I Asked a Stranger to Make Me Forget

I wasn’t expecting anything from that night. The bar was crowded, but it wasn’t loud; it had that dimness that makes strangers more enticing and confessions easier, if someone looks at you long enough.

I leaned against the counter and turned my glass between my fingers, focused on the ice melting. I was about to order another drink when I felt a presence behind me.

It wasn’t a brush or a nosy glance, but a subtle warmth that made me straighten my back. I turned slowly and found him a hand’s breadth away.

—Heartbreak? —his voice was deep, barely audible over the saxophone playing in a corner.

I smiled with a quick, cynical flash.

—Something like that. It gets cured with forgetfulness and alcohol, right?

He didn’t smile.

—Forgetfulness can wait —he whispered, lowering his gaze to my lips—. Sometimes the best remedy for a bad memory is a new one to cover it up. Something intense. Something that tastes better in the mouth than whiskey.

—And what do you suggest as… a remedy? —I asked.

His gaze flicked for a moment toward a round table, half-hidden behind a column. Seated there, with a brandy glass in hand, was another man. Broader, with a dark T-shirt clinging to his arms, he watched us with an almost insolent calm.

—My friend —he said, bringing his eyes back to mine. His hand closed around my wrist with possessive firmness, as if afraid I’d run at the presence of a third person—. Forgetfulness is heavy work for one person alone.

My pulse, which had been pounding with nerves, now beat with a different kind of excitement. It was a game, and the appearance of his friend was the first unexpected rule.

—And is he a doctor too? —I asked, raising an eyebrow.

A slow, dangerous smile formed on his lips.

—He’s the best pharmacist.

He let go of my wrist, but only to slide his palm along my back and guide me with confident pressure.

—Come on. You need a double dose of distraction.

As we walked, I felt both their gazes on me, like a pair of invisible hands already undressing me. When we reached the table, my companion drew me closer before letting go. My hip brushed his, and the contact was enough to take my breath away.

—I’m Adrián. He’s Bruno. And you, beautiful anonymous one, are going to stop thinking about what you lost.

—I need… —I said, taking a sip of the liquor— to be made to forget even my name.

Adrián leaned in and spoke into my ear.

—In that case, you’ve got all night for us to give you new ones.

Bruno set his glass down on the table with a dull thud, breaking the spell of the whisper.

—There’s too much noise here and too many witnesses —he said—. Good remedies aren’t taken in bars. We need to go somewhere quiet, without people, without waiters, somewhere we can focus on you.

Adrián nodded with a slow smile. Bruno stood with an agile movement and held out a large, warm hand to me.

—My apartment is five minutes away. It’s spacious, has a view of the city and, most importantly, no one will bother us.

My eyes bounced from one to the other. Going to an apartment was crossing a line I had been looking for since I walked into the bar, but one that now felt enormous with it right in front of me.

—Well, patient? —Adrián asked in his seductive voice—. Do you trust the treatment?

I felt a rush of audacity, fueled by the whiskey and the suppressed desire.

—Only if you promise the medicine will be bitter at first and sweet at the end —I replied, taking Bruno’s hand.

—It’ll be as sweet as you want —he said, and the way he said it made sweetness sound like a threat.

***

The elevator felt far too quiet for the urgency burning in my blood. Bruno opened the door with a quick code.

—Welcome to the clinic —said Adrián, appearing right behind me.

Bruno put a hand in his pocket and took out a dark silk blindfold.

—The first step to forgetfulness is to stop seeing —he said, and his voice turned into a soft thunder—. Kneel, pretty one.

The order was so direct that my knees bent before my brain registered the decision. I fell onto the polished wood, feeling the cold on my skin and the exciting humiliation of instant submission. Bruno stood in front of me and, without another word, tied the blindfold around my eyes. The darkness was total, dense.

—There you are —Adrián’s voice, closer. I didn’t know where he was, only felt his fingers lifting my chin—. Now you’re only sensations. And we’re the only hands that control them.

—Pretty one… —Bruno’s warm breath brushed my ear—. Now only our will exists. Do you understand?

