The first time, it was a weak, tentative swat on the behind that didn't even register as a smack.
"Did you just..." she started.
"Sorry", he said.
She narrowed her eyes and let her gaze linger for a second before raising her hips up and resuming her rhythm. He put his hands back on her ass and squeezed as she rode him to her eventual release.
When she was done, he rolled her over and took his turn, pounding into her until his body shuddered and he exploded. He could never get there with her on top, despite how much he lusted after her beautiful body.
The slap on her ass was never mentioned again, and the crazy urge to hit her and the rush he got from thinking about doing it receded into the darkness from whence it came. His cheeks burned a little as he let that delicious surge of electricity slip away and they both pretended it never happened.
But it did happen.
Several years, one wife, and two kids later, it would creep back into Jack's mind. Barely perceptible at first, it would buzz in his brain if the movies he watched with his wife had any hint of sexual violence. He didn't notice the buzz at first, but a little while after the movie, the scenes would hold his interest longer than he expected, trapped on the edges of his thinking mind, and breaking free here and there to hold his attention for a moment or two. Sometimes, after a really nasty scene, it would happen for days.
Jack was raised on tv and rumours as far as sex was concerned. His family was not religious, but sex wasn't something they talked about openly, so Jack's formative notions of sex arose from the occasional bare breast in a movie, theatrical sex scenes, and the vast wisdom of his peers. Thus, his early assumptions about a woman's body were anatomically hilarious to modern day Jack, and the foggy concepts of what sex consisted of were equally off the mark.
He learned over the course of his childhood that a man is never to hit a woman under any circumstances. That information was as close to fact as anything he had ever known growing up. Violence against women was an outrage and a sickness in the world, and he was not part of that sickness.
Over the years, Jack spent a lot time reading about sex. Before he'd ever done the deed, he possessed an understanding that good sex required a man to put a lot of time and energy into his partner's pleasure. He understood his own pleasure was all but guaranteed, but to really excel in bed, the mysteries of the female orgasm had to be solved.
Jack became very good at pleasing women in bed, after the first couple of clumsy attempts of course. He cared so much about pleasing his partners that his own satisfaction depended on it. He would have orgasms every time, but that wasn't all it took to satisfy Jack.
A few years into his marriage, with buzzing brains and darkening thoughts, Jack's satisfaction begn to falter. His wife enjoyed three to four orgasms at least every time they had sex, and Jack always took pride in that. Slowly, that wasn't enough any more.
Something lived in him that whispered dark things that forced blood into his pants when he let those whispers take him. Someone stronger and more confident took over his body when he accepted the darkness into him, and by god he loved that new man.
Jack hid from the darkness as much as he could bear. Lately the urges had become stronger and Jack fought them back with less and less enthusiasm. Come out and play, Jacky boy. You know you want to.
He did want to. He really wanted to...
In his mind, the conversation with Monique would go something like this:
"Baby, can I I talk to you about something?"
"Of course", she'd say.
"I want to hit you when we have sex. Hard and repeatedly."
"Get the fuck out of my life, you sick fuck!"
Or some variation on that narrative, with some added crying and wondering how she had married such a psycho. He would lose his kids, his wife, and everything he had. And rightfully so. A man should never hit a woman under any circumstances. Only wife abusers do that, and wife abusers go to jail.
He could take up hookers, but hooker abusers get beat to death, and then publicly shamed for all eternity. And they can be quite expensive, raising questions about why he was making cash withdrawals and going out at strange hours. No thanks.
For a few months, he satisfied his appetite with poorly staged porn like any respectable man would do. None of it looked like what he wanted, and it was all so blatantly contrived that it barely did the job, until he discovered some homemade videos. These clips showed real people doing real things to each other, and BOTH of them liked what was happening.
Holy shit! There really are women, real women, who like being hit during sex. Who like being manhandled and used. Jack's darkness took a permanent seat in the cockpit of his brain from that day forward. It was out now, and it would not be denied much longer.
The conversation with Monique went like this:
"Baby, do you have any sexual fantasies you want to fulfill?"
A moment or two of awkward silence...
"Umm...I guess I do...why do you ask?"
"Because I want to be the best husband and lover you could ever imagine, and I want you to live out every fantasy you have."
A shorter but still awkward silence...
"You are already both of those things. But...since you ask..." Monique paused for a second and Jack's heart pounded in his chest like a gorilla trying to get out of a shipping box. "I'd like to dress up and role play sometimes," she said. "Is that weird?"
Once when Jack was a kid, his father suspected him of breaking a lamp, and he was going to get a bare ass spanking for it, and also for lying about it. Luckily his brother spoke up and took responsibility for it. The wave of relief at that moment was exactly the same as the one that washed over him at that moment.
"That's not weird at all", he said. "Like cop arrests naughty criminal kind of stuff?"
"Yeah," she replied. "Or cheerleader sleeping with the quarterback. Or teacher and bad student in detention."
"Who would be the teacher and who would be the student?" Jack asked with a smirk on his face.
"We can take turns," she purred.
"I like it," Jack said.
"Oh good! I've never told anyone about that before. I was worried you'd think it was stupid or something."
"Not at all, baby" Jack said. "We should be able to tell each other anything."
"I agree,"she said. "What about you? Do you have any fantasies you haven't told me about?"
This moment was a long time coming. It was his chance to finally let the darkness out, to test the waters and he was so excited and scared he naturally froze and didn't say anything for a few long seconds.
"Jack?"
"Uh..."
"I told you mine, now it's only fair that you tell me yours. We should be able to tell each other anything, remember? You literally just said that ten seconds ago."
His fear of losing this opportunity began to overwhelm his fear of telling her, but it held on enough to say "I'm a little nervous to say this..."
Monique reached out and held his hand. "You can tell me," she said. "I promise I won't laugh."
Laughing wasn't even close to what he was worried about.
"Ok...I want to hit you during sex," he blurted.
His face started doing things he couldn't control, and from inside his mind he hoped it wasn't making things worse.
"What do you mean when you say hit me?" She asked.
At this point in his imaginary conversations, Monique had already blown her top and kicked him out of the house, so he was completely unprepared to carry on the conversation. He'd never put a lot of actual logical thought into how to explain himself.
"Well, uh...like I want to bend you over and smack your ass for instance," he said. That would be the ignition point for sure, he thought.
"Like, with your hand?" She asked.
"Yeah...and maybe some toys..."
Monique looked at his face for a moment. She studied him like he was something new to her and it made Jack nervous.
