Our Final Night Pt. 01

Note: This story contains brief flashbacks, the start and end of which are indicated by a

" ~~~~~~~~~~~~ "

20^th September, 2011. Tuesday. Evening.

"It's not that simple," I shake my head, tired and not in the mood for a fight.

"Is it not? It seems pretty fucking simple to me!" she spits back at me. "You cheated, you lied, you were unfaithful. What isn't simple about that?"

"You know why I did it." I sigh, just wanting to get out of there. "I'm not making up excuses, or trying to say wasn't in the wrong."

"I fucking loved you... I DO love you... still..." She holds the bannister and sits on the stairs, not holding back the tears now. "You've broken my heart, and I can't stop loving you..."

I crouch in front of her, my face level with hers. Her head is bowed, her eyes shut in a vain attempt to stop the flow of tears. She sobs, her hands on the back of her head, body trembling. I cry too, inwardly, remaining strong to her eyes. Because I know that if she sees me cry, she will take me back, and I will hurt her again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Okay, let's rewind a little. I'm 21, I've been with Abby for a little over eight months. Our first ever meeting was interesting, I suppose. What followed shortly after was an incredible two month period of being unofficially together, and then six months where it was official. But, me being me, I had never had any intention of being 'faithful.' It's just the way I am; sex to me is just sex, and it is one of my 'coping mechanisms' and gives me a way to manage my emotions.

Throughout the relationship, me and Abby would see each other between two and four times a week, but I would still be out at least once a week and having one night stands. Not because I wanted to, but I didn't want not to. I think this is in part what caused mine and Abby's relationship to be the way it was. It had become a constant cycle of her doing something that angered me, me punishing her sexually, and then her making it up to me with more sex, and then us making love.

Over and over again. Two, three, maybe four times a month.

She knew about the other women. I didn't know she knew. The thing is, she didn't mind the fact I was fucking other people, because she knew I loved her, and I always chose her over anybody else. What bothered her was the worry that one day I may meet somebody better, and I would choose them over her. It's why she never spoke to me about it; for 6 months she kept it secret that she knew. She'd asked me once, if I'd ever cheated on her. I lied, said I had twice, she cuddled and kissed me, and it was never mentioned again.

She knew it was a lie, I now realise. She asked me to test me, see if I had it in me to lie to her face. Once she knew I did, she never asked me where I'd been or what I had done, on the nights she thought I had been with another woman. Because she knew I would lie, and she would rather let me have secrets than have me lie to her again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back to 'now'. It's Tuesday evening. I've been home from work, showered, grabbed a couple of essentials (strap on, lube, blindfold, handcuffs, that kind of thing), and driven over to Abby's. I'm fucking horny, and Tuesday is 'Lexi night;' it was one of our little things where Tuesday nights would be all about my desires being taken care of first, and Thursday nights would be all about Abby. It worked, it was probably the only balanced and healthy part of our relationship.

So, I get to hers, she lets me in, tells me just to wait in the living room a moment. It isn't a strange occurrence, so I think nothing of it. I sit in my usual spot on the couch. There are two full glasses of wine on the coffee table, but one has lipstick marks on the rim and the bottle is nearly empty. The lipstick though... Abby doesn't wear that shade; it's too dark for her. And that scent, it's a perfume Abby doesn't wear... somebody else was here... or IS here?!

I wrack my brains; that perfume is familiar. It triggers a couple of recent memories, one of them a night two weeks ago...

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Abby had cancelled on a Thursday, working late and then an early start on the Friday. It was short notice and I had been angry, upset; I'd spent the whole week planning the perfect night for her. I'd gone out drinking, clubbing, looking to just forget about it. And I met her. Abby's ex, the one she left for me.

She wasn't hostile, in fact she was friendly. Maybe too friendly, but I was too drunk and angry to notice. We talked, kissed, and went back to hers and fucked. It felt so fucking good, like I was evening out the score. Not that Abby had betrayed me, but because she had hurt me. I was wrong, I knew straight after, but it felt so right at the time.

And it is her perfume and lipstick...

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm so lost in my thoughts I don't hear her enter the living room, but her voice quickly drags me back to reality.

"It's okay baby, she's gone," she gestures at the bottle and glasses. I glance at her, noticing for the first time her face is flushed and her cheeks are puffy. Her hair is a little messed. Her eyes are red. She's been crying. Why? What did she say or do?

