Last Night

I did not know where her head was, where it really was, until she started fighting back. My hand was soaked to the point that her cum was flowing into my latex glove. She squatted on the floor bouncing her cunt harder and harder onto it. My left hand was in her hair, pulling her eyes up to the sight in front of her. I leaned in and whispered into her ear.

“What about you makes him need her?” She snapped. The orgasms came again, or what I thought were orgasms. The way she lunged forward and pulled away from my hand was violent and… what was this other emotion? Anger? She was furious, she was crying, and cumming and desperately trying to get away from me. I reached around her and pulled her back by the shoulders until we were both sitting back, her against my chest. She struggled a little but the real fight was out of her, she was defeated. I let her calm down a minute, stroking her hair, letting her breathing ease. He walked up leaving his victim in a mess behind him.

“Do you want to trade?” That bitch behind him with a condom in her mouth was my wife and the defeated pile of bitch in my own arms was his. How we got there is pretty standard fare with this crowd. There was plenty of humiliation, there was piss play, and knife play and choking that never got recorded (sorry M), but that was not where the catharsis started. In fact there were several times when they were playing that Z laughed and came out of scene. It was not that she wasn’t enjoying herself, it was not that it wasn’t intense, it was simply that her weakness was not where we thought it was. But if it was not there, in the filth and violence, then where was it? What would it take to break her?

I leaned over to kiss her and the smell of piss filled my head. Suddenly my heart sank. My stomach twisted and I felt sick. Oddly, it was not the smell that got to me the most (though it was intense), it was the absolute debasement of Z. Sitting before me with a fucking used condom in her mouth and smelling of piss, was the remains of the woman that I had married, the woman who bore my children and slept curled up at my side. She was in that instant nothing. Her eyes were blank. Her jaw was slack. She was a wasted piece of flesh. In that moment, all was lost.

“Was it worth it?” She looked at me confused as her mind slowly worked through the fog. “Was it worth throwing away our marriage to be a piss whore?” Her eyes sharpened quickly as she came back to consciousness.

“I…” she started.

“Shut up. You smell like piss.” I stood in front of her, my dick like a dead worm. Nothing in what had happened turned me on. It had not been upsetting to watch, either, but was simply an event happening in front of me. It was not until I smelled the piss that the emotions came flooding in. I suddenly felt hatred and sorrow and complete impotence. It was the most disgusting, soul-destroying feeling I have ever felt.

“I’m fucking dead because of you.” Her eyes started to tear up. “Fucking fix it.” She grabbed my cock and started frantically sucking. It stayed limp.

“Did you forget how to fucking suck my dick? Are you so much his whore now that you forgot how to suck your husband’s dick?” She stopped being a stupid puppet and started moving her head and tongue. She was coming back to herself, and as she did her head was filling with one thought: Oh my god, what have I done?

She sucked faster and more intently. For quite some time she worked at it. I continued to berate her, telling her that she was a worthless piece of shit that had thrown away twelve years of our lives for an hour of degraded fucking. I told her that she was a whore and that she made me sick. She did. At that moment, I did not love her. I hated her with everything in me. I wanted to destroy her for how she made me feel, not in a physical way, but psychologically.

“Cunt!” I snapped a demand as my dick surged. She leaned back and I threw her onto her back. Her pussy was soaked with saliva and cunt juice. I pulled her legs in and put all my weight into driving her into the floor. “Are you happy? Are you happy that you destroyed our life?” Her eyes watered and she looked away. The smell of piss came back and instantly I was dead again. I pulled her up and forced her mouth back onto my dick. We went back and forth like this – cunt, mouth, cunt, mouth – all the while making her work to resurrect my cock like some metaphor for our marriage.

As I reached the end and was ready to cum, I pulled her hair and made her scream apologies: “I’m sorry I’m a whore! I’m sorry I ruined our marriage! I’m sorry I’m a whore!” She screamed and moaned and I came inside her.

I got up and coldly told her to go wash the piss off. She started to stammer something.

“Shut up and go wash the piss off.”

She staggered away through the main lounge, cum dripping from her twat, her clothes soaked with piss. As I saw her leave, my head was laid out like a patient etherized. There I was, endorphin stoned, guilty, hurt and happy all at the same time. Somewhere inside I was collapsing. Like the bitch on the floor, I had collapsed. And then I truly understood.

