I never thought I’d be the type to cheat. Anthony and I had been married for eight years, and sure, things had gotten a bit routine – work, bills, the occasional date night where we’d pretend we were still those wild kids from college. But Anthony loved his job at the firm, or at least he pretended to. He was a mid-level accountant, crunching numbers day in and day out, always kissing up to his boss, Mr. Victor Hargrove. Victor was the kind of man who commanded a room without even trying – tall, broad-shouldered, with a voice like gravel and eyes that could strip you bare. I’d met him a few times at company parties, and every time, I’d catch myself staring, wondering what it would be like to have a man like that take control—a fantasy of dominance and submission that fit right into an erotic romance for grownups.
Anthony idolized him, always coming home with stories about how Victor had closed another big deal or chewed out some underling for screwing up a report. He’s a genius, Elena, Anthony would say, his eyes lighting up like a puppy. Tells me exactly what to do, and boom, results. It made me roll my eyes sometimes, how submissive Anthony was to him. But lately, that dynamic started doing something to me. I’d lie in bed at night, listening to Anthony snore and imagine Victor barking orders at him during the day. The power imbalance, the way Victor held Anthony’s career in his hands. It twisted something inside me, made my thighs clench under the sheets. It all started innocently enough, or at least, that’s what I told myself.
Anthony had forgotten his lunch one morning, a tupperware of leftover pasta I’d packed for him. I was working from home that day, freelancing as a graphic designer, so I figured I’d drop it off at the office. The firm was in a sleek downtown high-rise, all glass and steel, the kind of place that screamed money and authority. I texted Anthony when I arrived, but he was in a meeting, so I headed up to the 15th floor myself. The receptionist buzzed me in, and there was Victor, standing by the coffee machine in the lobby, his suit tailored to perfection, tie loosened just enough to show a hint of chest hair. He turned, those piercing blue eyes locking onto mine, and a slow smile spread across his face. Elena, right? Anthony’s better half. I felt a flush creep up my neck. Yeah, hi Mr. Hargrove, just dropping off his lunch, he’s forgetful like that. He chuckled, deep and rumbling. Call me Victor. And yeah, Anthony’s got a lot on his plate. I keep him busy. He stepped closer, towering over me, and I caught a whiff of his cologne, something expensive and musky. You know, he’s one of my best, I tell him to jump and he asks how high. There it was, that spark. The way he said it, so casual, like Anthony was just another tool in his arsenal. It sent a thrill through me, straight to my core. I laughed a little too nervously. Well, he’s good at following orders. Victor’s eyes darkened just for a second. And what about you, Elena? Do you like giving orders? Or taking them? I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry. Was he flirting? No, couldn’t be. But the air between us crackled. Before I could respond, Anthony burst out of the conference room, all apologies and thanks. He pecked me on the cheek, oblivious. And I left feeling unsettled, my panties damp in a way they hadn’t been in months.
That night, Anthony came home exhausted. Victor rode me hard today, he grumbled, collapsing on the couch. Had to redo the entire quarterly report because he didn’t like the formatting. I poured him a glass of wine, my mind racing. Sounds intense. Does he always tell you exactly what to do? Anthony nodded, sipping gratefully. Yeah, he’s the boss. What he says goes. I bit my lip, imagining Victor’s hands on me instead, his voice in my ear, commanding. By the time we went to bed, I was so worked up I initiated sex for the first time in weeks. Anthony was sweet, gentle as always. But as he thrust into me missionary style, all I could think about was Victor, how he’d probably pin me down, make it rough, remind me that he owned Anthony’s life, and now mine too.
The next encounter wasn’t an accident. A week later, the firm had a team-building event, a fancy dinner at a steakhouse downtown. Anthony insisted I come. Victor’s hosting, it’ll be good for networking. I wore my sexiest dress, a tight red number that hugged my curves, with heels that made my legs look endless. Anthony whistled when he saw me. Damn, babe, trying to impress the boss? If only he knew. At the dinner, Victor was at the head of the table, holding court. He caught my eye across the room and raised his glass in a silent toast. Throughout the meal, I felt his gaze on me, lingering on my cleavage, my lips. Anthony was chatting with colleagues, leaving me to fend for myself. When dessert came, Victor leaned over during a lull. Elena, walk with me to the bar, I need a refill. My heart pounded as I followed him. The bar was dimly lit, away from the group. He ordered scotch for himself, a martini for me without asking. You look stunning tonight, he said, his voice low. Anthony’s a lucky man. I took a sip, the alcohol burning pleasantly. He is, but sometimes I wonder if he appreciates it. Victor’s eyebrow arched. Oh, trouble in paradise? Not trouble, I hedged, feeling bold. First, routine, you know how it is. He stepped closer, his hand brushing my arm. I do, and I bet a woman like you needs more than routine. His fingers lingered, sending sparks up my skin. Tell me, Elena, does it excite you, knowing I control his every move at work? I gasped softly. How did he know? I… What do you mean? He smirked. I’ve seen the way you look at me. The power turns you on, doesn’t it? Imagining me telling Anthony to stay late while I take what’s his? My knees weakened. Victor! Meet me in the lobby bathroom in five minutes, he whispered, then walked away like nothing happened. I sat there, pulse racing, debating. Anthony was laughing with the group, clueless. This was wrong. So wrong. But the thought of Victor, the man who bossed my husband around, fucking me senseless. It was intoxicating. I excused myself, saying I needed fresh air, and slipped away.
