Zainab's slutty confession (fm:adultery, 9331 words)

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The bus ride to Mr. Ben's estate was filled with curious stares from men whose gazes lingered longer than was appropriate. I pulled my shawl tighter around my chest, willing myself to ignore the way their eyes traced the curves hidden beneath layers of fabric. My father, seated next to me, remained oblivious, lost in his own thoughts.

Mr. Ben's house was imposing, standing like a fortress with its high gates and manicured gardens. When we rang the bell, a woman named Charlene, the maid, greeted us and led us into a living room filled with dark leather and the scent of polished wood.

Moments later, he appeared. Tall and commanding, Mr. Ben was more imposing than I'd imagined. His shirt stretched across a chest that spoke of strength, a trimmed beard framing a mouth that seemed both stern and inviting. His dark eyes locked onto mine for a moment longer than necessary, making my pulse quicken.

"Uncle," he said warmly, addressing my father before turning to me. "And this must be Zainab." His voice was smooth, but there was an undertone that sent a shiver down my spine. "Welcome."

We sat down, and the conversation flowed easily between him and my father. But I felt his eyes on me, like a weight that was both unsettling and strangely thrilling. At one point, our eyes met, and the corner of his mouth lifted in the faintest smile.

"Don't worry, uncle. I'll take good care of your daughter," Mr. Ben said, a shadow of something unspoken passing between us. My breath caught, but my father didn't notice. It was just me, sitting there with a heart that wouldn't stop racing.

Chapter 2: The Interview The living room was grander than anything I had ever stepped into. The polished mahogany table reflected the sunlight streaming through the tall windows, casting a warm glow across the room. I sat upright in one of the heavy, leather chairs, my hands folded neatly in my lap, trying to appear composed. The soft ticking of a clock punctuated the silence as my father spoke with Mr. Ben.

Mr. Ben sat across from us, his presence filling the space between words. He leaned back slightly, fingers laced together as he regarded me with eyes that seemed to know far more than they should. My father's voice faded into the background, pride evident in every syllable as he spoke of my schooling, my engagement, my future. But Mr. Ben's gaze remained fixed on me, dissecting me in a way that made my skin feel too tight.

"So, Zainab," Mr. Ben said, breaking the spell, "I understand you graduated with top grades. Mathematics, literature... even business studies?" His voice was smooth, like silk brushing over skin.

"Yes, sir," I replied, my voice softer than I intended. I swallowed, willing myself to hold his gaze. "I worked hard in school."

"Good. I appreciate dedication," he said, letting the pause between us stretch out. His eyes dipped just slightly, trailing the line of my jaw down to where my pulse beat visibly in my neck. "Dedication goes a long way."

My father nodded enthusiastically. "Zainab is very responsible, Mr. Ben. She'll make you proud."

Mr. Ben's smile was a flicker of something deeper. "I have no doubt." He shifted forward, the chair creaking as he rested his elbows on his knees. "Tell me, Zainab, are you comfortable working long hours, even if it means sacrificing personal time?"

The question seemed innocent enough, but the way his eyes narrowed as he asked it made my breath hitch. "Yes, of course," I managed, pressing my hands tighter together to steady myself. "I'm willing to do whatever is needed."

A subtle nod, a hint of satisfaction. "Good. You'll find that dedication is rewarded here." He turned to my father, his voice returning to a warmer, more detached tone. "Uncle, you can rest assured that she'll be in good hands."

"Thank you, Mr. Ben," my father said, a relieved smile lighting his face. He reached out and patted my hand with a gentle squeeze, oblivious to the tension humming in the room.

Mr. Ben's eyes flicked to where my father's hand rested on mine, a muscle in his jaw tightening briefly before he smoothed his expression. "Zainab, we start tomorrow. Charlene won't be here, so I'll greet you myself. I'll walk you through the projects we're working on—it'll be valuable experience."

"Thank you," I said, unable to mask the tremor in my voice. His gaze felt heavy, like a touch that lingered far too long.

As we stood to leave, my father clapped Mr. Ben on the back, exchanging a few final pleasantries. But I felt Mr. Ben's attention settle on me once more, his eyes saying something I couldn't quite decipher. It was only when we reached the door that he spoke one last time, his voice softer, just for me.

"Don't worry, Zainab. I'll make sure your transition is... seamless."

A shiver ran down my spine, and as we stepped outside into the warm sunlight, I couldn't shake the feeling that something had already shifted. My father's voice was a murmur next to me, but my mind was back in that room, replaying the way Mr. Ben's gaze lingered and the way my heart had raced under it.

Chapter 3: The First Day The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over my room as I stood in front of the mirror. My heart thudded with a nervous rhythm, anticipation coursing through my veins. The steam from my shower still clung to my skin, and I could smell the delicate rose essence that lingered in the air. I let my fingers trace over my arm, feeling the smoothness of my freshly shaven skin, an act of preparation that felt more significant today.

I slipped into my long, conservative dress, its fabric brushing against me like a whispered reminder of my modesty. Yet, beneath the layers, my body felt charged, every nerve alive with an energy I couldn't quite place. I shook my head, dismissing the thought, and took a deep breath before leaving the house with my father.