Addendum

 So several hours ave passed since writing this and the fog has lifted. As I look back across it and the comments I have gotten I realize that something may have been lost in the translation. This was not, is not the end of ZG and me. We are as strong now as before if not stronger. Just because we let this dark tide rise does not mean we have to let it drown us. There is a metaphor of flood plains and fertile crops and blah blah blah. I am not going into it. All I really want to say is thank you to all and yes, we as a couple are more than fine. Thank you to all involved, you know who you are you twisted bastardos!

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13 comments on “Last Night

  1. gooddump says:

    I pretty much have the opinion that people have to learn what they’re going to learn on their own. No one can force knowledge or wisdom down the throat of another thinking human being. That said, I read your blog and, well, “worried” seems either too strong or too weak, which means it’s probably the right word.

    So I figured I would drop you a note with some food for thought and if it helps you on your path, great.

    If there’s one theme I’m constantly exploring, it’s finding what motivates us to do the shit we do. What I read in your blog was that you don’t know what is motivating you to go to those dark places and do those dirty things, and I’m not sure you’re even fully aware of the conflict between where you are and where you want to be.

    Obviously a big part of it is your love for Zelda, if not all of it — my impression is that this exploration comes more from her than from you, and that there’s something broken in your lives that you both want to re-engage. I have no idea what that broken thing is, and it might just be mid-life malaise, but you have to understand that something is missing, and then question the ways you try to fill those bits.

    We live in a world where we have access to so many things our ancestors (or grandparents) would never have dreamed of. I love the fact that we get exposed to new ideas and get opportunities to do stuff that breaks the rules of “normal” that it’s hard to say where normal is anymore.

    What worries me is that as kink evolves and alternative becomes mainstream, that we have no baseline, no sounding board, and no way to protect our psyches as we tear them down and try to rebuild them.

    Personally, I’m not into Fetlife or any “organized” bondage or swinging. But the friends I have who have their “other lives” in the “community” is why I have to use so many quotes when talking about it. If you’re emotionally solid, these can be fun, stimulating, mind expanding places.

    If you’re not emotionally solid, then the people and things you do can destroy you and there won’t be anyone there to pick you up. The “community” protects itself, not its members — while they do, truly, care about each other, most of the world of kink is involved in propping itself up and finding ways to justify what is often unjustifiable.

    And I’m not asking you to justify what you’re doing — there are plenty of things we do in life that need no justification. I’m asking you to think seriously about where you are and where you’re going.

    It may be too late, Zelda has pushed you to snapping once and it will be hard to get to that 50th birthday party with the slideshow of the family vacations and graduations and the “normal” life up on the screen and not have it tarnished by suddenly smelling piss in your nostrils again and thinking of your bride who became less than human in your eyes.

    As much as I enjoy delving into the dark corners of our lives, it has to be balanced with equal joy and equal light, or you’ll lose yourself in a game that rapidly becomes completely out of control.

    I hope to hear your thoughts on this and I’m more than happy to explore it with you, keeping in mind I’m just some idiot on his own path and I don’t have any idea if I’m right about any of this.

    • MagisterNodi says:

      Wow, this was an amazing piece. Thank you for writing it. While there is a lot to what you say, I feel that I misrepresented the situation by writing too close to the event. You see, the whole thing was a scene, and while the emotions of the scene did overflow, it was my own fault. I do not mean that in the “I was stupid to get into this” way, but more in the “tell her to do X when you do Y” sort of way. This was a cathartic experience for me. You are right, play with multiple partners, and more-specifically with rough-play partners, can really tax the psyche, but when done properly with the right partners it can be as cathartic as being dragged through hell. Yes, this was a rough night, but in the end we found a stronger relationship. Is this the end of our tribulations? No, but we never said it was.

      • gooddump says:

        I’d be less concerned about overflow and timing and take that moment in its own context. It was obviously a really strong, shocking experience, and maybe it is tempered in the light of day, away from the moment.

        I think part of my problem with BDSM play is that the masks are really thick — the roles are often completely backwards (who’s really dominating whom?) and while we get in touch with a part of who we are, the rules of the game make it impossible to have a completely honest experience. When that honesty bubbles out it’s a good idea to look at it and run with it.

        Not that I’m any better at that myself, but then maybe that’s why I was struck with the moment you wrote about. Those cathartic, honest moments are rare and it’s good that you did write it down when it was close and unfiltered…

  2. beyondthedepths says:

    I was glad you wrote it down so close to the moment. Like a dream, you would have lost some honesty if you waited. We do all kinds of things in our minds to process events and sometimes that means rewriting the moment.

    You can always write again about the scene. It may even be a good but challenging exercise to explore how you felt while writing the first blog compared to how you feel now.

