The Theft of Our Lives 01

"Huh, huh, ohhh, that's good, doll," her demented master groaned with contentment.

Emma persevered, drawing to the tip of the rigid staff and swirling her wet tongue around the spastic head before encircling her luscious lips around the broad girth of his pulsing shaft to once more consume a good six inches of expansive flesh.

As I've mentioned, my selective wife doesn't give me blowjobs often, and she certainly never gave me one like the one she was now giving my boss -- our captor. She told me early in our relationship she doesn't really enjoy doing it, and definitely doesn't like the conclusion, swallowing the salty results just once when a little tipsy and never doing so again.

Now, she was clearly doing her best in satisfying our tormentor and I queasily convinced myself it was purely out of a self-serving desire to keep us out of prison and, more importantly, preserve our family.

'Still, she's doing a helluva number on the evil bastard,' I lamented inside.

Emma is a woman like any other, subject to the needs and desires of a woman, and a tinge of jealousy arose within me that she might subconsciously favor the masculinity of his superior cock filling her mouth while earnestly going down on the powerful business titan.

"Agghhh, oh fuck," Hank suddenly moaned, breaking my unpleasant reverie with his thighs contracting mightily and his stomach muscles convulsing in a sure sign he was about to climax.

"Pull back to the head, Emma," Mrs. Ogawa cautioned just as quickly, understanding the sheer volume of what was about to flood my startled wife's mouth and sympathetically preparing her for the onslaught of virile spunk.

"Take it in your mouth, Mrs. Tyler, but don't swallow," the Asian woman warned coldly. "Don't you dare swallow!"

The last advice served as a stern admonishment to Emma, uncomprehending of the full purpose of the message at the moment, but happy to be spared ingesting the foul results of her exhausting blowjob.

"Unngghhh, fuck yeah!" the rapturous tyrant grunted, and his slight body shuddered as he exploded in a jarring orgasm.

"Mmmh, mmmuph," Emma gurgled with muffled distress, her eyes popping wide and reddened cheeks bloating with the thick torrent of warm adulterous jism pouring into her waiting mouth one burst at a time.

Her anxiety told me the river of copiously flowing semen nearly overwhelmed her mouth, before the stream diminished ever so slightly in a welcome signal to Emma the worst was past, with the bulk of the blissful man's tepid seed already released.

Still, it was too late and too much to handle.

Afraid to swallow and violate Mrs. Ogawa's solemn directive, Hank's odious spunk had nowhere else to go but out the corners of my disgraced wife's lovely lips surrounding his pulsing cockhead, with twin white trails of sticky goo seeping slowly on either side forming viscous rivulets down her chin.

Shamefully, I was so turned on I instinctively grabbed my swollen cock within my business slacks, desperately wanting to jerk off, but doing my best to resist the urge in preserving what little dignity Emma still possessed.

After another moment, Hank's ejaculate was mercifully depleted leaving my wonderful wife with a mouthful of his vile semen and my boss satisfied by another successful step in her descent into sexual servitude.

"Look at your husband and open your mouth, Mrs. Tyler. Show him your bounty for all that hard work," Mrs. Ogawa intoned, even as Emma drew her cum-glazed lips from Hank's still shimmering crown.

My stricken wife's expression turned to horror, but she bashfully turned to dolefully look into my eyes.

Disgustingly, Emma held a prodigious amount of Hank's cum in her mouth -- so much so it spilled over her bottom lip as a waterfall despite her attempt at keeping the nasty mouthful pooled within by jutting out her chin as she precariously parted her lips.

I dutifully fulfilled my role of cuckolded husband by staring at the gooey reservoir of creamy jism she struggled to contain in her mouth, not shifting my vision to her tearful green eyes even as a splash of the pale white gunk dribbled over the edge joining the rest of the manly glaze shining on her trembling chin.

"I can really pump out a load, Ray. Always could and still can, even at my 'advanced' age," Hank puffed with a chuckle at his admittedly impressive production.

Emma kneeled nearly nude, her body shuddering in abject humiliation creating the unfortunate effect of sending her gloriously large tits shimmying on her chest with unwanted allure. I saw in her frightened eyes she didn't know what to do, agonizingly awaiting her next order from our new master and fearing what it entailed.

"On the other hand, maybe your sweet wife is already so good at sucking cock she drained an extra-large load from my old balls," he proposed mirthfully.