As I adjusted the edges of my shawl, ready to step out, my father appeared at the doorway, his eyes softening with a mixture of pride and weariness. The morning light highlighted the lines etched deep into his face, each one a testament to years of sacrifice. He placed a hand on my shoulder, the weight of it familiar and comforting.

"Zainab," he said, his voice low and steady, "today marks a new beginning for you. You deserve this chance. Work hard, make me proud, and remember, everything I've done has been for you."

A pang of guilt lanced through my chest, sharp and sudden. I met his gaze, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach my eyes. "I will, Baba. I promise."

The bus ride was quiet except for the occasional chatter and the hum of the engine. I felt the stares of men I passed, their eyes lingering a moment too long, making my pulse quicken. The attention was nothing new, yet today, it seemed to seep under my skin, leaving a strange heat in its wake. I shifted in my seat, pulling my shawl tighter as the city streets blurred by.

Mr. Ben's estate loomed before us, an imposing structure that seemed to watch us as we approached. My father's pace slowed as we reached the iron gate, his eyes scanning the grandeur with a mix of awe and nostalgia. He turned to me, giving me a reassuring nod before leaning in and pressing a warm, fatherly kiss to my forehead. "Go on, Zainab. This is your moment," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. With one last look, he stepped back, his figure retreating down the path as I stood alone, heart pounding, and the weight of his trust settled deep in my chest. I walked to the house and before I could steady myself, the door opened.

Mr. Ben stood there, dressed in nothing but a bathrobe that hung loosely around his frame. The sight of him stole the breath from my chest. His dark eyes, sharp and intent, met mine, and a small smile tugged at his lips as he took in my wide-eyed reaction.

"You're early, Zainab," he said, the deep timbre of his voice sending a shiver down my spine. "But that's good. Shows commitment."

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...," I stammered nervously.

"Not at all," Mr. Ben said smoothly, stepping aside to let us in. "Please, make yourself comfortable. Zainab, feel free to make some tea if you'd like."

The air inside was warm, still suffused with the scent of polished wood and something deeper, something that felt inherently him. I moved to the kitchen, my hands shaking slightly as I set the kettle to boil. The quiet was heavy, broken only by the soft sounds of the water heating. I reached for a teacup, focusing on the rhythmic dip of the tea bag in the steaming water, willing my nerves to calm.

"Good idea," Mr. Ben's voice came from behind me, closer than I expected. I stiffened as he reached over my shoulder to grab a cup, his chest brushing against my back. The warmth of him seeped into me, making my breath catch. The thin fabric of his robe grazed my arm, and I felt the hard outline of his cock pressing against my lower back. It was a fleeting touch, but the proximity and the silent weight of the moment left my skin tingling. The room seemed smaller, the air heavier, as I struggled to steady the sudden rush of my heartbeat.

I swallowed hard, trying to focus on the tea as he lingered for a second longer before stepping back. My heartbeat drummed a relentless rhythm in my chest as I turned and found his eyes on me, a glint of something unreadable within them.

"Shall we get started?" he said, and I nodded, my voice lost to the chaos inside me.

The office was quiet when I returned, the computer screen humming softly as I tried to familiarise myself with the work. I leaned slightly over the table, scanning through the pages of text, when I felt a presence behind me. My breath stilled, and before I could move, Mr. Ben's arm reached around me, fingers deftly guiding the mouse to scroll through the document. The scent of him, woodsy and rich, enveloped me, and the closeness made my skin prickle.

"You're a fast learner, aren't you?" he whispered, the warmth of his breath fanning over my cheek.

"I—I try," I managed, my voice trembling. The room seemed to shrink around us, the air thickening with something I couldn't name but felt in every inch of my body.

"Good. No need to be so tense," he said, his voice low and coaxing. "I want you to feel... comfortable here."

His hand lingered for a second, the back of his fingers just brushing against mine, and the touch sent a jolt of heat through me. I stood frozen, torn between stepping back and leaning into the strange, thrilling warmth that spread through my limbs.

And then, just as suddenly as he'd come, he stepped away, leaving me in the silent echo of my pounding heartbeat and the question that hung between us—unasked and unanswered.

Chapter 4: Crossing the Line The air was thick with an unspoken tension, charged from the moment Mr. Ben entered the room. I could feel him before I saw him, his presence a steady thrum that made my pulse quicken and my fingers tremble as they hovered over the keyboard.

"Working hard, I see," his voice cut through the silence, deep and velvety. I looked up, startled, to find him standing close behind me, too close. The scent of his cologne—a mix of cedar and something else I couldn't place—wrapped around me, making my heartbeat thunder in my ears.

"Yes, sir," I managed, my voice barely steady.

He leaned down, one arm bracing on the table as his face came level with mine. His breath brushed my cheek, sending a shiver down my spine. "Good girl," he murmured, and my skin flushed at the warmth that flooded my body.

