[An Unexpectedly Happy Marriage] (01-02) Author: nayuki

Author: nayuki
Word count: 8732

(1)

"Mr. Lin Yingjie, this is the transcript of the interrogation. Please take a look. If there are no problems,
please sign here."

"Okay, okay..."

A young policeman looked at me with a slightly sympathetic eye and put the transcript I signed into his
folder.

"Mr. Lin, let me explain to you that your act of taking photos without consent is a private secret offense.
If you can reach a settlement with the victim, you will not be criminally liable. I suggest you find a lawyer to contact the other party
and see what their wishes are."

After a round of questioning, I walked out of the police station exhausted. Xiaoying walked quickly ahead without saying a word,
her face pale with anger. The two got into the car in silence. The wife started the car and stepped on the gas pedal. The engine roared and sped up
. I saw her forcefully shift into gear and reverse. The car made a mournful sound as it sped out of the parking lot.

"Wife..."

I tugged at her arm, trying to ease the tension.

"Don't touch me! You're disgusting! Pervert!"

My wife's intense reaction startled me. She honked her horn furiously at the traffic ahead, drawing a
chorus of angry honks from those around her, and causing passing motorcyclists to turn and look.

Xiaoying and I have been married for a few years, and our relationship has gradually settled into a routine. Although we don't argue much in our daily lives, we've become increasingly busy
with our own work, and our sex life is practically nonexistent. From
dating to marriage, we were the envy of everyone around us. Our life wasn't as extravagant as depicted in idol dramas,
but at least we were financially secure. My wife was a well-known intellectual beauty in college, and a frequent visitor to online dating and
beauty forums.

Last year, I was headhunted to a new big data processing company in Neihu. While the working hours were flexible, our busiest times
were during elections, product launch seasons, or when a prominent company or politician made a mistake and
needed immediate attention.

At those times, I led the team, working day and night to observe data uploaded to the computer, including strings of text, keywords, links,
images, videos, and more, along with numerous statistical charts and graphs showing cross-analysis. Then, I would assign
people to organize and analyze the data and create presentations so that we could provide the client with the best possible response
strategy the next morning.

Usually, by the time I finished refining the meeting presentation, it was already dawn, while my wife was still fast asleep.

Around noon, I would deliver the presentation to the client, finish the company's routine work, and
return home my wife had already left for work. Cases like these typically require tracking
and analysis for over a quarter, until the hype surrounding the topic cools down. For election-related cases, it can be
a marathon battle lasting over a year.

Xiaoying, two years younger than me, is highly capable and strikingly beautiful. She works as a public
relations representative . Besides attracting domestic political and business elites,
the group has recently seen a surge in foreign clients combining tourism with beauty treatments, thanks to the increasing number of tourists. She also runs a blog focused on makeup and fashion, cultivating a
sizable following.

To cater to this clientele, Xiaoying has been attending various
parties, travel fairs, and press conferences in neighboring countries with the company's senior management, keeping her incredibly busy. She often disappears for days on business trips,
only occasionally appearing on television news as a minor
news item, perhaps at a press conference with the group's boss.

Today, Taipei's sky is clear and cloudless, the temperature pleasant, but I feel like the most miserable day of my life
is unfolding. This morning on my way to work, in a moment of impulsiveness, I used my phone to secretly photograph
upskirts of young, attractive women on the MRT escalator, only to be discovered and taken to the police station. When I contacted my wife to bail me out, she
was pale with anger and trembling slightly.

Sitting in the passenger seat, knowing I was in the wrong, I silently let my wife drive me to the company. When we arrived, Xiaoying still
stared blankly ahead, clearly not planning to speak.

"Xiaoying…"

"Get out!"

My wife's icy tone made me realize there was no room for negotiation. Having been together for many years,
I knew her passionate, outspoken, and soft-hearted personality. Watching the plume of smoke left by my wife's sudden acceleration,
I sighed helplessly, mentally planning how to communicate with her
properly , hoping to calm her down.

