My Fertile Secret Ch. 06

It occurs to me in that moment that leaving them alone to watch the movie would have been a perfect opportunity to push my nascent escape plan a step forward, and I curse myself for not excusing myself when I had the chance. Reluctantly, I sit back down and try to get comfortable.

I'm wearing comfortable pants and an elegant blouse that gives me space to move and breathe but also covers me up. I know my rapist can just tear my clothes off whenever he wants to have his way with me, but I at least want to feel safe from his eyes. As the film starts to play, I know it probably won't be long before his hands are all over me.

The porno is remarkable for its quality. It looks like a professionally produced movie edited to look like amateur footage rather than the other way around. It starts with spy camera footage of humdrum sex with my husband and a voiceover impersonating me. It almost sounds like me.

I tense up and curl my toes when my rapist appears. That night haunts my dreams and fantasies even now, and watching myself being raped in glorious high definition is a surreal experience. My rapist grins at the sight of me clawing at his ass and back as he fucks me, and he exchanges a look with my husband, whose boner is evident in his pants.

I can't deny that part of me finds this arousing to watch. My rapist is way better in bed than my cuckold husband, and I'm ashamed that the pleasure I show on the screen was entirely genuine.

My rapist's hand lands on my thigh, and I recoil from his touch, but he's having none of it as he keeps reaching over and rubs the inside of my thigh. My husband's hand appears on my other thigh, and the two men begin groping me like the two perverts they are.

When my rapist cums inside me on screen, the two men pause their fondling of me to get more comfortable while my rapist on the screen withdraws from me and goes to the bathroom. The fact that he was searching for my contraceptives in there makes my hand move instinctively to my belly, and I hope my husband and my rapist don't notice.

Some minutes later, after the footage of me playing with myself, their hands return to my thighs as my rapist on screen returns to fuck me again. This time, I give in. I won't let them keep me like this forever, but until I can get away, I'll play along and let them molest me.

If I trick myself into believing that I'm consenting to it, then it actually feels pretty good being at the center of two horny men's attention. My rapist is obviously the better lover, and his hands are stronger and more dexterous, but both men enjoy feeling me up.

Their hands seek out the buttons on my pants and try to undo them. I hesitate at letting them do that and resist again, but their hands are already underneath my shirt and wandering across my belly to my bra. All the while, the porno is still playing.

The baby monitor squawks.

Immediately, I break out of the entangling male embrace and stand up, incredible relief rushing through me as I shuffle across the carpet to the door.

"Do you want us to pause the video for you?" My husband asks with a grin.

"You know damn well I don't want to watch myself being raped," I snap back. Then I answer more moderately: "I need to go to the bathroom, so you keep watching and I'll be back."

***

I hastily re-button my pants before hurrying up the stairs to the master bedroom. He's bawling away in the corner of the room, and I lift him out of his crib and rock him gently. My husband changed his diaper earlier, which almost compensates for what he's done to me personally.

I lay my son down on the bed again and take my shirt and bra off so that I can feed him, then I pick him back up again and let his mouth latch onto my nipple. He's so blissfully unaware of the hell his mother is going through, or how that hell started with his conception.

I do wish he would hurry up and finish suckling, though. I don't need the bathroom, but I do have a window of opportunity to get on with the next phase of my plan, and the longer I'm up here, the less chance I have to do it.

Finally, my baby has had his fill, and I put him back in his crib and give him a kiss.

Quiet as my rapist in the night, I tiptoe out of the master bedroom and into the home office. I have to work in darkness as I peel back part of the carpet in the far corner of the room and pick up the external hard drive I smuggled into the house.

My husband holds a library's worth of revenge porn material over my head, but he's ultimately just one man, and he has to go to work every day. The car keys are locked away in the garage, but he can't control my movements or my finances as much as he wants to, and he has to rely on blackmail and threats to have the children taken away to keep me from running away.

That's where the external hard drive comes in.

My heart is pounding, and my hands are trembling so much so that I almost drop the hard drive, but I manage to stick the cable into the back of the computer and press the power button.

