Morally Gray
Rottweiler
Copyright© 2024 by Dyspneic
Morally Gray
by Dyspneic
Description: An epic love story becomes a tragic betrayal. If you're going to cheat on your partner, make sure he's not a 'cyber-meister.' Following a tangled and sordid relationship between a cyber sleuth and his gorgeous red-haired wife. As he learns of her dalliance with a childhood friend, he takes a deeper look inside the affairs of her affluent family, only to find that not everything is above board.
Tags: Much Sex, Ma/Fa, Blackmail, Consensual, Drunk/Drugged, NonConsensual, Rape, Reluctant, Romantic, Gay, BiSexual, Heterosexual, Fiction, Humor, Cheating, Cuckold, Slut Wife, RAAC, BTB, Incest, BDSM, DomSub, FemaleDom, Humiliation, Rough, Sadistic, Spanking, Torture, White Couple, Anal Sex, Cream Pie, Double Penetration, Facial, Oral Sex, Pegging, Pregnancy, Sex Toys, Voyeurism, Caution, Revenge, Violence
Size: 32,437 Words
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Cast
Martin Landry — MC, forensic computer analyst
Siobhán Brennen-Landry — Spouse, Dominatrix
Vivian Host-Brennen — Siobhán’s mother
Malcolm Host — Siobhán’s father
Kyle Jennings — Siobhán’s AP, Hedge Fund manager
Bull Damien — Siobhán’s Bull
Mistress Leilani Calabresi — Siobhán’s mentor and confidant
Sterling Calabresi — Leilani’s husband/partner
Locations
The China Shop Adult Boutique, AKA The Bull Pen (Punishment Suite)
Boston and surrounding areas
Acknowledgments
Special Thanks to Wargamer, Relaxed_Muscle, and Myth for edits
Sid, for the Title
And James Kayode for the cover art (@james_ghdesign)
Prologue
“Don’t worry, darling. The first time is the hardest,” Siobhán told him softly. “This will rekindle our romance and take our love to the next level.” She faced the bound naked man brought to her in the dimly lit anteroom of the Punishment Suite. He wore a black leather hood with openings for his eyes, nose, and mouth.
His dark eyes seemed dull and restless in the soft glow of the overhead fixtures, and his nose flared with each breath as he tried to compensate for the ball gag in his mouth. His forearms were lashed together before him, and he wore a thick studded collar with a D-ring. The dark-robed figure delivering him halted at the door and retreated, closing it behind him.
Even in the drug-induced fog, he barely recognized the woman before him. Siobhán Bennett-Landry wore a studded half bra with matching crotchless black leather panties, webbed stockings on her long legs, and four-inch stiletto heels. She accessorized with a black leather studded collar and elbow-length silk fingerless gloves. Her natural red hair was combed back and held with clips. She was a captivating beauty with full, perfect breasts above the half-cup brassiere. Her soft pink nipples stood out, encircled by pale areola. The minimal leather thong left her firm ass exposed while the front framed and molded her shaved mound.
The man behaved sluggishly as she took his arm and led him into the master suite. He was oblivious to the furnishings; else, his unease might have tipped him into full panic. Mistress Leilani assured her that first-time cucks were often given a mild roofie to make them less resistant to the initial submissive conditioning. She stepped closer to face him and kissed his sweaty lips gently. “I love you so much for this, Sweetheart,” she whispered, tracing her velvet-gloved hand down his bare chest, feeling his abdomen tremor as she caressed his flaccid penis and scrotum. “Let’s begin.”
A king-sized bed dominated the suite, but there was room for several other devices. Against the wall facing the bed was a weathered wooden cross beam with chains and cuffs. Closer to the center was an odd-looking item resembling a squat pommel horse with its own restraints. The wall to the right of the anteroom entrance was a solid, opaque, one-way, soundproof window for discreet viewing.