Once at the company, I finished dealing with the flood of project deadlines. Of course, I also
had to , asking him to handle everything. Before I knew it, it was almost noon. I picked up
my phone and started typing a long message to Xiaoying:

"Honey, I'm sorry. I know you must be feeling terrible after making you feel so embarrassed today.
It's all my fault, and I have to apologize.
I'm willing to do anything to soothe your hurt. I just hope our marriage can continue well, because you're the person I
've decided to spend my life with. I won't give up; I'll try my best to calm you down.

We've been together for so long, and without realizing it, work has taken up all our time. Perhaps our
material life is much better now than before, but we have less and less time to spend together. I
remember we used to spend entire days together, holding hands and talking about everything under the sun. We were
inseparable, always whispering sweet nothings. I can hardly remember the last time we
hugged.

I know this can't be an excuse for my mistakes, but I really hope we can go back to the way things were. Maybe
that was when we were happiest."

All afternoon, I kept checking to see if my wife had read the message. But after my message was marked as
read, there was no further response. This made me uneasy; was my marriage with Xiaoying over
? Now, although I'm filled with remorse for not being able to control myself and taking photos with my phone in that moment,
it's too late to change anything. It's such an embarrassing situation, and I can't bring myself to ask any friends to
plead for me, fearing it might only make things worse. I helplessly packed my briefcase, sighed, and stood at the company entrance, waving goodbye.
I hailed a taxi and went straight home. I really didn't want to see that chaotic Taipei MRT again today.

Before heading home, I asked the taxi driver to take me to Nanmen Market, where I picked out a lot of seafood,
vegetables , dried goods, and so on, carrying two large bags of groceries home. Because I love food, I often go back to
my hometown during the Lunar New Year and learn to cook from my mother and grandmother. This time, I planned to prepare a few good dishes
to ease the tension when my wife returned.

I stir-fried garlic sprouts and cured pork with rice noodles, half-fried and half-baked a platter of fish skin and mullet roe with rice wine,
made a simple scallion oil chicken with good quality leg meat, steamed some cod with fermented black beans, and finally made a chicken soup. Busy all afternoon,
I almost forgot about the annoying things that happened this morning. It wasn't until after 7 pm, which was almost
time for Xiaoying to come home, that I lit candles and set the table. Once things quieted down, I started to
feel restless, my mind racing with wild guesses about how things would unfold. The thought I couldn't shake was
what I would do if my wife didn't come home. Once it entered my mind, it was
like a mosquito on a summer night, impossible to shake off.

When Xiaoying came home, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. Seeing the table full of delicious food, my wife visibly
paused, her expression less aloof. Of course, I seized the opportunity to diligently help her
unpack her coat and bag, and of course, I put her takeout dinner in the refrigerator. Tonight, I was
determined to make her feel like a princess, hoping it would appease her anger.

While eating, I awkwardly tried to start a conversation with some trivial topics. Xiaoying, on the other hand
, was much more straightforward, directly asking about the details of the hidden camera incident that morning, and my planned handling of the situation
. Since I had already arranged for a lawyer to contact the client, and considering that I hadn't actually filmed anything particularly
indecent, the victimized office lady agreed not to file a lawsuit. The compensation was a small sum for us
, so things should have ended peacefully. Only my wife, Xiaoying, remained—the one I
cared about most and was the only one I couldn't handle.

After I finished speaking, Xiaoying paused, then looked me directly in the eye and firmly stated her conditions
:

"A-Jie, we can continue our marriage, but you must agree to my condition: you must go
for counseling with a psychologist.

At that moment, I truly felt I couldn't forgive you, but I actually understood what you said on the phone
. Perhaps we should both try to work on this relationship. My friend's husband is a psychologist
; maybe we should both try counseling."

Seeing a glimmer of hope, I readily agreed. At that moment, I didn't
realize that this decision would forever change our lives. Or perhaps, this whole series of events was
preordained, and I had simply involuntarily jumped into a pre-laid trap.