The noise of the fan whirring to life makes me cringe with fear, even though I know the two men downstairs can't hear anything over the sound of me orgasming on the TV. However, it won't be long before one of them comes upstairs to check on me.

My husband changed the password after I discovered the truth about my rape, but he assumed I had simply guessed the password. The spyware I installed on the computer still works, and I still have the app on my phone which tells me the new password: his birthday.

This sort of basic personal information is what hackers scrape for to launch social engineering attacks or guess people's passwords. The computer science nerd in me rolls my eyes at how pathetically easy this all is. Then I remember what the stakes are and get back to work.

I type in the computer password, and once the computer is up and running, I enter the admin password so that the external hard drive can connect to the computer. I see a window open on the screen and a progress bar appears, moving painfully slowly.

That's the first phase of my plan which is almost complete. There are some other things I need to do before I can call it a success, and I still need to figure out how to get the car keys before I can form a plan to pick up my kids and get away from here, but progress is progress.

How long has it been? Five minutes? Ten minutes? One of them will come upstairs to check up on me soon, but the progress bar is still only one quarter full.

In a paranoid panic, I switch off the screen and exit the computer room. The door to the master bedroom is right at the top of the stairs, just a few short steps away from the computer room. I cross the short distance and glance over my shoulder to spot a male figure rounding the corner and coming up the stairs -- just as I feared.

He doesn't see me disappear into the master bedroom, and I quickly enter the bathroom and feel around for the toilet before flushing it hard. The noise covers my tracks as I remember to wash my hands and dry them off before exiting the bathroom and pretending to be startled when my rapist appears in the doorway.

"I hope that wasn't morning sickness," he quips with a grin.

"If it was, I'm still not as sick as you." My response comes with an angry glare to hide the fact that I'm quivering with fear. The upload is still working and if my plan is discovered, I'll be screwed even more than I already am.

"Whatever," my rapist brushes off my hostility with a charm that almost gets to me, "we don't want you missing too much of the movie. We'll even skip ahead to our son's arrival."

Thank God he doesn't seem all that suspicious. In fact, he stoops down and scoops me up into the air. I stifle a yelp of surprise as he slings me over his shoulder like King Kong carrying his captive woman away. The analogy is fitting. I'm not a person to them, I'm a piece of fuckable meat, a misplaced sex toy to be returned to its proper place.

Despite the degrading circumstances, I can't help but admire his strength. There's no denying my rapist's physical prowess, and that includes his sexual prowess. If only I could be safe in those arms, I wouldn't have minded an affair with him.

And it's exactly that sort of thinking that inflames that guilty conscience I've been suppressing all this time: I was raped, but it doesn't change the fact that I was prepared to pass the baby off as my husband's baby under the belief that he was none the wiser.

***

My rapist carries me downstairs and returns with me to the front room, setting me down on the couch carefully before returning to his spot. My husband hasn't bothered to pause the movie, but he has unzipped his pants while I was gone.

The middle portion of the movie is mostly pregnant sex with my husband and me masturbating alone, all while fantasizing about the other man in my life. My belly grows over the course of nine months in a surprisingly compelling fast-forwarded graphic.

And then the finale arrives.

My rapist unzips his own pants and exposes his much more impressive hard-on to view. Both men want to get off to the sight of me in labor, taking pleasure in my pain.

I watch the familiar footage of me standing up in the jacuzzi doing my breathing exercises as early labor sets in. I do look good naked and clutching my nine-month-swollen belly, if I do say so myself, but it's stomach-turning to contemplate that millions of people have watched me give birth thinking that I'm a cheating skank.

I was in labor for six hours, so obviously they've cut that down to the highlights of me playing with myself in the shower to ease the pain between contractions, and then the transition when my son entered my birth canal, and I squatted down to push.

If I didn't know the backstory to any of this, the scene of me leaning back against the side of the jacuzzi tub, squeezing my husband's hand as I struggle to bring 'our' baby into the world would be heartwarming. The camera gives a high-definition view of my open thighs, and both men are stroking their boners to the sight of a baby emerging from between them.

