I Asked My Husband for a Limitless Encounter

A few weeks ago, while reading stories online, I came across a word I thought I knew but actually didn’t understand fully: masochism. I had always talked about sadomasochism as if they were the same thing, but as I started connecting the experiences Esteban and I had collected over the years, I understood that what really turned me on was not just the power play. It was humiliation, submission, the feeling of having no control over what was going to happen to me. The idea of another man prying my legs open and using me however he pleased while my husband watched had my cunt soaking wet from the moment I started fantasizing about it.

Esteban sets the scene and I walk straight into the trap. That was always our dynamic. And like on trips, I enjoy every encounter three times: before, when the fear of a stranger knots my stomach; during, when that man does whatever he wants with me without asking; and after, when I remember every detail and understand why I crave myself this surrendered.

—What if this time we ask for it directly? —I told him one night, with his hand between my thighs and two fingers sunk into my cunt—. I want the condition to be that. That the guy takes me to my limit. That he treats me like a slut and you watch him fuck me.

Esteban looked at me for a long time before smiling. He knew I wasn’t joking. He pulled out his soaked fingers, ran them over my lips, and shoved them into my mouth so I’d suck them clean. I licked them spotless, looking him in the eyes, and that night he fucked me thinking about the stranger who still had no face.

***

We went searching in private groups and through some old contacts until we found a man in his thirties who was looking to be with a married woman. We set the conditions: for my safety, Esteban would be present the whole time; we chose the place; he paid for everything. He didn’t ask for any special clothing, so I dressed comfortably for the arrival: tight black pants, a light blouse, high heels, and heavy makeup in dark tones, with a matte red lipstick that could stand up to anything.

We got to the hotel and waited in the room. When he showed up, Rubén turned out to be tall, broad-shouldered, with a shaved head and a short beard. He smelled good, though he wasn’t my type. He greeted us curtly, almost sharply, and that, instead of bothering me, made me tremble a little.

—Here’s everything I want you to wear —he told Esteban, handing him a black bag—. Change into it. The payment’s inside.

Then he flopped onto the bed and turned on the TV, as if we didn’t exist.

—What a character, huh? —Esteban whispered to me in the bathroom—. Let’s see how you do.

—I’m nervous —I laughed, my voice shaking—. Look at what he wants me to put on.

Inside the bag there was black patent-leather lingerie, a bra that lifted my tits obscenely, a ball gag, a pair of handcuffs, and a thin collar with a plate bearing his name. Esteban helped me get dressed and locked the handcuffs behind my back.

—I want to go past my limits —I told him, with a knot already forming in my throat—. I don’t care about anything. Just no marks on my face or neck. Beyond that, anything goes.

—Are you sure? —he asked, serious—. What’s going to be your safe word?

—I don’t want a safe word. I want to do this for real, even if I regret it tomorrow.

Esteban looked at me with that mix of disbelief and arousal I knew so well. I nodded like a little girl being pushed into something that scared her, and walked out.

***

The air conditioning was freezing. I stepped out almost walking on tiptoe, gooseflesh covering me, my nipples hard as stones against the patent leather, my mouth already drooling from the gag, and my eyes wide open. Esteban took me by the back of the neck and presented me.

—Here’s my wife —he said, with a calm that gave me chills—. She’s here for anything. I’m not getting involved in anything. Just no hits to the face or neck. She doesn’t even have a safe word. She’s all yours.

With those words, I lost my husband’s protection. From that moment on I was under a stranger’s control. Rubén put on low music and started circling me slowly, barely touching the palms of my hands, my hair, my thighs, never coming near my intimate parts. He scanned me all over with his eyes. He was deliberately intimidating me, and it was working.

I turned my head almost without meaning to, looking for Esteban, and in that second a slap crossed my cheek. I ended up facing the other way, with my hair falling over my face.

—You’re only going to look at me. Understand?

I nodded. Another slap landed, harder.

—Use your voice. That’s what your mouth is for.

I answered with the muffled sound the gag allowed. He sat on the bed, laid me face down across his lap, and with a violent tug tightened the patent leather against my ass. A whimper escaped me. He started spanking me slowly, firmly, setting a rhythm that little by little turned into a beating. His open palm landed flat on my buttocks, over and over, and I felt my skin starting to burn. Between one smack and the next he ran two fingers through my ass crack, over the patent leather, and checked that I was soaked. He laughed softly at my wetness. When I cried out, he threw me to the floor, stood up, and lifted me by the hair to slam me against the bed.

—You’ll speak when I say so. Clear?

Again, that muffled uh-huh was all I could give him. He took the gag off. A string of drool slid from the corner of my mouth down to my chest.

—And the handcuff keys?

I looked at Esteban. He understood.

