“You’re dead to me,” I plaintively state, venom dripping from every word. With each new word formed and projected through my mouth- the pain, anger, frustration, disappointment and cold callous hatred can be felt in the air as they hang there. “You don’t deserve our love and you never did.”
—
It’s been two weeks since that moment. Two weeks filled with revelations, pain, anguish, anger and disgust. Two weeks since those words drove a knife into your heart. Two weeks since the final blow was struck, ending what was once a beautiful union.
What had been done in the twilight hours of the relationship was monstrous. And yet, I can’t help myself but to still care. I can’t help but leave my heart open. I hate it. I hate this feeling. This terrible hopefulness and empathy. Every excuse has been flung at the wall, but nothing’s stuck. The wall has just gotten darker with every passing day.
And yet, that feeling persists. The gnawing in my chest remains. I just want to grab the nearest object and cut it out. I hate it, I just want it to go away. What compels me to feel this way. Is she really that special? Did I feel deeper for her than I ever cared to admit? I don’t know, and wracking my brain with these questions just drags me deeper into the cold abyss where I’ve grown to feel accustome– “What’s on your mind, baby?” Vixen asks, warm concern in her tone, ripping me back to reality.
I blink a couple times, shooing away my thoughts. I glimpse around me, taking in my surroundings, as if I were on another planet just a moment ago. It’s a late, slightly chilly evening. I’m downstairs, in the corner of our L couch, Vixen under my left arm, resting her head on my chest while we watch a movie. Well, that was until she looked up at me with those doe eyes and saw my face, laced with trouble and a serious contemplation.
She gingerly placed her hand on my chest, over my heart. “Baby?” She tried again.
I look deep into her Autumn brown eyes. Those eyes, so full of love. For me.
“Nothing, it’s okay,” I try.
She tilts her head and the corners of her mouth crack into a slight frown.
“Baby,” she repeats, a little more insistently, with only the slightest hint of sadness. Sadness that I hadn’t told her, that I hadn’t trusted her with my inner thoughts immediately.
I feel guilt wash over my body, joining the still gnawing feeling hanging within my chest. I relent. “I’m thinking about her, I can’t stop and I don’t know how to stop.” The desperation is obvious in my voice.
Her frown quickly vanishes and she draws herself up next to me. Her expression turns to one of concern and care. “It’s okay to feel, you know this,” she reassures me, “It’s normal.”
“But it’s not **my** normal,” I quickly fire back. My voice dropped lower, as if the walls would hear me. “But **I’m** not like this. I don’t obsess over people, and I certainly don’t forgive when people wrong me. It’s never this hard, and it never hangs with me.” I sound sad, the disappointment in myself leaking through the cracks in my armour.
“But you’re different now,” she presses on, trying to soothe me. “You’re a different person, and you yourself said she was special.”
“But **why** is she so special. Why can’t I just be angry with her and be done with it?” I plead. “All I want to do is accept reality and move on. I don’t want to be this idiot who’s clinging to someone who’s treated me like shit and probably forgotten me already.” Tears welling in my eyes.
She clasps my limp hand in hers and squeezes. “Maybe she was more special to you than you realised.” Her eyes searched mine, looking for those hidden thoughts, struggling to empathise with me. She desperately wanted to feel what I was feeling. She wanted in.
I consider those words for a while. A long while. The silence in the room is defeaning, broken only by the screams in Vixen’s eyes. “Maybe,” I finally manage.
“I’m here for you baby, whatever you need,” she reassures me softly, and she turns back to keep watching the movie, leaving me to my internal storm once more.
—
Much later, deep into the night, Vixen and I are getting ready for bed. I haven’t been able to stop the feeling. Gnawing. Constantly, no matter what I’ve done. Nothing has been able to distract me for long. My thoughts constantly drift back to her, to what happened, and my own feelings of guilt. We’ve watched a movie, talked it out for hours, hung with the cats, I’ve meditated and we’ve played games together. And yet, it still remains, consuming my thoughts like a whisper is overtaken by an orchestral climax.
Vixen reaches across the bed for my cock, trying to break me from my thoughtful stupor. It’s flaccid. Not just flaccid, but smaller and softer than she’d ever felt it. She tries to stir something in me by giving my balls a squeeze, but I just turn to her to offer her a helpless, sad smile. I’m not used to this. I’m the type of person who can get hard just from a kiss, even after already cumming 10 times that day. I’m so hypersexual, that I’m the only one Vixen has ever tapped out from. None of our sluts have been able to keep up with either of us, and it’s a running joke amongst our subs.