He reached forward, his arm grazing mine, as he took hold of the mouse. The slight touch sent a jolt through me, the thin sleeve of his shirt teasing against my skin. I swallowed, trying to focus on the document on the screen, but the awareness of him behind me was overwhelming. My curvy butt pressed against the chair as if to anchor myself, but I felt an undeniable ache stirring within, a heat pooling low in my belly.

"Do you know how rare it is to find someone with your... dedication?" His voice dropped as he spoke, each word carefully chosen. He turned slightly, and I felt it—firm and unmistakable. The outline of his cock pressed against my lower back, making my breath catch and my face burn.

"I—thank you," I stammered, my throat dry and tight. My mind screamed at me to move, to create space, but my body betrayed me, rooted to the spot as the room shrank around us.

His fingers traced the edge of the mouse, but his eyes were on me. "There's something I've wanted to tell you since you walked in yesterday," he said, his voice low and intimate. He tilted my chin up with a single finger, forcing my gaze to meet his. "You're more beautiful than you realise, Zainab."

Heat surged through me, my heart pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it. "I—um, thank you," I whispered, my eyes darting down in embarrassment, only for him to lift my chin higher.

"You don't need to be so shy," he said, his voice soft but commanding. "I want you to feel at ease here, comfortable enough to let me guide you."

A wave of confusion and something darker—something thrilling—coursed through me. My body was tense, but a shiver of anticipation pulsed under my skin. When his lips grazed the shell of my ear, I let out a soft gasp, my chest heaving with the effort to control my breathing.

"No one needs to know," he whispered, his breath hot and teasing. "What we do here stays between us."

I tried to respond, to muster up words of reason, but my mouth felt dry. The throb between my thighs intensified, an ache that made me press them together instinctively. The flush spread from my face down my neck, seeping through me like wildfire.

"I... I have a fiancé," I finally whispered, the words weak even to my ears. My protest felt flimsy against the pull of his touch, the weight of his hand now resting lightly on my shoulder.

"And what he doesn't know won't hurt him," Mr. Ben replied, a smirk tugging at his lips as his hand slid down the curve of my arm. "Think about what I can offer you, Zainab. The world at your feet, without any compromise. Just you, me, and moments like these."

I closed my eyes as his words sank in, my mind spinning with the dual pull of loyalty and temptation. The room seemed to tilt, and before I could stop myself, I felt the faintest nod of assent.

The moment stretched between us, charged and suffocating. His hand shifted, and I felt his lips trail along my neck, sending a shiver that made my body vibrate. My fingers dug into the desk, caught between resistance and surrender. And then, just as I felt myself slipping, he pulled back, leaving me cold and breathless.

"Think about it," he said, his voice smooth and confident, the promise hanging in the air as he pressed closer instead of pulling away. His grip on my arm tightened, firm yet careful, as though giving me the chance to step back but daring me not to.

I stood frozen, the ache between my legs intensifying as his presence loomed over me. The weight of his words pulsed through my body, and a warmth I had never felt before pooled low in my belly, leaving me trembling. My pussy throbbed, a sensation so foreign yet insistent that it made my breath hitch. The office around us blurred, the only reality being his touch and the way my body responded, betraying every whispered promise of loyalty I clung to.

Chapter 5: The First Taste The room was steeped in silence, but the air between us pulsed with an unspoken intensity. My breath came in shallow gasps, each one catching in my chest as Mr. Ben's gaze met mine. It felt like a tether, binding me to this moment, to him. His hand lingered on my arm, firm and unyielding, and I knew that stepping back was no longer an option. This was all new to me—every touch, every stolen breath—because I had never been intimate with Tahir. The thought sent a rush of guilt mixed with excitement through me, the knowledge that what I was feeling now was my first taste of desire, raw and uncharted.

The first touch of his lips against mine was softer than I expected, coaxing rather than demanding, drawing me in with an unexpected gentleness. My heart raced, each beat pounding in my ears, drowning out any thoughts of resistance. He pulled me closer, his hands firm on my waist, pressing me against him until the space between us disappeared. The warmth of his body seeped into mine, wrapping around me like a blanket of fire that spread through my veins, igniting a blaze in places I had never known could burn so fiercely. His mouth pressed more insistently, deepening the kiss as his fingers traced the curve of my back, urging me to respond. My lips parted with a tentative sigh, surrendering to the heady mix of fear and yearning. The rough scrape of his stubble against my skin sent shivers down my spine, and I felt my breath catch as the heat pooled low in my pussy, leaving me trembling in his hold.

As the kiss deepened, Mr. Ben's grip shifted, and before I realised what was happening, he guided me backward toward the chair in the corner of the room. He sat down smoothly, pulling me with him until I was straddling his lap. The sudden shift sent a rush of heat through me, and my breath quickened as I felt the firm outline of his cock pressing against my pussy. The sensation made me freeze for a moment, my mind caught between the shock of the intimacy and the pulse of desire that was impossible to ignore.

