“The next entry in my diary, Mistress, is two years later. Between those dates, there are no entries about how proud I am of my sons. Not the first words Sandor said. All those kind things Koen was doing for me in those days; Coming home after a long workday and help me with the kids and doing things around the house for me. Not a word. Two years, Mistress. It’s a long time to fuck a secret lover. Koen trusted me. Koen was my rock I could depend on. And yet, my affair with Damien went on and on and on. He was 24/7 on my mind. No matter how much I loathed myself, I couldn’t stop seeing him.”
Date April 19, 2001
In getting a place for us to hang out together, I think I scored quite a few brownie points with my handsome young student. For a week, I managed to hang on to the key, only to surrender the key to my master. It was only right I have to wait for him in the nude at the backdoor of my friend’s house. Zuzanna’s husband is a self-employed contractor that leaves the house at six and comes back, exhausted after a hard day’s work at 20:00 hours. Often his work was not in town, and he has to travel for several hours after his workday was done. So there is little risk he would catch me there in my full nude glory, and yet there is always a chance he comes home unexpectedly. Often I stand there, in the rain or cold, or both, waiting for Damien to let me in. All kinds of reasons spooks in my head. Zuzanna’s husband could be ill and have to come home. His work for today could be finished by noon, so he decides to come home. He could invite his buddies for a spontaneous poker game. But that is not the only chance of being discovered. Yes, the fence around their garden is high, because Zuzanna loves to sunbathe in the nude. But there are cracks in the wood. And if the neighbour is in the garden and wants to see a glimpse of me, he definitely could.
One day, the heavy rain drenched me from head to toe. My long hair plastered itself to my back like a stray cat surprised by the storm. Suddenly I froze, seeing Zuzanna peering out of her kitchen window. She hurried to the door, my door.
“What are you doing out here? Did you forget your key?”
“I gave the key to my master, Zuzanna. I am waiting for him.”
“You mas…,” she gasped. “OK, come on in, you will catch a cold.”
“Thank you for your kind offer, my friend, but I’m not allowed.”
“Don’t be daft,” she said, annoyed. “Surely he understands that in this weather I wouldn’t even let my dog outside.”
“You don’t have a dog,” I said, smiling. “And if you let me in, he knows you’re in the house. And he will realise that you know we are here, and the chance that he will blackmail you at school is too big a risk. Besides, his stupid whore should not be thinking. Master will think for her instead.”
“This is not the first time I hear you scream ecstasy through the walls of the house, girl.”
I didn’t respond, other than blushing. Damien wants me to be expressive and loud. So I am. Shouting from the top of my lungs, many a time.
“You are crazy! So you are content with just standing there waiting until he comes, even if that takes forever?”
“Hurry”, I said urgently. “I hear his car coming. Shh…,” I waved her off like this wasn’t her house.
The only meaningful discussion we ever had in all those years was when we were together was after a big blowup at school. He was suspended from school for confessing to assaulting his classmate and girlfriend. We fucked on weekdays, but on weekends I am home with Koen and my kids. Our relationship did not result in him refraining from having multiple girlfriends at the side. So convenient on the weekend. I was his cum dump. Nothing more. We were in bed after a violent session, even for him. I caressed his beautiful hair. His face was resting in peace on my poor battered titties.
“You don’t like women much, do you?”
As a way of responding, he bit my left nipple. Hard. “Auw.”
“Why? If you want a wife later, find someone like me. One that can absorb what you hand out. Not Sandra. You knew better. Sandra is a bit of a drama queen, only wants to be admired.”
“She is a bitch. Deserved it.”
“No, she is not a bitch. She is a young girl who wants to be admired by her friends just from going out with you. Haven’t your mother taught you to be nice to girls?”
“My. Mother. Has. Left. Us.” Each word was reinforced by a, not so soft, blow with his fist on my pussy. I had to do something if I wanted to be able to walk out of this house after this intense session. I curled into a foetus shape, to prevent him hurting me more. Distantly, through layers of pain, I heard his voice.
“Hey… don’t look at me like I’m the villain in some story. You know that’s not me. I messed up—yeah, I know I did. And I hate I made her feel like that. Really, I do.”
He walks around the bed. Cups my face with his hands. “You know me better than anyone. You know I get lost in my head sometimes. But I would never want to hurt her. That’s the last thing I’d ever want. God, I’m such an idiot. But you—you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You ground me. You make me better. Without you, I’m just… chaos. We’re good together. I’ll do better—I swear it. I will be nice to the girls. Just don’t give up on me. Please.”
“Make me understand. Explain what your mother did that prompted this extreme level of rage targeted only at women?”
