The Theft of Our Lives 03

Don didn't really understand the level of control Hank held over my acquiescent wife, but at the moment didn't really care, not so long as he enjoyed the benefits of her willingness to do as she was told.

Growing bolder, he expeditiously took the lead from his new benefactor, and exercising a firm tone directed Emma to bend at the waist, understanding now that Hank's direct intermediation was no longer necessary, at least not while in my submissive wife's presence.

"Just wanna check their 'hang time,'" Don explained gleefully, his remark beyond crude, making Emma cringe.

Hank remained silently commanding and bewildered at how this was possibly happening in the privacy of our own living room, my sullen wife yielded once more.

Reluctantly, Emma complied with the lewd demand, placing her hands on hips and bending at a 90° angle from the waist, just as Don desired. The degrading act left her enormous breasts freely hanging beneath her torso, and with her face pointed towards the ground, she was unable, or probably unwilling, to look at the disparaging duo from her degrading position.

I've inadvertently seen Emma in this position before, unknowing of my presence, because there's no way she'd voluntarily undertake such a disreputable, overtly demeaning pose with anyone looking.

It makes for an impressive image, and even Don hadn't imagined seeing her this way in his wildest fantasies, of which she was learning he had many. His late-thirties neighbor housewife, so long an unattainable dream, was bent at the waist stripped to a thong bikini bottom with her ample tits swinging pendantly at his command.

Disrespectfully, the disgraceful old man stepped to the side for a better look in profile.

"Truly marvelous. Now, Shake 'em again," he marveled, before treacherously demanding more.

"Oh please, Don, haven't you had enough?" Emma questioned our insistent neighbor's demeaning request.

"Never. I'll never get enough of your big tits, Emma. Now, shake 'em again, damn it," he replied forcefully.

Unenthusiastically, Emma capitulated, and with a similar shimmying motion as before, my red-faced wife's suspended melons shook and danced impressively, undulating dynamically to Don's endless delight.

'I'm just a piece of meat in a butcher shop window,' she bemoaned inside, with the intolerable act so degrading that watery tears welled in her green eyes.

Adding physical insult to her emotional injury, without a word, Don palmed Emma's dangling left tit in his modest hand, cradling the supple melon, lifting and weighing it as he would a cantaloupe at the grocery store.

"Heyyyyy!" she decried, startled by the bold act.

In truth, it wasn't unexpected, as Emma saw the direction things were moving. Still, she cried her protest aloud, immediately jerking upward before recognizing the futility and returning to her position, permitting our neighbor of a dozen years to fondle and bounce her precious breast in his warm hand.

"Ohhh, yesss," our enraptured neighbor blurted his unrepentant joy, truly in heaven feeling Emma's giant, spongy tit, with the generous bulk of her massive boob spilling over his hand.

Emma's eraser tip nipple pressed into his palm as Don lightly squeezed her gelatinous globe between his fingertips, relishing the soft skin and impressive density. It was obvious the man truly admired my beleaguered wife's breasts, and despite his despicable treatment, he truly admired her beauty too.

Our 'considerate' neighbor didn't want to hurt Emma, not really, and he didn't even want to possess her body. He simply wanted access and have her previously forbidden body available. Don had lusted for my modest wife's voluptuous form for so terribly long, never expecting this dream to come true. Now that it had, he desperately wanted to savor it.

Stroking her elongated breast a few times, Don's fingers trailed over the curved surface until the tips were at her nipple, wherein uninvited he abruptly gave the swollen bud a good pinch and a firm twist.

"OUCH!" Emma cried angrily, sharply pulling away in reflexively returning to an upright position and signaling her disapproval with a cross expression.

"Damn it, Don. That hurt!" she chastised our neighbor, protectively soothing her offended nipple by running the pads of her tender fingers gingerly over its inflamed surface.

"Oh, I forgot to mention, Emma's nipples are super-sensitive. Of course, that just makes 'em super-responsive, and super-fun to tease," Hank chuckled aloud as Emma fumed, enlightening our neighbor about his extensive experience playing with my large-breasted wife's perceptive nubs.

Enthralled and obviously unconcerned about charging up his lovely neighbor's rubbery bud, even now growing steely hard and wrinkled from his taunting tweak, Don's demeanor reflected no regret whatsoever at tugging and twisting my miserable wife's stiffening nipple.