For the first counseling session, the doctor required Xiaoying and me to attend together. This doctor's clinic,
frankly , didn't resemble a hospital at all. The interior, decorated with reclaimed wood and red brick, creates a
rustic and warm atmosphere. The flooring is made of high-quality hand-scraped teak, which feels quite solid underfoot. The subtle
, yet satisfying, texture of the hand-scraped wood provides a sense of security. There's even a fireplace on the wall! Although Taipei winters
are often mild, having a genuine wood-burning fireplace in the clinic is something I'm quite envious of. The leather
recliner, the small round table, and the antique wooden bookcase against the wall make this feel less like
a doctor's clinic and more like the study of an upper-class gentleman.

"Hello, my surname is Wu, and my name is Mingzhe. Mingzhe means 'to protect oneself,' but you can just call me A-Zhe.

Our psychological counseling process is mostly conversational, so you don't need to be too reserved. Modern
psychological medicine isn't like what's shown on TV, where you have to look at a lot of strange charts and give your opinions.
We actually focus more on your life experiences, interactions, and your body's natural reactions, etc."

Dr. Wu wasn't as old as I had imagined; I guessed he was at most in his early fifties, but he was very kind and polite, which
seemed somewhat at odds with his reputation and authority. His clothing wasn't particularly flashy, but you could still see that he had good
taste and refinement. I quickly let my guard down and started talking to him about the ins and outs of the matter. He
listened to me with sympathetic eyes, occasionally gesturing for me to pause, then asking me questions, sometimes even consulting
with Xiaoying who was standing nearby, until he had heard about our marital situation and the incident of being secretly filmed, before preparing
to explain his diagnosis.

"First of all, Mr. and Mrs. Lin, please don't worry too much. It's
perfectly . This is entirely due to the influence of testosterone in their bodies. In today's society, many couples are sexless,
and with the added pressure of work, unexpected little incidents are inevitable."

Dr. Wu, a seasoned psychologist, put us both at
ease . His words, whether reassuring or a genuine diagnosis, significantly
reduced my guilt. I couldn't help but steal a glance at Xiaoying beside me. Seeing her complex expression and hesitant demeanor, I believed she also
found the doctor's explanation reasonable.

"However, excessive testosterone is actually quite troublesome."

Dr. Wu changed the subject and continued,

"Besides causing uncontrollable sexual urges, excessive testosterone has also been clinically observed to cause
violent , which poses a significant risk to marriage."

"That serious!? Dr. Wu, what's the best course of action?"

For the sake of our marriage, I naturally had to be proactive and eagerly inquired about the doctor's treatment options.

"Mr. Lin, you don't need to worry too much about this. Of course, our first suggestion
is that you gradually change your lifestyle and have a harmonious sex life. On the other hand,
regarding your excessive sexual impulses, we have a testosterone inhibitor that can alleviate your symptoms."

Hearing that medication was needed, I hesitated. Seeing my uncomfortable expression, Dr. Wu continued
to smile and reassure me:

"We doctors tend to be a bit meticulous, but we always hope to achieve a complete
and permanent solution to these kinds of problems, don't we? I'll arrange a six-month psychological counseling program for you. You'll see a doctor every week..."
"Come over here, just think of it as a chat, don't be too reserved, it's okay. I'll also give you an injection,
that 'll be all. I'll also invite your wife for counseling from time to time, after all, marital problems
are a matter for both of us, let's work together to overcome this difficulty!"

And so, we began our counseling sessions. That day, the doctor gave me my first dose of
"testosterone suppressant." Xiaoying and I both felt very comfortable with the
counseling
. Many thoughts that we usually couldn't express freely for fear of "ruining the mood" or ruining the atmosphere were discussed openly and seriously during the process. I was surprised that Xiaoying was so frank in admitting that she, like me, often
suppressed her physical desires. Due to work and stress, we had clearly unknowingly
drifted apart our important marital relationship.

As we walked out of the clinic, Xiaoying took my arm and stayed close to me, appearing very affectionate. I thought to myself that
this counseling session was definitely the right one. If this could improve our long-frozen marital relationship,
I would have come sooner.