His hands moved to my hips, holding me in place as he looked up at me with a gaze that was both patient and hungry. "Trust your instincts, Zainab," he murmured, his voice low and coaxing. The sound of it sent a shiver through me, and before I could think, my body responded on its own. I shifted slightly, the friction sending a bolt of pleasure through me that made my eyes flutter closed.

A soft gasp escaped my lips as I began to move, a slow, tentative rhythm that matched the pounding of my heartbeat. The pressure of his cock against me, separated only by the fabric of our clothes, stoked a fire that spread through my body. My hands found his shoulders, gripping them as if they were the only thing grounding me in that moment. The heat between us grew, every small movement amplifying the ache that had begun to consume me, leaving me breathless and trembling as I let instinct take over.

When he pulled back, just enough to let me catch my breath, his eyes searched mine, dark and hungry. "Let me show you something you'll never forget," he whispered, his voice sending a shiver down my spine.

Before I could protest—before I could even think—he lifted me effortlessly, placing me on the desk. The cool wood beneath me contrasted sharply with the heat of his touch as he slid my dress up, exposing my trembling thighs. My fingers gripped the edge of the desk, knuckles turning white as anticipation coursed through me, making my skin tingle.

His hands traced the line of my legs, spreading warmth wherever they touched. When his fingers brushed against the thin fabric that covered my pussy, I gasped, a sound that felt foreign on my lips. No one—not even Tahir—had touched me like this before. The realisation made my cheeks burn with a mix of shame and thrill.

With deliberate slowness, he removed my panties, letting them slide down my legs and fall forgotten to the floor. The cool air kissed my exposed skin, and I felt a blush spread over my entire body, my pulse quickening as I looked away, unable to meet his gaze.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, and before I could process the words, I felt the warmth of his mouth on my inner thigh, moving up in a trail of soft kisses that made my legs tremble. The first touch of his tongue against my pussy made my whole body jolt, a cry escaping my lips before I could stop it. The sensation was unlike anything I'd ever imagined—wet, hot, and electric, sending sparks skittering up my spine.

My head fell back, eyes closing as waves of pleasure built steadily, each flick and swirl of his tongue drawing sounds from me that I barely recognised—soft whimpers that turned into gasping moans, filling the room with a rawness I'd never known. It was overwhelming, my body responding with a desperation that felt foreign yet irresistible. I was lost in it, in the tension coiling tighter and tighter inside me, until it snapped, releasing in a rush that left me shaking and breathless. It was my very first orgasm, and the force of it took me by surprise, leaving me trembling and flushed. My body vibrated with the intensity, my hands grasping at the desk as though it could anchor me to reality, moans escaping my lips as I rode the last waves of pleasure.

When I opened my eyes, Mr. Ben was standing, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from my face. The satisfied gleam in his eyes made my chest tighten with conflicting emotions—shame, excitement, and the realisation that I wanted more.

"This is just the beginning, Zainab," he said, his voice rich with promise. The words sank into me, making my heart pound anew, the remnants of my first taste of true pleasure leaving me raw and exposed.

As I slid off the desk, adjusting my dress with shaky hands, I avoided meeting his gaze. My legs felt unsteady, my body still buzzing from what had just happened. The room seemed different now, the air heavier, and I knew that nothing would be the same again.

Chapter 6: The Temptation Deepens "Dress up, Zainab. We have to meet a client," Mr. Ben said, his voice smooth but with an edge that left no room for question. I blinked, trying to steady my breathing as the last waves of what had just happened washed over me. My fingers shook as I adjusted my dress, pulling it back into place while the reality of the moment settled deep into my bones.

Minutes later, we were in his car, the hum of the engine vibrating beneath me as the city stretched out in a blur of lights and shadows. The silence between us was heavy, the echoes of my heartbeat filling the space. I dared a glance at him, his profile sharp and unreadable as he steered us into the underground parking lot of a shopping complex. The dim, flickering lights cast long shadows across the concrete, making the space feel secluded and secret.

He shifted the car into park and turned to face me, the intensity in his gaze making my breath catch. "Zainab, I need to know something," he said, his voice low and deliberate. "Are you willing to go further? I told you, there's so much I can offer you. You just need to trust me."

A nervous flutter danced in my stomach, guilt and desire warring inside me. "Mr. Ben, I... I'm getting married soon. I can't do this," I whispered, but even I could hear the hesitation, the wavering conviction in my voice.

His eyes softened, a smirk playing at his lips as he leaned closer, fingers tracing a line down my arm that made my skin tingle. "Your virginity, Zainab—it's yours to keep. I won't take that from you. But there are other ways, other things we can explore that will make you feel alive like never before. And no one has to know." He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing. "Think about the life we could have, Zainab. The comfort, the freedom. Think about your father—how much he sacrificed for you, how he deserves to know his daughter is taken care of, independent, and thriving. This is more than just a moment; it's an opportunity."

The air grew heavier, and my pulse pounded in my ears. His words wrapped around me, pulling at a part of me that had remained untouched, curious, and restless. I swallowed hard, nodding almost imperceptibly.

