Magenta humiliated her husband in front of his co-workers and friends. She hadn't done it on purpose.
Agreed to be humiliated in return, Magenta waits, hands and feet tied together, as her husband gathers more men than she's ever been with to their bedroom for the show.
Will she survive entertaining so many men? More importantly, how long can she hide how much she enjoys being defiled this way?
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AN EXCERPT FROM "HUMILIATE HER"
Magenta pulled at the ropes binding her wrists together. Rough fiber pinched at her skin and rubbed it raw.
She sucked back the running in her nose—from crying as Malcolm tied her up and the other men leered at her. But they left her in the bedroom. Locked her in, not that she could go far with the rope around her ankles. Magenta found a corner between the bedside table and the wall, toes wiggling in the squares of sunlight.
After long stretches of silence and abrupt bursts of boisterous cheers. Her nerves twitched her muscles, pulling a shriek from her when her husband kicked the door open. The looks on the line of men behind him scared her.
She’d humiliated him without meaning to, but she had nonetheless. And part of her apology was her own taste of humiliation. Magenta had agreed to this, but did she know what she’d been getting into?
They advanced slowly as she sobbed. The fear clinging to her with the crawling anticipation of pain.
Half a dozen sets of hands grabbed and lifted her from the floor, pulling at her clothes as they tossed her on the bed.
Malcolm gave a slow, methodical speech about what she’d done to him—emasculated him. He tore open her leggings at the crotch, making her hips jerk off the bed. His fingers rubbed against her panties.
Magenta wriggled back, useless. The other men were too close. Leering.
You like it.
He ripped her shift off her, tearing it nearly in two, and grabbed and squeezed her breasts. Squirming under his grasp, she tried to pull her arms around herself but was quickly grabbed by two other men, pinning her hands above her head.
Legs kicking, she wished she’d never agreed to this.
More hands halted her kicks, untied her ankles, and spread her thighs wide for Malcolm. Magenta’s whimper made her husband grin down at her. His fingers probed the tear in her leggings, pressing her panties in deeper and rubbing her core until her hips shifted without her consent. A taste of pleasure rolled through her before he crawled up her body, straddling her waist and chest.
The others released her, and her arms were pinned between his knees. The weight of him had her mouth parted, panting.
His thumb pressed along her lower lip, dipping in to spread salt over her tongue.
"That’s a good girl. No teeth.”
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