“Only if I can fuck you in the butt without lube”, he grinned, returning to his usual cocky mood.
“Deal.” I said foolishly. I could handle a little more pain. At least, that was what I was thinking at the time.
“Sit down on the bed on all fours.” That was a good way to distract me from looking at him. And vice versa. His voice sounded strange, not his normal voice, but… younger perhaps. More vulnerable.
“My dad is like me. He works at the factory and because of most women find him handsome, all these guys at work are kind of jealous I suppose. He is not as strong as most of them and lots of the work is tough. They tease him constantly about being a faggot and call him names. So when he comes home, all that pent up frustration goes towards my mother. Four years ago, on a really rough day, she went to the police. They arrested my dad. He’s serving time in jail, while I’m now living in a foster home. My foster parents are nice enough. They treat me with kid gloves. But I will never forgive my mom. My mom betrayed my dad. She could have abandoned us without getting him imprisoned. She could have. But she chose not to. She walked out on us. On me.”
His finger penetrated my asshole. I felt the tip of his cock at the entrance. “I am going to rape your ass in three. One. Two. Three!” He forced his cock with so much power in me he fell over on my bare back. I knew I would bleed for a day or so, he must have torn something inside. Without shame or remorse, he pounded my ass with all the energy of the youth. I took a chance and looked back at his face. Anger was gone. Lust had taken over. Good.
Damien came and said nothing. He is so pretty. I guess we refer to women as being beautiful. Men are at best handsome, and few even that. But this young man was beautiful.
Koen was cute. But Damien honours his name. He looks dangerous and strong. I make sure there are always enough packages of condoms lying around everywhere in our little hideaway. From the start I clarified that the hell with the consequences, I would not allow him to fuck me bareback, except for my mouth. He never misses an opportunity to fuck my mouth. I never give him a blowjob, he always rapes my mouth. A real victory is when he not only makes me gag on his member, but puke as well. For some strange reason, the vile smell of it doesn’t faze him at all and he takes his time fucking my face after I barfed lunch out. I really need to clean up after that, and perhaps that is the reason fucking my mouth is mostly his dessert. After I mentioned his long thin cock was ideally equipped for ass fucking, he eagerly switched to rimming my ass in the most delicious way possible. Being the internet porn kid he is, he got me a butt plug I have to wear on schooldays as well, but that was no problem.
Koen enjoys fucking my pussy better than anything else. With Damien in the mouth and ass, all my holes are filled on a regular basis. Several times a week. Damien and I never really talk. Even when we are next to each other in bed, we never discuss how he knew I am a submissive slut, longing for pain and humiliation. I never found out how he could know that. But he did. We stay away from small talk as well. He gives orders. And I would respond ‘Yes, master.’ To whatever wild idea he wants to experiment with.
I know he will fuck it up one day. I don’t want to think about it, but in the back of my head I always have known some day he would do something to me that would leave a mark on me my husband would notice. Until now we had been lucky, and minor marks I kept hidden from view. Damien felt wronged by another teacher on that particular day. I don’t want to get involved in that. I have no way of knowing what really had happened, so I stay out of it. A good excuse for him to take his belt from his pants and tell me to lean to the door, spreadeagled. He had tanned my hide before, but not like this. Previously, he succeeded to redden my skin from top to bottom, but this time he did that three times over. Every inch of my body. I felt hot like a lobster.
“Don’t you have had enough, cunt? Do I need to match your front as well?”
I was stupid enough to say, “You are the one with the belt, Master. It’s for you to decide when I have enough.”
He chuckled. “You really are a glutton for pain, aren’t you, whore?”
My poor titties were never beaten so hard. Never. I never doubted I could take what he dealt until that day. When my front colour matched the redness on my back, I knew there was no way I could explain this. So when he said, “Open your legs for me, you dirty cunt,” I walked to the bed and sat on the edge. I spread my legs as far as I could and even open my almost dry cunt lips so if my clittie was stupid enough to rise to its head, it would receive the beating it deserved. I have a big clit. A mini penis. Causing me to be excited even when my underwear shaved to it. It makes an excellent target.
My marriage would be over very soon. Perhaps my career as well. I didn’t think that Damien would carry out his blackmail threats any more. Not after I was his willing victim for years, got us a place to go to and had been the receptacle for litres of his cum. Despite how afraid I am that he would destroy my pussy, I say calmly, “I have warned you many times not to leave marks on my body. Now that you have, you might as well hit my pussy with the buckle. Before my husband kills you, and he will, you will have the satisfaction to have destroyed his pussy for him.”