I stand and go to her. I try to hold her but she recoils. "What's wrong, what's happened?" My voice is shaky, betraying my nerves perhaps. I'm scared of what is going to be asked; I'm a great liar, a professional bullshitter, but with Abby... I love her, it's just so much harder. Not that I have, other than that once. I haven't needed to.

"Did you fuck her?" Her voice is scarily calm. I can hear the anger and sadness, but her voice isn't raised or shrill. "When I worked late, did you fuck her?"

I look down at the ground, unable to look her in the eye. "Y-yes..." I stammer. "I'm so sorry."

She steps towards me, runs her fingers through my hair. "I know, baby. I know." Her voice softens. "Was it only her? Is there anybody else I should know about?"

I panic. My heart races. She had known, she knew names. Had she told Abby? FUCK! I'm not thinking any more. Instincts take over. I hear the words as I say them, not before. "No! Nobody. One time just her." I lift my head, look her right in the eye. "One mistake, Abby. I'm so fucking sorry."

"That's your problem, Lex. You're just too fucking used to lying. You're too good at it. You don't even realise you're doing it, sometimes." She takes me in her arms. "I know, baby. I know about every single one of them." She holds me tighter, but her voice gets firmer. "I wanted you to be honest with, just this fucking once."

I'm numb. I can't feel her against me. I can't feel anything. Panic, fear, fuck knows what else, paralysing me. I stand then, in her arms, unable to move, unable to cry, unable to think... and then I know. This is it. This will be the last time is see her.

"You've broken my heart, Lex." She lets go of me, walks to the kitchen, then comes back with a box. It's small, pale blue, with a light pink bow. "If only you'd told the truth, this would be yours."

She thrusts the box into my hands. I take it without even realising. I open it. Inside is a key. A house key. Her house key. "I still want you to have it, but we can't carry on. I can't let you hurt me again, because I know how much it hurts you. I will pack your things tonight, and you can pick them up tomorrow."

I still can't cry. I simply nod and place the box on the coffee table. I walk past her, out of the living room, to the front door. She follows. My hand reaches for the handle. "I never wanted to hurt you. I only ever wanted to be with you," I say the words in a measure tone, surprising myself now with my own calmness.

"Then why fucking do it?" Abby's voice rises suddenly, as she finally loses her temper, something she's never done with me before. Perhaps strangely, I get turned on. My previous feelings of horniness had deserted me, but her anger brings them back. I'd always wanted her to dominate me properly, but she's not that kind of person. But now... NO! It's over, Lexi, get the fuck out of there.

"It's not that simple," I shake my head, tired and not in the mood for a fight.

"Is it not? It seems pretty fucking simple to me!" she spits back at me. "You cheated, you lied, you were unfaithful. What isn't simple about that?"

"You know why I did it." I sigh, just wanting to get out of there. "I'm not making up excuses, or trying to say wasn't in the wrong."

"I fucking loved you... I DO love you... still..." She holds the bannister and sits on the stairs, not holding back the tears now. "You've broken my heart, and I can't stop loving you..."

I crouch in front of her, my face level with hers. Her head is bowed, her eyes shut in a vain attempt to stop the flow of tears. She sobs, her hands on the back of her head, body trembling. I cry too, inwardly, remaining strong to her eyes. Because I know that if she sees me cry, she will take me back, and I will hurt her again.

"I love you too, Abby. I'm sorry." I lean in and kiss her forehead, brushing her cheek softly with my hand. "Good bye, baby."

She pushes my hand from her face, puts her hand against my chest and forces me away. She slaps me. "You don't get to touch me anymore!" she hisses at me. I see a fire in her wet, bloodshot eyes. She must see the excitement in mine. She looks as beautiful as ever, even in this state. She slaps me again. She grabs my blouse, rips it open, grabs my bra and pulls me back towards her. She kisses me, I kiss back. She pulls my hair, grabs my tits and squeezes them roughly, she bites my lips and my tongue.

Eventually she pulls away. We are both breathing heavily, looking at each other with sheer lust. There is still love, somewhere, but right now we just want to fuck; I want her to own every inch of me, and she wants me to submit entirely.