However, since it happened, I haven’t been able to get hard at all. And by that, I mean **at all**. I’ve tried watching porn, wanking on my own, thinking all manner of thoughts, and none of it works. I’ve started to doubt myself and my future sexual prowess. All I can feel is the ceaseless gnawing in my chest, and the disgust. And that makes me feel even worse. The confidence which once burned so bright inside me that it showed in everything I did: broken.
She pulls her hand away. “Tell me what happened,” Vixen said hesitantly from her side of the bed. “Every detail, again.”
I turn, surprised, to look into her eyes. Those eyes, normally so full of wonder and love, now corrupted by the dark stain which was left. A pang of guilt hits me like a truck.
“Are you sure you want to hear it?” I question.
This confuses her, and I can see her wrestling with that very simple question like it were the question to the universe. Different emotions wash over her face, each one leaving almost as quickly as they arrived. Shame, anger, sadness, guilt, happiness, disgust. All there.
“Maybe I don’t want to hear it, never mind, forget I asked,” her voice manically states.
I consider her emotions in a split second. I consider everything that’s led us to this point, and everything which has helped us as a couple. I decide. “No.”
She looks at me, confused. “What?” She asks.
“I think it could be good and I think you need it, but I just wanted to be sure that could handle it,” I confess. “That was dumb, I know you can handle it, and I need to trust you.”
She must’ve heard the tone in my voice. These days so shaky at times, but right now as confident as she’s always known me. Her eyes form a slight squint as she tries to take my measure, seeing how serious I am. I don’t budge.
“Ok,” she finally squeaks out.
As I tell the story, her limbs pull just that little bit further away from me with every detail, drawing tighter into herself, as if to protect her from the words which are now forcefully invading her body. I see the disgust, depression and anger in her face, and yet I press on. I make sure to leave nothing out. Not even bruised knees, or how much it excited me. This Is the third time I’ve told this story, and yet somehow, I always manage to remember more detail upon every telling. I press on.
She stops me occasionally to ask about a detail, or to describe something to her in a different way. I feel disgust in myself, yet I realise that somehow, upon every telling and detail, as the picture becomes clearer, I realise that I wasn’t as responsible as I had thought. I realise how hard I tried to stop, and how hard she tried to break any promise she’d made, any bridge still left unburned.
By the time I get to the end, Vixen is on the verge of losing control.
I reach out to close the gap and touch her. “Don’t fucking touch me,” she harshly states. The guilt swells to a crescendo in me at this. How could I have done this? Why would I have been so stupid.
“I want to break her,” she blurts out, the anger seething in her voice. “I want to make her pay. How dare she fucking do this to me. After everything we talked about.”
I can feel the anger radiating from her, and the guilt swells within me. “It was me. I made the final choice. It wouldn’t have been possible without me.”
Her eyes turn to me, so filled with hate. “Oh, I know you had a part to play, and I’ll get to you,” she promises.
“I’m sorry,” I offer.
She nods and turns to face forward again. “For now, I just want to focus on her. I want to talk about how much I want to rub her face in the ground and see the fear in her eyes.” She pauses for a second to see if I’d respond. I don’t. “I want to make her pay for what she’s done, I don’t want her getting off as easy as she is, taking the non-existent high road. I want to smack that bitch’s ass until she bleeds.”
I pause my feelings of guilt for a second when I notice something in her voice. It’s odd, not entirely anger or disgust. There’s something else there. Sadness? No, she’s too angry.
“I want to pin her against a wall and smack that stupid smile off her stupid fucking face,” she asserts.
Okay it can’t be. She can’t be getting turned on by this, could she? Let me check. I touch her leg, and she sharply inhales. *She* ***is*** *getting turned on. You dirty bitch.*
“That’s kind of hot babe,” I say, seemingly out of nowhere.
She turns to me, realising how she felt in that moment. She opens her mouth but stops herself from speaking, just for a moment. “I like how desperate she was for you. I like when girls beg and plead to have you. It turned me on hearing it. But I want the bitch to pay.”
I squint and search her eyes for any hint of dishonesty, any doubt. I see none, not a shred. I feel a weight lift off of me. I grab her hair and pull her to me, and we share a kiss more intense than any we’d had in weeks. Her breaths are short and desperate, and she reaches for my cock.
