The Martyr Option

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How to make being a martyr bearable.
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amyyum
amyyum
1,764 Followers

I, Amy Thomson, grew up without many material possessions in a semi-rural area. While I was decent looking I wasn't someone that guys would immediately swoon over, and considering my economic situation could not really gussy myself up to impress them. Also, to be honest, most of the boys I knew I either considered not good dating options, or I was just friends with. I also was not the smartest person around, but was at least smart and/or dedicated enough to get a High School diploma.

There was a small college near the semi-rural area that I grew up in which was probably the only real economic engine of the region. Since other jobs were scarce, once I did graduate High School I got a job at the college bussing tables in the cafeteria. It was there that I met John.

John was an instructor (not a full professor) at the college teaching computer science. He was eight years older than my nineteen years when we met. At first he was just nice and smiled at me when I was working in the cafeteria. After a while he often came in when things weren't busy and chatted with me. Eventually, he asked me out on a date. Even though I wasn't really very sexually attracted to him, he wasn't bad looking and if I was ever going to get out of the rut my life seemed to be working toward, he might be my ticket, so I accepted.

While John was a nice guy, he did have moody periods, which I chalked up to stress of his job; maybe I shouldn't have.

John's courtship of me was actually pretty quick and direct. He had been offered a better job at another college in a city, and was also talking about setting up a business, so if he wanted to make things permanent with me he had to act before the end of the college school year. I pretended to be more excited than I really was when he proposed to me, and the night that he did I had sex with him the first time.

I was surprised that sex with John was as good as it was. I wasn't a virgin, but the three boys – not men, really, they were between eighteen and twenty years old – that I had had sex with in the past were slam, bam, thank you ma'am types and at least John was more considerate than they were. We got married in a church ceremony followed by a small reception in the church basement – since my parents really couldn't afford more even with John paying sixty percent – and ten days later we moved to the city.

John's economic opportunity turned out to be even better than he expected so he just worked part time as a college instructor and set up a software business with two other part-time instructors; the business hit it big almost from the start. I worked as a checkout girl at a local supermarket for two years until the business hit its full stride, and then John wanted me to stop working and start on a family. John still had many moody periods – if I knew about psychiatry when I got married I might have realized that he was a functioning bipolar – but since I am an easy going and tolerant person, and since my life was better than it had been where I grew up, I was reasonably happy and was convinced that a child would make me even happier.

I went off birth control, and John and I fucked every night during my fertile period. By the second month I was pregnant – I guess I really was fertile.

My pregnancy was fairly normal, but the child I gave birth to was not. While our little girl Nancy (named after John's deceased mother) was extremely cute – cuter than either John or me – had no physical impairments, and was extremely smart, we learned early on that she had significant emotional and behavioral problems. In fact even though ADHD and bipolar disorder cannot normally be diagnosed until a child is four, in view of Nancy's advanced intelligence doctors were quite sure by the time that Nancy was three that she had one or – frighteningly – both conditions.

By the time that Nancy was three and a half she was more than a full time job for me. Some of the less difficult behavior that she exhibited included: she rarely "heard" parental instructions, so she don't obey them; she was disorganized and easily distracted; she started projects and forgot to finish them and it seemed impossible to get her to clean up after them; she often interrupted conversations and demanded attention at inappropriate times; she was very verbal but spoke before she thought, saying tactless or embarrassing things even for a little kid (it wasn't "cute"); it was often difficult to get her to bed and to sleep and she rarely slept more than five hours a night; and she tore around the house, or any other building or area we were in or at, even doing things that put her in physical danger. Again – those were her less difficult activities.

We did build her a playroom with padded walls so she didn't injure herself, and sometimes getting her to play in that room for a few hours was my only salvation during the day.