"Off, now!" she barks at me, taking charge. She points at my ripped blouse and bra.

I nod. "Yes, Abby... mistress..." A playful smile forms on my lips as I say this final word, and I see her eyes light up. She likes that, she likes being my mistress. Oh, why did I not make her angry before? Why did I not force her to treat me like her slave? I remove my top, tearing it open completely, buttons dropping onto my thighs as I remain crouched before her. I toss the ruined top aside, then reach behind and unclip my bra. Before I can do anything else, she grabs it again, yanking the straps off my shoulders; I put my arms forward and she pulls the bra from me.

I remain there, crouched in front of her, my arms by my side. She stares hungrily at my perfect tits, my nipples hard and tempting. She licks her lips, smiles, and rubs my left breast with her right foot. Her toe flicks my nipple, exciting my more. She's always loved my nipples more than any other party of my body. Even more than my ass. Then her smile turns to a frown, and she gives my boob a soft kick.

"You had your fun," she spits in my face after saying that word, "on my night. So tonight, you belong to me." She gets up from the stairs and bends over me, licking her spit from my face, giving me another kiss. "Living room, now, and get rid of this," she pulls sharply at my short skirt.

"Yes mistress," I say again. I go to stand, but she pushes me back down.

"Dogs walk on all fours..." I hear the contempt in her voice. Right now, she loves me yet hates me, but more than anything wants me. And I want her to want me, and want her to use my body as she wishes, abuse me, leave me a broken wreck.

I drop to my hands and knees and crawl back to the living room. Abby runs upstairs for a moment, so I wait in in front of the ivory coloured sofa. I remove my skirt without getting up, stashing it under the coffee table, the wine glasses and bottle still there. My thong is wet - I really did get excited in the hallway - and tight between my ass cheeks. I stay there on my knees, sitting back on my heels, awaiting her return.

I look again at the coffee table; not the drinks this time, but the table itself. It's wooden, oak I believe. Dark, varnished. It's solid, unyielding. I smile as I remember the day Abby bought it, and the night that led to the demise of its glass predecessor...

Footsteps, coming down the stairs. They are light, slow, measured. She's nervous, not surprisingly, I only hope she hasn't changed her mind now. I'm so fucking horny, I want this, need this... fuck I'm so wet. I close my eyes as I hear bare feet on the hallway carpet; I can't bear to look at her when she tells me to get up and leave. Then the familiar sound of skin on laminate as she enters the living room. I brace...

"Look at me slut!" she growls. Startled, and still in sub mode, I do as she orders. I look up and open my eyes. OH WOW! She looks... this is the hottest I've ever seen her...

She stands six feet from me. Her dyed dark red hair is tidied back into a ponytail. Her deep blue eyes shine so brightly. Her gorgeous face, make-up removed, is divine. Her small nose, her high cheekbones, her perfect lips. I love her so much. And I want her so much. Her slender, toned physique is all on show, save for her small perky breasts and her crotch. She is wearing the black lace underwear I bought her two months ago; worn only once that I know of, on our six month anniversary - wearing it now she makes a statement, that this really will be our last time together.

Her lightly tanned skin, her long legs and powerful thighs, her thin but strong arms, her toned stomach, her knees, her ankles, her feet, everything... things I had always just admired on her, I now stare at with love and sadness. I want to kiss every inch of her, taste her, savour her. I want to caress her body, run my fingers over her, inside her. One final time.

She is breathing heavily but quietly, her small bust rising and falling with each breath. She is shaking a little, trying to keep composed. She can't hide her nervousness, but I can see she also wants to do this, almost needs to do this, as much as I need her to do it. I hurt her, I treated her so badly, and now she has to take control for once. All those times I punished her for such petty things, and she made it up to me again later... roles are reversed, and I am the one who is being punished.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Early July, late night. We've just been out with friends. Abby is driving, but I've only had the one glass of wine; not sure why, I just didn't feel like drinking tonight. We decide to stop off at the store on the way back home to grab a few things; a couple of bottles of wine, some fruit, cream, various edible sex aids. We get out the car. Abby has this habit of locking it before shutting the doors, I've never understood why. And this time she somehow leaves the keys in the car...