If their hands are busy playing with themselves, at least they won't be all over me, but it isn't much comfort given that they're jerking off to me enduring the most painful ordeal a woman can go through. Then again, I used to pleasure myself with the fantasy of birthing a Black baby in front of my husband just to see his reaction. I'm hardly a saint.

It isn't long before the top of the baby's head is visible between my stretched labia. My husband announces excitedly that I'm crowning and adds that I'm eight centimeters dilated. I remember thinking at the time that he's not an obstetric nurse, and now that I can see my own stretched pussy lips, I'm clearly dilated way more than that if I'm crowning.

I see myself reach down to feel the top of my baby's head, and tears of joy enter my eyes just like my on-screen counterpart. That was a beautiful moment, and although I wish it hadn't been turned into porn, ultimately, I am glad that it was filmed for posterity.

My rapist and my husband are stroking themselves even faster now. The birth progresses until my on-screen self heaves a mighty breath and pushes with all her might. The baby's head pops out between my sorely stretched pussy lips, his squished face just visible through the rippling water. One more push and my rapist's baby slides out of my vagina.

I can't believe these two animals are jerking off to such a beautiful moment, but it still means they're keeping their hands off of me. I cry as I watch myself lift the baby out of the water and cry when the baby starts crying, and my determination to get the fuck away from these two so-called men is redoubled.

"You made such a beautiful baby with my wife," my husband remarks wistfully to my rapist.

"And I'll be happy to make many more with her." My rapist extends his hand towards me and plants his palm on my belly -- as if he already knows.

I keep myself calm and composed as the movie draws to a close, the female voiceover echoing some of my own guilty thoughts about tricking my cuckold husband into raising another man's child. My twisted conscience stings so much I don't even mind when my rapist unbuttons my pants and slips his hand into my underwear.

I squirm a little when he touches me down there, and my husband stops jerking off in order to fondle my breasts through the fabric of my shirt. He slips his hands underneath my shirt, sliding them into my bra and groping my breasts directly.

My mind is racing along with my thumping heart as I contemplate when and how to retrieve the hard drive. The upload must be complete by now, I just have to get away from these two perverts and get the hard drive back without either of them noticing.

But first, it looks like I'll have to participate in my very first threesome.

I meekly allow my rapist to pull my pants down along with my panties while my husband pulls my shirt up over my head and discards it on the floor. He helps me unhook my bra and I take my socks off as well for good measure before my rapist grabs me by the hips, pulling my ass towards him and lining me up with the couch while my husband kneels down in front of me.

I'm accustomed to being fucked in various positions, but doggy style is the one I like the least. At least when he rapes me in the missionary position, I can touch him, hold him, and caress him in all the ways that let me pretend it's actually consensual.

But when he screws me from behind, I have no such control. I'm entirely in his hands, and he fucks me like a dog mounting a bitch. It's nowhere near as degrading as being forced into porn, but it's an extra spoonful of salt on a raw wound.

But my rapist doesn't care what I think or feel, and neither does my husband. The latter has his modest five-inch cock ready to face-fuck me while the former presses the tip of his eight-inch monster against my well-fucked entrance. One thrust of his hips and my rapist is inside me; he even pushes me forward onto my husband's cock, which almost pokes my eye out.

"Ow! Fuck!" I exclaim in annoyance.

"Don't use your mouth that way, sweetheart," my husband chides me with a lecherous grin.

He grabs a handful of my hair and guides my face onto his cock, using his free hand to guide it in between my lips. I fight the gag reflex and try to breathe through my nose while my rapist begins to pump his cock inside me. The way his girth stretches my walls is still uncomfortable, and I didn't get any foreplay to lubricate my pussy walls, so I'll just have to endure until I'm wet enough for it to no longer hurt.

My husband holds my head between his palms, thrusting his cock into my mouth as I try hard not to gag on the rod of meat poking at my tonsils. They're spit-roasting me; my rapist fucking me from behind and my husband from the front. Once again, if I forget about the backstory of how I ended up getting tagged teamed by my husband and my rapist while my children sleep upstairs, I can almost pretend that this is fun.