A stupid thing to say. It didn’t stop him, and I never thought it would. Each time he hit my pussy, I closed my eyes and howled in pain. Six times I went back from my foetus position to the edge of the bed and opened my legs as wide as I could for him. When he hit my clit with full force, I checked if he had torn it off. No bleeding. Thank God. There was no lust, just pain. A sea of pain. Can you imagine a woman being proud of being able to take a beating so harshly it leaves permanent marks? But I am. I want to prove to him I am tougher than he is. If this is the last time I have such great orgasms, I want to remember the last time I offer myself. It is the only reason I open my legs for the sixth time for him and dare him to beat me as hard as he can. He does and then throws his belt away. Fleeing Zuzanna’s house as fast as he could, as if pursued by the devil himself, constituted his aftercare.
I don’t have to explain how deep I hurt Koen when I confessed what we did. The week is a preview of Dante’s vision of hell. Koen is acting all male. He ran away from home. He came back. Finding Damien, he didn’t kill him like I thought he would, but threatened him so effectively I received at school a couple of memory sticks. He swore they were the only pictures he had of me and apologised in a humble way I have never witnessed before. My boys, not understanding but feeling that something is wrong between mummy and daddy, are so upset that the slightest thing makes them cry, and that gets on my nerves. The entire week we kept each other in this self destructing loop. After two days, the principal sent me home, “because I was not myself and should take some rest.”
Koen doesn’t talk to me, very mature, but entirely expected, and sulks all the time. One thing he didn’t do was pack his bags and leave. Neither told me to pack my bags. On the fourth day, my phone rang.
“Good morning, this is Ruben from the Rutger foundation.” The Rutger foundation focuses on education, psychological support, and is known for having some very good psychologists and sexologists on staff. “I want to let you know your husband stopped by yesterday, and I’m wondering if you are open to counselling to help address the issues you’re facing.”
“Yes, I am,” I say without thinking.
“Good. It is possible to see you both here in the office at 10.00 am tomorrow morning?”
“You need us both at the same time?” I asked.
“Yes, we need to have individual sessions later, but for now, I need to see the both of you.” Ruben says.
“Oh. Euh. I don’t know if I can arrange a babysitter on such short notice. Hang on a moment, please.”
I muted the phone and said to Koen who was in the kitchen making dinner for the kids, “Ruben is on the phone and he wants to know if we both can come tomorrow at 10, but I cannot arrange a sitter at such short notice. What should we do?”
“Call your mom, and ask her to come over for a few days, and tell Ruben you will confirm the appointment after you have talked to her.”
As always, I feel relieved when Koen is telling me what to do. So when mom agreed to come over, we went to see Ruben the next morning. We talked a lot. And in telling my story, I cried a lot. Koen told me he was so disappointed in me, and felt betrayed and humiliated. Cuckolded. I confessed to being guilty on my side of the story. I couldn’t resist the forceful man or boy who had lured me into this situation. And how sorry I was, and would do anything to make amends.
“I have heard enough for now”, Ruben said after an hour, “Koen I would like to speak to Sylvia in private, and after talking to her, I want that same private conversation with you. Would you mind waiting for a while? We are in the middle of Rotterdam centre, so if you want to go out for a moment, feel free to do so. Please be back at 12, thus we can continue with you.”
“Sylvia. Do you think I have a chance to save your marriage?” Ruben asked.
“I have no idea. He hasn’t run away yet. That is his first instinct. In that regard, it is good news. He has also sought help, not from a woman, most women like him at first glance, but from a man. It will be good for him to vent to a man. Koen has nobody, he has to solve it all by himself. He doesn’t think so, but he can’t do this alone. He needs other people to help him. I have Zuzanna. I can talk to her about all this. Even my mother would listen. Koen is alone in his self created world. He lives for his children now. His kids are his everything. Some guys are born to be a father. If a dad would be a profession, Koen would be hired in an instant. He adores his kids, and they adore him. If I ran away from him, he could take care of them with no problems. He doesn’t need me to take care of them.”
“Children need both parents, Sylvia. It’s the main reason I’m seeing you both on such short notice. The sooner we can find out if there is ground to rescue this marriage, for the sake of the children we should,” Ruben said.
We were quiet for a moment. “Tell me about your sexual urges”, Ruben said. I flinched.
“I am glad that Koen has found a man to talk to, but I have problems talking to a man about this”, I said evasively.
“You are afraid I will judge you for the submissive feelings you are having?”
“Everybody does. You are a guy. Either you boss me around to make me tell you, or you will think I am another of those women that is starving for attention.”
“I have studied sexology. The subject of my thesis was ‘Redefining Power: The Dynamics of Consensual Female Submission in Western Society’s Evolving Feminist Landscape.’ If you want, I will refer you to one of my female colleagues, but I think I will be able to help you on a professional level.”