Even though John was now making very good money, he was cheap, and couldn't see any reason why I needed to spend money to get away from Nancy on occasion. Finally, when Nancy was four despite my normally easy-going tolerant manner I had a nervous breakdown he finally grasped that things were serious. When he had to be the primary care giver for just three days he couldn't handle it and almost went nuts. Therefore he essentially gave me carte blanche to do what I needed to handle Nancy since he almost never again took any responsibility for her and she completely frustrated him.

Despite Nancy's condition, by the time of my nervous breakdown John had already started lobbying to have another kid.

At the recommendation of my doctor, I started taking strength and conditioning courses, and then added diet and cooking classes. When I took these courses I left Nancy at a special school/day care center for children like her – actually there was no one really like her, but at least the people at the school/day care center could handle her. The courses helped me immensely both mentally and physically; in fact after a year I felt – and looked – better than I ever had before in my life. Everyone that I came in contact with noticed it.

I also received instruction from a child psychologist and behaviorist on how to handle Nancy. Things actually got bearable. That's when John ramped up his lobbying for another child.

Doctors had told me that Nancy's condition likely had a large genetic component. I knew that even though I had reached equilibrium with Nancy that there was no way that I could handle two kids like her, or maybe even just her when I was pregnant. I tried to make this point to John, but it fell on deaf ears.

I investigated John's family history as best I could (both of his parents had died young) and from what I could glean from John's living relatives, his moody periods, and a few stories that he told me, it seemed that the genetic component of Nancy's condition was clearly from John's side of the family. This was not something that he would even rationally consider when I subtly brought it up, so I decided to pursue it on my own. I surreptitiously got a DNA sample from John, and one from Nancy, and had the samples tested at a high end laboratory. The tests revealed that there was no doubt that her emotional disorders came from John and that there was at least a 75% chance than another child would also have a disorder.

Other things had happened during Nancy's first five years. While I became better looking and healthier than I had ever been before despite the stress of dealing with Nancy, John had gone in the opposite direction. He was overweight, grossly out-of-shape, balding, bordered on slovenly, and – sorry to say it – he became unattractive to me, if not repulsive. I really didn't know what I would do; despite the fact that I truly loved Nancy, I simply could not have another child with her disorders; it would either drive me crazy or cause me to simply escape my family.

Also, John's growing unattractiveness to me was causing me to think about divorce, although I didn't see how that could possibly work out if I didn't get all of the financial means that I needed to take care of Nancy. When John was in one of his "moods" he would mentally abuse me and tell me that if I left him he'd make sure that I never got a dime.

The "Martyr Option" was not something that immediately came to me. It developed over a period of about a year.

One of the things that I did to supplement my strength, conditioning, and diet courses and my meetings with child psychologists and behaviorists, was when Nancy was five in addition to school/day care I enrolled her in a course where a parent and the child interacted with other parents and children with similar conditions for two hours Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Most of the parents there were mothers, although there were two exceptions. One was a handsome house husband named Brian, who was my age.

I got to know Brian quite well since his daughter Emily and Nancy were the same age and got along as amicably as could be expected for children with their conditions. They played well together 80% of the time, and although they seemingly tried to kill each other the other 20% they never held even the slightest grudge. Brian was married to a wealthy woman about ten years older than he was. Brian was very physically attractive and smart and in excellent shape, however he didn't seem to have much motivation. He was reasonably content with his life – he had no designs on setting the world on fire.

I interacted with Brian even outside the playgroup, including since at my suggestion he enrolled Emily in the same school/day care center for emotionally disturbed children as Nancy, although not normally at exactly the same times.

I noticed that, like me, Brian had an easy-going, tolerant manner. I wondered if, like my situation, it was his spouse's DNA that led to Emily's condition. I probably should not have done it without his permission, but it was quite easy for me to get DNA samples from both he and Emily and have them tested at the same lab that tested John's and Nancy's; a germ of an idea was forming in my brain. The test results were what I expected – Brian's genetic makeup was almost certainly not the genetic component of Emily's condition; it had to be her mother's.