"That's it! Don, isn't that enough?" Emma insisted, her admonition intended as a rhetorical question, with her glaring countenance indicating she'd debased herself enough for our lecherous next-door neighbor.

Don's response was to look at Hank.

"Ok then, she doesn't want to do that anymore, Don. Let's look at some photos instead," my boss stated plainly after a moment of silence, dangerously pulling the envelope from under his arm and shuffling through the many 8x10 full-color glossy pictures.

Hank recorded everything we did on the yacht from the moment we arrived -- Emma shuffling nervously in the same scandalous bikini she currently wore, dipping into the spa, letting Ted feel her up and then fuck her face, and dancing with Ike before he and Ted double-teamed her on the bench.

Every nefarious activity throughout the long night in the stateroom was captured in hi-definition detail -- lewd acts I heard live as they occurred but only imagined in my lonely bed. There were shots of my well-respected wife on her knees giving head to three grinning businessmen twenty years her senior on the yacht deck, before leaving with a face dripping of congealing semen.

It was all on film, well over one hundred shots of excellent quality with close-ups and long shots showing all the action. Emma's face was plainly recognizable, even with a cock in her mouth. My presence locked in my cage was also confirmed, signaling not only my knowledge of her infidelity, but also my cuckolding by the superior men.

A horrified look filled Emma's eyes when he pulled a single photo from the envelope. She didn't know exactly what the photos showed, but Hank's earlier mention of the cruise was all she needed to know.

"Don, check out this one of Emma and Ray enjoying the coastal sunshine," he offered, handing him the picture with Emma eyeing the image from where she stood.

It was a picture of Emma entering the water of the pool in her indecent white bikini, still opaque above the clear water but definitely dressed in a manner unlike anything Don expected of my sweet wife in front of other people. Her face was easy to see in the photo, leaving no doubt as to her identity.

The shot was wide-angle, enough to include me and my cohorts in cuckoldry in the frame -- proof of my presence, but we were only seen from the chest up, so our nudity and cock cages weren't visible. Still, it appeared I had knowledge of Emma's nearly nude 'exhibition' for other men while watching with apparent approval.

That's how it looked anyway, like I was sharing my half-naked wife with fellow business associates, proud of her curvaceous physique.

'Ray and Emma Tyler are a little less stuffy than their conservative image,' Don thought, fixated on the photo.

"I have some more, let's see," Hank advised, digging through the envelope.

"No," Emma interjected in a panic. "I'm sure we can think of other things to do."

What Hank showed Don made her look like an exhibitionist, and that was plenty enough. She didn't want Don seeing what really happened on that yacht.

"Are you sure, Emma? There's a lot more," Hank pressed with a taunting smile.

"Y-yes, Hank, I'll be happy to do, um, well, whatever," my wife conceded apprehensively, afraid to say something in error giving him any more ideas.

Ever since Emma stripped nude in his office the first day of our indenture, Hank revealed a sadistic taste for psychologically torturing my unfortunate wife, and he took perverse pleasure putting her in embarrassing and humiliating situations.

It may not have been part of his plan when he began blackmailing us, but he apparently realized how much fun it was watching her squirm, seeing her anguish and distaste at the things he made her do, especially with me as captive witness.

Hank got off on it almost as much as he did fucking Emma or watching her fuck someone other than her husband. He made a game of thinking up new ways for her to suffer emotionally, especially knowing she unwillingly experienced powerful orgasms from the sexual activity, and even with me as witness to her infidelities.

"Okay Don, do you have any other ideas?" Hank asked, emboldening our entranced neighbor.

Don instantly returned to Emma, so focused on her fully exposed chest he hadn't paid much attention to her bikini bottoms, other than watching her delectable ass walking towards the kitchen earlier to get the beers.

"I don't know if I've seen a smaller bikini bottom in my life, Emma. Tell me, are you, um, shaved down there?" he peeped, not holding back but struggling through his excitement to get out the incorrigible words.

Disconcerted with intense humiliation, Emma knew the bathing suit didn't offer much modesty, but scrambled to recover, trying her best to act casual despite the extremely inappropriate question.

"Well, Don, like many women I do a bikini trim," she murmured with utter shame.

"I don't know, Emma, looks like more than a trim. I pretty sure I can see your pussy lips," Don retorted unabashedly.

