The Two Strangers Who Dominate Me in the Cove

Damián went out for a walk along the coast almost every afternoon. That day the sky was covered with thin clouds that filtered the sun, and the heat wasn’t as intense as usual, so he made his way slowly along the shore, letting the water soak his ankles. He liked that stretch because there was almost never anyone there.

He walked for a good while until he reached the rocky area, where the cliff dropped away in irregular blocks and a couple of narrow caves opened up. Then he heard something. A muffled sound, the rhythm of breathing, a restrained laugh. He approached on instinct, stepping carefully so as not to slip on the wet stones.

What he saw left him frozen. Two girls, inside the shadow of one of the caves, were tangled up with each other. One was trailing her mouth along the other’s neck, their hands lost beneath the fabric of a bikini. Damián’s eyes widened as if he wanted to memorize every detail.

There’s no way I’m this lucky.

He felt the pressure grow between his legs almost immediately. It wasn’t as if he had much to boast about—his last girlfriend had left him, among other reasons, because he always finished before he even got started—but the scene made him so hard he couldn’t help himself. He pulled his swim trunks down halfway and started touching himself, hidden behind a rock, his eyes fixed on the two women.

A few strokes were all it took. Pleasure shot up his back in a sudden wave, and when he tried to step back to slip away, the trunks tangled around his ankles betrayed him. He stumbled. He fell backward onto the wet sand with a dull thud, his body on full display, with no way to hide anything.

—Well, well… a peeping tom —said a voice above him.

When he looked up, the two of them were already standing, looking down at him. One was blonde, golden-skinned, with the broad shoulders of a swimmer. The other was brunette, smaller, with dark hair falling to mid-back. They looked to be in their early twenties, and both bodies looked like they’d been lifted straight from one of those social media accounts people follow without daring to say why.

—Lucía, what do you say we teach this pervert a lesson? —the blonde asked, folding her arms.

—I think that sounds perfect, Brenda —the brunette replied, and the smile that appeared on her face was anything but innocent—. A good lesson.

***

Before Damián could say a word, he felt Lucía’s bare foot plant itself right between his legs. The sole was cold from the wet sand, but the pressure was anything but gentle. She pushed down slowly, measuring every gram of force, and a dull pain climbed from his gut up to his throat.

—Do you like spying on people? —she asked, tilting her head.

He tried to answer, but only a groan came out. Lucía increased the pressure for a second and then eased off, as if she were playing with a switch.

—That’s what I thought.

Brenda knelt beside his head and grabbed his hair with a firm hand, forcing him to turn his face toward her.

—Look, I’m going to explain how this works —she said, with a calm that was more frightening than any shout—. You acted like a dog, so now you’re going to behave like one. You’re going to use that tongue for something more useful than drooling in hiding behind a rock. Understood?

Damián swallowed. Part of him knew he should get up and run. The other part, the one controlling the blood that had pooled back down below, didn’t want to go anywhere.

Brenda didn’t wait for an answer. She straightened up a little, pulled her bikini aside with two fingers, and presented herself at his mouth. She was wet, shaved, still hot from what he’d been watching.

—Lick —she ordered—. And do it properly, or those two little friends of yours that you protect so much are going to disappear.

He obeyed. He opened his mouth and started running his tongue over her, slowly at first, finding the rhythm afterward. It turned out he was much better at that than at anything else he had between his legs. It wasn’t too difficult, either; it was simply a matter of paying attention and not stopping.

—Mmm… —Brenda closed her eyes for a moment—. Look at that, the pervert can do something right.

Meanwhile, Lucía didn’t take her foot off him. She moved it only slightly, constant pressure keeping Damián’s head clear of any thought that wasn’t pain and obedience. Her eyes were shining. There was something about having a man like that, completely at her mercy and under the sole of her foot, that aroused her more than anything else.

—How is he doing? —Lucía asked without stopping stepping on him.

—Surprisingly well —Brenda answered, her voice a little more broken—. For a hopeless peeping tom… he has a good tongue.

Several minutes passed. For Damián they were an unbearable mix of pain and arousal, the foot crushing him below while the tongue worked above. When Brenda finally came, she dug her nails into his scalp and let out a long moan that echoed off the cave walls.