The 'praise' was in reality an insult glancing off Emma's wounded pride, possibly leaving a mark deep inside, but she had other issues of greater concern, namely, a mouthful of my boss' noxious cum with nowhere to put it.

"Nah, she's not there yet, but trust me, she will be soon enough. She'll probably even learn to love it, not that it will benefit you," he scoffed, promptly retracting his compliment to replace with a promise for the future.

Studying Emma's tremoring nude body up and down, explicitly admiring every generous curve from her shapely legs, broad hips, toned arms, rounded stomach and huge firm jugs, my contemplative boss finally settled his gaze on her bedeviled face taking in the beauty of her suffering in her newfound role.

"Big-titted beauties like Emma are just built for sex, Ray. Sucking cock is merely one of her many talents, I've no doubt, and I'll discover them all," Hank assured, demeaning my wife with his untoward observation.

Tears now welled in her eyes, spilling over her puddling bottom eye lids in the same manner the foul jism ran over her quivering bottom lip.

"You can swallow now, sweetheart," he then casually added the dreaded instruction she feared most.

"Ughh," Emma grimaced, closing her eyes and unhappily forcing the unwholesome goo down her throat with two highly visible gulps.

I saw her midsection convulse spontaneously as if she was going to puke, but she managed to stymy the urge and keep the unsavory meal in her stomach.

As relieved as she was for the disturbing mouthful extracted from Hank's drained balls to be gone, I knew Emma loathed every second of taking it down. She hated swallowing cum under any circumstance but knowing the source of the grotesque deposit had to be repugnant.

"Very nice and well-deserved," Hank said approvingly, as if consuming his vulgar seed was some sort of reward. "Now, my lovely naked sex toy, tell your embezzling husband what Janet is training you to become."

Another tear ran from in Emma's emerald eyes and her lips trembled at the dictate, unable to hold back her shame and despair before willfully completing today's task by repeating a line she'd clearly been instructed to say.

"Ray, uh," she hesitated, struggling to get the words to flow as if speaking her own epitaph. "Mrs. Ogawa is training me to be, umm, a big-titted, cocksucking, uh, wife-slut fuck toy for Allenby Consolidation. It's what, uh, big-titted sluts like me are built for, and what I was meant to be."

My heart dropped.

It had only been a few days since our downfall and already my caring, compassionate, and devoted wife's pride, self-esteem, and respectability were eroding in a freefall as she descended into subservience and servitude -- demoralized and degraded under the unrelenting weal of my degenerate boss.

"You can get dressed and go now, Emma," Hank said perfunctorily, turning all business and raising himself as he strolled half-naked to his private office bathroom. "Mrs. Ogawa, back to your station and you Ray, get back to work. I'm not paying you to just stand there and watch your wife suck cock all day."

'Wow, that's harsh,' I marveled at his brutal callousness.

Wiping the residue of Hank's cum from her chin with a tissue, Emma robotically reached for her lacy bra from a nearby chair where Hank had tossed it as he personally stripped her bare some 45 minutes earlier.

Emotionally staggered by her debauched performance, she slipped the garment over her giant boobs, then quickly threw on her silk blouse and khaki capri pants before heading for the door without so much as a look at me -- whether terribly ashamed or raging with anger, I'm uncertain.

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

It was later the next week, on Friday around 3:00 p.m., when Ted Jenkins showed up at Mrs. Ogawa's desk.

"Welcome, Mr. Jenkins," the attentive assistant greeted with typical graciousness.

"Hello, Mrs. Ogawa, you certainly look delicious today," the older businessman replied, adding the unwanted compliment with anachronistic chauvinism.

"Uh, thank you, sir. Please, come with me," Janet reluctantly accepted the untoward compliment, maintaining her composure and performing her official duties by leading him into the office of the company president.

"Wouldn't that be nice," the distinguished early-60's gentleman cracked salaciously.

A relatively new customer, Ted was aware of the 'side' benefits of working with Allenby Consolidation. His company was a huge conglomerate signed by Hank Allenby personally a little over a year ago, but so far had only dipped a toe in the water of using our services.

I knew Hank wanted more -- much more, and I had no doubt he'd pull out every stop necessary to reel in substantially all of their considerable business. To that end, only minutes after his arrival, Allenby's SVP of Operations Isaac Jones-Dixon and CFO Nicole Westridge entered the office.