"Jeez, Don, I can't believe you. Show some class," Emma scolded, dazed by Don's frank response and not liking the direction the visit was going, but also not wanting to return to the photos.

"In all my dreams, Emma, I never pictured you shaved. Now, tell me, are you completely bald, or do you leave a landing strip?" he asked with a smarmy grin.

Don's bold question was truly disgusting. It was so personal and over the top, but standing there topless with next to nothing on, Emma wasn't in a position to deny the obvious, so simply stood with mouth agape, too frozen to respond.

"I'd love to see it," he added ambitiously, and Emma instinctively knew it wasn't a request.

As usual, Hank did nothing disabusing her of any other notion.

Staggered and bowing her head in shame, she correctly assumed pushing back wouldn't change the final result. Her lone act of defiance was forcing Don to say in no uncertain terms what he wanted, hoping to make him somehow remorseful and reconsider.

"So, what are you saying, Don?" Emma asked, looking directly in his eyes with a bravado she didn't feel, sensing our lecherous neighbor was too far down the path of depravity to do anything but follow his fantasy to its natural conclusion.

"Take off the bottoms, Emma dear, and show me your pretty little pussy," Don suggested with a devious smile, taking up the challenge with his response coming easily.

"Show me your, um, 'bikini trim,'" he gibed without sympathy, with his lust overwhelming his morality.

Left speechless and devastated that such words came from the mouth of our kindly neighbor, my reluctant wife was backed against a wall, and despite her near nudity already, this wasn't easy for her, knowing Don as a longtime family friend and even pseudo-grandfather figure to Kerri and Kellen.

This next step would expose her shaved pubic mound to him, but intimidated by Hank's presence, she bowed her head, avoiding Don's eager eyes while hooking her thumbs into the side strings of her bikini thong. Making no ceremony of the act, she steadily lowered the bottoms off her hips, past her thighs to her ankles, before kicking them to the side and timidly raising her head hoping to muster some semblance of pride and self-esteem.

The moisture in her eyes betrayed her failure to do so.

Emma stood haplessly before our older neighbor, completely naked except for her wedding ring and the white stiletto heels, which she regretted wearing as they only accented the roundness of her ripe, full ass.

To Don's glee, my wife's nude cunt was positively without a hair.

"I thought so. It sure didn't look like you were hiding a landing strip," Don commented with satisfaction.

Emma stood naked in her own home before two men, neither of whom was her husband, praying no one came home early. Kerri wasn't due until around 2:00 p.m. and it was only 12:45 now.

Don gazed at my uncomfortable wife's bald snatch for a long moment, then settled his eyes on the entire package.

"Wow, Emma, you have a killer body. I always knew it, but it was so hard to tell in that frumpy bathing suit you wear in your backyard," he admitted, confirming he spied on her while she sunbathed.

I doubt he cared, but Emma learned more about our debauched neighbor with each revelation.

"Turn around, slowly, and let's see that great ass again," Don directed with a twirl of his finger.

Broken and once more on display, Emma simply rotated deliberately in a circle. Her ass cheeks, tightened by the high heels, rippled in a delectable manner as she turned.

"Stop. Hold it there. I need to check this out," Don ordered when her back was fully towards the men.

Standing immediately behind my tentative wife, he planted a big hand on each of her fleshy butt cheeks, clutching and squeezing their ample padding with admiration. The contact with his warm palm, and the ease of his growing control alarmed Emma, glad she wasn't facing the men as her tears flowed freely.

'How can Don be so horrible? Doesn't he know how this makes me feel? How dehumanized?' she sobbed inside, thinking like the rest of our family he was a decent man, and we were all friends.

"Ohhh, wowww! Really unbelievable! What an amazing ass, almost as great as your tits," Don marveled, groping my heartsick wife's plump, muscular globes.

"Present, Emma," Hank's brusque voice rang out authoritatively.

"Huh?" Emma's eyes popped wide, not expecting the order but springing into her demeaning presentation pose with Pavlovian efficiency, squaring her shoulders and crossing her fingers behind her neck with elbows wide.

"Trained and everything," Don gaped at her unquestioning compliance.

Unrelenting and intoxicated by the opportunity to explore the enticing body of his mature neighbor, he shifted his hands to the swell of Emma's broad hips and extended his foot, lightly kicking the inside of Emma's ankles.

"Spread your legs a little farther, dear," he commanded, and Emma obediently did until shoulder-width in distance.