It actually is kind of fun being the center of attention with two horny guys eager to fuck me. I can't get too into it, though, because I'm putting so much mental effort into breathing properly while getting face fucked. I'm trying not to choke on my husband's cock poking at my tonsils and also resisting the temptation to bite down.

Good God, it is so tempting to bite down on this bastard's dick. It's the least of what he deserves after everything he's subjected me to. So what if I was planning to trick him into raising my rapist's baby as his own? He was the one who arranged to have me raped in the first place!

But if I do bite down, that will cause all kinds of problems further down the line, and probably derail my escape plan...which reminds me of the hard drive still plugged into the computer upstairs. Once one or both men cum, I need to get away from them and cover my tracks.

My husband's pants are down around his knees, and something silver is poking out of the open pocket. As he moves his hips back and forth, it becomes more and more unstable until it drops out and nearly disappears between the cushions. My fingers are faster, and I grab it and squeeze it tight in my hand, clutching this unbelievable stroke of good luck in my palm.

My rapist gropes and squeezes the flesh of my ass cheeks as he fucks me, pounding proudly away while my husband does the same rather less forcefully from the front. The penis in my cunt feels much better now. The stimulation of his cock rubbing against the walls of my vagina is making me wet, and the rubbing of his dick back and forth inside me is so much smoother.

I don't think he'll make me cum in this position. Not unless I give myself a reach-around while imagining something more consensual. Actually, I may as well.

My husband is keeping me propped up from the front by holding my head in place, so I trust him to hold me up while I reach down under my body and locate my clitoris. My rapist's cock pounding away inside me is so close to my fingers I could reach a little further back and grab him by his nuts -- the same nuts that planted two babies in my belly.

The nuts that planted the first two babies in my belly are bouncing back and forth against my chin. Although my husband's balls aren't nearly as impressive in size, the two men are evenly matched in terms of babies fathered with me.

As I begin to rub my clit in tight little circles, my rapist releases my ass and leans in close until his chest is against my back. Now his chin is resting on my shoulder, his hands reaching under my body and groping my breasts the way he was doing with my butt. He's still thrusting inside me, but with less force than before.

I can hear his heavy breathing in my ear, the rasping growl of a man with a powerful libido that must be satisfied. The way he fucks me like he's the animal is so much more appealing than when he treats me like a bitch. I love the way his muscular chest rubs against my back, the sweat of his exertions lubricating our skin the way my pussy does for his thrusting cock.

His growling in my ear is getting louder and hoarser. The way he pounds his hips against my ass, pumping his flesh-rod in and out of my snatch is becoming more bestial and urgent. He's going to cum soon. Part of me is anxious for him to hurry up and finish so I can get away and finish my plan, but part of me wants him to keep going.

I'd almost forgotten about the cock between my teeth until I hear my husband groan and hold my head still while his penis twitches between my cheeks. I feel a spurt of salty warmth in my mouth as he cums, and I really struggle not to gag.

Then my rapist snarls in my ear and I feel his cum flood my pussy, the white-hot liquid pleasure leaving me full as he clings to my body. His next baby is already in my belly, but he wants to make absolutely sure that his seed takes inside my womb.

The two men stay in position, panting heavily as they catch their breath while I stay on all fours, waiting for a chance to get up and get the fuck out of there. In the meantime, it's a struggle to avoid swallowing and avoid dribbling at the same time while holding a mouthful of cum.

Finally, the two men let me go and withdraw their respective cocks from my orifices. I quickly stand up and rush naked from the front room, nearly tripping over my own feet before I reach the downstairs bathroom. I spit the wad of cum into the sink and spend a few moments coughing and gagging. That was the first blowjob I've ever given, and I really hope it's the last.

It takes a while before I notice that my rapist's cum is leaking out of my pussy. I almost don't care at this point, but I do get some tissues and wipe it off my inner thigh. I really need to get out of here, but first I need to check on the hard drive.