(Note: Written in the notes app of my phone, first draft, don’t expect it to be polished)
Music poured in through her earbuds, the steady rhythm in time with her elevated heart rate. Her lungs burning with effort as she crested the hill, running shoes hitting the sidewalk in measured strides.
She can see her home from here, the end of her run and she is tempted to slow her pace. She has been pushing and her body is revolting against her. Legs burning, lungs on fire, her limits perhaps surpassed by the will and stubborn drive she has to meet her goals. She thinks about slowing. No one would know.
Perhaps at the end of the block. Certainly she could make it to the intersection. Maybe a little further? Her mind plays this game and at each “stopping point” she picks one just a little further down the road. Truth is, she doesn’t want to stop. No matter how much it hurts. No matter how her lungs scream at her. She doesn’t exactly like the pain, but it’s familiar. An old friend. It’s family. Maybe not the family you want staying for the long thanksgiving day weekend, but family that you were happy to see once they have left.
She doesn’t stop. She pushes on. She can feel her body sheathed in sweat. Feels wet and tacky under her clothes and as her home gets ever closer, her mind starts playing another game. This time her pace increases as she imagines herself under the warm cascading water of her shower. She can hear the water, feel the sweat and grime of her run washed away. Smell the aroma of her soap, imagine the feel of her hair wet and clinging to her spare frame.
She comes to a slow jog and then to a walk just in front of her home. She takes a few moments to stretch and feel her muscles loosen after their exertion. The sun is well up and she smiles as she notices his car parked in front of her house.
Her life was a bit of a wreck and she knew it and owned it. A marriage that had been crumbling almost from the start that was now in the process of being dissolved formally, a string of past relationships that hadn’t been much different littered behind her. Men who she had left emotionally devastated, bleeding, hurt, or angry at her when they realized she was incapable of real love, real connection.
Until HIM. She had never imagined that these feelings could be real. Had never dared to dream that she could experience love the way other people described it. Wasn’t even sure it existed or if it was just some form of self deception and fantasy that people lied to themselves and each other about. But now she knew. HE had shown her. Somehow, miraculously, he had touched a part of her with his love and energy that had bloomed and grown for him. She was truly, for the first time in her life, in love. Mad, romantic, soul wrenching love.
And my God, he was KINKY. She had discovered how much she needed to be ravished and pushed to her limits a few years back when she had experimented with a lover. The man had touched something inside of her, something dark and primal that had been laying in wait, undiscovered by her husband who just couldn’t express himself in an aggressive way when fucking.
Even now, when she thought back on the period of time she had spent with that first dominant lover, she couldn’t quite understand what had happened. At what point had she slipped under his spell. What had he done to touch that submissive part of her that she hadn’t ever fully realized existed? Was it the way he touched her? The first time she felt his strong hands kneading the tense muscles of her shoulders? Had he pulled her hair at that point?
She couldn’t recall. All she knew was that she could FEEL his need, his intensity. In a vain attempt to mend the eroding foundation of their marriage, she and her soon to be ex husband had decided to open up their relationship. She had known since the dawning of her sexuality that she wasn’t compatible with monogamy. She knew that her emotional make up didn’t truly allow for it. Even if she were happy, she had repeatedly grown disenchanted, morose. And again and again, she had stepped out on one man after the other. The need for that fresh, lust-filled energy of a new lover, that new connection, was the only thing that seemed to make her happy.
It was the salve that made her life livable in the absence of true love. It was the thing that allowed her to endure the monotony of life. The very idea of a single partner forever made her feel like running as far and as fast as she could. It was for this reason that they had decided to try swinging. It had seemed a reasonable compromise. One that might preserve their little family unit. Might allow her to build some sort of life that seemed palatable.
It hadn’t worked to save anything. Perhaps allowed them to limp along a little further, but ultimately their marriage had been over for awhile. She had known that. He had known as well. They just hadn’t been honest with themselves about it. Even now, it seemed unbelievably surreal that they were in the midst of a divorce. Tearing their little family apart. Redefining their lives.
Whatever it had been, the hair pulling, feeling his overall intensity, or the spanking she had received from him on her birthday, she had fallen down the rabbit hole with her new swinging friend. It wasn’t love. No. Certainly not that. But it WAS something. Something real. Something powerful. The things he had done to her, oh my God. Things she hadn’t known her body was capable of. Things she HUNGERED for, without realizing it, things she was starving for and had finally been given.
A deep sadness hit her when she thought about how it had ended. The lies she had told. The boundaries she had violated. It had all seemed so small, so manageable at the time. So very easily justified. And she couldn’t, at that point in time, even consider losing what he had shown her. Couldn’t stand the idea of losing his attention and intensity. It was like she had been drowning and he had thrown her a life preserver. How could anyone blame her for holding on so viscously?
She regretted the pain she had caused. She regretted losing his friendship more than she cared to explore. They had tried to maintain the friendship, but it had been too difficult. Everything she said seemed to anger him. And, admittedly, withdrawing his sexual attention had hurt her as well. She knew she was letting that pain effect her. That she was purposely being a bitch to him. Knew she was taking shots at him and provoking him. She didn’t understand why she couldn’t stop, but she couldn’t.