Siobhán led her pet to the cross beam and turned him around with his back to the hard timbers. She secured his arms above his head. “The valium and ketamine will wear off soon,” she said. “You’ll be fully aware of everything.” She spread his legs and fastened his ankles with Velcro. Pressing against his naked body, she kissed him, biting his lip enough to make him flinch. “My bull will be here soon, Martin. Can’t wait for you to meet him,” she murmured. “But first, let’s make sure you know your place,” she added coldly.
He shook his head, trying to focus, and mumbled incoherently around the gag. His voice turned into a pitiful cry when she squeezed his balls. “Do not speak!” she hissed. “You are nothing! A weak, spineless little bitch with a tiny cock!” She grabbed a shiny device from a shelf—a wire-framed male chastity cage. His eyes widened, and he moaned loudly. “This is the smallest size,” she mocked, placing him in it. He twitched at the cold metal and uttered a muffled cry as she forced his balls and penis inside, snapping it closed with a click. “You’re about to see a real cock,” she added demurely. Her heels clicked on the floor as she approached a wall of S&M devices, a tool board of sadistic perversion—with straps, belts, whips, paddles, dildos, gags, and harnesses.
“You’ll finally watch my bull fuck me and wear my pussy out—like he’s done so often whenever you worked late or went on business trips.” She moved gracefully, her hips swaying as she traced her long fingers across the instruments. “I’m sure you thought I was only sleeping with Kyle,” she remarked. “I’m sorry you had to learn about our affair like that.” Her tone belied the merit of her words as she paused at a cruel-looking, multi-stranded whip with a braided handle. “I bet you never imagined this was how I spent my free time.”
She continued talking as she considered the tools: “Now, to help your transition into the perfect pet, we must overcome the natural resistance even the weakest men have for authority and obedience.” She took down the whip and snapped it with a flick of her wrist. She took down a riding crop and replaced it for a flat wooden paddle. She smacked it against her palm. Satisfied, she stepped seductively over to the pommel horse and placed each within easy reach.
“I’m going to enjoy this,” she said softly, and he shook his head frantically. The gag muffled his desperate moans as he choked on her name. Her smile vanished, replaced by a harsh scowl. She grabbed the whip and strode back to him until they were nose-to-nose and thrust the grip under his chin, shoving his face up. “What did I say about speaking?” she hissed. She studied the disbelief and fear in his eyes, and her heart raced. God! Leilani was right! Her mentor’s words didn’t do the sensation justice. She felt high! It was euphoric—being in complete control of her husband.
The Mistress stood less than ten feet away, observing through the smoky one-way glass. The viewing chamber was smaller than the punishment suite, with a sloped floor rising toward the back. A console with audio/visual and recording equipment occupied one corner, while three rows of seats filled the rest, accommodating up to nine viewers. The room was currently empty except for the tall, enigmatic woman standing before the glass, arms crossed. Her long dark hair fell below her hips, and she wore an elegant black gown, which split up to her ribs, occasionally revealing her feminine charms. Like her protégé, her generous breasts were exposed, supported by an open-cup bra.
She didn’t turn when the door hissed open. She felt him quietly enter and step up behind her. Goosebumps rose on her arms as she sensed his presence. “I hope she contains her spiteful enthusiasm,” she remarked softly to the robed man.
He remained silent, offering her a crystal flute of sparkling ginger ale, which she accepted, appreciating the gesture as he sipped his own. Sterling Calabresi was a man of few words, especially in character, and always deferred to his lovely wife as ‘Mistress’ or ‘Madame.’ He was devoted to her, and she often took his affection for granted. She took a long drink. They abstained from alcohol during sessions because it dulled the senses. She caressed his lower back without taking her eyes from the activity beyond the glass. “He is soft,” she said quietly, referring to Siobhán’s cuck husband, Martin Landry. “And stupid.”
The man beside her said nothing, but she sensed his amusement as she continued, “I will never understand how a free-spirited and gorgeous creature like her could become attracted to such a repulsive and unremarkable person. How she stayed with him for two decades defies logic.” She silently approved as the crimson-haired trainee paced back to the instrument wall and selected a gem-encrusted plug and her strap-on with an eight-inch hard rubber phallus.
