I Was Reverse-raped By A Lonely, Perverted Housewife Who Had Come For Hypnotherapy

Chapter 1: The Perfect Mask and the Lock That Was Opened

Su Wan was one of the most well-known high-society wives in the city.

Thirty-seven years old. Her husband controlled three listed companies. She herself regularly appeared at charity galas and on the covers of luxury magazines. Always dressed in precisely tailored beige suits, hair pulled back without a single strand out of place, her smile carrying just the right amount of elegant distance. Everyone called her “the perfect wealthy wife.”

I was a distant relative of her husband’s, occasionally called in to handle private matters that couldn’t be trusted to outsiders. That night she was home alone and had already finished half a glass of red wine. Using an old hypnosis book I had almost treated as a joke, I slowly guided her under.

“You’re very safe now… you’ll remember the things you’ve buried deepest, the ones you never wanted anyone to know…”

I only expected to dig up some repressed fantasies of infidelity, or quiet resentment toward her husband’s long-standing coldness.

Instead, the moment she opened her eyes, she was a completely different person.

Her pupils were slightly dilated. The refined curve of her lips slowly stretched into something almost cruel. She reached up and unbuttoned the first button of her suit, her voice low and hoarse, yet unnervingly clear:

“Someone finally opened that lock.”

She stood up. The jacket slid to the floor. Underneath she wore only a low-cut black silk camisole. Her full breasts rose and fell noticeably with every breath, the cleavage deep enough to swallow a finger. She walked over to me, straddled my lap without hesitation, and pressed her heavy weight down. Then she took my hand and placed it firmly on her chest.

“Did you think I would be shy? That I would cry and beg you to put me back?” She gave a soft laugh full of mockery and excitement. “Every day I wear proper clothes and sit on those expensive sofas, but what I’m really thinking about is being pinned to the carpet by a stranger and fucked until I can’t even cry. I want my face covered in cum. I want to be dragged out onto the balcony so the people walking below can clearly see me being fucked.”

She pulled the camisole down. Two pale, heavy breasts spilled out, nipples already hard. She guided my hands to knead them roughly, then leaned in close to my ear:

“Hypnosis only opened the door. The real me has wanted to be completely destroyed for a long time.”

Chapter 2: The First Night of Collapse

She gave me no time to hesitate.

Su Wan dropped to her knees, skillfully unfastened my pants, and took my already hard cock into her mouth. She sucked deep and dirty, her tongue deliberately working the most sensitive spots, making wet, filthy sounds. The elegant makeup of a high-society wife gradually smeared as she worked, lipstick spreading everywhere and dripping from the corner of her mouth.

She looked up, a strand of saliva still connecting her lips to me, her eyes frighteningly bright:

“Cum on my face. Then keep fucking me. I want you to treat me like the cheapest whore and fuck me until I forget my own name.”

I pushed her down onto the sofa. Her skirt was shoved up to her waist. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Her pussy was already a soaked mess, the lips slightly parted and twitching. The moment I thrust all the way in, she let out a long, slutty cry and wrapped her legs tightly around my waist.

“So deep… just like that… harder… ruin me…”

While being fucked she reached down to rub her own clit with one hand and grabbed one of her breasts with the other, trying to bring the nipple to her mouth. Every time I slammed into her deepest point she let out a near-sobbing moan, yet kept demanding it harder and deeper.

“I perform the perfect wife every single day…” she gasped, her voice completely changed, “but what I really want is to be fucked until I piss myself, to be filled until my stomach bulges, to be seen by other people in this state… I want to be destroyed. Completely.”

I sped up, pounding into her. The sofa creaked under the force. When she came her whole body convulsed, her walls clamping down hard as she squirted hot fluid across my abdomen. She didn’t stop. Instead she pushed herself onto me even more desperately.

When I finally came I poured everything inside her. She let out a long, almost sobbing cry of satisfaction, her body still trembling. Cum mixed with her juices ran down her inner thighs and dripped onto the expensive carpet.

She turned her head. Her makeup was ruined, yet her eyes were strangely clear, filled with something close to devout pleasure.

“Tomorrow… again,” she said, voice hoarse but firm. “In a worse way.”

Chapter 3: Cracks in the Daytime

The next day at noon I received a message from her.

Only one line: “Three o’clock this afternoon. The usual place. Wear what you wore yesterday.”

The “usual place” was a rarely used lakeside villa under her husband’s name. When I arrived she was already waiting in the living room. She still wore yesterday’s beige suit, hair perfectly styled, looking every bit the flawless high-society wife.

Until she closed and locked the door, then immediately lifted the skirt of her suit.

Still nothing underneath.