The bathroom was unisex, private, with a lock. Victor was already there, leaning against the sink. He didn’t waste time, grabbed me by the waist, slammed the door shut, and kissed me hard. His mouth was demanding, tongue invading, tasting of scotch. I moaned into him, my hands fisting his shirt. You want this, don’t you? he growled, pulling back. Fucking your husband’s boss, the man who makes him beg for promotions. Yes, I whimpered, ashamed but so turned on. God, yes. He spun me around, facing the mirror, and hiked up my dress. His hand slipped between my legs, finding me soaked through my panties. Filthy little slut, he murmured, already dripping for me. I watched our reflection as he yanked my panties down, exposing me. His fingers plunged in roughly, two at once, stretching me. Anthony has no idea what a whore his wife is. The words stung and thrilled. I pushed back against his hand, grinding. Please Victor, fuck me. He chuckled darkly. Beg like you mean it. Remember, I tell him what to do every day. Now I’m going to tell you. Please sir, I gasped, using the title instinctively. Fuck me hard, use me. He unzipped, his cock springing free, thick, veined, bigger than Anthony’s. He didn’t bother with a condom, just slammed into me from behind, filling me completely. I cried out, the stretch burning deliciously. He grabbed my hair, yanking my head back. Look at yourself, he ordered. Watch me fuck you while your husband sits out there, oblivious. In the mirror, I saw my flushed face, lips parted, tits bouncing as he pounded into me. It was raw, animalistic, no tenderness, just pure dominance. His free hand reached around, rubbing my clit roughly. You’re mine now, Elena. Every time Anthony kisses my ass at work, you’ll think of this. The orgasm hit me like a freight train, my pussy clenching around him. He didn’t stop, thrusting harder, his balls slapping against me. That’s it, come on your boss’s cock. He pulled out suddenly, spun me around, and forced me to my knees. Open, he commanded. I did, and he shoved in, fucking my mouth deep. I gagged, tears streaming, but I loved it, the filth, the degradation. Saliva dripped down my chin as he used my throat like a toy. Swallow it all, slut, don’t waste a drop. He came with a grunt, flooding my mouth. I swallowed greedily, the taste salty and bitter. When he finished, he zipped up, straightened his tie. Clean yourself up, and don’t tell Anthony a thing. I nodded, dazed as he left. Back at the table, Anthony smiled. You okay? You look flushed. Where’s the wine? I lied, my throat raw, Victor’s cum still on my tongue. That was the beginning.
Over the next few weeks, it became an addiction. Victor would text me from work, simple commands like, wear that red lingerie under your clothes today, or touch yourself thinking of me while Anthony’s in the room. I’d obey, sending him proof pics from the bathroom. The risk made it hotter, knowing he was in meetings with Anthony, probably smirking as my husband presented reports, while I was home fingering myself to his orders. One afternoon, Anthony called from the office. Victor’s got me staying late again, some big client pitch, won’t be home till 10. My phone buzzed, seconds later, from Victor. Your place, now. He arrived 20 minutes later, letting himself in with the key I’d hidden under the mat as instructed. I was waiting in the living room, naked except for heels, as he’d demanded. He didn’t say hello, just pushed me against the wall, his mouth on my neck, biting hard enough to leave marks I’d have to hide from Anthony. Miss me, slut? he asked, his hand between my legs. Yes, sir, I panted. All day. He led me to the bedroom, our bedroom, Anthony’s and mine. The thought made my stomach twist with guilt and excitement. He threw me on the bed, face down, and tied my wrists to the headboard with Anthony’s ties from the closet. This is where you fuck him, isn’t it? Pathetic, vanilla sex? I nodded, ass up. Yes, but I need more. He spanked me hard, the sting making me yelp. You need to be used like the whore you are. His belt came off next, looping it around my neck like a leash. He pulled tight, choking me lightly as he entered me from behind, doggy style. It was brutal, his hips slamming, the bed creaking. Imagine Anthony walking in right now, he growled, seeing his boss balls deep in his wife. The image pushed me over the edge, I came screaming, but he didn’t let up. He flipped me over, straddling my chest, and slapped his cock on my face. Lick my balls, he ordered. I did, tonguing them eagerly, tasting sweat and musk. He jerked himself, then aimed lower, pushing into my mouth again. But this time, he went deeper, face fucking me until I was a mess of drool and tears. Good girl, take it all. He pulled out, not done. Spread your legs, I want to see how wet you are for your superior. I obeyed, exposing myself fully. He dove in, his tongue rough on my clit, fingers curling inside me, hitting that spot. But it wasn’t gentle eating, it was devouring, his teeth grazing, making me squirm. You taste like betrayal, he murmured against me. When I was close again, he stopped, climbing up and sliding back in. Missionary, but nothing like with Anthony. He pinned my legs back, folding me in half, pounding deep. His hand wrapped around my throat. Say it. Say who owns this pussy. You do, Victor, I gasped. You own it. You own Anthony too. That set him off. He thrust harder, grunting, and came inside me, hot, filling spurts. The risk of no protection thrilled me. Anthony and I used condoms since we weren’t ready for kids. Victor pulled out, his cum leaking from me, and smeared it on my thighs. Leave it there. Don’t clean up until Anthony gets home. Let him fuck you with my seed inside. I did. When Anthony arrived, tired but horny from the stress, he took me gently, oblivious to the slickness, the extra wetness. I came harder than ever, thinking of Victor.
