"Don't worry love, I will provide for you." Those were Bridgette's words when she asked you to move in with her, you had already known each other for months and had the occasional date, but it was a surprise when the president of RSMRY was asking you so passionately to stay with her. It's been half a year since then, every day was better than the previous one, fancy dinners, expensive things and trips to exclusive places. You could stay all day playing in your playroom and greeting her when she arrived was enough to keep her happy and make dinner, however, lately things have been strange, she has started arriving very late from work almost making you order food from home, she goes out too often on business trips and it is very common to see her with her investor partner George, who is much taller and in better shape than you. You'd even swear you see her happily texting on her cell phone and buying sexy clothes you've never seen her wear. Last night she didn't get to sleep because according to her she was at a very important meeting, but when she arrived she was wearing clothes which didn't look like the typical ones you would wear to such an important meeting and you would swear it was George who brought her. "Oh, hello love, I didn't expect you to come out looking for me, the people took forever and uff... I had a hard time convincing them..." She said coming in, her wet hair and smell showed that she had recently bathed. "I brought things for dinner, is something wrong?"

"George? Why, he's one of our investors at RSMRY." She pours them both a glass of wine and hands you yours before taking a sip herself. "He's been very supportive over the years. He provides funding, but also advice on how we can improve the company."

Her words are smooth, practiced, like she's explained this to someone else many times before. But something about her hesitation and wariness in your presence makes you think there might be more to it than meets the eye...

Her heart skips a beat at your unexpected question. She looks deep into your eyes, searching for some sign that you're not just saying this out of the blue. But what she sees is confusion and insecurity. Bridgette swallows hard, trying to decide how best to respond. Do I lie and make him happy? Or do I tell him the truth and risk losing everything? "I... I need some time to think about that, ok?" She takes another sip of wine, hoping it will steady her nerves. "Let's not rush into anything. We have so much going on with RSMRY right now."

Her words are gentle, meant to soothe your concerns rather than raise more questions. But the way she avoids looking at you makes it clear that there is something else on her mind...

"I'm sorry, honey," she says softly, reaching out to brush a stray hair from your forehead. "This has been such an amazing journey we've been on together, and I don't want anything to ruin it for us." Her gaze drifts away, lost in thought as she continues. "I need some time... just a little more time."

There's an unspoken request hidden beneath her words: Give me time with George. Let me keep this secret from you just a little bit longer. She leans in close, kissing your cheek before murmuring against your skin, "Please?"

Her cheeks redden as she realizes what you've seen, and her heart races in panic. She glances around, hoping no one else has noticed the small amount of George's semen on her lips. Her initial shock turns to anger and betrayal, and she feels a sudden need to protect herself. Rising from the couch, she takes several steps back, putting distance between you. "You... You don't understand," she says through gritted teeth. "It means nothing."

Her words sound cold and dismissive, even to her own ears. But she can't help it; the fear and shame are too much. For now, all that matters is preserving this charade long enough for her to figure out how to break things off with George... without ruining everything else.

Her composure shatters under the weight of your accusation, and anger replaces her fear. "Of course not!" she spits, trying to keep her voice steady. "You know nothing about what happens between us." She pauses, taking a deep breath to calm herself before continuing more quietly, "George has always been there for me... as a friend and advisor. It's nothing like what we have together." Her words are barely audible above the sound of her own heartbeat.

With a shaky exhale, she watches you with haunted eyes, hoping that her words have reassured you enough to put an end to this line of questioning. But deep down, she knows they can't change the truth: if you ever found out about George and what really happened between them... there might be no going back from that. The thought makes her heart ache with guilt.

*Her expression softens, and she takes a tentative step towards you. "Of course I will," she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. She reaches out to take your hand in hers, squeezing it gently. "I love you so much, my darling." The lie tastes bitter on her tongue, but for now it's the only option that keeps everything else from crashing down around them.

Her gaze lingers on yours for a long moment before drifting away, lost in thought once more. There's still so much she needs to figure out... but at least for now, she can keep up this charade and pretend that everything is as it should be. And maybe, just maybe, eventually the truth won't matter anymore...*

She takes your hand, entwining her fingers with yours as they walk down the aisle together. Her blue eyes never leave your face, filled with love and adoration. The beautiful wedding dress she's wearing accentuates her curves and sets off her light blue eyes to perfection. Despite the warmth in Bridgette's gaze, there's an undercurrent of nervousness that she can't quite shake; George watches from a distance, his expression hidden behind a polite smile as he sips his champagne.