When her hand meets the outline of my dick, I realise how hard I am. My cock is straining to escape the tight confines of my pants. *Wow, this is fucked up*, I think to myself. But it’s so hot, I can’t stop. My hands run down to Vixen’s perfect perky tits, squeezing her overly sensitive nipples one by one, eliciting a primal moan from her luscious lips.
I practically rip down my pants to free myself. My cock bounces up, hitting me hard on the stomach, causing a loud ***THWACK*** to echo through the still night. I quickly climb on top of her, our lips never leaving one another’s, our passion never fading, not even for a second. I line my cock up with her already sopping cunt. She opens her eyes to meet mine, and they scream a pleasure so intense it can’t be described. I shove a sickening thrust forward into her, burying my whole length inside her tight pussy.
“CAN I PLEASE CUM?” she screams out. This takes me aback slightly. She’s only cum **this** quickly for me a handful of times. She holds her breath and squeezes her eyes shut, arching her neck backwards in ecstasy.
“Cum for me Vixen,” I utter, and she explodes over my length, covering every inch of me with her juices and immediately soaking the sheets beneath us. I fuck into her harder, using every inch to tear up her insides.
I now no longer have any doubt. This woman is the love of my life. She’s so incredible, and she’s fucking loving this. I smile to myself as I finally slow down, and she catches her breath. I allow her to recover for a few seconds, but there’s no way I was letting her get off that easily. I speed up again, one of my hands travels to wrap around her throat and I lean in and pant hungrily into her ear, “We should break the fucking slut. Smack her until she’s bruised worse than she’s ever been. More than she could ever handle while she was respected by us.”
“PLEASE CAN I CUM SIR?? PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, PL–” she squeals at me as she holds her breath in anticipation.
“Cum,” I order.
Even more juices drip down my balls, joining her last orgasm. But I don’t stop. I don’t let her off easy this time. I just keep pounding into her, relaxing my grip on her throat only to squeeze either side of her mouth and pin her head to the bed.
“Cum harder, you fucking slut,” I order again. In response, her cunt gets even tighter around me. “Cum, thinking of wiping that dumb smile off her pretty face. Imagine how desperate she’d be for this feeling.” Her pussy was like a vice, desperately trying to squeeze the cum from my balls.
I could feel my orgasm fast building. I knew it wouldn’t be long if I didn’t stop.
“Do you want my cum inside you while you think about breaking some pretty cunt?” I ask her confidently.
“YES, PLEASE SIR, PLEASE CAN I CUM AGAIN???” She desperately screams out. “PLEASE CUM INSIDE YOUR CUNT.”
That does it for me. I let the floodgates loose. She feels my cock swell that little bit more inside her, then pulse after pulse of hot cum rockets into the back of her pussy. She squeezes **even** harder, her orgasm not stopping as I fuck my cum into her.
I just keep shooting. Thick load after thick load, it seems never ending. Her screams heard by the next street, probably waking everyone between here and there.
I collapse onto the bed next to her. Vixen, still trying to regain any form of ability for conscious thought, nuzzles into my chest, satisfied. We both sigh together.
I’m still smiling. I feel something building inside of me like a wildfire. I feel confident. It’s washing over me. Down my legs, filling my head. I’m confident in myself. I feel secure, everything in front of me. I know how I feel and I feel brilliant.
Shocked, I notice the gnawing is gone, replaced by a warmth I hadn’t felt in a long time. A pure flame, hot and bright as the sun. I feel dominant. I notice the sadness still inside me, but it’s now like a companion rather than a bully. I embrace it openly. I’m controlled. Calm. I’m myself again. I close my eyes and a single tear wells up, leaking down my cheek. It drips onto Vixen’s temple, and she looks at me, love and wonder again in her sparkling eyes.
I open my eyes and we look at each other bare, no secrets left to hide. We both smile wide, ready to face all the challenges to come. Together.
“Do it,” she finally says to me.
I know exactly what she means. We’re one and the same. Two sides of the same coin.
I reach down and pick up my phone, opening my texts, and I start to type.
## CONTINUED IN PART 2
Let me know what you think everyone! I love feedback, even if it’s just a “this was alright”! I’ll be creating a literotica account shortly, and I’ve already written a few stories.
I also have onlyfans if you’re interested! [onlyfans.com/thecapitald](https://onlyfans.com/thecapitald)
Thank you!
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/i4or6j/rebirth_mf_punishment_cheating