The affair escalated. Victor started inviting me to lunch meetings at hotels. One time, he booked a suite and had me wait on my knees by the door. When he entered, he didn’t speak, just unzipped and used my mouth as a welcome. That’s how you greet your boss, he said after, cum dripping from my lips. Another time, he brought toys, a vibrator, clamps, lube. He clamped my nipples, the pain sharp and exquisite, then fucked me with the vibrator while he took my ass. I’d never done anal with Anthony. It was too dirty. But with Victor, it was perfect, filthy, invasive. He prepped me roughly, fingers slick with lube, then pushed in slow at first, then hard. Take it, slut. This ass is mine too. I screamed into the pillow, the fullness overwhelming, but the power dynamic made it erotic. You tell Anthony to bend over backwards at work, I moaned. Now you’re making me bend for you. He laughed, thrusting deeper. Damn right. And you love it. He came in my ass, pulling out to watch it drip. Then he made me clean him with my mouth, ass to mouth, the ultimate degradation. I hesitated, but his glare made me comply, tasting myself on him. Good whore, he praised, and I beamed, hooked on his approval.
Weekends were trickier, but Victor got creative. Anthony had a golf outing with clients one Saturday. Victor coincidentally showed up at our house for work papers. He fucked me in the kitchen, bent over the counter where I made Anthony’s breakfast. Every time you cook for him, remember this, he said, spanking me with a spatula until my ass was red. The dirtier it got, the more I craved it. One night, after Anthony passed out early, Victor snuck in through the back door. He took me in the guest room, but made it nasty, pissing on me in the shower after marking his territory. You’re my property now, he said, as the warm stream hit my skin. I knelt, letting it happen, humiliated, but aroused. Piss on your slut, sir, I begged, opening my mouth. He did, a little, and I swallowed, the acrid taste pushing me to new lows.
But the pinnacle was a company retreat. Anthony was thrilled to be invited. It was at a luxury resort upstate. I tagged along as a spouse. Victor had a private cabin, and one night, while Anthony was at a bonfire with the team, Victor summoned me. The cabin was dimly lit, candles flickering. But this wasn’t romantic. He had restraints ready. He tied me spread-eagle to the bed, blindfolded me. Tonight, you’re my fucktoy, he announced. He teased me for what felt like hours, ice cubes on my nipples, feathers on my clit, then his fingers, his tongue. When I was begging, he mounted me, but pulled out mid-thrust to cum on my face, in my hair. Walk back to Anthony like this, he dared. I didn’t, cleaned up partially, but the thrill lingered.
As months passed, guilt crept in. Anthony noticed my distance, my frequent headaches. Is everything okay, babe, he’d ask, concerned. I wanted to stop, but Victor’s hold was too strong. The final time was in his office, after hours. Anthony had left early for a doctor’s appointment. Victor called me in, pretending it was about surprise party planning for Anthony’s birthday. His office was massive, with a view of the city. He locked the door, bent me over his desk, Anthony’s reports scattered beneath me. Fuck me on his work, I pleaded. He did, rough and unrelenting. Papers crinkled as he slammed into me, his hand over my mouth to muffle screams. This is where I demote people, promote them. Where I control Anthony’s fate, and now I’m controlling you. He flipped me, legs over his shoulders and went deeper. Sweat dripped from him onto me. Then he pulled out, made me suck him clean, tasting my own juices. On your knees, open wide. He came, but not in my mouth, across my tits and on my dress, and said, wear it home. As I left, cum drying on my skin, I realized I couldn’t continue. The high was fading, replaced by fear of getting caught. I broke it off via text. We have to stop. Victor replied, for now, but remember, I own you both. Anthony never found out. Our marriage limped on, but every time he mentioned Victor, I’d feel that twist, the mix of shame and arousal. I was changed, dirtier, filthier. And deep down, I knew if Victor called, I’d answer. Because the power, it was everything.