    One of the more fascinating aspects of “kink” is what we’re doing psychologically. I have a fascination with spanking and a natural inclination to react to a dominant man in a submissive manner. I’ve explored that in my blog a bit but eventually got to the point where I needed to back out from that exploration. Some of what I found is not for me and was actually repugnant to me. Not only did it not satisfy any need within me but it made me cringe away from the whole kink culture. Perhaps for only a time or perhaps I am still establishing my boundaries.

    Part of the problem I have with the kink culture is the lack of permission to reject something. I know the rules…submissives can safely control what they’re willing to do etc…and to some degree, in that regard, I agree with Good Dump that often the subs seem to be top’ing from the bottom. That part of the culture is problematic for me the same way it is for Good Dump. But what I’m talking about is when I see something that makes me concerned I need to be allowed to say so. There is a psychological impact from what goes on in this culture coupled with a devil’s dare to go a bit further than the next guy. I’m afraid that if I go too far, I may not be able to draw the line. If my partner wants to go somewhere I don’t want to go will I be able to stop and say, let’s discuss where this is going to take us….and that may mean not going there.

    I’m still marginally exploring why I’m fascinated by spanking and why I react submissively with certain men and not others…and never women. I’m glad you wrote on this moment and I hope you explore it fully. This is a great conversation and I can’t help thinking an important one.

    FD

    • MagisterNodi says:

      First of all: the idea of you topping a girl = hotness. Second the drive to out do the other guy is a major pitfall. There are many reasons that people do perverted things the trick is to do them for yourself and fuck the “community”. We use FL say way to meet people but in the end, we play with friends. Even the psychopath is a really nice guy.

  3. Magister Nodi says:

    Writing it at that moment was of utmost importance. As you say, emotions are tempered with time. Had I waited any longer, the piece would have come out much differently. As for the lifestyle and community, I think that they are simply microcosms of the greater community and have all the characteristics and aspects of society in general. There are people who are in it because they want to be, and people that are in it to be with someone. There are honest and dishonest people who lie to you and to themselves. I think the question for me is what, if anything, I get out of the whole experience.

    What I get out of it is the ability to explore my emotions in a very visceral way. It is a form of sensory overload in that you are intentionally overstimulating the mind, short-circuiting the Super Ego and allowing the self to experience life at the level of the Ego and (sometimes) the Id. The point is to create and explore within scenes that are designed to build up certain emotions so they can be released. Some emotions are good, some are darker. An example of this is sadism, I have found that I really like the look of fear that I get from a well-played scene, and ZG has also found that she likes the breakdown. She is a very tightly wound person in a very stressful job that does not allow her to show the slightest sign of weakness. Through rough and fear play, she can let go of this stress. This last scene was intense, it was more intense than anything we had done previously, but it was still a scene. In fact it was a scene that did different things for each of us. While my entire trip was based on jealousy and betrayal, ZG’s was based on filth and uncleanliness. Piss play is a hard stop for her. She hates it and I know that, and this was one of the reasons that I put it on the table without being completely honest with her about it. The scene produced different emotions and meant different things to each of us.

    Just because we have explored this dark place does not mean we dwell there. Are the emotions real? Absolutely. Was I jealous? Yes. Was I hurt? I was, but so was she. She was betrayed by me that night, I had put her into a position where she had to act a certain way. I had disregarded her stops and tried to push her limits in ways that she was not comfortable with, but she is a pig-headed bitch and would not give in once I had given the order. We learned a lot about ourselves that weekend and where are limits are. Will we do it again? Yes, but not for a long time. The game was fun but not something that you do every day, week or even every month. But to deny it is to deny a very real emotion, and while it may seem stupid because of the anguish it can bring on, I believe that denying any emotion is limiting life. It is a stupid ideological and even romantic notion, but I feel more complete when I am feeling a full range of emotions.

    Thank you for helping me put this into words. I would like to add this as a comment to my post if you don’t mind. I can give you credit for the question or leave it as anon which ever way you would like.

  4. Stacy ~ says:

    As someone whose received a rather quick and dirty education on some of the darker and more extreme elements of the BDSM lifestyle recently, I am probably the last person to be commenting here, and certainly the last to be making any judgments or offering up my opinion as it would be based on a severe lack of knowledge, yet after having read your post days ago and still unable to stop thinking about it, I felt like I just had to comment anyway, even at the risk of being scoffed at. Anything I say should be taken it with more than a grain of salt as I am going solely from my uneducated perspective. Someone who is nevertheless fascinated by this previously unexplored territory yet also concerned about the extremes people are willing to go to reach that next “high”.