(2)

At this moment, I was kneeling on the thick knitted carpet in the chairman's office, as if I were licking something delicious,
giving my master oral sex. I was wearing a well-tailored gray suit, paired with black stockings and stiletto heels that OLs love
, a normal and neat fashion outfit. What others could not see was that
under the suit jacket and white shirt, I was not wearing a bra, and my nipples were hard and erect because of pleasure. If I took off
the suit jacket, others would definitely be able to see my hard and erect dark nipples through the semi-transparent shirt.

Similarly, I was also completely naked under my OL narrow skirt. In order to prevent the stockings from slipping down, I wore a garter belt around
my waist . The smart ball that I had put in my vagina when I left home in the morning was
swaying back and forth with the movement of my lips, making my lust accumulate more and more. I strained to hold the playful little ball inside my vagina,
afraid it might pop out at any moment. Holding back all morning had left my stomach muscles aching, but
my vagina was becoming increasingly sensitive. I felt like a broken faucet; my lower abdomen was burning and tingling,
waves of itching accompanied by a constant flow of vaginal fluid, making my stockings a muddy mess.

I dutifully swallowed the thick, hard penis, occasionally glancing up at the smiling face of its owner,
imagining the enormous shaft relentlessly stretching open my vagina, driving me almost to madness.
The owner of the penis expertly slipped his hand inside my collar, unbuttoning my clothes and playing with my breasts. I used to think
I wasn't particularly enthusiastic about sex, always holding a nonchalant attitude. But under his influence,
I quickly succumbed to this illicit sexual activity. I felt a strong desire deep within me,
gradually changing me with my increasingly sensitive body.

"Ah... my cunt can't take it anymore... I want to be fucked by a big cock..."

As the company's public relations officer and spokesperson, I should be playing the role of an intellectual and capable person. But at this moment, I was
holding a man's cock in one hand and the other hand had already reached under my bare skirt to knead my swollen and engorged flower. In a seductive
, childlike voice, I shamelessly begged the man to fill my empty lower body. The man still had that half-smile, as if he was praising me for becoming so slutty

under his development . The man gently helped me up, my legs swaying from squatting for too long, and guided me to lie on his huge teakwood desk. With a light but firm touch, he lifted my short skirt, then parted my sticky buttocks, and very slowly squeezed his hard cock, which was wet with my saliva, into my anus. "Ah...you're so naughty...you always tease me...playing with my backside...mmm..." The penis, fully inserted into my anus, sent a shiver of excitement through me, instantly triggering a small orgasm. The "smart ball" in my vagina was pushed even deeper through the thin walls of my rectum, the strange sensation of excretion mixed with pleasure assaulting my senses. The man's hands were fixed on my waist, and he slowly began to move his penis, thrusting in and out at varying speeds as he felt my anal muscles gradually adapt to the intrusion. My breasts rubbed against the fabric of my disheveled shirt, and I felt my body burning hot. The strange pleasure in my two orifices made my thoughts a blur, leaving only the body's relentless pursuit of pleasure, galloping through my body like a wild horse. "Oh...it feels so good to be fucked in the ass...ah, ah...so embarrassing..." I'm a woman nearing thirty, and speaking in this coquettish tone might seem a bit abrupt. I, who was pampered by everyone and my husband before probably would never have said it. But now, it comes naturally, perfectly playing the role of a long-deprived slut, doing my best to please my master. Perhaps, this isn't acting at all, but rather another self deep within me. The man is working on me, tearing open my shirt and wantonly playing with my breasts. His other hand finds the ring on the smart ball, pulling it out and inserting it in and out, thrusting it into my vagina. Although I'm half-naked, my clothes still cover all my private parts. His penis skillfully coordinates with the smart ball's movements, playing with me from both ends in a double-penetration manner. A tingling sensation spread through my breasts and lower body, making me no longer care if anyone outside the office could hear me. I couldn't help but moan uncontrollably, only able to slightly release the waves of pleasure that kept rising. "Ahhh... I'm going to climax! My asshole and vagina feel so good, I can't take it anymore... Ohhh!" "Xiaoying, aren't you usually a dignified and elegant office lady? How come you're saying such ?" The man smiled knowingly, but his actions didn't stop for a moment. "Mmm... I'm sorry... I'm just a pretentious slut... Ahhh... I love being fucked like a bitch in heat... Ohhh." I knew the man in front of me wanted to humiliate me verbally, and I responded to him with a seductive tone. "Yan Xiaoying, you're actually a shameless, fake bitch, aren't you? You're shamelessly humiliating yourself behind your husband's back and enjoying it so much , you have no shame..." The man's "serious admonitions" seemed to have a special magic. Under his continued "training," I gradually went from initial shame and resistance to embracing this role, so different from my usual self, this shameless act. I even began to believe the fact that deep down I was a slut... "Yes...yes, I'm a slut, a fake bitch...oh...so good...ah...my ass feels so good..."