I surrender once again. Not very graciously, I might add. “I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but I love Koen. He is my better half. He takes care of me and loves me, almost in a feminine way. At the same time, he is my guide. If something is bothering me, I know he only needs half a word, and then he gives me advice so I can move on. He is nice to everyone, and he has put me on a pedestal on which I balance and have a big chance of falling off. As has happened now.” I breathed in the stale taste of the office and avoided looking at my therapist.
“My body reacts to dominance, and willpower has nothing to do with it. At the beginning of of our marriage we played B&D-games. And I loved it. Koen has always been afraid his dominant side will take over and he will do terrible things. And how many times I told him he is incapable of doing those things, it doesn’t seem to stick.”
“We are not talking about Koen’s feelings now, Sylvia. Tell me about yours.”
“I miss it. My body and soul ache for it. I wished so many times I was normal. Why am I cursed with this strong desire? Why can’t I be satisfied by having sex with my husband twice a week? What kind of sick woman wants to be degraded and humiliated? If I am stubbing my foot I feel pain but no sexual desire. Why does my body react to a flogger or a nipple clamp?”
“You cannot pull away from your innermost desires, Sylvia. It’s like asking yourself why you are allergic to copper, or chlorine, or semen? You have no control over it. But the level of resistance you are willing to handle is within your control. If your love and your life with Koen is at stake, realise right there and then if the temptation is worth it. You can compare it to a drug-addict. You have to kickoff your addiction, the craving itself will be fewer afterwards, but you know it never goes away completely. And like a drug needle leaves a mark on your body, so does the thing you are looking for.”
We talked a while about red flags, and how to avoid situations where my wants and needs would bring me into trouble. The hour had flown Koen knocked on the door. A bag full of sandwiches with him. He has that feminine instinct to nurture, far more than I do.
“I brought us some sandwiches, as it is already 12. I thought you both would be hungry by now. Koen was always hungry.
“Very kind of you, but I brought my own sandwiches from home,” Ruben said. Out of politeness, I took two of them as I didn’t want most of them wasted. Even though I wasn’t hungry at all, I still had to eat. I did what any sane woman would do with an hour to kill in the centre of a big city: I went shopping. I bought myself a nice dress for Koen. Anything so I can stop thinking about what Ruben said.
Our trip home was quiet. Koen has a lot to think about, I guess, and so did I. At home, Koen went for a long walk, but I needed to talk with someone. As my mother is the only one around, she becomes my volunteer to listen. And I told her everything. About my sexual cravings, my preference for rough sex, and the incident with Damien. I skipped the part about Koen, and I had experimented at the start of our wedding, though. I did tell her the real reason she had to come to babysit the kids today. My mother is a skilled listener. She made just the right noises to let you continue, but didn’t interrupt. It felt better having that all of my chest.
“What should I do now, mom?” I whined.
“Do you think your father and I had a devoted, intimate, and resilient partnership?” she asked.
Great, no direct answer, I thought with just a kilo of sarcasm. I kept my mouth shut for a change and just nodded.
“Do you think your father loved me exactly the same amount as I loved him?”
“I think so…,” I said. Never really thought about that.
“He didn’t. I always loved him more than he loved me. I adored the man. He was so strong and fearless. Thanks to his authoritative character – which, incidentally, made him a great captain in the army – I leaned on him and he gave me strength and love in return. But your father was abroad for a long time as well. And men like him need a woman. I understood that. I didn’t like it, mind you, but I understood. We never discussed it, but he was aware that I was aware.”
I had to let that sink in for a moment. It’s not every day your mother tells you that your dad has had other women. “Do you think Koen loves me more than I love him?”
“I know he does.”
I got mad. “You know I love Koen with all my heart. We always have been so close, ever since we were young.”
Mother remained calm. “I didn’t say you didn’t love Koen, I know you do. We were discussing the question, who loves more, and there is no question in my mind that he loves you more. It’s not only that he worships the ground you walk on, but he would never look at another woman in a million years.”
I knew she was right. I hated to admit it, but I knew she was right.
He loves me more than I love him.
I closed my diary. You could hear a pin drop in the room. I felt the need to explain the rest of it to my Mistress. “Damien left school and did whatever devil boys do for a living. I wouldn’t be surprised if he became a local politician. I never saw him again. It took me many consultations with Ruben to realise not Damien almost wrecked my marriage, I did. It was easier to blame him, though. Damien never really went away for Koen and me. In a way, he is still between us.”
“No, he’s not.” Koen said calm. “He went out of our lives since he left school. Predators like him are often cowards. And he ran away with his tail between his legs. He will never have children like him, though. I made sure of that.”
Koen loves me more than I love him.