"Now, bend at the waist, but keep your legs braced at the knees," the joyous man instructed, picking up on his benefactor's power and using it for fulfilling his dreams.

"Oh, no, please not that, Don. It's so, um, exposed. So, embarrassing," Emma objected, finding strength in her remaining dignity to balk.

'WAP,' Don slapped her left buttock hard with the flat of his hand before she got another word out, making Emma wince in enforcing his demand.

"Owwhhh," Emma whimpered, but did his bidding, bending at the waist with hands still held at the back of her neck.

My commandeered wife was emotionally in turmoil, now in the classically submissive, highly demeaning, and yet terribly erotic inspection pose for a woman. With her legs spread there was no hiding her womanly charms from the full view of our neighbor's prying eyes.

Emma's puffy cunt lips, perceptibly parted in forced arousal from the unwanted depravity of her absolute surrender, were openly available for scrutiny. The wrinkled bud of her clenching anus peeked discreetly between the spreading crack of her ass.

My traumatized wife was inconsolable with shame, while Don was all smiles. This was going better than he ever imagined when Hank approached him the other day, proposing to grant Don a special request at the expense of his lovely neighbor.

Hank stood to the side observing, wanting nothing from Don, with his reward my wife's distress. He really is a sick bastard, even he had to admit it.

Don bent at the knees and put his face up close enough to Emma's pussy to smell her essence, feeling the warmth emanating from her rudely exposed pink slit.

"You really do shave your twat clean, don't you?" he bluntly posed his question in rhetorical form, not expecting an answer and getting none, just continued sniffles from my wife.

Coarsely, he next pulled her butt cheeks apart looking unobstructed at her crinkled asshole.

"Please, don't look there, Don, it's indecent," Emma wept, her plea a high-pitched whine for compassion simply music to the grinning man's ears.

"All the way to your anus. Very thorough," he complimented, as insensitively as any man she'd ever met.

Emma shuddered at the disgusting comment, her world crashing around her at the intrusive examination.

"I assume this is at Hank's request, or have you always done this for Ray?" Don probed shamelessly, proving as heartless as any of Hank's favored cronies.

"Yep, that's all for me. She had a thick, full bush. I'm sure that's what you imagined, eh Don?" Hank responded on her behalf, as words became difficult to find for my overwhelmed wife.

"Pretty much, Hank. I certainly didn't expect my 'respectable' neighbor to wear her cunt completely bald," Don replied, mocking my wife's notable outward appearance.

"You should have seen it before Mrs. Ogawa shaved it that first time. The hairs were curly and downy soft, but I like 'em shaved, so there you go," Hank contributed additional detail, shamelessly enlightening our neighbor about the quality of Emma's furry nest.

'Did Hank really need to tell Don his secretary shaved my pussy?' Emma bemoaned internally, listening to the men banter about her newfound hygiene regime with despair.

The mention of Hank's preferences only demeaned her further, signaling my wife's lack of free will over even something as personal as intimate grooming, and reducing her to nothing more than an attractive, big-titted bimbo for their amusement.

"I'd love to do that," Don gushed emphatically. "Maybe one morning I can give her a shave?"

"Maybe Don, maybe," Hank said without commitment.

Emma said nothing, simply maintaining her lewd pose in tears, with her body wavering under her emotional overload as our corrupt neighbor placed his hand on Emma's proffered rump, eliciting another squirm of discomfort while caressing the supple surface open-handed.

Slipping over the curved flank into the crevice of her ass, my horrified wife flinched visibly when Don's middle fingertip lightly grazed her crinkled rosebud, but then mercifully continued its naughty journey across her perineum until slipping into the hollow between her legs.

"Ohhh," my wife peeped at his intolerable touch, but obediently stayed still as his warm palm ran inquisitively over her sacred vagina.

Heat emanated from the entrance as our erstwhile neighbor cupped her forbidden mound with a familiarity he didn't deserve, enjoying the bald smoothness of her soft skin and the gentle tensing of her cleft with his proscribed contact.

"Annnhh, oh don't, umm, don't do that!" Emma begged, jolted from her misery when Don suddenly drew his trailing finger upward along her moistening slit and then back down to her absolute mortification.

Don realized his distressed neighbor's warming pussy was highly responsive to his manipulations, regardless of her dire shame and anguish, realizing she had a deep sexual core regardless of her proper outward appearance.