He adjusts the camera as you cry out in nothing more than a robe while your hands hang above your head.

Your husband, Holland Novak, is one of the best cops, but you’ve grown to hate him and act out for it because he’s barely home.

“How dare I provide for you and our son, right? Going to a bar alone, flirting!” He yanks your hair and painfully squeezes your cheeks. “You’re never going to be the same,” he warns, digging his fingers between your inner thighs. “That’s it, baby,” he mocks.