Mr. Ben's eyes darkened, locking onto mine with a look that sent a shiver down my spine. He leaned in, his breath warm against my cheek as he spoke, each word deliberate and heavy with promise. "Zainab, if you say yes, you become mine—my property, sexually. It will be intense, and passionate, unlike anything you've known. But if you don't want this, if you're unsure, you can step out of this car now, and we'll never speak of it again." He paused, letting the silence amplify the weight of his words before continuing. "But if you choose to stay, understand that you'll be mine in every way, except for your virginity. That, I promise, will remain untouched."

A tremor ran through me as his words settled deep into my chest. Something was awake inside me, something I had kept buried beneath layers of propriety and duty. It pulsed now, fierce and insistent, making my breath hitch and my skin flush. I knew the weight of what I was agreeing to, the lines I was about to cross, but the pull was stronger. My heart pounded as I met his gaze, my voice barely a whisper. "Yes," I said, the word trembling on my lips but resolute. "I want to know."

"Good girl," he said, his voice sending a shiver down my spine. He reached for my hand, guiding it to the bulge pressing against his pants—his cock. My fingers hovered, uncertain and trembling as my heart raced wildly. "Go ahead," he coaxed, his tone smooth and commanding.

I closed my eyes, feeling the hard outline beneath my touch. It was warm and pulsed with a life that made my breath catch. Moving instinctively, I wrapped my fingers around it, the fabric separating us doing little to dampen the heat that surged between my legs. The rhythm came haltingly at first, an unsure dance that found its pace as Mr. Ben's low groans encouraged me.

"That's it, Zainab. Just like that," he whispered, the roughness in his voice igniting something in me. The act felt foreign, wrong, but the rush it gave me, the power, was addictive. His hand moved to the back of my neck, guiding me lower as he whispered, "Taste me. Let me show you what you've been missing."

With trembling fingers, I reached for his waistband, the air between us charged with a tension that made my pulse thrum. Mr. Ben's eyes never left mine, dark and watchful, as I fumbled to undo the button and slide down the zipper. The moment felt suspended, every sound amplified—the rustle of fabric, the hitch of my breath. When his pants fell open, his cock sprang free, huge and veined, the sight of it making my cheeks burn with both embarrassment and a rush of something deeper, more primal.

It was the first time I had ever seen a cock up close, so real and tangible that it made my breath catch in my throat. It moved slightly, throbbing with a life of its own as my fingers brushed against it, warm and pulsing under my touch. The weight of it in my hand felt foreign yet electrifying, sending a shiver down my spine. My cheeks burned with embarrassment, but the rush of something darker, more primal, stirred within me, urging me forward. The moment was surreal, a mix of fear and a strange, heady thrill that left me trembling as I held him, feeling the heat radiate against my palm.

My heart thudded as I hesitated, the moment stretching unbearably. But the pull was stronger, a deep ache that made me lean forward. My lips met his cock, and the warmth shocked me, the taste unfamiliar and bold. Each movement was tentative, my tongue exploring while the sound of his satisfaction resonated through me, pushing me further. With each pass of my mouth, his cock grew slick, coated with a sheen of saliva that glistened in the dim light. His groans deepened, rough and low, vibrating through the air and making my skin tingle with a mix of pride and embarrassment.

As his cock throbbed against my tongue, the sensation was overwhelming, each pulse making my heart race and my breath hitch. It felt alive, warm and insistent, spurting faintly as I moved, my lips stretched around it. Just seconds before he came, I could feel the tension in his body peak, a low groan escaping him that sent a shiver down my spine. When he did come, the taste was new and surprising, coating my senses as I followed his command to swallow. A strange heat spread through my cheeks as pride and embarrassment mingled, leaving me flushed and breathless. I sat back, adjusting myself, unable to meet his eyes as the reality of what I'd just done settled over me.

"See, Zainab? You're already learning," he said, his thumb brushing across my flushed cheek, leaving a trace of his touch that made my heart flutter with a mix of shame and anticipation. His hand moved lower, pressing gently against the thin fabric of my panties that hid my pussy. The dampness there betrayed me, soaking through and making my face burn with embarrassment.

"You're soaked," he murmured, eyes glinting with satisfaction. "Take them off, and let your pussy breathe freely." The command hung in the air, making my heart pound with both fear and excitement. I hesitated, the weight of the request sinking in, but before I could react, he hooked his fingers into the waistband and slid the panties down my thighs. The cool air kissed my exposed pussy as he brought the fabric to his nose, inhaling deeply before slipping them into his pocket.

"Perfect," he whispered, the word sending a shiver down my spine. I felt a surge of shyness, my cheeks burning, but an undeniable thrill coursed through me at the idea of being without my panties, exposed yet powerful in my vulnerability.

Chapter 7: The Lingerie Shop Just hours ago, I was a faithful fiancée, a devoted daughter untouched by anything outside my sheltered world. Now, I felt the weight of new, forbidden experiences on my skin. The realisation that I had been eaten out by a stranger and had blown his big cock in a parking lot like a cheap whore coursed through me, sending a flush to my cheeks that refused to fade. Mr. Ben's presence next to me was overwhelming, the memory of his touch still warm and alive. My pussy ached in a way that made me shift uncomfortably, the aftershocks of earlier lingering.