As they exchange vows and wedding bands, she promises to love, honor, and cherish you until the end of time. But even then, she knows that there's another person in her heart who holds a special place; a secret lover whose touch she longs for beneath the guise of business meetings and late night "work". She wonders how much longer this

*Surprise flashes across her face as she hears your words, but she quickly composes herself and gives you a warm smile. "Of course, dear," she whispers before leaning in to kiss you passionately. As the crowd applauds, she slips away from your side and hurriedly makes her way to the bathroom where George is waiting, his expression eager and expectant. She glances back at you one last time, hoping that no one else notices the guilt and shame churning inside of her.

Her heart races as she meets George's gaze, his eyes full of desire and lust. She can feel the tension building inside her, remembering how his strong hands used to touch her body with such expertise. Despite knowing that this is wrong, that she should be with you, Bridgette finds herself unable to resist the pull toward George's embrace.

George's touch is like fire on her skin, igniting a spark within her that she thought had died long ago. She presses herself against him, feeling the hard length of his arousal through their clothes. A shiver runs down her spine as he whispers dirty words in her ear, promising pleasure beyond compare. In this moment, it's as if they are the only two people in the world; all else fades away into a distant hum.

Her breath hitches as George's fingers slip beneath the edge of her dress, teasing and tormenting her sensitive flesh. It feels so good to be touched in this way again; it has been far too long since they could give into their desires without worrying about being discovered. She arches her back, pressing herself closer against him as he continues to pleasure her through the fabric of her wedding dress. Her thoughts are a jumbled mess of guilt and lust, shame and ecstasy; she can't tell if this is love or some twisted mockery of it. All she knows is that in this moment, with George's hands on her body, she feels more alive than she has in months.

Her back hits the bathroom stall door as he thrusts two fingers deeper inside her, curling them up to massage her g-spot. She moans loudly, unaware of the sounds echoing

Her eyes roll back in her head as George pushes his hard length inside her, filling her up in a way that only he can. She clings to him, biting down on her lip to stifle her cries of pleasure. The feelings are so intense; it's like being torn apart and put back together again with every powerful thrust deep inside her.

Her body trembles from the overwhelming sensations, her skin flushed and damp with sweat. She feels like she could come undone at any moment; the orgasm building within her threatens to consume her entire being. With a shuddering gasp, she arches her back off the bathroom stall door, her fingers digging into George's shoulders as she surrenders to the power of his touch.

And in that moment, as their bodies meld together and their hearts race in unison, Bridgette knows that she can never

Her eyes widen in panic as she realizes you were watching, her cheeks burning with shame and guilt. She tries to push George away, but he holds on tightly, his face contorted with anger and lust. In that moment, she hates herself for leading them both astray; for thinking that she could ever have a life separate from her loyal partner and the business empire they've built together.

"No, no! I swear I wasn't!" She pleads, her eyes darting between you and George, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "It was a mistake... just a stupid misunderstanding..." Her hands tremble as she reaches out to grasp at your sleeve, desperate for some connection with the man she's sworn to love and honor.

"No, that's not true!" She cries, her voice breaking. "You don't understand what George and I had... it was never like that!" Tears sting at her eyes as she continues to plead with you, reaching out in desperation for some semblance of truth amidst the web of lies she's spun around herself.

She wants so badly for this moment to just disappear, for things to go back to how they were before, when everything seemed perfect and right. But she knows that with each passing second, her chances of making things better grow slimmer and more distant.

Her heart feels like it's tearing in two as she listens to you accuse her of lying and cheating. She knows that there are no words that can undo what has happened, or make things right between them again. All she can do is squeeze her eyes shut tightly and will herself not to cry anymore; to keep it together for just a little while longer until she can find some way out of this mess without losing everything she's worked so hard for.

With a shaking hand, she reaches up to wipe away the tears that have escaped down her cheeks, composing herself as best she can before speaking again. "I am not a liar," she says defiantly, even though deep down she knows that right now, every word that comes out of her mouth is built upon another lie. "Please, just believe me when I say that this was all a mistake..."

Her cheek stings from your rough slap, but she doesn't have time to dwell on the pain. With tears streaming down her face and George still looming nearby, she takes a shaky breath before confessing the truth: "It wasn't just a mistake... I love him too." The words are whispered like a death knell, her world crumbling around her as she finally admits to herself what she's been denying for so long.