    First off, I do want to say that I think you’re both very brave to share such explicit and intimate details about yourselves. To you it may be just another scene, but one that was very intense and revealing. I’m glad you and Z made a significant breakthrough that will keep you moving forward, one that from all indication has brought the two of you closer together and answered some questions about yourselves you may not have known you had. One of the things I love most about your relationship is that you do talk everything so thoroughly before and after, shining the light in all those dark, scary corners. It’s a rarity that people are that honest with each other, no matter how brutal the truth can be.

    Perhaps you can imagine that from a newbie standpoint, how horrifying some of this may appear to the uninitiated audience members such as myself. I’m not naive enough to think that pain and humiliation and degradation cannot possibly provide some level of release and satiation for a number of people, either for a variety of reasons, or even for no reason at all other than it feels good to them. We all have our own personal turnons or kinks.

    My concerns then, and even now, are much as Good Dump & beyondthedepths mentioned: where do you finally draw the line? BDSM to me is very much the definition of constantly pushing the limits, testing people’s physical and mental and emotional boundaries. But maybe it’s also about trying to keep moving that line a little further each time because the previous limit no longer does it for you. I mean, once someone is completely broken, where do you go from there? Where does it eventually end and is it ever enough? At what cost is someone willing to take it?

    You & Z are obviously a well-adjusted couple, a complete and tight unit, so my comments aren’t addressed at you specifically; you two are only the focus since this is my first experience of being consciously acquainted with people who are seriously living the lifestyle, so you get to be in the spotlight. You know by now that I have so many questions, but mainly I wanted to express my concern and affection for two people I don’t really know, but who’ve managed to affect me on a very personal level and have me thinking about many things I thought I understood about myself but turns out I do not. I even shared something of myself with Z that I never told anyone before, so look, there I go, changing, growing *g* And for that I do thank you, and hope you both continue to explore and talk and love each other, and ignore the obsessed yet totally harmless silly internet stalker in the corner. I don’t venture out much 🙂

    • MagisterNodi says:

      The whole point is to find boundaries and frankly sometimes the only way to do that is to strip over them. Life is too short to not explore as much as possible but what is possible is a very personal thing. Thanks for commenting and never be afraid of expressing you thoughts to either of us.

      MN

  5. twimom227 says:

    I too had read the original post and was a bit horrified. It haunted me and I was unable to shake it for much the same reasons mentioned by Stacy. But now that I’ve come back and read all of the comments, including the additional information MN provided in the comments, I see this experience in a different light.

    I’m very much “to each their own” kind of individual, and I have no problems with consenting adults doing what they want – as long as it doesn’t impact others. What you wrote here took me to places that I didn’t know existed. But what it’s doing for me, is opening up my eyes to what I really want out of my relationship with my husband. – Or rather what I don’t want. While this scene make work for the two of you, I know that I would not have been able to survive it. I would have been pushed so far past my limits that I would have been permanently damaged.

    And as Stacy asked, I wonder (in general) where is the line? If ZG had a hard limit and you didn’t respect it – what’s to stop it the next time? I admire that you two have such a strong relationship – and maybe my questions come from a fear that my own spousal relationship isn’t nearly as strong. I appreciate your honesty and letting us come along for the ride.

  6. mollyskiss says:

    This is a very powerful piece of writing, I hope that maybe you would write some more, explaining what has been the result of this ‘scene’.

    Exploring ones true darkness can be a risky and dangerous business I have found. It can also be a truly wonderful experiance that can bring 2 people together in ways that nothing else really can. The balance is finding the darkness, but not disappearing into it, if that makes sense.

    Mollyxxx

  7. The balance is finding the darkness, but not disappearing into it…

    Molly — That is a really great way of putting it, and is SO true. I think we both have grown immensely just from this one little scene!

  8. […] enough by this story, feel free to also read MN’s account of the end of this scene in his Last Night […]

  9. slave_ariana says:

    “I continued to berate her, telling her that she was a worthless piece of shit that had thrown away twelve years of our lives for an hour of degraded fucking. I told her that she was a whore and that she made me sick. She did. At that moment, I did not love her. I hated her with everything in me. I wanted to destroy her for how she made me feel, not in a physical way, but psychologically.”

    Thank you for writing this. I read it, then I printed it all out and asked my husband to read it, b/c the feelings you described were how I imagined he felt about *me* playing w/P, and how he felt about me being a disgusting, debased whore. We were able to have an excellent dialogue about it all.

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