He Provoked His Ex and Ended Up on His Knees Before Her

Rubén’s relationship with Lucía had ended a couple of months earlier, and although neither of them had made a scene when they split up, they weren’t exactly on friendly terms either. The problem was the rental contract: there were still weeks left before it expired, and the price of any other apartment was impossible. So they decided to tough it out, each in their own room, sharing the kitchen and bathroom with the strained courtesy of two people who tolerated each other out of obligation.

That July afternoon, Brenda had come to visit Lucía. She was one of her best friends, and Rubén had always liked her more than he ever dared admit. Red-haired, long-legged, with a way of laughing that tightened something in his stomach. The two women were chatting in the living room, carefully skirting any subject that came near the breakup because he was lingering around the hallway.

From the half-open door of his room, Rubén watched them without their noticing. Brenda’s laughter reached him muffled down the hall, and every time she leaned forward to pick up her drink, her T-shirt clung to her in a way that dried his mouth out. He wasn’t going to deny it: more than one night, when he was still with Lucía, he had imagined Brenda while jerking off in silence, holding his breath so they wouldn’t hear him on the other side of the wall.

Fuck, she’s hot.

The heat was oppressive and the air conditioner in the living room didn’t reach his room. He’d gone weeks without relieving himself, without any desire, with that built-up frustration that makes a man stupid. And then he came up with what seemed like a brilliant idea: act distracted, walk out in his underwear as if nothing mattered, let Brenda see him. A cheap, childish provocation, but the blood wasn’t exactly rushing to his head.

He crossed the hall into the kitchen with his back straight and his briefs snug against him, pretending to look for something in the fridge. He felt both their eyes latch onto him.

“Do you think that’s appropriate? I’m not alone,” Lucía snapped from the sofa, her voice sharp.

“It’s my house. I’ll go around however I feel like,” he replied with a shrug.

“You’re an idiot,” she muttered.

“Shut up, you pain in the ass,” escaped him from the soul, more venomous than he intended.

Lucía fell silent for a second, lips pressed tight. Brenda arched an eyebrow, amused, like someone watching something that was about to get interesting.

“Are you a…!” Lucía began, and bit off the rest.

Rubén went back into the kitchen feeling like a winner. He poured himself a glass of water and drank slowly, putting on airs. He heard footsteps approaching down the hallway. He knew it was Lucía coming to chew him out and braced himself not to give an inch.

“And now what the fuck do yo—?”

He couldn’t finish the sentence. It wasn’t Lucía standing in front of him, but Brenda, and before he could react the redhead had extended her hand and grabbed his balls through the fabric with a precision that left no room for doubt.

***

The glass slipped from his hand and shattered on the floor. Rubén only managed a choked groan, folding over at the waist. Brenda didn’t let go. She squeezed and pulled downward, slowly, measuring every movement, savoring the face of the man who seconds earlier had been acting tough.

“What did you call me?” Lucía asked, appearing in the doorway with her arms crossed.

“I… didn’t say anything to your friend,” he gasped.

“Not to her. To me,” Lucía corrected, coming closer. “You’ve been treating me like shit for weeks. That ends today.”

Brenda yanked a little harder and Rubén dropped to his knees on the tiles, avoiding the shards purely by instinct. The humiliation of being on his knees, in his underwear, held by the most painful part of his body, burned worse than the pain itself.

“Let go of me,” he begged. “Please.”

She let go. Rubén breathed, relieved for only a fraction of a second, just long enough for Lucía to step forward and drive a hard knee straight into the center of him. The world went white. He collapsed onto his side, curled up, his hands trying too late to protect himself.

“Roll over,” Brenda ordered.

He didn’t even think about disobeying. The two of them crossed his arms behind his back and tied his wrists with the cord of a robe hanging behind the door. He didn’t resist. He couldn’t.

“Let’s see how much of a man you are,” Brenda said, crouching beside him.

With one tug she dragged his briefs down to his knees. Rubén felt the cold kitchen air on his skin and, worse still, both their gazes running over him. The pain had shriveled him completely; his penis, frightened and tucked away, had nothing to do with the boasting from a moment earlier.