Mr. Jones-Dixon, Ike or Mr. J-D, as he is known, is a hulking, muscular African-American man a few years older than Hank and the company president's longtime confidante and righthand man. He joined Allenby over two decades ago, during which time he demonstrated his unquestioned loyalty and competence in business on numerous occasions.

Ike is an intimidating presence and a tough negotiator in business deals.

Mrs. Westridge joined the company considerably less time ago -- only a few years. She's bright, tough, and a strategic thinker -- all the attributes you want in a top-notch CFO.

Nicole's not bad looking either, sexy in an intellectual way and always dressing professionally projecting a seasoned businesswoman, so that aspect of her life is very buttoned down. She's in good physical shape from frequent hiking forays with her equally athletic husband Burt, even participating in the occasional triathlon.

I'd heard through the grapevine Mrs. Westridge is a morally upright woman with a strong work ethic. Despite that reputation, she's friendly and respectful to the employees regardless of station or status, operating on a first name basis and ready with an ingratiating smile, although she's always Nicole -- not Nikki or Nik.

Nicole is in her mid-forties, tall and attractive with copper-colored above-the-shoulder hair featuring loose curls and bangs above a prominent nose and full-lipped mouth. I can't be certain, of course, but I suspect her hair color is natural rather than from a bottle.

An hour passed, presumably as the parties talked, parried, bargained, and hopefully, reached an agreement for a profitable increase in our two companies' business together. To my surprise, just after 4:00 p.m., Emma breezed by my desk offering a tenuous hello and peck on the cheek with a simple greeting.

"Hank called. I need to get in there," she advised apprehensively.

"Umm, ohhh-kay," I acknowledged with some confusion, not expecting Hank to summon my wary spouse with such an important meeting ongoing in his office.

Emma quickly entered dressed in an appealing mid-thigh red skirt just a touch short for the office and a tastefully form fitting white blouse emphasizing the prominent curve of her substantial tits in a most inviting manner to attend to whatever purpose Hank had planned.

Recently, my hustling boss had been swamped with business concerns, leaving my thankful wife surprisingly unmolested since the degrading blowjob performance of a week ago Wednesday.

Too busy, it seemed to me.

"Maybe he thinks he made his point by despoiling the love of my life enough already," I blithely assumed, foolishly developing a notion he might back off on his untoward demands.

I soon learned that assumption was very wrong.

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

Later that night while lying in bed, I learned the full story of what happened to Emma in the office during the hour before I was invited to join the group -- a deal brokering exhibition with my wife's presence designed to break the deadlock as the business meeting stalled in a tense back and forth.

Hesitantly and relying entirely on our arrangement to not hold back, Emma enlightened me about the details of her expanding role in the company beyond simply as Hank's indentured fuck toy.

As related to me, upon her arrival in Hank's office, Emma and Janet were excused to the bathroom while Nicole remained in the office attending to the business at hand until it was concluded.

"Come, Mrs. Tyler. Mr. Allenby requires you to be clean and smooth," Janet beckoned disconcertingly in a whisper, not accepting refusal in ordering my uncertain wife to strip and join her in the shower.

Emma told me she was mortified, shaking her head in denial, but realized saying 'no' wasn't an option so unhappily removed her clothes, tentatively entering the shower with the nude Japanese executive assistant.

"Jeez, Ray, the closest I ever came to showering with another woman was in the gym locker room in college," my insecure wife explained her discomfort. "You know I'm not interested in women. It was extremely difficult to avoid accidently touching bodies in such a small space, although that quickly became a non-issue."

To Emma's great distress, Mrs. Ogawa insisted on washing her completely, shampooing her hair before starting on her back. Eventually, my bashful wife found the methodical woman soaping her entire body, even handling her big slippery tits and gently working the suds into her thick nest of pussy fur.

"Eeek," Emma shrieked and cringed visibly when the unrestrained assistant slipped her hand into the previously untouched crevice of her ass, probing the forbidden valley until reaching her anus to lightly wash.

"You have no idea, Ray, it was so personal," my violated wife shuddered even relating the horrid story. "I was so flustered by her touching me so privately, but it got worse."

"Did she, um, make you, well, you know?" I asked hesitantly, embarrassed for Emma but inwardly highly aroused at the thought of her sexually engaged with another woman, even involuntarily.