I couldn’t speak. My throat had closed into a knot of nerves and fervor. I could only nod, a tiny movement of my chin.

—Say you understand —Adrián ordered, rough.

—Yes —I managed to whisper, with a vulnerability I hadn’t expected—. I understand.

Bruno didn’t answer. Instead, I felt his hands wrap around my hips.

—Forgetfulness starts with the memory of your own clothes. You won’t need them.

A series of soft, firm tugs. The zipper of my dress sounded like a shout in the stillness of the room. The fabric slid from my shoulders and fell to the floor, leaving my torso bare. The only barrier left was my underwear. The cold air hit me, but the arousal kept me burning hot.

Adrián’s fingers traveled down my back and up to the nape of my neck. His hand closed in my hair and pulled my head back to expose my throat.

—Your mouth is ours to use —he said, right over my lips. He wasn’t asking permission; he was informing me of a fact—. We want to hear you gasp, beg and, above all, obey. Can you do that, girl?

—I will —I answered, and my voice came out steadier, tinged with the resolve that only surrender gives.

I stayed in the dark, kneeling and naked from the waist up, an offering waiting. Suspense was the real sedative.

The first contact wasn’t on my skin, but on the fabric of my underwear. Bruno knelt behind me; his warm breath reached the base of my neck.

—The second step is the punishment for remembering. It isn’t pain, it’s a lesson.

He slid something cool and smooth along the inside of my thigh. Then, in a sharp strike, I felt a stinging snap against the flesh. It wasn’t hard, but the surprise and humiliation stole my breath. My body tensed and a moan slipped out of me.

—One point less of your past —he whispered, and the blow repeated lower, near the curve of my ass.

I lurched forward, searching for support on the floor. Before my palms touched the wood, Adrián’s hand fell on my nape and shoved me down.

—Don’t move —his voice was a sharp scalpel, cutting through any resistance.

***

—Stand up —Bruno said after an endless silence, tugging at my waist.

I rose slowly, my muscles aching from tension. Blindness intensified my balance; every step was an act of faith. I felt his fingers brush the last piece of clothing, then the soft sound of fabric giving way. With expert movement he slid it down my thighs. I was left completely exposed, save for the blindfold.

—Open your legs —ordered Adrián, now at my right. No sweetness, only an unarguable directive.

My legs parted on their own. They pushed me backward until my heels hit a cold wall.

—Lean back.

I rested against the wall. The cold on my back contrasted with the heat running through my veins. Arms extended, legs spread, my whole body was an invitation.

The first contact wasn’t a hand. It was the wet heat of a mouth. Bruno began licking the inside of my right thigh, where the skin was more delicate. It wasn’t a kiss or a suck, but a broad, slow sweep of the tongue, from knee to groin. The contrast between his beard brushing me and the burning wetness made me arch my back against the wall.

A muffled moan escaped my throat.

—That’s it. Forget your name —Adrián whispered from my left, not moving from his observer’s post, like an orchestra conductor.

Bruno’s mouth climbed my stomach, leaving a warm trail. When he reached my chest, he trapped a nipple in a deep suck and a soft bite that made me bang my head against the wall. He moved to the other with the same torturous devotion.

While he worked my chest, Adrián’s fingers found the wet center of my desire. It wasn’t a soft caress; it was a firm touch, like someone claiming what belonged to him. The combination of both mouths and both hands broke whatever barrier I had left.

—Now suffer —said Adrián, while his fingers moved in a rhythm that left no room for thought—. Suffer and forget everything that isn’t us.

Just when the pleasure concentrated into one vibrating point, when I was seconds from exploding, they both stopped. The sudden loss of that pressure was a shock that left me taut with frustration and burning need.

—Not so fast —said Adrián in my ear, calm, enjoying my desperation.

***

We started walking. My bare feet stumbled a couple of times, but they held me up, one on each side, guiding me through the darkness of the blindfold. The steps were slow, deliberate, building suspense. At last they stopped me. Under my hands I felt a wooden surface with a faint scent of wax. A table, I knew; or an improvised altar.