I'm furious. We both left our phones in there, Abby left her purse in there. It's raining lightly. She apologises, I punish her; fucking her right there on the car bonnet, fingering, licking, degrading her in public. No passers-by, no audience that we know of, but she feels humiliated being used like that, sat there in the car-park as I use her as my fucktoy.

When we finally get home after a long ordeal, we drink wine, and she makes it up to me with more sex. I forgive her after that, and we make love this time. A constant cycle. And yet in her eyes I can do no wrong; nothing I've ever done has made her angry or caused her to lose her temper.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nothing I've ever done has made her angry or caused her to lose her temper... until now. She has to let out all the anger and frustration that has built up from all the little things I've done. For every time I have punished her for the small mistakes, she has must now get retribution. For every time I cheated and betrayed and lied, she must now punish me.

I wait, patiently, allowing Abby to compose herself. Minutes pass, I don't know how many, but finally she is calm. She looks down at me, at my tits, at the visible wetness of my thong, and into my adoring eyes. She clicks her fingers and points to floor in front of her. "Here, dog!" she orders. I get down on all fours again and crawl to her. She puts her right hand under my chin and lifts my head, then slaps me hard with her left. It hurts, so much, and she does it again, and a third time. I blink back a tear, winching in pain.

"Now then," she says a little softer, "let's see what we have in here." She lets go of my chin and moves to where I had left my bag when I arrived. She picks it up and takes it to the table, emptying it out. Strap on, lube, handcuffs, blindfold, butt plug and choker lay there. She knocks the blindfold and choker off the table, then picks up the bottle of lube. She looks at the bottle, then me, and shakes her head, chucking the bottle aside. Next she picks up the handcuffs, formulating a plan.

"Up!" I stand up.

"Hands behind your back." I do as she says. She is growing more confident.

"Turn around." I turn, presenting my back to her. I hear her sigh as her gaze is inevitably drawn to my perfect ass. She puts the cuffs around my wrists, tight enough so they won't come off, but loose enough so they are not uncomfortable. Something strikes my left cheek. I assume it's the strap on. Then a blow lands on my right cheek, harder. Left again, then right. Left, right, left, right, harder each time. My ass cheeks burn; such pain, such pleasure. My panties grow wetter.

The blows stop suddenly. Then I feel some cold and metallic. I wonder what it is, then I hear the sound of tearing fabric. My thong comes loose. Bitch must have cut it off! This underwear set cost me eighty pounds! It angers me, and makes me even hornier. And knowing I can't react makes the feeling stronger. She reaches to my front, rubs my pussy through the material, then rips the ruined thong from my, upwards. She drags it up my body, and I feel its dampness over my stomach, between my tits...

"Open wide." I barely have time to open my mouth before she stuffs the material in. I taste my wetness, I smell it. I moan, muffled by the panties, breathing through my nose.

Then she shoves me, I stumble but she holds my hips, catching me so I don't fall. She manoeuvres me towards the end of the sofa and bends me over the arm. I spread my legs, my stomach on the armrest, my head resting on the cushion.

She grabs my hair, lifting my head up again. "Keep your head up, dog!"

"Y-yes m-mistress," I try mumble around the panties in my mouth. She rubs my pussy, roughly, wetting her fingers with my juices.

She spanks my ass, rubbing me furiously. I'm too turned on, too fucking horny. She spanks me again and again, her two fingers pressing hard on my pussy, then pushing inside. I can't hold back, and I cum over her hand.

"You dirty little bitch!" she screams. "Who said you could do that?" She pulls her fingers from me and slaps my ass harder. I cry a little, still shaking from the orgasm, and the pain from her slaps and her anger in my ears getting me more and more excited.

"M-sorry," I struggle to stammer. She goes to the table, grabs something. She comes back to me, and rubs it on my dripping pussy. I guess what it must be. She gets it soaked in my juices, then forces my butt plug into my ass; no warning, no hesitation, just pushes it straight in. I cry out more. It hurts, and it feels so good. She wants to punish me, I realise, but she also wants it all to end on a high.

My nipples are so fucking hard. I have to play with then, but I can't. I need to play with my pussy, with my clit, but I can't. I need to fuck myself properly with the plug, but I can't. I'm shaking still, needing more stimulation to bring me another orgasm. I can hear her moving around behind me, a soft moan; she must be putting on the strap on. Footsteps moving past me. I raise my head, and there she is.