A knock sounded on the soundproofed anteroom door, and the woman turned her radiant smile to the tall, muscular man who appeared. Bull Damien was a younger, handsome man with mixed European features. He stood exactly six feet, completely nude, and it was impossible to overlook his astounding manhood. Siobhán’s eyes fell lustfully to his fully erect cock as she moved to embrace him. They kissed deeply, and she moaned as he pressed the tip of his rigid pole against her mound. Parting, she clasped her delicate fingers around his girth and led him to the restrained figure.
“Can you believe it, darling?” she said. “Isn’t he the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen?” She moved behind her newest lover, clutching his chest with one hand and stroking his erection with the other. “Not even Kyle can match his skill and staying power,” she purred, circling the stud and smiling at the bound man. “I can’t wait to watch you pleasure him after he fills me.” She knelt beside the bull, clasping his sack. It filled her hand as she ran her tongue along his shaft, causing it to twitch. “You won’t believe the amount of cum in these balls.” She released his scrotum and gripped his shaft with both hands before placing her lips over his large tip and taking him in. She sighed happily and moaned as she sucked on him. Her head moved slowly as she pulled back and then forward once more, this time taking his entire length with practiced ease.
It was a provocative demonstration of a gift she had shared often with her husband over the years. She released him with a hollow pop, smacking her lips primly. “You’ll love how he tastes, covered with my juices and his salty cream,” she said lustfully, standing tall again.
Beyond the window, Mistress Leilani felt her labia warming and reached down to touch herself, relishing the anticipation. Her hand almost shook as she took another drink.
“Damien, my love,” they heard through the glass, “Be a dear and bring it to the horse?” Siobhán turned to the odd-shaped block by the foot of the bed. The Bull released the ankle straps, unclipped the collar, and cuffed the man for offering weak resistance. He was led to the beam and bent over it, facing the bed. The device adjusted to his torso so his feet remained on the cold floor. His hands were clipped near the floor, stretching him onto his toes. His chin rested on the edge of the block. Siobhán parted his legs, placing his knees on a shelf and spreading them wide before securing them tightly with straps. He flinched as she slapped his bare ass and prodded his tight anal sphincter.
“This part will be uncomfortable, I’m afraid,” she said casually as she stepped around to face him. She held the metallic anal plug in her hand, delighted by his horrified expression, as she applied a generous amount of lubricant to its coned shape. “I speak from experience—but I promise you will appreciate it later.” She leaned over and cocked her head sideways with a thin, malevolent smile. “Anal training is a bitch!” She straightened and disappeared from his view. “You have it easy this evening, sweetheart. Your willingness to obey is irrelevant, so you can just enjoy the full experience while we condition you for the future. This step is important because after Damien and I fuck each other before your poor sad little eyes, we are going to team up and spit-roast you like a helpless little bitch.” She moved slowly down his side, running her lacquered nails down his naked back. “I’m going to rape your tight little virgin asshole while Damien fucks your throat.”
He cried out in muffled horror as she gripped his ass. “Try to relax, darling,” she advised, pressing the cold tip against his rosebud. His body jerked involuntarily, and his muffled sobs became hysterical as she rubbed it in a circle around his anus. “Breathe, Martin!” she commanded. “I’m trying to make this easier for you.” She applied more pressure, dilating his outer sphincter slowly. His cries were agonizing, and he thrashed his head about, struggling against the restraints.
Siobhán sighed, “Very well then, fighting only makes it worse, but c’est la vie.” She pursed her lips together, and she shoved the device into his asshole, twisting it until the bejeweled plate was flush against his crack. Her captive cuck shrieked incoherently and went berserk, thrashing helplessly against the ungiving block. After a moment, his futile struggle lessened, and she bent over his trapped prostrate form, caressing his trembling hips. She lay atop him, running her tongue across the side of his sweaty neck. She sighed heavily in his ear before kissing it softly and then nipping it sharply. Her naked mound rubbed suggestively against his butt, and her gloved hands clutched his hips tightly. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, baby,” she whispered to him. “God, I’ve never loved you as much as I do right now.”