My body, spurred by the contemptuous words and my own confession, uncontrollably convulsed, rapidly climbing
towards the countdown to orgasm. The man's penis stretched open my tight rectum, thrusting forcefully inside me. At this moment,
the man no longer had time to play with the sex toy inside my vagina, focusing solely on holding my waist and thrusting. The irregular swaying of the metal ball
inside only intensified my lust. I involuntarily swayed to meet the man's piston-like
movements, trying to seize more pleasure with my buttocks.

"No! No! I'm going to orgasm... Oh, oh..."

The man thrust into me from behind with animalistic savagery, my consciousness immersed in the pleasure of sex, a tingling sensation
shooting from my anus down my spine to my brain. Although I couldn't see it myself, I knew what I looked like: wanton,
seductive, full of sexual desire, alluring in a way completely unlike my usual dignified self, yet enough to make a man
unable to resist , and I had submitted to the tutelage of the man before me.

Thinking back to the first time a man performed anal sex on me, just to fulfill his expectations, I only
felt tension and discomfort, with no pleasure whatsoever. Now, I seem to be addicted to this heretical sex.
The full satisfaction in my anus, transmitted from both my front and back orifices, is completely different yet mutually influential, pushing me step by step to
the edge of losing my rationality.

"Oh! Oh! I'm going to come, I'm going to come~ Oh~ I can't take it anymore... Ahh~"

The man held my waist, thrusting in and out without any tenderness, my buttocks
making . The pleasure of orgasm washed over me like waves, and at this moment, the man also pushed his
penis to the deepest part of my body. As he ejaculated, I was carried by the man to the peak of orgasm.

"Ahh~ I can't take it anymore, ohh..."

I stood on tiptoe to meet the man, my buttocks pressed tightly against his waist. I could feel the man's penis
throbbing, injecting a large amount of semen into my anus. The contractions of my vagina from the orgasm had already squeezed
the testicles out, leaving a wet patch on the carpet.

Lost in pleasure, I was completely subservient to the man before me.

"Xiaoying, stand up."

"Yes,"

I obediently followed his command, standing with my legs wide open in front of the French windows: my top was open, my skirt lifted,
and my stockings were gone—I was practically naked. My body, still trembling from the afterglow of my orgasm, remained exposed
. Facing the bustling crowd of well-dressed people below, I was nearly naked, panting, my genitals
a mess of vaginal fluid and semen, yet I obeyed the man's orders, exposing myself to the outside world. Anyone
who glanced up could see, in the ordinary office building's French windows, a disheveled, sexy office lady,
perhaps still flushed from the orgasm, her hands raised behind her head, allowing the man to play with her as he pleased.

The man's strong, powerful hands casually caressed my genitals, and the feeling of shame and exposure quickly made me wet again
. My vaginal fluids, fueled by rising desire, flowed onto his hands. In the reflection of the glass, I saw
him smiling as he admired my body writhing in pleasure. He raised his wet, sticky fingers and, as if applying
perfume , gently smeared my vaginal fluids, mixed with the semen he had ejaculated into my anus, behind my ears
and on my wrists. A pungent, erotic smell immediately filled my nostrils.