We left the car in the underground parking, the click of my heels echoing in the quiet space as we walked toward the entrance of the mall. The cool air brushed against my skin, and the sensation of walking without panties made my steps feel bold and strange, a secret thrill racing through me. Mr. Ben's presence was steady and commanding beside me, a silent force that made my pulse race. The mall was alive with the hum of conversation and the soft glow of lights, a stark contrast to the quiet tension simmering between us. Each step heightened the anticipation twisting in my stomach, a reminder of everything that had led me here.

As we wove through the crowd, I felt the warmth of my flushed cheeks, my heart quickening with every stride. Finally, we stopped in front of an upscale lingerie shop, the name scripted in elegant gold lettering across the glass, both inviting and intimidating. My breath caught when Mr. Ben turned to me, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Come with me," he said, but I hesitated, the sudden question bubbling up before I could stop it.

"But what about the client?" I asked, my voice uncertain.

He smirked, a knowing smile that sent a shiver down my spine. "Which client?" he replied, the words hinting at the truth—that there had never been one. The realisation left me momentarily stunned, a flush of embarrassment mingled with excitement heating my skin.

I glanced at the shop, feeling shy and exposed, unsure about stepping inside. As if sensing my hesitation, Mr. Ben leaned in, his voice soft and persuasive. "Trust me, Zainab. You'll love it." The assurance in his tone left no room for doubt, and with a deep breath, I stepped forward, crossing the threshold into a new world.

The moment we stepped inside, the air changed—rich with the scent of vanilla and sandalwood, intimate and inviting. Delicate, lacy pieces were displayed on mannequins, each one more daring than the last. My cheeks flushed as I glanced around, the sheer audacity of it all making me feel exposed and vulnerable.

Mr. Ben moved with confidence, picking out items as though he'd done this a hundred times before. He held up a sheer bodysuit, letting it dangle from his fingers as his eyes traced the line of my body. "Try this on," he said, handing it to me, his tone leaving no room for debate.

I nodded, unable to speak as I slipped into the changing room. My fingers trembled as I pulled off my dress, the cool air brushing over my skin. The delicate lace felt strange yet enticing against my body, hugging every curve and revealing more than I ever thought I'd let anyone see. When I looked in the mirror, my breath caught. The girl staring back wasn't the modest, obedient daughter or the quiet fiancée. She was someone else entirely—someone powerful, desired.

The door clicked softly, and Mr. Ben stepped inside without warning, his gaze sweeping over me with approval. "Exquisite," he murmured, stepping closer until our reflections filled the mirror, side by side. His fingers traced the strap of the bodysuit, sending shivers down my spine. "This is who you are, Zainab. Not the girl who hides behind what she thinks she should be. Look at yourself."

My eyes met his in the mirror, and I couldn't look away. The weight of his words wrapped around me, challenging and true. Images of Tahir flitted through my mind—his dismissive tone, the way he never made me feel this seen. But here, now, I felt something shift, a realisation that I wanted this, wanted to be seen and desired.

"Think about what awaits you," he whispered, his breath warm against my ear. The promise in his voice made my legs feel weak, anticipation coiling low in my belly as I stood there, half-dressed in lace and surrender.

We left the shop with the bags in my hands, the delicate pieces inside feeling like symbols of this new path I was stepping onto. The girl I had been that morning felt distant, replaced by someone braver, someone who craved more.

The drive back was in silence, broken only by the soft purr of the engine and the faint click of Mr. Ben's lighter as he lit a cigarette. The scent of smoke curled around us, blending with the lingering traces of vanilla from the shop. I stared out the window, the city sights blurring past as questions crowded my mind, each one louder than the last.

What about Tahir? Was I doing the right thing? A pang of guilt twisted in my chest, but it was drowned out by the memory of Mr. Ben's eyes on me, the way he made me feel seen and desired, a sensation I had never known before. If no one knew, then no one would need to know. The thought settled in my mind, both a justification and a dare. I had the right to be free, to feel this power coursing through me, even if just for a moment.

Tahir would never know, I reassured myself, recalling Mr. Ben's promise that he would never touch my virginity. A part of me clung to that, seeing it as a boundary that kept this from being unforgivable. But what did he have in mind, really? Maybe it was just about these moments—this forbidden dance that left me breathless. Maybe it was just fooling around like this, nothing more.

I glanced at Mr. Ben, his profile shadowed and unreadable as the cigarette smoke drifted lazily around him. My heart pounded, anticipation twisting with curiosity. Little did I know that what awaited me back home would shatter the last remnants of my innocence and push me into desires I never dared to confess until... now.

Chapter 8: The Opening When we arrived home, Mr. Ben's hand lingered on my lower back as he guided me inside. The air was thick with unspoken tension, and my heart thudded with each step. He turned to me, his eyes sharp and commanding. "Go to the bedroom, Zainab. Put on the gifts and wait for me there," he said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips while slapping my ass gently.

