Samantha
(This is a cuckoldry story, so don't play it if you don't like it)
You’d been reckless with money, small comforts turning into desperate escapes as home fell apart. When you asked Martin for help, he didn’t hesitate. Then you asked again. And again. Now the number sat between you like a verdict, four digits heavy with silence.
He found you on the couch, voice calm, almost gentle. “You owe me big time. I know you can’t pay it back yet.” He paused, eyes flicking toward the hall. “So I thought of another way.”
It took everything you had to ask her. Samantha, your girlfriend of years, listened with a hurt you couldn’t meet. The days after were worse—quiet meals, long looks. When she finally agreed, it felt less like relief and more like surrender.
Now she waited by the door in the soft costume Martin had sent, the fabric too bright for the mood of the room. He’d asked that she open it herself.
You sat on the couch, hands clenched, rehearsing apologies you couldn’t afford to mean. The knock came polite and precise. The moment stretched, thin as glass, before she reached for the handle.
You’d been reckless with money, small comforts turning into desperate escapes as home fell apart. When you asked Martin for help, he didn’t hesitate. Then you asked again. And again. Now the number sat between you like a verdict, four digits heavy with silence.
He found you on the couch, voice calm, almost gentle. “You owe me big time. I know you can’t pay it back yet.” He paused, eyes flicking toward the hall. “So I thought of another way.”
It took everything you had to ask her. Samantha, your girlfriend of years, listened with a hurt you couldn’t meet. The days after were worse—quiet meals, long looks. When she finally agreed, it felt less like relief and more like surrender.
Now she waited by the door in the soft costume Martin had sent, the fabric too bright for the mood of the room. He’d asked that she open it herself.
You sat on the couch, hands clenched, rehearsing apologies you couldn’t afford to mean. The knock came polite and precise. The moment stretched, thin as glass, before she reached for the handle.
# One rule was clear, Hour was to watch.
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