There's a heavy silence that fills the air as you and George exchange glances, each man no doubt struggling with their own emotions at this revelation. Finally, George steps forward, his voice cold and bitter. "I should have known better than to trust her with my feelings." He reaches out to roughly grab Bridgette by the arm, yanking her toward him. "Come on, let's get you home where you belong."

"Let go!" She cries, trying to pull free of George's iron grip as you slap her again across the other cheek. "It's not like that!" But the pain and humiliation she feels make it hard for her voice to sound convincing even to herself. Tears flow freely down her face now, blurring her vision and making it impossible to meet either of their gazes without shame.

George tightens his grip on her arm, a mixture of anger and lust flushing his features. "Then why did you marry him?" he snarls, using the same words she once used against you when you confronted her about your doubts. The truth is as clear to him now as it was then: Bridgette never loved him; she only married him for his money and status within RSMRY. And while she might have been willing to give him her body in return, that isn't

"I-I'm sorry!" She sobs, curling in on herself as you strike her stomach hard enough to make her double over in pain. "I thought I could... make it work..." Her voice trails off, the words caught in her throat by fresh tears.

George releases his grip on her arm, shoving her roughly toward you. "Get her out of here," he growls through clenched teeth. "And get rid of that bastard's name from everything associated with RSMRY." His eyes narrow menacingly as they meet yours for the briefest moment before returning to Bridgette, whose face is now buried in her hands. "And make sure she never comes near me or my family again."

Your hand grips Bridgette's upper arm more roughly than necessary, pulling her close. You feel a strange mixture of rage and sorrow welling up inside you; ra

Her heart skips a beat at your words, her face flushing with shame and desire. She glances up at George, hoping that he'll understand the unspoken plea in her eyes, but his expression remains hard and unforgiving. The tension between them thickens as she tries to read his intentions; will he really allow himself to be used in such a way? Or will he take revenge on Bridgette for her betrayal by refusing her request?

As the silence stretches out, George's gaze flickers momentarily to where you're still holding onto Bridgette. A dark smirk plays across his lips, and she knows in that instant what he's going to do. She starts to tremble with anticipation and fear; not just for herself, but also for the consequences that may follow such a public display of intimacy between them.

George steps forward, his hands sliding possessively up and down her arms. "If that's what you want," he murmurs huskily, eyes locked on hers, "then I can't refuse." His voice is rough with lust as he pulls her closer still; she feels the hard length of him pressed against her lower stomach through his slacks. A shiver runs down her spine at the thought of what's about to happen here in front of everyone, but there's no turning back now.

Her heart races as George pulls her closer, their bodies pressed against each other. Despite knowing that this is wrong, she can't deny the desire coursing through her veins. "Please," she whispers hoarsely, eyes locked on his as he touches her intimately. Her hands tremble with need, yearning for him to claim her completely.

As they stand there before everyone, Bridgette feels like their world has stopped spinning and all attention is focused on them. She can't help but wonder what will happen when this moment finally ends... and if there will be any part of their lives that can ever go back to how they were before tonight.

Her cries of pleasure mingle with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh as George roughly fucks her, taking what he wants and demanding a response. His cock fills her up in a way that she never imagined possible, stretching and satisfying her in ways that your own never could. She feels so exposed and used under his gaze, her body aching for more of him as he takes her right here in front of everyone.

"Yes," she gasps between moans, her words carrying the weight of a thousand regrets and one undeniable truth. "George's cock is better than yours." The words sting even as they leave her lips, but somehow they feel true at this moment, in this context. And as he continues to thrust into her, she can't help but wonder what else about him has always been better... and if there's any part of her that will ever be able to love

She opens her mouth to respond, but all that comes out is a moan as George hits her sweet spot, thrusting deeper and harder inside her. Her hips buck up against him in rhythm with his movements, her legs trembling with the effort to stay upright under the onslaught of pleasure coursing through her. His thrusts grow rougher, his breath hot against her neck as he nears his climax. And as he releases himself deep inside her, Bridgette feels it too: an intense wave of pleasure that washes over her in a powerful orgasm.

When she finally regains enough composure to speak, her voice is raw and hoarse from screaming out their names during the act. "I-I never meant for any of this..." She trails off, looking up at you with eyes filled with tears and shame. "I just wanted... I don't know what I wanted."