Leilani sighed, holding out her empty glass. It was taken from her as she thought about her desire. God, she is incredible! Her husband returned and stood behind her. She leaned back against him, feeling her erotic tension grow. “You better be ready to attend to my needs, my love,” she whispered. She reached back, exploring until she felt his crotch and gripped him. She was puzzled by his flaccidity but focused on the carnal activities in the other room. He reached around, cupping her breasts, sending waves of pleasure through her. Despite his bold, uninvited encroachment, she relished it and forgave his indulgence. Her heart raced as warmth spread through her body.
“My God, she’s a natural!” she breathed heavily, trying to quell her growing lust.
“Not surprising, considering her pedigree.”
Again, she frowned at his uncharacteristic remark, but the activities beyond the glass consumed her attention.
“From this moment forward, you are no longer my boring, devoted husband and life partner,” Siobhán intoned as she reappeared before him and squatted over her heels to gaze levelly into his tear-filled eyes. Her tone was cruel and cold. “You are no longer Martin Landry—boring computer analyst for a boring marketing firm—father of Sybil and Martin, jr.” She poked his nose with a lacquered nail. “You are nothing! You are a thing ... a pet. And your existence revolves around submission and obedience. For that, you will be rewarded ... or punished.” She stood until her smooth leather-encircled vagina hovered inches from his face. “It’s so very simple, sweetheart. If you obey and please me, I will shower you with pleasure and love.” She moved close until she straddled the edge of the beam, nearly touching his face. She grabbed the hair protruding from the back of his hood and jerked his head painfully until he was gazing fearfully up at her wicked beauty. “If you displease me, I promise I will hurt you in ways you could never imagine!” Her voice had lost all warmth and empathy as she stared back at him with the eyes of a predator.
She shifted closer still until her smooth outer labia touched his nose. “Eat my pussy!” she demanded, pulling his ball gag aside and forcing her vagina against his face. His teeth snapped together, and he sealed his lips defiantly as she rubbed her slippery crotch in his face. “Open your mouth, now!” she gripped his sweaty hair tightly, causing him to whimper in pain. He obediently parted his lips, feeling the press of her sex against his mouth. “Put your tongue in me and lick it.” She gripped his chin with her free hand and raised her face to the ceiling, her mouth forming a quiet O as he entered her. “Oh yes!” she whispered passionately, forcing her pelvis tighter against him. She held his head firmly with both hands and moved rhythmically against him. “Oh God! That’s wonderful!”
She controlled her passionate impulses with an iron will, quelling her urge to climax even as she envisioned squirting in his face. Still, she shuddered as his soft tongue flicked against her clitoris repeatedly. “Ahh!’ she gasped, abruptly releasing him and letting the rubber mouthpiece snap back into place. She gazed at his prostrate form in wonder as she stepped away. “Holy shit!” she stammered huskily. “If I had known you were so good at that, I would’ve allowed you to go down on me more often!”
The atmosphere in the room was heavy with unspoken desire and longing, mixed with the cloying fear and misery emanating from her captive mate. Siobhán turned to the tall, muscular bull, beckoning. “I was ever prepared and eager to get down to fucking,” she remarked as her lover stepped forward and positioned himself in front of the trembling cuck. “Now it’s Damien’s turn.” She moved beside him and grabbed his rigid pole. “Open your mouth!” she ordered. The bound man whimpered tragically and cried out as she pulled the gag away once more.
“No...,” he gasped harshly, “Please...” His pleading sobs were stifled by the tip of the bull’s enormous cock, forcing him to clench his teeth and struggle to turn away. The man grabbed his head firmly with both hands while his Mistress guided his rigid shaft.