—Up.

They didn’t give me time to use my hands. Between the two of them, they lifted me in a coordinated motion and laid me back. The contact with the cold, hard wood under my back made me draw in a sharp breath.

I felt Bruno take my right ankle. A soft metallic click. A leather strap closed firmly and pulled my leg toward the corner of the table. Then he repeated it with the left, on the opposite corner. The sensation of being stretched and exposed left me breathless. Then they tied my wrists, one to each upper corner.

I was left lying in an X, limbs anchored to the four points of the table, my blindfolded body turned into a taut offering. I couldn’t move a single inch. The total immobilization raised the humiliation to an unbearable level and, at the same time, awakened an unconditional surrender.

—Here we’re going to paint your new memory —said Adrián, stroking my thigh with perverse slowness—. You’ve got all night for us to give you a name. And for you to forget your own.

I heard the sound of a cap unscrewing. A drop of warm oil fell into the center of my sternum. Then another, on my abdomen. Bruno’s hands, soaked with it, rubbed it over me slowly and expertly from neck to the edge of my groin, over my ribs and shoulders.

While he smeared my torso, Adrián’s oiled fingers moved to my center. First a soft exploration; then slow, precise circles that made me writhe against the limit of the straps. Bruno focused on my nipples, rubbing and stretching them with sadistic pleasure. I was a battlefield of conflicting sensations: one man’s friction, the other’s wetness.

—Moan —ordered Bruno—. We want to hear that you’ve already forgotten everything.

And then the game changed. I felt a smooth, cold object pressed against my entrance.

—This is going to be the real painkiller —Adrián said—. Do you know what forgetfulness is? It’s something that breaks you inside and puts you back together.

With a firm push, the toy entered me. I cried out against the blindfold, a cry of surprise and violent pleasure. As he moved it inside me in a deep rhythm, Bruno returned to my chest, pinching and twisting with playful cruelty. The mechanical penetration, the pressure on my clit, and the exquisite pain in my breasts were overload.

—Look how you move —Adrián said, breathless, near my face—. Your body is a puppet. We pull the strings.

The climax came closer again, relentless.

—Please! —I begged, not knowing whether I was asking them to stop or keep going.

—What do you want us to give you? —Bruno asked into my ear.

—Forgetfulness —I gasped.

The toy stopped inside me. The silence was as deafening as the noise of a second before.

—Enough —ordered Bruno, taking his hands off my chest—. Forgetfulness is earned through sacrifice, and your body still resists.

***

I felt the clicks that released my ankles. My legs fell limp on the wood, and the partial release was a relief that lasted only a moment. Bruno’s oiled hands wrapped around my calves and, with unstoppable strength, lifted my legs. He bent my knees and pushed my thighs against my chest, folding me, compressing my stomach and fully exposing my backside.

—This is where you bury bad memories. Deep down —said Adrián, leaning in.

I felt the warm, wet touch of his tongue, not where I expected, but on the most intimate and forbidden edge. The shock was absolute; my body tensed by instinct.

—Relax —ordered Bruno, pushing my legs farther apart—. If you want forgetfulness, you have to open yourself to it completely.

A smear of lubricant, and then the tip of the toy pressing against that new opening. With a slow, relentless push, it began to enter me. The initial burn made me scream into the darkness of the blindfold; tears of tension gathered beneath the cloth. As it sank in, stretching and filling me in an unfamiliar way, Adrián resumed the precise caress on my clit. Pain mixed instantly with the most intense pleasure.

—Now shout their name —he said, moving the toy in a rhythm that was both painful and rhythmic.

I no longer knew what to shout. The memory of my supposed heartbreak was a speck of dust, erased by the reality flooding through me.

—Adrián! Bruno! —I screamed, voice torn, body trembling.

—Good girl —said Bruno, squeezing my legs—. Now you’re ours.

The toy came out slowly and the feeling of emptiness left me shaking, moaning in frustration at being left on the edge again.

—Too soon for the end —said Adrián, laden with predatory anticipation. I felt his hands on the blindfold—. Time to see your reward.