A flutter of nerves shot through me, mixing with the simmering excitement I couldn't ignore. "Should I really...?" I started, my voice barely a whisper.

He tilted his head slightly, the look in his eyes daring and resolute. "Trust me. You'll look perfect, and I want to see you," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I nodded, cheeks flushed as I took the delicate bags and walked to the bedroom. The anticipation buzzed under my skin, making my fingers tremble as I turned the knob and stepped inside.

The room was quiet as I stepped inside, the delicate bags in my hand feeling heavier than they should. My heart raced, a mix of excitement and trepidation bubbling beneath my skin. The lace and silk of the lingerie whispered against my fingertips as I pulled them out, their sheer beauty making my breath hitch. The nighty was soft, the fabric clinging to my body as I slipped it on, molding to my curves in a way that felt both foreign and thrilling.

I caught my reflection in the mirror, eyes wide as I took in the sight before me. This was not the modest girl I had known all my life. This was someone bold, someone Mr. Ben had brought out of hiding. The thought sent a shiver down my spine, making me feel both powerful and vulnerable.

Before I could gather my thoughts, the door opened without a knock. Mr. Ben stepped inside, his eyes sweeping over me with an intensity that made my skin flush. He moved closer, the appreciative, almost predatory look in his eyes making my pulse quicken. "You're breathtaking, Zainab," he murmured, stepping behind me and tracing the line of my back with his fingers. The touch sent sparks of heat through me, and I found myself leaning into him.

"Do you feel how beautiful you are? How you make me feel?" he whispered against my ear. His hands slid over my hips, pulling me back against him, and I gasped at the contact. The warmth of his body ignited something deep inside me, a longing that I couldn't push away. His fingers moved lower, grazing my pussy, and a soft moan escaped before I could stop it. Shame battled with the rush of submission that coursed through me, but it was fleeting. The insistent pressure of his touch melted my hesitation, and I surrendered, letting him guide me into the pleasure.

He turned me to face him, lifting my chin until our eyes met. There was a question in his gaze, but I had no answer. Instead, he sat down, pulling me down to my knees before him. My heart raced, nerves tingling as he guided my hand to his big cock. It felt warm and solid beneath my touch, the weight of it sending a jolt through me. His deep groans filled the room, vibrating through me and making my cheeks burn. I hesitated, but the thrill of his reaction spurred me on, each movement making me feel more powerful in my submission.

"Good girl," he whispered, his voice rough and approving. The praise sent a shiver down my spine, making me bolder as I took him into my mouth. The taste, the warmth, and the sound of his satisfaction surrounded me, and I found myself lost in the moment.

He pulled me up, eyes dark with intent as he led me to the bed. My breath hitched, fear flashing across my features. "No, not this," I whispered, my voice trembling.

His gaze softened, fingers brushing my cheek as he reassured me. "I promised I wouldn't touch your virginity, and I keep my promises. But there's a way I can still have you." The words made my pulse race as he turned me, guiding me onto the bed. His touch was gentle but insistent, each movement measured as he explored the uncharted territory of my reactions.

He moved behind me, spreading my ass cheeks wide as his warm breath tickled my skin, sending shivers down my spine. A moment later, I felt his tongue press against my tight asshole, circling and pushing with a skill that made me moan out loud. The sensation was filthy, raw, and completely unexpected, making my fingers dig into the sheets as he worked me with his tongue, teasing and licking like he owned me.

Every flick and thrust of his tongue had me trembling, the slick, wet pressure building heat deep in my core. It was dirty, so dirty, but I couldn't get enough of it. The feeling of him eating my ass made my pulse race, each gasp leaving me more breathless than the last as he devoured me without hesitation, as if this was exactly where he belonged.

When he finally pulled back, my body was on fire, craving more. He lined up the thick head of his cock against my asshole, smearing the slickness he'd left behind. His grip on my hips was tight as he began to push in, stretching my tight asshole inch by inch. The burn was intense, almost too much, but the dirty thrill of being taken this way made me gasp, my body shuddering as he pushed deeper.

"Fuck," I whispered, the pressure making my head spin as he filled me. The stretch turned from a sharp ache into a wave of pleasure that had me panting, desperate for more. He started to move, each thrust sending a shock through my body as his cock slid in and out of my tight ass, relentless and deep. The sounds of our bodies, the slap of skin and my moans, echoed in the room as he pounded me harder, claiming me in a way that felt raw and primal. It was intense, dirty, and I was lost in the sensation, craving every rough thrust.

I couldn't believe the words coming out of my mouth, but there they were, spilling out like I'd been waiting all my life to say them. "I'm yours," I breathed, my voice thick with lust, the shame burning my cheeks as Mr. Ben's cock stretched my asshole wider with each thrust. The pleasure was maddening, raw and filthy, and I was hooked on every inch of it.

He gripped my hips tighter, his deep, gravelly voice sending shivers down my spine. "Good girl. Now show me how much you love being fucked like this." My heart thudded wildly, the words making me pulse with need. I shouldn't have loved it—Fuck, I shouldn't have—but there was no denying it. I wanted this. I wanted him to use me, to own me completely.

