Submission's Secret Watch

The rain hammered against the windows of the study, a relentless percussion accompanying the uncomfortable silence between us. The remnants of the ransacking still lay scattered across the plush Persian rug – ripped fabric, shattered glass, and the lingering scent of stolen valuables. My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs, a frantic counterpoint to the methodical clicks of Benjamin’s steps as he meticulously surveyed the damage. The security cameras, strategically placed by my own husband, now watched us, silent witnesses to our vulnerability.

“It’s… thorough,” he finally said, his voice low and measured, as he turned to face me. His eyes, usually filled with warmth and amusement, held a calculating glint as he assessed the scene. “They took everything of value, the jewelry, the emergency cash. But they left you nighties out in the open. A little taunt, perhaps?”

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat making it difficult to speak. The thought of those silk negligee, meticulously chosen for their allure, carelessly displayed felt like a fresh insult, a blatant disregard for my privacy. It was a cruel reminder of the violation, a twisted commentary on the violation itself.

“They left the toy box too,” he continued, his gaze lingering on the scattered contents of the box – vibrating rings, feather ticklers, and a miniature horse dildo. Each item was a testament to our shared, secret indulgences, now exposed and defiled. My cheeks burned with shame and humiliation. The image of those items scattered across the floor felt like an accusation, a silent judgment of my desires.

Benjamin moved closer, his presence looming over me like a protective wall. He gently took my hand, his touch sending a shiver down my spine. “I’m sorry, Mary Beth,” he murmured, his voice laced with genuine remorse. “I should have anticipated this. I should have installed a more robust system.”

“It’s not your fault,” I whispered, pulling my hand away slightly. “They were professionals. They knew what they were doing.” My voice trembled, betraying my inner turmoil. The shame was still overwhelming, but beneath it, a flicker of defiance began to ignite. This was their victory, but it wouldn't define me.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said, pulling me to my feet. “I’ll take you to my sister’s house. We’ll assess the situation, and then we’ll upgrade the security system. You deserve to feel safe, and I intend to make that happen.”

The drive to his sister’s was filled with an uneasy tension. The rain continued its relentless assault, mirroring the storm raging within me. As we pulled up to the sprawling suburban house, a sense of relief washed over me, followed by a fresh wave of anxiety. A new setting, a new environment, but the experience still haunted me.

His sister, Sarah, greeted us with a sympathetic smile and a comforting embrace. The house was clean, modern, and impeccably maintained, a stark contrast to the chaos we had left behind. Yet, even in this haven of tranquility, I couldn’t shake the feeling of vulnerability.

“You can stay here tonight,” Sarah offered, pouring us each a glass of wine. “It’s no trouble at all.”

“Thank you, but I’d prefer to stay with Benjamin,” I replied, my voice still shaky. The thought of being alone, without his protective presence, was unbearable.

As darkness fell, Benjamin began the task of reinforcing our security measures. He installed new fingerprint locks on the doors, motion sensors in every room, and a state-of-the-art surveillance system that covered every angle of the property. The control hub, located in the master closet, connected to our phones, allowing us to monitor the house from anywhere in the world. It was a tangible expression of his commitment to my safety, a fortress built around our love.

“Now, let’s get to the fun part,” Benjamin said, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. He retrieved a new set of nighties, each one more daring and alluring than the last. As he stripped me naked and laid me on the bed, I felt a surge of both excitement and trepidation. This was a new experience, a shared act of transgression.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to film you,” he whispered, gesturing towards the strategically placed cameras in our bedroom. “To capture your essence, your desires, your every move.”

My breath hitched in my throat. The thought of being vulnerable on camera, exposed to the world, was terrifying. But as I looked into his eyes, I realized that this was not about judgment or exploitation. It was about intimacy, about sharing our darkest secrets and our most passionate desires.

“Let’s do it,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.

The first few minutes were awkward, filled with hesitant touches and stolen glances. But as we embraced, the tension began to dissipate, replaced by a primal urge that demanded release. He started by exploring my body with his hands, tracing the curves of my breasts, the sensitivity of my nipples. Then, he moved lower, his touch becoming more insistent, more demanding.

The cameras captured every moment, every breath, every shudder. The recording would serve as a testament to our shared experience, a record of our transgression. But for now, all that mattered was the present, the intoxicating sensation of being completely consumed by desire.

As he began to penetrate me, my screams of pleasure filled the room, drowning out the rain outside. The cameras continued to roll, documenting our descent into ecstasy. With each thrust, my body convulsed, my muscles tensing, my breath coming in ragged gasps. He pushed deeper, forcing me to the brink of oblivion, before pulling out just as I lost consciousness.

When I awoke, Benjamin was still there, holding me close. The recording was complete, a digital archive of our intimate encounter. We watched it together, laughing and crying, reliving the experience with a shared sense of both shame and exhilaration.

As we finished watching the video, I realized that this experience had not diminished me, but rather enhanced my sense of self. The violation had left a mark, but it had also forged a deeper connection between us, a bond of trust and understanding that could never be broken. The security cameras, once a symbol of vulnerability, now served as a reminder of our shared transgression and our unwavering love.

Did you like this story? Submission's Secret Watch look, but like these, here Story taboo sex.