“I wish I could remember you,” I think, “Maybe then this wouldn’t hurt so much.”
At least that’s what you keep whispering roughly into my ear. One of your tattooed hands is covering my mouth. The other is slowly, steadily unbuttoning the top to my silky pajama blouse.
The lamp on my bedside table casts a faint orange glow, giving me just enough light to pay attention to the tattoos on your hands; a black beaded rosary on your wrist, two detailed skulls with a bride’s veil and a groom’s top hat kissing on the backside of your hand, and letters on your knuckles.
Wait.
Not just any letters.
J. A. D. E.
…my name.
My eyes grow wide, my heart beats faster, and I scream hard into your hand as I try to pull away.
I feel a sharp, threatening pull on my hair.
“I wish you could remember me, Jade, then maybe this wouldn’t be so hard” you spin me around on my bed so I’m facing you as you’re standing. This is the first time tonight I’ve been able to see your face.
And just as I open my mouth to ask, “Why have you been following me, stalking me, harassing me for the last year?”
I feel cold metal on my wrists and hear a dreaded sound.
Click. Click.
You shake your head, “Don’t give me those puppy dog eyes. You had your chance to be a good girl tonight, and you decided to disobey me…like you always did when we were married.”
Married?
I look up at you, confused and afraid. We met at the Farmer’s Market last year. I politely turned you down when you asked me out, but since then I’ve seen you countless times, thinking each one was a coincidence. Walking your dog outside my house as I left for my morning run, sitting and sipping a latte at my favorite coffee shop as I entered and got in line, chatting to a pretty girl at the same bar I happened to be at for a first date. Each time I saw you, my stomach fluttered and my heart raced. Just a coincidence I would tell myself.
I want to ask questions but I don’t want to make you mad. You’re already breathing deeply and opening and balling your fists, eyes tightly closed. I think you might be…praying?
Your blue eyes fly open and fixate on my half undone blouse. Another deep sigh from you.
“Look,” you bring the back of your hand to my face and I flinch waiting for a strike. “Look,” you bark.
I open my eyes to see what you’re showing me. The bride and groom skulls.
“I got this the day we got married 5 years ago. Remember?”
I shake my head. “Retrograde amnesia” has been a term my doctor uses a lot to describe why I can’t remember anything farther back than a year ago, but I’m sure there’s no way I could forget ever being married. And why would I ever marry someone as rough as you? I shake my head again. I don’t believe you.
“And I got this,” you draw a finger along the beads of your rosary tattoo, “When I was in prison away from you. You were always a disobedient wife. What else was I supposed to do? I couldn’t control you. You always wanted to go out, spend time with other people, and I’m pretty sure you would have cheated in time if I didn’t intervene. A little time in a cage would have done you good, but you fought back too much and-“ you bring your hand down hard on my bedside table; the knock makes me jump.
“It was an accident. You fell backwards and hit your head but no one believed the guy who was trying to put his wife in a cage for a couple hours to teach her a lesson,” you sigh as you rub the back of my head, running your fingers over my scar.
This can’t be true. This is impossible. But, I can’t remember anything farther back then a year. I moved to this new city. Why? I can’t remember. I sort of recall the time I woke up in a hospital bed with doctors and cops talking to me about “fresh starts” “safe while he’s locked up” and “protection programs”.
I’m confused and I don’t want any of this to be true.
“No. I’d never have married a low-life like you,” my voice is shaking but I hold your gaze.
Your eyes are burning holes into mine. You laugh deeply.
“You know what?” You rub your chin, laugh again, and rub your hands together. “I wanted to make this easy for you. I tried to simply be a good guy and take you on a date when I finally found you after being released. I tried to have a fresh start with you. You pushed me away our entire marriage. You’ve pushed me away for a year. And I’m tired of waiting for you to fall in line. You belong to me now.”
“That’s why I got this tattoo,” he makes a fist to show my name across his hand. “I made the choice that you belong to me. I don’t care if you don’t remember me.”
You pull my legs from underneath me, tossing me onto my back. And that’s when your tattooed hands get to work undressing me. Tears, rips, pulls. You get my clothes off in a matter of seconds. My silk pajamas lay in tatters and shreds on my bedroom floor. I still don’t know how you got in. And I guess at this point it doesn’t even matter.
You stand back to look at your unwrapped gift.
“Fuck. You’re still perfect, Jade,” you breathe.
I contemplate my next move when I feel your index finger thrust inside my mouth.
“Suck it,” you order.
I obey. I’m too afraid not to.
“Good girl. Finally,” he watches me suckle. “That’s enough.”
He takes his finger and lays it gently at my opening between my legs. Laying over me, staring into my eyes, he watches me hold back a moan as he thrusts into me with his finger still slick with my saliva.
This shouldn’t feel good, my brain screams at me. Oh, but it does.
Your finger is thick and long. Calloused and rough. And there’s something about knowing the hand currently fucking me has my name tattooed on it that’s driving me insane.
You grin, “You’re wet. You’re ready.”
You turn me over so we’re spooning. I start to whimper and make small disagreeable noises.
“Shhhh,” your hand slips over my mouth as you thrust into me.
The shock and intensity of your thick, veined cock being shoved inside me is too much. My body is so sensitive that I try to bite your hand to get away. A futile attempt, but it was the last of my energy.
A sharp slap across my bare ass reminds me to keep still. Worse, you run another finger over the scar on my head, a subtle reminder of what happened last time I fought back.
Your hand travels back down my body and finds my breasts. You sigh as you thrust deeper into me from behind, massaging the small breasts that fit perfectly in your rough, greedy hands.
“I’ve missed you so much. When we’re done here, I’m going to take you home and I’m going to keep you. We’re going to have fun just like this every fucking day. Wouldn’t you like that, Jade?” Your hand travels to my clit and starts moving in small, deliciously delicate circles.
I can’t take it anymore. I explode around your cock, tensing my body in rhythmic waves as an orgasm pulses through me.
Once the sensation has passed, I blush and try to make myself smaller.
You laugh deep and hard, “Good girl. There’s no point in being embarrassed. You’re mine now, and this is your life.”
You pull out slowly only to thrust yourself in as deep as possible. You do this twice more. I lay still, trying to convince myself I hate this, but knowing that all I want is for your hands to touch me like this every fucking night for the rest of my life. On your third thrust, you stay deep inside me, emptying every drop of cum into me.
I sigh deeply, a mixture of emotions. Confusion, excitement, satisfaction, fear, lust, shame, hope. I’m so confused as I watch you start to pack up a bag of clothes for me and my new life.
“I wish I could remember you,” I think as I lay there and feel your cum leaking out of me and onto the silky bedsheets I’m about to leave forever, “Maybe then this wouldn’t hurt so much.”
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/evnf33/i_wish_i_could_remember_you_str8_mf_nondubcon