—Go. Fast. And be careful about talking.

I brought them back in my mouth like a dog. Rubén freed my wrists and, with his hand on my nape, aimed my head toward his shoes.

—Clean them. All of it.

I had never done anything like that. I ran my tongue over the leather with a bit of disgust while he stroked my arched back. When I lifted my eyes just a little, he grabbed my hair.

—Look at me when you do it. The ones who are good for this look you in the eye.

A gob of spit hit me in the face and I shut my eyelids on instinct. I felt the saliva run down my cheek to my lip and, without thinking, I caught it with my tongue. I went back to my task, holding his gaze, resisting. I wanted to look for Esteban, but I wasn’t allowed.

***

Rubén stood up, yanked his pants and boxers down in one motion, and before I could even sit up he shoved me onto my back. His cock sprang out thick, hard, with a swollen head and a prominent vein running underneath. I stared at it with my mouth slightly open.

—Open your mouth. And don’t you dare close it.

He shoved it all the way in at once. I felt the tip hit my throat, my nose crushed against his pubic bone, the male smell pushing deep inside me. He grabbed my head with both hands and started fucking my mouth with no mercy, driving in all the way, pulling out only enough to slam back in. Drool poured from my chin in streams, soaking my tits over the bra. Every time he pulled out I sucked in air and took him back, my eyes watering, mascara smearing down my face. The only sound in the room, besides the music, was the slapping wetness of my mouth and my broken breathing, until I couldn’t take it anymore and started coughing and gagging. He didn’t stop. I spat out a string of drool mixed with semen, because he had already come a little on my tongue without me noticing. He dragged me by the hair to the bathroom, lifted me in front of the mirror, and fixed my gaze on the reflection.

—Look at yourself. You’re a fucking mess and I haven’t even started. Tell me what you are.

I saw myself: smeared makeup, one eyelash about to peel off, hair in disarray, eyes reddened from the pressure, drool shining on my chin and chest, and his cum hanging from my lower lip. Only the red lipstick was still intact.

—A mess —I murmured, not knowing what else to say.

—You’re here to be treated like this. Say it.

—I’m here so you can do whatever you want with me. I’m worth nothing for this. I’m your slut.

He bent me over the sink, ripped the black patent thong off me in a pull that burned my skin, and spread my legs with his own. He shoved three fingers in at once and pulled them out shining, dripping.

—Look how you are. All wet from being a filthy bitch.

He ran them over my lips, forcing me to suck them, and then lowered his hand again. He started fingering me with the same brutality he’d used on my mouth, three, four fingers, his palm bumping my clit with every thrust. On purpose I denied him once, just to see his reaction, playing with fire.

—I’m not clear on anything you’re saying —I challenged him.

The punishment was immediate. He slammed my face against the mirror, pried my ass open with his other hand, and spat right on my asshole before pushing his thumb in to the knuckle. I screamed and he laughed. His cock came back in, this time against my cunt, and he drove it in to the hilt in one blow, not giving me a second to adjust. The scream died in a long gasp. He started fucking me against the sink, holding onto the collar with the plate bearing his name, pulling back like it was a rein. But against all odds, somewhere between the spanks and the insults, my body started to respond. What was supposed to hurt me began to feel good, and I found myself helping along with the rhythm, pushing my ass back to take him better, wet, betrayed by my own desire.

***

Esteban didn’t miss a single detail. From his chair, with a beer in hand and the bulge obvious under his pants, he lifted the bottle toward me in a silent, filthy toast. I returned the gesture with a faint smile, feeling my hair bounce against my face while Rubén held me against the mirror and fucked me again and again with a wet sound that filled the bathroom.

—What are you? —he kept insisting, never stopping his thrusts—. Say it so your husband can hear you.

—I’m whatever you want me to be —I answered, without any pride left—. I’m yours while this lasts. I’m my husband’s slut and now I’m your slut.

And then I broke. Not in my body, which was already surrendered, but inside. I started crying uncontrollably, and the tears ran down my cheeks while he kept going, mercilessly, laughing at my crying, smacking my ass with hard slaps that rang against his pelvis. It was hard to explain: that feeling of being reduced to nothing was exactly what made me vibrate with pleasure. My clit throbbed against the cold edge of the marble every time he drove into me. I let go completely, surrendered, and I exploded into an orgasm that rose from the soles of my feet, clenched my cunt around his cock in spasms, and buckled my legs until I collapsed onto the floor, trembling, with a thread of his juices and mine dripping down my thigh.

—Would you look at that —he laughed, clapping slowly, shaking his shiny cock in front of my face—. The lady was enjoying herself. She came like a bitch.