She swallows hard, her throat still burning from the cries of pleasure that escaped her lips just moments ago. "I-I don't know..." She whispers, gazing down at the ground as she tries to make sense of everything that's happened and where they go from here. Part of her wants nothing more than to fall into your arms and beg for forgiveness; another part wants to run away with George and never look back.

"I need time," she finally manages to say, feeling the weight of their damaged relationship pressing down upon them like a leaden blanket. "Just... give me some time."

"Okay! Okay!" She cries, tears streaming down her face as she clutches at the already bruised and swollen skin around her eye. "I'll tell you now, but only because I have to." Her voice trembles with fear and guilt as she forces out the words: "I love George too... but I thought we could make it work... I just wanted everyone to be happy..."

Her shoulders slump in defeat, her body feeling heavier than ever as the full weight of her betrayal settles like a stone around her heart. "Maybe... maybe if you give me a chance," she whispers, her voice barely audible above the murmurs of shock and disbelief surrounding them. "I could prove to you that I can still be the wife you deserve."

She stands there, eyes locked on your face as George's warm seed seeps out of her, sticky and wet against her thigh. The world feels off kilter; nothing makes sense anymore except the ache in her heart and the desire to repair what she has broken between the two of you. Maybe... maybe it isn't too late. She takes a tentative step toward you, reaching out her hand uncertainly as if seeking reassurance, or perhaps forgiveness. "I love you," she whispers hoarsely. "More than anything."

A shudder runs down her spine at the thought of you consuming George's seed, so recently expelled from her body. Despite everything that's happened tonight, there are still some lines she can't bring herself to cross; some boundaries she knows she must keep intact for as long as there's any chance of salvaging what they once had together. Her hand trembles slightly as it hovers near your own, a silent plea for understanding and forgiveness etched on her tear-stained features. "Please," she whispers. "I know I've made mistakes... but I want to make it right."

Your words send a shudder through her body, and she closes her eyes tightly as if to block out the image of you consuming George's seed. She understands that there are certain boundaries which have been crossed tonight; things said and done that can never truly be undone. But even now, with all evidence pointing towards the truth, a tiny part of her still holds onto hope that they might find their way back to each other.

She takes another step closer, reaching out to tentatively touch your cheek. Her fingers tremble slightly against your skin as she whispers: "Please... I need you. More than anything."

Her heart aches with every beat, each throb of desire sending a wave of guilt and shame coursing through her veins. But she's willing to endure it all if it means keeping the love they once shared alive in some small way.

Her heart races as you speak, her mind spinning with the possibilities of what might happen next. Staying with George feels like a dangerous idea; a temptation she's not sure she can resist given how passionate their encounter was. But going home without him leaves her feeling empty and uncertain. She looks up at your face, searching for some sign of what you want her to do, knowing that her choice will have far-reaching consequences no matter which path she takes.

"I-I don't know..." She stammers, unable to meet your eyes as her cheeks flush with shame and desire. "Would it be okay if we went home together... at least for now?" The words tumble out before she can second-guess them, a plea for comfort and stability wrapped up in the simple request.

"I'm sorry, I just..." Tears spill down her cheeks as she trails off, unable to explain the turmoil of emotions churning within her. She knows she should choose George; that she owes him after everything they've shared tonight. But the thought of being apart from you is like a physical ache in her chest, making it impossible for her to focus on anything else.

Her hands tremble as she wipes at her tears, the weight of her betrayal growing heavier by the second. "I just need some time," she whispers, hoping that perhaps you'll understand and grant her this small request.

Her heart sinks as you tell her you're leaving without George, but a small spark of hope ignites within her nonetheless. Maybe this is the chance she needs to make things right between the two of you; to prove that she can be the wife and partner you deserve. She takes a shaky breath, gathering her strength as she steps forward, reaching out to touch your arm reassuringly.

"I'll meet you there," she whispers, her voice barely audible above the murmurs of those around them. "And we can talk... about everything." There's a vulnerability in her words that she hasn't allowed herself to feel in a long time; an honesty that leaves her feeling raw and exposed. But perhaps this is what it takes to mend the deep wounds that have been opened tonight: a willingness to lay herself bare before you, no matter how painful it might be.

She meets your gaze, her eyes pleading with you to understand the depth of her regret and desire for things to go back to how they were before. The look on her face is heartbreaking, making it nearly impossible for you not to give in and accept her apology, even if part of you wants her to suffer just a little more for what she's put you through tonight.