Half an hour later, I had touched up my makeup, tidied my clothes, and returned to my work station. My colleagues were still engrossed in
their work, but anyone with a discerning eye could see that the black stockings I wore to work that morning were
gone. The fact that I was already practically naked under my skirt made me feel even more insecure about being exposed.

My nipples, beneath my shirt, still stood erect, brazenly pushing against the fabric. What made me most uncomfortable was the
faint, lingering stench of sex around me. I knew it was the smell of our intercourse, a lewd scent emanating from my
ears and wrists with my body heat.

A woman's descent into depravity can be so swift.

I never imagined that in just a few months, I would undergo such a dramatic transformation: from a shrewd and
capable career woman admired by all, to a willing sex slave to his whims. Whether in
the office, in hotels during business trips, or even when I lied to my husband and used the excuse of working overtime to lure him to a motel, traces of our passionate lovemaking
were everywhere .

The fact that I was his mistress was already an open secret in the company. The girls whispered among themselves that
I was a "green tea bitch" who slept with men for money and power, while the male colleagues circulated rumors that I was a
"black fungus" who would be ridden by anyone, accepting any advances. And I, I always turned a deaf ear to these rumors. I've
come to accept the label of "slut" without question. It's an undeniable
fact that I've been having affairs with men at work behind my husband's back, and I don't care about the gossip among my colleagues.

I'm a slut, what can you kids do to me?

Before he "trained" me, I was indifferent to sex. I even looked down on
girls who constantly acted sexy, showing off their breasts and legs in selfies. Men are
creatures who think with their lower bodies; no matter how brainless or pretentious a girl is, as long as she pouts or shows cleavage, she'll naturally
have a following of fans who call her a goddess.

But I'm focused on my career. From a young age, I was an excellent student, smoothly
progressing through high school, university, and graduate school, ultimately landing
a job . In university, I was voted one of the campus beauties and featured on the school website, but I actually
resented being famous for my looks. Everyone grows old eventually, and if you haven't left behind any achievements, you
can only desperately seek artificial means to regain your youth.

"How long can one's beauty serve another?"

I often ponder what success in life truly represents. After graduation, I found a
good job on my own and married Ah Jie, whom I had been dating for a long time. Both our families are well-off, and Ah Jie himself is
a highly successful graduate. Shouldn't we be considered winners in life? But I've lost my excitement for these achievements
; I even feel somewhat bored. The monotonous lifestyle, the fixed work content, and even
the formulaic marital relationship have made me weary of it all.

That day, at the dinner after the product launch in Shanghai, I got very drunk, so drunk that I
talked a lot to my male companion, who is also my boss. He just listened quietly; he understood that what I wanted wasn't some nonsense.
My opinion wasn't some insignificant consolation; I just wanted to confide in someone about this
suffocating feeling of depression.

On the way back to my room, he kissed me at the elevator entrance on my floor. Maybe it was the alcohol,
or maybe I really hadn't had sex in so long. The moment he kissed me, I felt wet. I didn't
resist at all. He led me into the emergency exit stairwell, lifted my dress,
and penetrated me from behind. It was the boldest sex I'd ever had, yet
it sent shivers down my spine. I clung tightly to his back, quickly reaching orgasm. But
at that moment I didn't realize that the various sexual encounters and "training" that followed
would pale in comparison to this stairwell tryst.

Wu Mingzhe, a cosmetic surgeon and psychologist, was my boss and the founder of this group.
Sometimes love begins in an instant. After that encounter, we formed a delicate relationship.
At work, we were boss and subordinate; after work, we were more like lovers. This man not only praised my abilities
but also appreciated my body better than I did myself. Under his guidance, I became increasingly sexually
craving and daring.

My perceptive colleagues noticed the change in me: my skirts became shorter, and my stockings and high heels became more varied, my clothing
more sexy. What they didn't notice was that I started wearing sexy lingerie to work—see-through, unpadded bras,
thongs, even open-crotch lingerie. This little secret left me often feeling slightly aroused at work.

He, however, loved this outwardly demure yet inwardly passionate feeling I possessed.

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