***

He carried me over his shoulder like a sack and dropped me onto the bed. He arranged me on my back, knees bent up against my chest, almost touching my tits, and came back in with all his weight. His cock opened me again, deeper than before in that position. I made faces of pain, breathless, split in two, while we stared at each other: him with his mocking smile, me with my gaze lost in his face. He had achieved my complete submission and we both knew it. With every thrust he hit the bottom of my womb and I let out a hoarse moan I didn’t even try to hide anymore. He spat between my tits and smeared it across me with his open palm before pinching my nipples until I howled.

On one thrust he slipped sideways and hurt himself. More him than me. His cock bent against my crotch and he let out a curse.

—Your fault —he growled, raising his hand.

I shut my legs tight, and for a moment I really wanted to stop. I glanced at Esteban, who asked me with a gesture if I wanted to keep going. I had a knot in my throat, but my body was shaking with arousal and my cunt was spilling over the bedspread. I took a breath and, to my own surprise, decided to continue.

—Forgive me —I told him in a sweet, calculated tone—. I’ll make it up to you. Let me get you ready again and do whatever you want with me.

I didn’t let him think. I slid to the floor, knelt between his legs, and took him into my mouth gently, first sucking the tip, then going down slowly to the base. I licked his balls one by one, taking them into my mouth carefully while I worked slow handjobs along his shaft, using saliva as lube. I looked up at him with eyes still wet, my mouth full of him, and held his gaze as I sped up. I felt him grow between my lips, harden again, throb against my tongue. I worked him with both hands and my throat until he was hard as he’d been at the start, thanking him with my mouth for everything he’d done to me. I had avoided a punishment that wasn’t even my fault, and that made me feel, for the first time that night, strangely powerful within my own surrender.

***

What came after was a succession of positions in which I stopped fighting. He put me on all fours on the bed, grabbed my hair like it was a tail, and matched every pull with every thrust. He buried himself to the balls, pulled out all the way, and shoved back in again, and the sound of his thighs slapping against my ass mixed with my moans. He spread my cheeks with his thumbs and spat into my asshole before rubbing it with the tip of his cock, threatening to shove it in. He didn’t do it, but he promised me he would in my ear, and that alone made me clench all over again. Then he turned me to face Esteban, still on all fours at the edge of the bed, and stood behind me.

—See? —he told him, not me, while he fucked me again—. I’m fucking her from the front and you’re watching. Look at what’s yours. Watch me open her up.

While he spoke, he gripped the base of my neck with one hand. I looked at my husband seriously, my tits bouncing with every thrust, and the tears started falling again. Esteban had unzipped his pants and was stroking himself slowly, not taking his cock all the way out, taking care of me without intervening, watching another man take control of my body and my mind. That, that idea, was what filled me with an erotism impossible to explain.

—Stick out your tongue —Rubén ordered at one point, pulling out abruptly and lifting his phone—. I’m going to film you. Say who you are and what they did to you today.

I obeyed, kneeling, tongue out, with his cock resting across my face. I looked into the camera with watery eyes.

—You used me all afternoon —I said, voice breaking and burning at the same time—. You pulled my hair, slapped me, insulted me, fucked my mouth and my cunt until I cried. And even so I don’t want you to stop.

—Well, that’s what you came looking for —he replied, leaving another spit in my face while I smiled with my tongue still out.

He shoved it back into my mouth and moved slowly until he groaned, pulled out, and came all over me. The first thick ropes splashed across my forehead and ran down to my eye; the next landed on my cheek; the rest painted my lips, my chin, my tits. He wiped himself against my lips, pushing the tip back in so I’d suck the last drops, and I swallowed without looking away.

***

When it was finally over, I was someone else. The makeup was gone, my hair was a tangled mess, my heels were killing my feet, cum was drying on my face, and my whole body was trembling, my cunt and ass hurting in equal measure. And despite everything, I was still obeying. Rubén gave me a dry kiss on the forehead, using a clean corner, got dressed in silence, exchanged a few words with Esteban, and left without looking at me again.

I stayed seated under the shower, letting the water fall over my chest, trying to understand what had happened. I watched the semen dissolve and go down the drain mixed with mascara and with a pinkish trickle coming from between my legs. I had gone looking for a masochistic encounter and lived something much more brutal than I had imagined. It was too much. And yet, I can’t deny it was worth it.

Esteban helped me wash up, slid his hand gently between my legs to clean me without hurting me, dried me off, brushed my hair a little, and put a short floral dress on me before putting me to bed. I curled up on the bed.

—There are still four hours left on the room —he told me softly, stroking me—. Sleep. I’ll take care of you.

I closed my eyes. I felt his hands barely brushing over me, asking for nothing more than the pleasure of looking at me, and I understood why he had chosen that dress. I no longer had the body or the head for anything other than resting, knowing he was there, awake, taking care of what was left of me.