 'wife'. No, he wasn't killed in prison, at least not to this date. There was a riot at the prison a few years after he was sentenced. Apparently, a deal was made between his cellmate and the gang after revenge. Sometime during the riot, the gang managed to grab him. He was found about an hour after the riot was quashed. They used a rubber band and wrapped it around the base of his testicles. A tin can lid was used to cut them off below the rubber band to keep him from bleeding out.

It took two weeks of living in my car to break down. Yeah, taking a couple of those expensive dresses to try and sell would have been a good idea if I could actually get on the internet and list them for sale. Yes, I did try the public library, but you need to have an actual checking account and a way for someone to pay you in order to sell them. It also takes a week or two in order to sell them. I would be out of money long before I could get any money for them. Even then, that money would not last very long. Forget even thinking about another job. 'You probably shouldn't use us for a reference.' As I was being escorted out of the HR office pretty much told me everything I needed to know. How do you explain to a prospective employer working for one company your entire adult life and having them give you a reference stating that they would rather hire a drunk monkey with extremely poor hygiene and a bad temper before they even considered your application? Then, they would just laugh and move to the psychopathic serial killer with a penchant for bringing guns into the workplace. The skinny, acne-faced manager at Taco Bell laughed in my face when I presented him with my application.

I was camping in my car down by the lake when I made the decision. Why not? I had nothing to lose. The worst case was that the answer would be some form of FUCK NO! All that would do is just land me in the exact position I was already in. Having made the decision, I used the cover of darkness to slip naked into the water to bathe. I took the small piece of soap that I managed to take with me and washed as best as I could. I even took my best dress into the water with me to wash it. I then hung it out under a tree to dry.

The beater car that I was given to drive away in must have belonged to a woman. I found a used lipstick and a couple other almost used up cosmetics in the console. Not my colors, but it was better than nothing.

Dressed in my best dress and made up as well as I could, I rang the doorbell. It was about 10:00 at night on a Friday. I figured that the kids would be out, since they didn't have school the next day. With the kids out, it would be the best time to grovel and beg my ex-husband for mercy. I had begged and pleaded before, but it had done no good. I was more desperate now. I hadn't eaten in two days. It was now autumn, and I could feel winter coming. Sleeping in the back seat of my car, while uncomfortable laying on the bench seat meant for sitting, not laying, was bearable so far. Once winter hit, it would be below freezing. I doubt that I would survive a week.

I didn't even have the chance to ring the doorbell. The door opened just as I stepped up onto the porch. I should have figured on the Ring camera. Mark had probably pulled up the video feed on his phone the moment I stopped my car in front of the house. The real surprise was the person who opened the door.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Slut?"

"Please, Heather. I'm desperate. I know you all hate me for what I did, but I need to speak to your father. Please, just give me 15-minutes. I'm begging you."

She looked at me as she thought for a minute. "Stay here. I'll ask dad if he has any interest in listening to anything you have to say."

With that, she slammed the door in my face. As I stood waiting, I could hear voices inside. After a few minutes, I heard laughter. Well, at least they seemed to be in a good mood. That was a positive. If they were happy, there was a better chance that they would let me in and at least listen to me. I waited for about five minutes before the door opened again.

"Good news, Slut." Heather said. "Daddy is in a good mood. Besides, there isn't really anything good on the TV tonight, so he is looking for some entertainment. We could use a good laugh as you regale us with whatever bullshit you need to spout."

I almost broke down as my formerly loving daughter spewed such hatred at me. I knew that she was angry at me for cheating on her daddy, but the vitriol in her voice was much more than I had expected. True, she was always much closer to Mark, but we still had a great relationship. I thought of all those trips to the mall clothes shopping, teaching her how to fix her hair, how to apply her makeup, coaching her through her first period and subsequent puberty, shopping for her prom dress, talking to her about sex, and all the other intimate moments that a mother and daughter share throughout a lifetime. The depth of the hatred she was showing astounded me.