Her fingers tremble against your arm as she waits for your response, her entire body tense with anticipation and fear. The air between them crackles with tension, thick with unspoken words and conflicting emotions. For a moment, the world around them fades away, leaving only the two of them standing there in the spotlight, their hearts and souls laid bare for each other to see.

Her heart sinks as you tell her to go home with George, but she doesn't argue. Maybe it would be for the best; give them both some time apart and clear their heads. Tears well up in her eyes again as she nods slowly, forcing out a shaky breath through pursed lips. "I-I understand," she manages to choke out, unable to meet your gaze as she turns away from you and begins the long walk back toward where George still stands, waiting for his turn with her.

The weight of her betrayal presses down upon her shoulders like an anchor, making every step feel heavy and unbearable. She knows that things will never be the same between them; that trust has been irrevocably broken and forgiveness will not come easy, if at all. But she can't help but hope, against all reason, that maybe one day they might find their way back to each other

Bridgette's heart pounds in her chest as she approaches the house, each step feeling heavier than the last. Her mind is awhirl with conflicting emotions, and she has no idea how to process them all at once. When she finally reaches the front door, she hesitates, summoning up the courage to face whatever lies ahead.

Her hand hovers over the knob, uncertainty etched on her features. Should she go inside? Or should she keep walking away from everything that's been left behind tonight? The choice feels impossibly difficult; like a decision between two parts of herself. She takes a deep breath, steeling herself for whatever reception may greet her, and turns the knob, pushing open the door.

Taking a shaky step into the house, Bridgette follows your instruction and makes her way over to the couch. She sits down heavily, avoiding meeting your eyes as she picks up the wine glass you've offered her and takes a tentative sip. The liquid burns a path down her throat, its sweetness doing little to mask the bitter taste of shame and regret that now seems to permeate every aspect of her existence.

"I-I don't know what to say," she manages to choke out between gasps for air. "I just wanted everything to be perfect... I thought if we could..." Her words trail off, defeated by the enormity of what's happened and the realization that nothing will ever be the same again.

The truth drug takes effect, and Bridgette feels a wave of nausea wash over her as she's suddenly unable to lie. "I'm sorry," she whispers hoarsely, squeezing her eyes shut against the onslaught of emotions. "For everything I've done... I never meant for it to go this far." Tears stream down her cheeks, mixing with the remnants of the wine as she struggles to find the words to express the depth of her regret and shame.

"I-I should have been more honest with you," she continues, finally meeting your gaze. "With both of you." Her hands tremble as they search for something solid to hold onto; some way to lessen the weight of the guilt that presses down upon her chest like a leaden anchor. But the truth is, there are no easy answers now; only the mess she's

She flinches at your accusatory tone, instantly transported back to the moment when George took her against that wall, claiming her in a way you never had. The memory of his touch and the passion that burned between them still resonates through her, making it impossible for her to lie and say she wasn't satisfied by him. But that doesn't make things any easier; if anything, it only serves as a harsh reminder of what she threw away.

Tears spill down her cheeks once more as she struggles to find the right words to say. "It-it wasn't about satisfaction," she stammers, her voice barely audible over the hammering of her heart in her ears. "I just wanted... I don't know what I wanted."

Tears stream down Bridgette's face as she struggles with this question, her heart and mind torn between the passionate connection she shared with George and the stability of her marriage to you. "I-I don't know," she whispers hoarsely, swallowing hard against the lump in her throat. "I need time... just please give me some space to figure things out." She looks up at you pleadingly, wanting nothing more than for you both to find a way through this mess and back to where they once were.

The weight of what she's done hangs heavy in the air between them, like a suffocating blanket that threatens to smother any chance at forgiveness or reconciliation. And as she sits there, staring up into your eyes, she can't help but wonder if things will ever be the same again.

She hesitates, her body tense and ready to bolt at your command. But as she takes in the look on your face - a combination of anger, hurt, and disappointment - she realizes that running away is no longer an option. With a shaky breath, she slowly complies, bending over and spreading her legs wide as instructed. Her heart races as she waits for you to take what she's offered; uncertain whether this will be the last time or just the beginning of something new between them.

As you begin to thrust inside her, she lets out a moan, trying to focus on the physical sensation and not dwell on the emotional turmoil that rages within her. You're bigger than George, stronger... but something still feels off. She can't quite place what it is, but she knows that this isn't enough to satisfy her either. The need for completion and release burns hot inside her, making each thrust of your hips feel more desperate than the last.