My body moved on its own, arching back to meet him, each stroke driving deeper, rougher, more desperate. "Please... more," I gasped, the filthy neediness in my voice making my skin flush. I felt the heat pooling low in my belly, the tension coiling tight until it was unbearable. His cock hit that spot, over and over, and my vision blurred as the room spun around me.

I clenched around him, every nerve on fire as I came hard, the climax ripping through me with such force that my cries filled the room. My body trembled uncontrollably, each wave of pleasure leaving me more breathless, more desperate for every last moment. I felt my asshole tighten around him, drawing a guttural groan from his chest as he buried himself to the hilt, taking every inch of my surrender.

His breathing grew ragged, each thrust losing its rhythm as he reached his peak. I felt him tense behind me, his grip on my hips almost bruising as he buried himself as deep as he could go. A low, guttural moan escaped his lips, and I gasped as the sudden warmth of his cum flooded my ass, thick and hot. The sensation sent a final shiver through me, making my body clench around him, milking every last drop as he emptied himself inside me.

The heat spread, trickling slowly as he stayed there, buried deep, until he finally pulled out. I bit my lip at the feeling of his cum oozing out, slick and warm against my most sensitive skin. The mixture of shame and satisfaction coursed through me, leaving me breathless and aching, the mess between my legs a reminder of just how completely I'd given myself to him.

I was still trembling, my body flushed and used, as I collapsed onto the bed, realising that nothing would ever be the same after this. And deep down, I knew I didn't want it to be.

Chapter 9: The Aftermath As I lay there, the remnants of Mr. Ben's touch still igniting my skin, my mind wandered to Tahir and my father. What would they think if they knew what I had become? This morning, I was innocent, holding on to the image of a girl they'd both be proud of. But now... now I was something else. A cheap slut, used and marked in a way that could never be erased. The shame clawed at me, battling with the wicked thrill that coursed through my veins.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to quiet the turmoil in my head, but the memories of how I'd moaned, how my body had betrayed me, flooded back. I wanted to feel regret, to hate myself for what I'd done. But there was something else, something stronger—an excitement, a dangerous exhilaration that made my breath catch. It pulsed through me, heating me from the inside out, making my core tighten with an unfamiliar anticipation.

Before I could sink deeper into my thoughts, the bed shifted, and the warmth of Mr. Ben's muscular body pressed against me. His chest was solid against my back, the sensation a grounding force that anchored me in this new, forbidden reality. His breath brushed my ear before his lips found mine, claiming them in a kiss that tasted of our shared sin, insistent and possessive.

"Welcome to your new world," he whispered, his voice deep and dripping with satisfaction.

A shiver ran through me, sending a pulse of anticipation straight to my core. His words echoed in my mind, resonating in places I didn't know existed. This was my choice—I was a whore, but I was his whore. The secret was ours alone, burning brighter than any guilt or shame that dared to linger. The thought of belonging to him, of being marked as his, stirred something fierce and wild within me.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto mine, dark and knowing. "No one has to know," he said, a slow, confident smile curving his lips.

I nodded, my breath shallow as the weight of what I'd chosen settled over me—not as a burden, but as an invitation.

Chapter 10: The Confession Looking back, that day marked the beginning of my transformation. It wasn't just a reckless moment; it was the start of a double life that would shape who I am today. I'm 27 now, married to Tahir, the man who still sees me as the devoted, innocent girl he fell in love with. To him, I'm the perfect wife—loving, supportive, and unwaveringly faithful. But Tahir doesn't know, and never will know, the depths of my desires or the secrets I keep.

Because even now, after all these years, I'm still Mr. Ben's PA, a position I've held not just in the office but behind locked doors, where I surrender myself completely to him. He's become a good friend of the family, trusted and respected, always around with a warm smile and a helping hand. But what they don't see—what they could never suspect—is what happens when the doors close, and the façade drops.

Mr. Ben still fucks me raw in every hole now, claiming every part of me like he did that first day and more. His hands, his words, his insatiable need are a constant reminder that I belong to him in ways no one else could understand. And when he decides to share me with his closest friends, I feel that same thrill I did all those years ago, only magnified. The excitement of being used, adored, passed between them as their dirty little secret—it fills a void in me that nothing else can touch.

I live for it, crave it, and cherish the life I now lead, one that straddles the line between the devoted wife Tahir thinks he has and the depraved woman I truly am behind closed doors. This is my confession, the truth I carry with a wicked smile. I am the perfect wife, and yet, I am so much more. Hidden in plain sight, I embrace every forbidden desire, every secret moment with Mr. Ben and his friends. And I wouldn't change a thing.

And who knows? Maybe soon, I'll share the rest of my story with Bella for her to write down—especially the night that set it all in stone, when I gave my pussy to Mr. Ben just minutes after being deflowered by Tahir on our wedding night. The beginning of a secret so dark, it still makes my pulse race.

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Hook writes Sat 2 Nov 2024 21:52:

Well written. Surely there must be follow-ons?

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