She pulled away, flushed, and adjusted her bikini with a satisfied smile.

—Well —she said, catching her breath—. I think the dog’s done enough.

Lucía gave one last stomp, this time with real force, and Damián doubled over, his hands covering himself as best he could, a muffled groan slipping out between his teeth.

—We’re leaving —the brunette announced, wiping the sand off her foot against his calf—. I hope I haven’t left you crippled, peeping tom.

The two of them walked away along the shore, laughing at something he couldn’t make out. Damián stayed sprawled on the sand for a good while, unable to move, with a hot throbbing between his legs that still couldn’t decide whether it was pain or something else.

***

He spent several days walking with difficulty. No matter how much ice he applied and how much a doctor friend assured him that nothing was broken, there was another problem that no prescription could fix. He couldn’t get it up. He watched videos, remembered his exes, tried everything he could think of, and nothing worked. His body wouldn’t respond.

He went on like that for almost a full week, convinced those two had ruined him forever. Until one night, lying in bed and about to give up, his mind went back on its own to the cove. To Lucía’s foot crushing him. To Brenda’s voice calling him a dog. To the whole humiliation, relived frame by frame.

And then, for the first time in days, he felt himself react. Hard, urgent, the way he hadn’t been in ages.

How is this possible?

A few strokes were enough to finish, and the pleasure was so intense it almost embarrassed him. From that night on he understood something about himself that he would have preferred not to discover: the only thing that could excite him was thinking about them. About the contempt, the pain, being reduced to nothing beneath two women who treated him like a toy. He looked up videos of female domination, girls stepping on men, men kneeling, and recognized himself in each one. Lucía and Brenda filled his head day and night.

He held out almost a week without touching himself, feeding on the memory, until he couldn’t take it anymore. He went back to the cove.

***

He walked to the rocks with his heart racing, half fear and half hope. But there was no one there. The caves were empty, the sea struck the stones indifferently, and he felt ridiculous for having come. He stood staring at the horizon, wishing with stupid intensity that they would show up.

The blow came from behind, without warning.

Brutal pain exploded between his legs and sent him to his knees in the sand, his hands reaching up too late to protect himself. When he managed to turn his head, he saw them both, in tiny bikinis and gum in their mouths, looking down at him like someone who finds a coin in the street.

—Look who came back for more —said Lucía, and planted her foot in his groin. She noticed immediately how he reacted under the fabric—. Uh, Brenda… somebody’s happy to see us.

—Really? —The blonde crouched down and yanked his trunks down, exposing him—. Even hard, he’s tiny. What do you think? Five centimeters?

—Something like that —Lucía answered, amused, measuring it with her fingers in the air.

Damián didn’t resist. The pain had paralyzed him, but beneath that pain there was something else, something that shamed him to admit even then. It was exactly what he’d been imagining all week.

They pulled his trunks back up. Then he felt Lucía’s hand slip in at his waistband, drop something inside, and withdraw quickly. It took him a second to understand. Then the sting came, sharp and alive, clinging to his skin, and a scream tore out of his throat.

—Ha! —Both of them burst out laughing. They had shoved a small crab inside his trunks.

He managed to yank it out with a swipe of his hand, but the pincers left a thin cut, and the salt water soaking his fabric turned the wound into pure fire.

—Oof, that must have hurt —Brenda commented, hand on her hip, fascinated.

—Too bad we can’t feel it —Lucía said, shrugging—. We don’t have anything to feel it with.

They laughed again. Brenda took a little bottle of alcohol out of her bag and, without warning, poured a stream of it over the cut. Damián jerked from side to side, tears in his eyes, a howl escaping through clenched teeth.

—Consider it first aid —she said, closing the bottle with complete calm—. You wouldn’t want it to get infected. It’d be a shame to have to cut off that little friend of yours, right?

—Well, we’re off —Lucía announced, already bored—. This was more fun than any date. Bye, peeping tom.

Before leaving, she gave him one last kick between the legs, not cruelly but not mercifully either, like a signature. Then the two of them walked away along the shore, their laughter dissolving into the sound of the waves.

Damián took a long time to get up. And when he finally could, he knew something inside him had changed forever. He would come back. The two of them had marked him in a way that could no longer be undone, and although it cost him to admit it, part of him counted the days until the next time.