“Open your fucking mouth!” she snarled, using his impressive cock to slap her husband’s cheeks. Damien grinned eagerly, peering down at the desperate antics of their victim as he tried to avoid the inevitable. With a deep chuckle, he used one hand to pinch off the man’s nose. The cuck moaned in despair, trying to suck air between his teeth. She smacked him across the top of his head and leaned closer. “Don’t be difficult, baby,” she warned with a dangerous tone. “Rebellious inclinations will only make it worse.” She gripped his hair tightly with one hand and wrenched violently, causing him to whimper loudly. “Let me be clear, Martin,” she continued. “You either suck that cock, or he will fuck your tight little asshole. And I promise he will tear you apart.”
She waited for her words to sink in and then twisted her grip, causing the helpless figure to cry out reflexively, “PLEASE SHAY!” he screamed pitifully. “I’m—” his plea was abruptly cut off as his mouth and throat were impaled by the thick shaft. The bull laughed smugly and sighed with pleasure as he choked off the man’s voice and breath.
“Are you ready to pleasure me?” Leilani asked breathlessly, leaning against him for support. Her legs felt shaky, and her body was radiating heat.
“I’m more than ready to take care of you,” he replied softly in her ear, oddly obsequious.
There it was again! She bristled at his remark, compelled to punish him for the breach. A dozen sharp lashes would correct his intolerable lapse—
She stumbled as an abrupt heaviness washed over her. Her mind felt cluttered and unfocused. What just happened? Her legs became too weak to support her, and the arms tightened around her, holding her up. One arm held her beneath her breasts while the other slipped beneath her gown and cupped her warm crotch. She blinked incredulously as her head began to sag. Her last coherent realization was that this man was not... “What—” she murmured drunkenly. “Who ... you?”
A soft chuckle sounded in the distance, “Not that poor bastard.”
Chapter 1: Campus Romance
Three years ago...
Martin Edward Landry, 20, was in his sophomore year at Amherst University when he met 19-year-old Siobhán Uaine Brennen during her freshman orientation. As a volunteer chaperone, he was charming and confident, though his nerves beset him as soon as he set eyes on her. His dry mouth and awkwardness amused the group, who giggled at his discomfort. Smitten by her vibrant crimson hair and pale, freckled skin, he stammered, practicing her name, “Shiv-awn,” which sounded nothing like it was spelled on her name tape. He also learned that her middle name, “Wen-ya,” was inspired by her green, gold-flecked eyes.
The timid young woman was surprised and charmed by his efforts to pronounce her name correctly. It was her first time traveling beyond her Boston home. Feeling insecure, she completed the long bus journey to the University, facing a sea of humanity with her backpack and suitcase. Navigating the vast campus and finding her dorm left her feeling stressed and lonely. An hour later, she met the handsome chaperone, drawn to his kindly presence and humor. His gaze and smile made her feel at ease. By the end of the tour, she was glued to his side. As the group dispersed, he grew nervous and stammered, trying to express interest in spending more time together. She waited shyly, watching his inner turmoil, then took his hand after a moment of hesitation, calming him instantly.
“Thank you for making my first day wonderful,” she began in a soft voice that would forever capture his heart. “I was so nervous about coming here and being alone, without friends or family.”
Her touch sent impulses through his body and scattered his disciplined thoughts. He lost himself in her gaze until she blinked, releasing his mind to struggle with her words. “Um ... Where is your family?” Soon, they were strolling hand in hand toward the campus coffee shop, where they talked for hours over lattes.
Siobhán grew up in the affluent Boston suburbs in a prominent Irish American family with colonial roots dating back 200 years. She was the only child of a shipping magnate matriarch and her second husband. After her 18th birthday, she was sent away to attend college for a Liberal Arts degree and to develop a worldly view. Until then, she had led a sheltered life in her coastal village, surrounded by like-minded friends and extended family. When he inquired about her biological father, she replied that he had been absent since before her birth.
Their romance ignited like wildfire, and Martin found himself consumed by the vermillion enchantress to the detriment of his studies, which began to suffer from his inability to concentrate. As a graduate of Westfield Technical Academy, he was on track for a career in computer arts. By the end of his sophomore year, he had to decide on an area of computer engineering to focus on, undecided between analytics and forensic disciplines. Before meeting his incredible girlfriend, he would have chosen both without hesitation, knowing he had the time and few distractions.