“And this?” Brenda burst out laughing. “No wonder she dumped you. Did you really think you could satisfy anyone with that little thing?”

“It’s not… it’s because of the pain,” he stammered, red with shame.

“Sure, whatever you say.”

***

Lucía took her phone out of her pocket. Rubén understood what was coming and started to struggle.

“No, please, not that.”

“Now you ask nicely?” Lucía smiled without a trace of compassion and took the first photo. The flash hit his face. “Look how good you look.”

Every plea from him brought another laugh, and every laugh another photo. Lucía planted her bare foot on his thigh and gradually increased the pressure, pinning him to the floor. Rubén clenched his teeth, convinced he was going to burst under that heel.

“Ice,” he moaned suddenly. “Please, I need ice.”

Brenda and Lucía looked at each other. The redhead shrugged.

“Fine. Okay.”

For a second Rubén thought they had taken pity on him. Brenda opened the freezer and took out a bag of ice cubes. But instead of giving it to him, she spread his legs apart before he could stop her. Lucía caught on before she even said it, and her face lit up.

“Don’t do it,” he begged, reading everything in their eyes. “Please, don’t.”

Brenda tied a knot at the top of the bag, held it by the end, and swung it as if testing the weight of a sling. Only the stone was the ice cubes. The blow landed hard and dead center between his legs. Rubén let out a howl that broke halfway up his throat, his body jerking in a spasm, and before he could scream again, everything went black.

***

He woke a good while later, aching down to the last bone, lying in his own bed. His wrists were still tied behind his back. He had trouble focusing, but a rhythmic sound forced him to turn his head toward the door.

Lucía was on all fours on the rug and Brenda, behind her, was fucking her with a harness he hadn’t seen before. The two of them ignored him as if he were a piece of furniture. Only when she noticed he was awake did Brenda stop moving her hips and turn her head with a smile.

“Hello, little dick,” she sang. “How are those balls doing?”

Rubén looked down. They were red, swollen, huge; the rest of him, limp and ridiculous by comparison. No matter how much his pride wanted to react, the pain prevented even the shadow of an erection.

“Look, it won’t even get up,” Lucía laughed without stopping her motion against her friend. “And he’s got free entertainment, too.”

The humiliation drove him into a final burst of dignity. He clenched his teeth and tried to sit up on the edge of the bed, his useless hands behind him. He lost his balance immediately and fell sideways to the floor, and so badly that his legs flew apart and all the force of the landing slammed full on between his thighs against the wood.

The scream that escaped him made the two women burst out laughing. Brenda had to lean against the wall so she wouldn’t fall over laughing.

“Stay still,” Lucía advised when she caught her breath. “It’s for your own good.”

***

The weeks left on the contract were the longest and quietest of his life. Lucía made the rules perfectly clear with a coldness that admitted no argument: no more insults, not a single comeback, total obedience in everything she asked of him. Otherwise, the photos from that afternoon would end up in the phones of everyone he knew.

Rubén lowered his head and obeyed. He washed the dishes when told, stayed quiet when spoken to with contempt, lowered his eyes when Brenda came to visit and greeted him with a mocking wink that reminded him exactly who was in charge. The cocky guy who used to walk around in his underwear had vanished completely, replaced by a man who asked permission even to use the bathroom.

The strangest thing was that, as the days went by, that submission stopped feeling like a punishment. There was something almost reassuring about not having to prove anything, about obeying an order and knowing that was enough. At night, alone in his room, he found himself reliving that afternoon with a confusing mix of shame and desire, and he understood that part of him, the part he would never admit out loud, had enjoyed every second on the floor of that kitchen.

When the lease finally expired, each of them went their own way and they never saw each other again. Rubén rebuilt his life, found another apartment, even started seeing someone new. But no matter how many years passed, he never managed to erase the shame of that summer afternoon when his ex and her friend taught him, in their own way, that not all provocations come for free.