Her entrance was still slightly swollen, faint traces of yesterday’s cum still visible. She leaned against the door, spread her legs, and used her own fingers to hold her pussy lips open for me to see.

“This morning I attended a charity luncheon,” she said in a calm voice that carried a pathological excitement. “While sitting among those society ladies I kept thinking about the feeling of you cumming inside me yesterday. The cum slowly leaking out and soaking my underwear… I deliberately didn’t change.”

She walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, turned her back to me, braced her hands against the glass, and raised her hips.

“From behind. Hard. I want you to fuck me while listening to every detail of how I want to be destroyed.”

I did exactly that.

With every deep thrust she moaned and spoke:

“I want you to take me into a hotel hallway… so the staff can see me half-dressed with cum running down my legs…”

“I want to be blindfolded and delivered to a stranger’s room for him to use however he wants…”

“I want to stand in front of a mirror one day and see my stomach slightly swollen, knowing it’s full of someone else’s cum… and then still go to a banquet as if nothing happened.”

As she said these things her walls clenched tightly around me, juices continuously dripping down. When she came she could barely stand; I had to hold her by the waist to keep her from collapsing. Even in the aftershocks she turned her head, eyes shining:

“Not enough. Deeper. I want real cracks to appear.”

Chapter 4: Active Descent

On the third day she no longer waited for me to take the initiative.

She directly booked a room in a high-end hotel in the city center under a false name. When the door opened I saw she had already changed into something no high-society wife would ever wear— a black fetish corset that barely contained her heavy breasts, and below it only a thong so thin it barely existed, the fabric already darkened by her wetness.

She pulled me inside, locked the door, and immediately pressed a pair of handcuffs and a blindfold into my hands.

“Today I’ll be the one arranging things,” she said with a smile that no longer held any trace of daytime elegance. “I want you to cuff me to the headboard and cover my eyes. After that… you can do anything. Call someone else, record it, or fuck me until I piss myself—all fine.”

“I only ask for one thing—”

She leaned close to my ear, her voice soft and ruthless:

“Don’t stop. Not until I truly start to fear that I’m going to be completely destroyed.”

That night she was fucked until she was sobbing, creampied three times, her thighs covered in cloudy fluid. Between orgasms she kept demanding worse things, even pushing her phone into my hand so I would record her being reduced to incoherent moans.

Afterwards she lay on the ruined sheets, wrists still cuffed, chest heaving. Makeup completely ruined, hair a mess, looking thoroughly wrecked. Yet her eyes were filled with deep satisfaction, almost happiness.

“Tomorrow…” she panted, “I want to try the real outside.”

“Not a hotel. Somewhere people might actually walk past.”

“I want to almost get caught. I want that feeling of my heart about to leap out of my chest.”

Chapter 5: The Destination of Craving Ruin

On the fourth night she took me to an unfinished high-end residential construction site.

It was late. Only a few safety lights remained on the site. She wore a trench coat with nothing underneath. The moment she opened it, her mature, slutty body was fully exposed to the night air. She removed the coat completely, dropped it aside, then turned, braced her hands on a window frame that still had no glass, and presented her ass to me.

“Security patrols here occasionally,” she said, her voice trembling—not from fear, but from excitement. “If we’re seen… everything I have as a high-society wife could truly be destroyed.”

“But that’s exactly what I want.”

I entered her from behind. She let out repressed yet irrepressible slutty cries that echoed through the empty floor. Every time I slammed into her deepest point she pushed back harder, crying and speaking at the same time:

“Harder… make me ache when I walk tomorrow… make me sit at a banquet still feeling cum leaking out of me…”

“I want to be destroyed. Not just talking about it. For real.”

Just as she was about to cum again, distant footsteps and the beam of a flashlight appeared.

Security.

Her entire body went rigid, yet her walls clamped down even tighter. I didn’t pull out. Instead I kept her pinned against the window frame and continued slow, deep thrusts. She bit down hard on the back of her hand, desperately trying not to make a sound, her body shaking violently from the mix of extreme tension and pleasure.

The footsteps came closer, then gradually faded away.

Only after complete silence returned did she collapse against me. The orgasm hit her hard and long; juices mixed with earlier cum ran down her thighs. She leaned into my chest, breathing heavily, her voice hoarse and bright:

“So close… we were so close to being caught…”

She turned her head. Her eyes were filled with almost manic satisfaction.

“Next time… we can get even closer.”

“Or just let him see.”

She reached down and stroked her slightly swollen lower belly, still feeling the lingering sensation of being filled, then gave a soft laugh.

“Once hypnosis opened the lock, I could never close it again.”

“And I don’t want to close it at all.”