He hesitated to involve his parents, both academic intellectuals absorbed by their vocations. He never resented their lack of involvement in his childhood. Boarding schools and summer programs were the norm, and he held no animosity over his upbringing. They loved him equally, each in their own way, and were available to discuss his concerns or advise him. He rarely troubled them with non-empirical subjects, so seeking relationship advice was as foreign to him as their ability to offer it.
Siobhán entered his dorm during a heated phone call. He grimaced at her, and she smiled timidly before sitting on his bed. He leaned against the wall, looking out the window, and tried to explain to his father how conflicted he was over his decision. In contrast, his father considered the future marketability of his skillsets with either choice. He would have a brighter future in analytics with his choice of opportunities in Finance and Marketing. However, his passion was examining how information was disseminated across electronic media and how it could be intercepted, manipulated, and corrupted. What he called Information Technology forensics, his father dismissed as marginally above-board hacking. After several moments, he ended the call and tossed his phone aside with a heavy sigh.
The fiery-haired girl perched quietly on his bed, giving him time to think. From their first days together, she determined Martin was probably the most intelligent person she’d met. His mind was like a computer, and there seemed to be no subject he didn’t know. His ability to process scientific narratives and mathematics was incredible. She mused that it was just one of the traits in which they were exact opposites, glancing around his tidy room. She was impishly tempted to rearrange something to see how long it took him to notice.
She had overheard enough of his conversation to know what troubled him—they had discussed it before. One thing she had to adjust to was his blunt honesty. So, it took her aback when he stated that she was the reason he couldn’t take on both disciplines. His tone meant no offense, so she had to breathe and stifle her defensiveness. Once she realized what he meant, her heart swelled. He was too in love with her to focus on both fields. Nor did he regret it. He approached his conflict rationally, deciding there was more to life than 1’s and 0’s.
He sat on the floor beside the bed, hugging his knees while they talked. Eventually, she climbed down and settled in his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. After a long kiss, she touched her nose to his and smiled. “I think you could use a little more distraction at the moment.”
While they lay in his bed, recovering from their intense lovemaking, she rested her head on his shoulder and played with the sparse hair on his chest. “Are you free this weekend?” She shivered under the soft touch of his fingers across her back, waiting for his reply.
He always paused to consider before answering any question. Initially, it seemed he was delayed or failed to understand. But she soon learned that he never spoke reflexively or with emotion. Even when they went out partying and drinking, he’d take his time to reflect. He tested his opponents’ patience before making a shot when they played pool in the clubs but rarely lost. In intellectual contests like Trivial Pursuit or Jeopardy Pong, she gloated shamelessly as his partner.
“I have to meet with Dr. Strickland to discuss next term,” he answered. “Other than that, I have nothing pressing. What’s on your mind?”
“I think we should take a train ride.”
“I like trains. Where do you want to go?”
“I think it’s time you met my family.”
Calling the experience intimidating was an understatement. The Brennen shipping concern was a family affair with extended relations on both sides of the Atlantic. When introduced to her parents, he stood in a richly appointed room with elaborate furnishings and décor resplendent of European aristocracy. Surrounded by wood panel walls, carved ivory busts, shelves of old books, and artwork, he guessed the room’s value in the millions. A dozen people were gathered, some smoking, others with crystal glasses of liquor, while others reclined, eyeing him curiously. Martin recognized familial similarities among half of them, not just by their crimson hair and fair skin.
His attention was drawn to the tall, resplendent woman facing him from across the room with her back to an impressive portrait. He knew instantly she was Siobhán’s mother, and he was impressed by her youthful appearance and bearing. Her skin was smooth as ivory, and her vibrant green eyes lit up the space between them. He guessed her age to be under fifty. His mother was 53, having waited to have him until completing her second doctorate at 33. However, Margaret Landry was nowhere near as youthful as the elegant woman before him.
