Chapter 40 - A Genuine Inquiry to a Wife

The command was simple. Final.

Hana’s hands shook violently as they moved to her bra clasp.

’I can’t do this. I can’t—’

But her fingers were already working the hooks, muscle memory from decades of dressing and undressing.

The clasp came undone with a soft ’click’.

The straps slid down her shoulders.

The fabric fell away.

Her breasts spilled out—massive, heavy, sagging noticeably from their own weight. Dark brown nipples, large and already starting to harden in the cool air of the apartment despite her mortification.

Then her panties.

She hooked her thumbs into the waistband, her whole body trembling with shame and something else she refused to name.

Sliding them down her thick thighs.

Revealing the dark patch of hair between her legs that she hadn’t bothered to trim in ’months’ because who was going to see it anyway?

The panties hit the floor with a soft whisper of fabric.

She stood there completely naked.

Forty-six years old. One hundred and seventy centimeters tall. Probably seventy-five kilograms, maybe more.

Thick everywhere. Soft. Maternal.

’Used’.

One arm tried uselessly to cover her breasts, pressed across them even though they were too large to hide. The other hand pressed against her pelvis, trying to conceal the unkempt pubic hair.

Tears streamed down her face in hot, shameful tracks.

"I’m sorry," she whispered brokenly, her voice so quiet she could barely hear herself. "My body is... I’m old. I’m fat. I’m disgusting. I’m sorry you have to look at—"

Raven moved.

His hands went to his belt, unbuckling it with practiced, efficient movements.

’Clink. Zip.’

His pants dropped to the floor, pooling around his ankles. Then his underwear followed.

His cock sprang free.

Thick. Long. Already semi-hard and visibly growing harder by the second as blood rushed to engorge it fully.

Seven and a half inches of veined, intimidating masculine flesh. The head was already flushed dark pink, a bead of clear precum forming at the slit.

Hana’s eyes widened, locked on it despite herself.

Despite every instinct screaming at her to look away, to close her eyes, to preserve some shred of dignity.

She ’stared’.

’He’s so... he’s so big...’

Her husband had been... smaller. Much smaller. And he’d never been ’hard’ like that—always soft, struggling, needing her to work to get him ready and even then he’d barely managed.

But Raven was ’rigid’. Proud. His cock stood out from his body like a weapon.

And he was hard for ’her’.

For her thick, old, used-up body.

The realization made something hot and confusing twist in her chest.

Raven stepped forward, closing the distance between them in two long strides.

His hands grabbed her hips—’grabbed’ them, fingers sinking into the soft flesh with possessive strength—and ’twisted’.

"Ah—!"

Hana’s world spun. She stumbled, falling forward onto the bed.

Her face pressed into the pillow as her body sprawled across the mattress, her massive ass now exposed and facing him—pale, round, jiggling slightly with her panicked movements and labored breathing.

He could see ’everything’.

The spread of her thick thighs, soft and unmarked except for old stretch marks that had faded to silver. The dark tangle of pubic hair covering her pussy lips, which were—he could see even from here—slightly swollen. Glistening.

’Wet’.

Her puckered asshole, small and pink, clenching involuntarily with her embarrassment.

The stretch marks spider-webbing across her lower back and the tops of her ass cheeks, proof of the child she’d carried and birthed.

Every imperfection. Every mark of age and use and ’life’.

Raven climbed onto the bed, his weight making the mattress dip and creak beneath him.

He straddled her lower back, his knees on either side of her thick waist, sitting on her like she was furniture.

"Wait—what are you—"

His hands found her torn panties—no, wait. She’d removed them completely. His hands grabbed the waistband of the white cotton fabric that was still somehow tangled around her thighs from her incomplete undressing and ’yanked’ upward.

"Ngh—!"

The material cut cruelly into her pussy lips, wedging between them and riding up between her ass cheeks in a painful wedgie that made her cry out.

The fabric stretched. Strained. Cut into her most sensitive flesh.

Raven pulled ’harder’, lifting her hips slightly off the bed with the force of it.

Then he ’tore’ them.

’RIIIIIP.’

The panties shredded like tissue paper, cotton fibers snapping and elastic breaking with a sound that was almost obscene in the quiet room.

The torn fabric snapped back, slapping against her thick ass cheeks with a sharp ’SMACK’ that echoed.

"Ahhh! Ow—that hurts—!"

Her ass ’jiggled’ from the impact, flesh rippling in waves like water disturbed by a stone.

Pale skin immediately started to pink where the elastic had struck.

Raven leaned forward, pressing his full weight down on her back.

His body covered hers completely, his chest against her back, his cock—hot and hard and ’thick’—pressing between her ass cheeks.

His lips found her ear, breath hot against her skin as he whispered:

"Your ass is thick." His hand grabbed a handful of soft flesh and ’squeezed’, fingers digging in deep enough to leave marks. "Made for fucking. How many times did your husband fuck you daily?"

The question was crude. Invasive.

And it made Hana’s entire body tremble like a leaf in a storm.

"Please," she whispered brokenly, her voice muffled by the pillow her face was pressed into. "Please don’t... don’t talk like that. Don’t ask me—"

Tears soaked into the fabric beneath her cheek.

Raven chuckled—low, dark, absolutely merciless.

The sound vibrated through her body where they were pressed together.

He rolled off her back suddenly, falling onto his side beside her on the narrow bed.

Hana turned her head automatically, instinctively seeking to see where he’d gone.

Their eyes met.

Dark brown staring into tear-filled hazel.

And Raven smiled.

Not cruel. Not mocking.

Just... ’knowing’.

"Do you know the best way to remove trauma?" he asked conversationally, like they were discussing philosophy over coffee instead of lying naked on a stranger’s bed.

Hana blinked through her tears, confusion cutting through her shame for just a moment.

"What...?"

"Generalization," Raven continued, reaching out to trace one finger slowly down the curve of her spine.

The touch made her shiver, goosebumps erupting across her skin.

"If you think your experience is ’unique’—that you’re some special, singular victim of your husband’s cruelty—then it stays traumatic. It defines you. It becomes your ’identity’."

His finger reached the small of her back, then moved lower, tracing the curve of her ass.

"But if you accept that you’re just one of many women who’ve been used, fucked, degraded, beaten down... then it loses its power over you."

He grabbed her ass again, squeezing.

"You’re not special. You’re not uniquely broken. You’re just... ’experienced’."

Hana stared at him, her mind struggling to process the twisted logic.

But somewhere deep inside—in a place she’d tried to lock away and forget—it almost made ’sense’.

In a horrible, backwards, fucked-up way.

If she wasn’t special...

If her suffering wasn’t unique...

Then maybe she wasn’t as pathetic as she felt.

Maybe she was just... one woman among many. Surviving. Enduring.

"Now," Raven said, his hand moving to grab her ass more firmly, fingers digging into flesh. "Tell me. How many times did he fuck you?"