The "Martyr Option" developed quickly after I got Brian's and Emily's DNA tests back. I decided that I would stay with John to be sure that I had the financial resources to raise Nancy properly, and give him another child or two – however the kicker was that any other children would not be his biologically; they'd be Brian's. I wondered if I could swing it.

When I changed my normal interactions with Brian to fairly obvious flirting I was actually quite surprised at how receptive he was. It became clear quickly that he was enamored with my looks and personality; so one day I decided to go for it. On a Tuesday I rearranged my schedule so that Nancy would be at the school/day care center the same two hours as Emily. After both Brian and I dropped our daughters off I approached Brian, dressed as provocatively as I ever had in interactions with him.

"Brian, it seems like we both have the same two hours free. Are you doing anything?" I inquired while flipping my hair and pursing my lips.

"Uh...well I was going to work out – why do you ask?" he anxiously replied.

"I was hoping that we could go someplace and talk; there is something I want to propose to you. I was thinking of taking a walk in Riverbend Park; it's a beautiful day," I responded again flipping my hair and slowly moving one hand over my bosom, and lightly quickly touching one of his hands with my other hand.

He seemed to flush before he said "Uh...sure. I don't really need strenuous exercise today – a walk in the park should do it. How should we get there?"

"I see that you've got a good parking spot. Why don't I drive and I'll bring you back here after we talk, and certainly before the kids are done."

"Sure," he replied with a big smile.

As part of my provocative clothing ensemble I had worn a skirt that was certain to ride up my legs when I drove, and I had high heels on instead of my normal flats or running shoes. My exposed thighs, perfectly toned from my more than two years of workouts, did not escape his attention as we drove to Riverbend Park – in fact it was getting so obvious that he was ogling them that he put his sunglasses on even though it wasn't the brightest (although a nice) day in order to hide where his eyeballs were directed.

We made casual conversation walking along a path in the park; once we reached a dirt trail heading into the woods I took off my high heels and walked in my bare feet until we were about fifty yards into the woods. Then I stopped, wet my lips, and made him face me.

"Brian if you have no interest in what I have to say, or need time to think about it, just tell me. I know that I'm hitting you cold with this but I've thought it out completely; so listen until I'm done; OK?"

"Definitely," he replied, wide-eyed.

"It is my husband's genetic makeup, and your wife's, that are responsible for Nancy's and Emily's conditions; don't ask me how, but I know both for a fact. My husband wants another kid but there is a 75% chance that if he is the biological father that the child will have an emotional disorder similar to Nancy's; I couldn't handle that, for reasons that you can easily appreciate."

"I couldn't either," he hesitantly replied.

I wet my lips again, flipped my hair, and then continued. "My husband is so insistent that if we don't have another child there will be big problems in our marriage. I don't want to divorce him because I need the financial security to properly raise Nancy and stay sane at the same time. Therefore, what I'm looking for is for you to be the biological father of my next child."

Brian was wide-eyed and speechless. I stared directly into his eyes while his wheels were turning. Finally he asked "You mean by artificial insemination or something?"

"Hell no! By fucking each other's brains out when I'm in my fertile periods," I retorted, moving my hands to his chest.

He was even more wide-eyed and speechless. After another long pause where my eyes did not leave his he choked out "Only in your fertile periods?"

"That's up to you; if you really enjoy fucking me it can be whenever we're in the mood."

This time there was no hesitancy. He was on me like a vampire on a blood bank. He smashed his lips into mine as his hands roamed over my ass, tits, and crotch. I put my arms around his neck. When he broke his kiss he looked around, saw a clearing about twenty five yards to the left, picked me up and carried me to it and lay me down on the ground. He was like an octopus on LSD as he removed my panties, pulled his pants and boxers down to his knees, and after licking my sopping wet pussy three or four times shoved his cock into my channel.