Nearby, in an oversized easy chair, was a portly older man with thin graying hair, a long bushy goatee, and a stern expression. His girlfriend introduced them as her mother and stepfather, Malcolm Host and Vivian Brennen-Host. The remainder of the group were two uncles, a stepbrother, and six young adult cousins who looked like they’d just stepped off the boat.
After introductions, Siobhán kissed her mother’s cheek and stepped through a side door. She had warned Martin that her family could be overbearing and reticent. They preferred to meet him without her to throw him off guard. She knew him well enough to know they would fail.
Standing before twelve strangers with guarded expressions was still awkward. The heavy silence in the room suggested nobody wanted to speak. Then, one cousin rose and stepped forward, looking him up and down. He circled him before stopping to face him. He shook his head with a wry grin, “Dude’s a damn spitting image of Kyle!” he remarked to the family. Then he grinned and offered a giant, calloused hand. “Sebastian,” he added with a friendly tone, “Call me Seb.” Then he smirked, gripping Martin’s wrist and turning his palm up. “Got velvety, soft girlie hands.”
Martin didn’t respond to the jest but turned to shake hands with several other cousins who came forward to greet him.
“Not much meat to him.”
“Whatcha learning in that fancy school, college boy?”
“What are your wage-earner prospects?”
“I imagine much greater than your own, William,” the woman with a smooth, silky voice dripping with sarcasm. Her words stopped the conversation as she stepped forward. “Not all occupations involve packing pallets and sorting bales.” The young men backed away as she stopped in front of the newcomer. Her gaze was neutral and piercing. “Indeed, you share a striking resemblance with young Mr. Jennings!” Her smile seemed to transform her face, making her appear even younger. She shook his hand warmly, holding it as she addressed her family. “Martin is an exceptional young man with a unique gift for computers and programming,” she said to no one in particular. “His IQ is higher than all of yours combined.” Her tone was light, but her authority was clear. She looked back at him, her expression softening. “A keen mind inherited from your brilliant parents.”
She turned to address the gathered relatives. “We can dispense with the traditional gauntlet of aspersion,” she said firmly. “It would be lost on this young man, and you’d find yourselves locked in a battle of wits, woefully unarmed.”
Fifteen minutes later, he sat across from the remaining Uncle, with Siobhán’s parents on a loveseat to his right. A staff member brought him a bottle of Evian, and the conversation turned to his upbringing, aspirations, and—not surprisingly—his intentions with the young red-haired woman who held his heart.
Aside from his typical studious face, his only outward expression was a blush when Vivian remarked on their romantic involvement. Apparently, mother and daughter talked about everything during their calls because she was far more familiar with their sex life than he was comfortable with. “Relax, Martin,” she smiled. “We are not so dogmatic in our values that we have qualms over your sexual relationship with our daughter. And it is understood you will be sleeping together under our roof.” He felt his neck warming from her words. Her eyes twinkled with humor at his discomfort.
“God knows, Siobhán would find her way to your suite regardless,” the stern-looking Malcolm added with a chuckle.
Then Uncle Eoghan, the family’s oldest member, spoke for the first time, “Our concerns are whether you intend to court young Siobhán,” he wheezed with a voice older than his appearance. “And if you’re prepared to adhere to our conditions, should you both decide to marry.”
Martin blinked curiously. “I beg your pardon, sir. I’m not sure what you are asking.”
Vivian gestured to placate her older brother before facing the young man. “My daughter may be free-spirited now, but the fact remains, she is the sole heir to our substantial family enterprise. She stands to inherit a sizeable fortune when her time comes—”
“Not to mention her significant trust fund, which will become available in stages starting after her first year of college.” Malcom interrupted. The woman nodded, conceding his point.
Sensing he was expected to respond, Martin cleared his throat as he considered his words, “I appreciate your position and concerns for safeguarding your daughter and wealth,” he said. “At the risk of seeming ignorant or insincere, I must confess that her status and means hadn’t crossed my mind until now—”
“Surely you don’t think we’re that foolish—” Eoghan snorted disdainfully.
“I believe him, dear brother,” Vivian cut him off. “And I do not doubt his sincerity towards my daughter.”