Janet Ogawa is an attractive woman -- petite at 5'2" and almost doll-like in her genetic make-up. She's as pretty as a geisha with prototypical Japanese features including a round face, almond-shaped dark eyes, and a diminutive stature.

In her business suits it's difficult to gauge Mrs. Ogawa's body. She's certainly slender in her extremities but possesses a few curves, although much less pronounced than my wife's voluptuous body. The image of my tall wife pressed against Janet's tiny frame presented a perverse picture causing a twitch in my over-eager cock.

"Dear lord, no, it was strictly a clean-up," Emma shivered at the thought. "Honestly, I don't think she was any happier about it than me or interested in such activities, but I understood she didn't have a choice either."

"Did she have you clean her too?" I followed, dying for more lurid detail, but falsely trying to sound concerned.

"No, but when she was done and rinsed me off, she grabbed a tuft of my, um, pubic hair and said, 'this must go,' as if it was somehow distasteful," my affronted wife decried, still somewhat in disbelief.

"It's an order from Mr. Allenby," Janet said emphatically, but with a touch of sympathy. "He wants your pussy bald, Emma. There's no use in fighting it."

"I hadn't even noticed it until that moment, but I peeked down to see Janet's mound was bare as well," Emma confessed in telling her sordid story. "She's so small, she looked like a porcelain doll."

I listened intently as Emma told me in remarkable detail how Mrs. Ogawa set her down on the shower seat to perform the unwanted task.

"Spread your legs, dear. Don't worry, I know what I'm doing," the assistant directed with kindly reassurance.

"I was wreck. I was so exposed," my chagrined wife explained. "I mean, she's practically a stranger, Ray, and she saw every detail of my vagina up close."

Emma described how the younger woman proceeded to mechanically shear the bulk of her hairy thatch with a pair of scissors while she sat embarrassed and dumbfounded.

My cock was a solid stalagmite by now, but I did my best disguising it in my pajamas, feigning angst while secretly getting more and more excited.

I couldn't stop myself from imagining Emma with her long, muscular legs extended and spread wide as Hank's Japanese assistant applied shaving cream to her exposed snatch and then meticulously removed the remaining stubble from her tender mound with the steel razor until she was bare and silky smooth.

"Oh my god, when she grasped my labia to get at my vulva, ohhh, it was all so intimate, Ray. I actually had goosebumps even though the room was filled with warm steam," she complained with a wavering voice.

I hadn't seen Emma naked since she'd arrived home that evening, as she'd changed in the bathroom before heading for bed, but she always had a full, lustrous nest of chestnut brown pussy curls obscuring her vagina. It was true, she gave it the occasional bikini trim in warm weather months, but generally she preferred to keep it natural.

That was fine with me and I kind of liked it that way. Even then, the thought of Emma's pretty little pussy without so much as a single hair was tremendously erotic to me, and deep in my mind I couldn't wait to see Mrs. Ogawa's handiwork for myself.

I swallowed hard with the vision in my head while my unknowing wife restlessly recounted the final assault to her dignity, nearly making me cum in my pajamas.

"I need to put this oil on," Janet next told Emma, holding a bottle of emollient. "It'll take out the sting, plus I need to check my work."

"Oh, Ray, she poured it directly on my pussy mound and then she, ohhh," Emma stopped, grief-stricken and collecting herself, obviously still shaken by the experience. "She rubbed it all over -- everywhere, and I do mean everywhere, Ray!"

My cock arced into a bow, but I still looked on sympathetically.

"Honestly, she was very clinical. I mean, there was nothing sexual about it. She simply applied the oil and checked for stray hairs or stubble," she stated succinctly, perhaps trying to explain the event away.

Emma huffed a deep breath both in exasperation and despair, but then made a confession I never thought I'd hear from my straight, reserved, and admirable wife.

"Thank goodness she stopped when she did though, it was starting to have an effect on me. You know, making me, um, flushed," she whispered quietly under her breath, clearly shamed by what she related to me.

Even late at night after the sordid events of the day, my modest spouse employed a euphemism for her arousal. She simply couldn't accept that the pretty Asian woman's intimate touching of her responsive pussy had turned her on to the point of leaving her wet between the legs.

"Anyway, she said I need to do it every day from now on because Hank will go ballistic if he catches me without a smooth pussy," Emma informed me plainly, unhappy about the prospect but resigned to its necessity.