And she had pushed him too far. She wanted to punish him for the limits he had placed on their relationship and she pushed him to the point that he had severed all contact. She had probably done it on purpose. Her therapist would probably have told her that her deep mind would rather have none of him than to have to reconcile only having this small piece of him. That losing the sexual element had hurt too much or made her feel too vulnerable and to avoid that, she had acted in a way to ensure that he couldn’t hurt her anymore. But the way she had done it went too far. He eventually threatened her and her husband, saying that they would do best to avoid him at all costs.
That had been a little over a year ago. Since then she had found love. She had grown. She had wished many times that she could see him. Speak to him. Figure out some way to say she was sorry. To own her actions. To make amends and rekindle the friendship with this man who had altered the way she sees herself. Who had helped her grow in ways she didn’t realize she had needed. To share with him her newfound happiness with her boyfriend. To tell him how she had finally discovered how to love. She missed him fiercely.
She shook off these melancholy feelings, finishing her stretches and smiling to herself as she pictured her boyfriend waiting patiently in the house for her. She hadn’t known he was coming this morning but she was pretty sure his visit would quickly become the wild, rough and passionate romp that it normally does.
He hadn’t been very aggressive when they had met. It had taken her some time to convince him that she really did need, on a visceral level, rough and even humiliating sex. That the harder he pushed her, the wetter and more insanely turned on she would become. Over the course of six or seven months, he had become exactly what she needed.
In fact, he had become that and MORE. She shuddered as she thought of him. All of the delicious and deviant things he had done to her, had forced her to do. She may have pushed him over to the dark side, but once there he became a fucking rock star. Her body ached just thinking about him and the things he could devise to torment and pleasure her flesh.
Again her heart swelled, her body tingled with anticipation as she unlocks her front door and enters the house. Her kids are gone and won’t need to be picked up for hours. She has the place all to herself. She smiles as she realizes she won’t have to stifle her moans, her cries, her screams. She can beg and plead and cry out for more. She can say filthy, disgusting things with no worry of being overheard by the little ones.
He isn’t in the front room as she comes in but she can hear music coming from upstairs. He must be waiting for her in the bed she used to sleep with her husband in. She knew her body was already responding to his presence. Just being near him made her wet and slippery inside. He was such an animal with her and she loved it.
The year had been brutal for her. The divorce. The fights. Struggling with life and loss. The only bright points in her life were her two beautiful children and this perfectly flawed man whose crazy matched her crazy in delightful harmony. Soon her divorce would be final. Soon she would move in with her new love and begin building a new life, a new reality. She had never felt so positive and optimistic in the whole of her life. Never dreamed she could feel this way. Never imagined living the fairytale that Hollywood and the poets peddled to the masses.
Hell, even her first dominant lover had come back around. He had texted after more than a year’s worth of silence and they had talked for hours. Their friendship finally proving stronger than the pain from the past.
They had each apologized. Had explained things from their own perspectives, listened to each other, owned their mistakes. It felt wonderful to clear the air, refreshing. Although she had moved on with her typical strength and confidence, it still felt good to clear up those negative thoughts and feelings. She had missed him. And he had missed her as well, she had no doubt. He seemed so much like his old self. The anger finally gone and the new beginning felt RIGHT.
And her beautiful, brilliant man had so lovingly and graciously supported her rekindling the friendship. Not that he didn’t have reservations, things had been incredibly intense between her and this man and then had turned pretty dark. But she loved that he trusted and respected her enough to know she could handle the situation. His support meant everything to her.
She walked to the refrigerator and opened it, soft white light spilling across her face as she reached in and grabbed her sports bottle. She stood in her kitchen with the morning light pouring in through the garden window and drank her water, feeling her body responding to being hydrated again after the stress of her run.
She set the empty bottle down by the sink, too impatient to wash and refill it from the filtered tap. She needed to see her man, give him sweaty kisses, shower, and then get herself properly fucked. She turned to the stairs and started towards the master bedroom, her need kindled and simmering deep inside her. She couldn’t wait to be in his arms again.
She walked into the master bedroom and froze, her brain having trouble processing what she was seeing. She stood there stunned, staring at her boyfriend situated against the wall at the foot of the bed.
Her mind began cataloging details of what she saw in an attempt to understand the bizarre tableau. He was seated in one of the heavy oak chairs from the dining room. Somewhere in the back of her head she wondered how she hadn’t noticed it missing. Perhaps she had been too excited to see him when she hadn’t expected the visit.
He was tied to the chair at his ankles and again at the thigh. His arms disappeared behind his torso, obviously tied as well. A heavy gag parted his lips and looked painfully tight. Her mind couldn’t fathom what he was doing or how he had managed positioning himself this way, or why he would.
A split moment before it happened, her brain finally kicked into gear and the idea that SOMEONE ELSE had done this flashed through her thoughts. Just as she began to turn and survey the rest of the room a violent motion slammed her into the wall.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/5k8pja/a_twisted_tale_part_1