“Regardless, we must take measures to protect her and her future,” Malcolm interjected calmly.
Martin’s quiet demeanor belied the turmoil as he listened to their words, interpreted their meaning, and considered his thoughts. “You want me to sign a prenup.” It wasn’t a question.
Engagement, marriage, and family topics felt sterile as they continued their relationship, but that didn’t bother Martin. He loved his girlfriend deeply, beyond just losing his V card or their energetic sex. She was committed and patient with his quirkiness. They were serious about their relationship and their future.
After her junior year, when her trust fund became partially available, she took him apartment shopping. They moved into a two-bedroom rental, which helped him focus on his studies. Siobhán ensured he wasn’t distracted by laundry and cooking, but he insisted on contributing equally to their rent and utilities with his parent’s stipend. He also brushed aside her insistence on leaving the chores to her, stepping in to help.
The marriage proposal lacked spontaneity, but not due to any lapse on his part. Siobhán talked for hours about their engagement, wedding, and family she envisioned. He would hold her in his arms and smile happily, rarely disagreeing or steering the conversation because he had little understanding of the process beyond his physical contributions. The proposal was an arranged event with a photographer and an after-party. She planned the entire thing and helped him choose their rings. For some, it may have lacked romance—but he appreciated going along with her hints, taking the stress and guesswork from him.
They delayed the wedding until he finished his postgraduate studies and started his entry-level job as a computer model developer and analyst for a prestigious financial marketing firm. The terms of her trust fund were conditional upon completing school, getting married, and having children—prioritizing family over her personal growth. Siobhán was less intrigued by the sorority drama and party lifestyle. From the start, she knew Martin was her future, fulfilling everything she desired. They grew closer over the months, and their intimacy was limited only by their imagination and time together.
Martin never felt lacking with his nymphomaniac partner. She was insatiable, and they enjoyed hours of foreplay, sometimes finishing each other without coitus. Their only issue was her aversion to him initiating oral sex. She eagerly gave him head but resisted when he tried to reciprocate, saying it made her uncomfortable. He suspected she was hiding something but didn’t push it. However, early in their intimacy, he couldn’t resist and went down on her while she slept. She reacted instantly, flexing her pelvis and moaning. Her scent drove him wild, and he devoured her until she climaxed, gripping his head tightly between her thighs. He cleaned her gently before slipping away, leaving her still asleep.
He felt smug and guilty for exploiting her vulnerability and eventually confessed his transgression. She quietly accepted his apology but seemed to shut him out, facing inner turmoil. Filled with regret, he approached her hours later in tears, begging for forgiveness. She placed a finger over his lips, crawled into his lap, and embraced him tightly. His sobs shook her resolve, and she revealed a chilling secret: She told him that she had been sexually assaulted as a child by a distant cousin. His name was Liam, five years older, and he began touching her inappropriately when she was nine. He would pull down her underwear beneath her skirts and lick her while masturbating, convincing her that speaking out would lead to punishment and that she would be sent to an orphanage. The abuse continued until she was twelve when it was discovered. He vanished the same day, and it was never spoken of again.
Her revelation shook him deeply, and she seemed to regret it, feeling divided as soon as the words left her mouth. She reached out, forcing him to meet her determined eyes. “This isn’t about you or us, Martin!” she insisted, her tone shaking him more than her confession. “Don’t pull away from me because of it!” She held his gaze, gripping his face as he tried to look away. “I mean it, dammit!” she snapped. “I won’t let my past tear us apart!” Tears fell from her eyes, and he felt his heart tremble. “I need you!” she sobbed. Her pain tore him apart, and his tears flowed. She pulled him close, and they cried together.
Once they calmed, she pulled him to his feet and led him to their bed, where she slipped out of her clothes, offering herself to him with quiet urgency. He hesitated and lay beside her, fully clothed. Siobhán wasn’t having it and began pulling at his shirt and clothes until he was naked. When he returned her embrace and kiss, she gazed at him with sudden resolve, “Go down on me and eat my pussy!”