With a yank he removed it. The apartment light blinded me for a moment. When my sight adjusted, the world flooded with detail: the spacious room, the table where I had been laid, and the imposing presence of the two men. They untied my wrists.

Bruno stripped off his clothes, revealing a sculpted body, oiled and gleaming under the light, and a hard erection. Adrián settled into the leather chair and undressed too, exposing a leaner but equally firm body. He lounged there with insulting calm.

Bruno lifted me into his arms; my slick body pressed to his and the contrast of oil and sweat was electrifying. He carried me to the chair and set me down on the floor in front of Adrián.

—Open your mouth —the latter ordered, with unmistakable authority, holding my hair to keep my head at the right height.

I obeyed. I leaned in and started licking and sucking with the devotion he demanded. Meanwhile, Bruno positioned himself behind me, caressed my lower back and, with a determined thrust, entered me. I was impaled between the two of them, my body working for both at once in total submission.

—Forgetfulness needs a touch of pain to fix the memory —said Bruno.

A sharp lash fell on my right ass cheek. The contrast with pleasure was brutal; I screamed, a strangled sound. The second blow landed on the left, burning, and drove me to press my pelvis against him, seeking refuge in the very source of the pain. Bruno resumed his thrusts with the fury of punishment; Adrián forced the rhythm with his hand in my hair.

The punishment and the double stimulation took me to the breaking point. But just then they stopped again.

—Forgetfulness has to be perfect —Bruno gasped.

Adrián lay on his back on the rug, body oiled, erection pointing at the ceiling.

—Come and put yourself where you belong —he said, giving my leg a firm pat.

I obeyed at once. I sat on him with a moan of pleasurable pain, feeling completely filled, and began moving at my own rhythm. Then I felt Bruno kneel behind me. He gripped my hips, lifted me slightly and, with a thrust, entered me from behind.

I was completely trapped: Adrián beneath me, Bruno behind me, both pressing from opposite sides inside me. It was absolute possession, my body a conduit for their desire. I screamed and gasped, shaken by the double pounding, until my body started trembling uncontrollably.

They both accelerated into frenzy. I shouted their names until my voice broke, and my body convulsed in a prolonged, violent climax that made me collapse on Adrián. I felt Bruno tense behind me, and an instant later Adrián too, both of them surrendering at once.

***

I lay on top of him, exhausted, while Bruno withdrew carefully. Without a word, he carried me back to the table, now a mess of oil, and helped me sit on the edge with my legs dangling. He took out a warm towel and began cleaning me with almost reverent care. Adrián sat beside me and covered my shoulders with the leather blanket from the chair.

—The treatment is over —he said, his voice back to that deep, honeyed tone from the bar.

—And the forgetfulness? —I whispered, my voice barely a rasp.

Bruno looked at me, and in his eyes I saw an odd calm. He put on silk boxers, sat across from me and took my hands.

—Forgetfulness was already there, pretty one —he said, with a tender, complex smile—. You didn’t have heartbreak. You were afraid of happiness. Afraid of the intensity you know you’re capable of giving and receiving.

I frowned. Afraid?

Adrián leaned in, his face very close to mine.

—That heartbreak you invented at the bar was the perfect excuse to look for something that would break through your barrier of control. You came looking for us so we’d force you to be yourself.

Then I understood that what had happened wasn’t just sex, but a demolition and reconstruction of my own consciousness. From the moment I dropped to my knees and the blindfold covered my eyes, my world shrank to a single directive: feel and obey. My mind, once full of memories and excuses, was suddenly emptied, unable to process the flood of sensations.

Blindness was the catalyst. I stopped being a person with a name and a history and became someone who only waited for orders. The deepest excitement didn’t come from physical pleasure, but from humiliation: kneeling, being undressed without permission, being bound like an offering. Every act of submission unlocked a part of my desire I hadn’t known existed. And in that total surrender I found a perverse freedom: I didn’t have to decide anything, I only had to feel.

In the end, when both of them possessed me and punished me at the same time, my mind finally stopped searching for my name. And, for the first time in a long time, I didn’t miss it.