We both frantically undulated our bodies as we alternately kissed and groped each other. Despite the fact that we had almost no foreplay, we quickly simultaneously came like freight trains. It was all that I could do not to scream. It was so much better than any other fuck that I had had in my life that it was in a different galaxy.

Brian slowly rotated in my pussy for the longest time until we both came down from our climaxes. Then he spun around into a sixty nine position and started licking and fingering my cunt. I had never sucked a dick after it had come in me, but with his beautiful meaty appendage lurking above my mouth it seemed like the natural thing to do, so I shoved his still three-quarters hard pleasure tool into my mouth and started sucking.

I had another climax from his oral and finger work alone, and by the time that I did his cock was rock hard again and he once more spun around, penetrated me, and we fucked each other to another toe-curling simultaneous orgasm.

We finally arose about forty five minutes after he had first laid me down, seemingly lucky that no one had wandered by.

"I guess that means you're on board with my plan," I dead-panned, and then licked the last vestiges our combined juices off of my lips.

"You think?" he laughed. "That's the best plan I've ever heard of in my life. Let me be as blunt with you as you were with me," he continued while pulling up his pants and handing me my panties, which I slipped on as he continued.

"My wife is a cold fish; I'm in the marriage now only because of Emily. I truly love Emily despite her problems and could not conceive of being separated from her. You are the hottest woman that I know – plus I really like you, and Nancy – and my life would improve infinitely if we follow your plan. Now what are the details?"

It was surprising how simple it was for Brian and I to come up with the details of a plan to get together to insure that he was the father of my next baby, yet remain discrete. We got 90% of the planning done that day, and were only five minutes late in picking up Emily and Nancy.

I was in a great mood as I douched and showered before John got home that night; somehow my great mood transferred to Nancy and she was the best behaved that she had ever been that afternoon and early evening. It was lucky that I was on a natural high considering John's approach that night.

Even though Nancy was around and running back and forth between the kitchen and our rubber-room, John insisted that we sit at the kitchen table and "talk."

"Amy, I'm getting sick and tired of you delaying getting pregnant. I want another child and I want it now. I don't give a shit what objections you have – you're my wife and you'll do as I say," John proclaimed, finishing by pounding his fist on the table.

"John – I don't know where you get off treating me like chattel; but your obnoxious belligerent attitude isn't going to get you what you want," I calmly replied, my good mood keeping me from going ballistic. "But what will get you what you want is a contract."

"A contract? What the hell does that mean?" a legitimately perplexed John responded.

Just then Nancy defeated the lock on the refrigerator – we obviously needed a more sophisticated one since she really was a clever and motivated five year old – and was about to bring a quart of milk into the play room. I jumped up and intercepted her, snapped the milk bottle from her and replaced it with a rubber ball; she screamed for ten seconds, and then ran back to the padded playroom.

This was only one of one hundreds of like types of activities associated with Nancy that I dealt with every day, and it didn't even faze me – John was more agitated than I was just watching me.

"Nancy's recent foray into the refrigerator points out the need for the contract I want. I want a contract that says that if the next child that I give birth to has ADHD, is bipolar, or has any similar emotional disorder, that you will hire twenty four/seven experienced, certified help to take care of the child. The day that you present me with a suitable contract with that provision I'll throw my birth control pills away and we can get to work. I can't stay sane and take care of two kids like Nancy – I'd like to see you try."

I had said my piece in a no nonsense yet calm manner, and then sat back with my arms crossed and stared at John.

We silently stared at each other for ten minutes – interrupted only by my need to twice stop Nancy from destroying furniture. "OK," he finally replied, "I'll have my attorney do it up tomorrow."

I smiled, got up, we hugged, and then shockingly John joined me in the rubber room and we both played with Nancy to get her tired enough to hopefully sleep for more than four hours that night.

John wanted to fuck once we got Nancy to bed. I had no interest whatsoever in intercourse with John but as part of my martyrdom I knew that I would have to, so I started "prepping" him for the future.

amyyum
amyyum
1,764 Followers
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