The Masochist

She was the love of my life, my soul mate, my queen. I went to work each morning and sulked because I couldn't see her, and when I got home, not a day went by that we haven't made sweet love and fallen asleep in each others' arms.

But there was one thing about her that I didn't know when I fell in love with her. It was something that may have influenced my love had I known it before, but I now love her way to much to break up with her over it. It was something I had never expected from her sweet body, with her sweet, gentle voice, and her sweet, kind heart. It almost wrecked our marriage; in fact, I'm surprised we got through it.

It all started one night, after making love like any other night, when she was groaning in her sleep. But they weren't groans of pleasure, they were groans of pain. I lay there worried that she might be having a nightmare, so I wake her up. She opens her eyes and grins from ear to ear when she sees me.

"Hi, honey," she whispered.

"Baby," I said, "are you all right?"

I immediately saw her eyes fire up as if we were going on a roller coaster (she loves those things), but in an instant, she became scared and said "Yeah, I'm okay."

"Are you sure," I asked, putting my hand gently on her shoulder, "you were groaning in your sleep; were you having a nightmare?"

As I mentioned that, I could suddenly feel what was unmistakably adrenaline flowing through her body, but it only lasted an instant, and then she said "Um... yeah, it was a nightmare."

Strange, why would she get so excited over a nightmare? I decided to interrogate her about it in the morning.

*

* *

That morning, I got up at the brink of dawn, went down to the kitchen, and made breakfast. I was in my underwear with an apron over the front of me when my wife came in, naked as the day she was born and more beautiful than I can describe. Her eyes were like a lioness, with a pointy nose and a very cute smile. She had perky breasts with erect, pink nipples, abs as flat as paper with a cute navel. A tattoo below her belt line but right above her pussy showed an arrow that pointed down. She did it for me, showing me that her pink, wet pussy was just as much mine as it was hers. Her legs were as long and lean as those of Stacy Keibler, followed by feet that I loved to suck because they were always clean and perfumy. While I couldn't see it at the time, I knew her ass was as beautiful as a cheerleader who did a hundred squats a day. Oh my god, I had the perfect wife.

She saw what I was making and immediately cracked a smile.

"You know I love your fried egg recipe, baby!" she said in her usual soft, sweet voice.

I brought the eggs and bacon to the table and said, "Eat up, sweetheart. Whaddaya say we make whoopie all day long today?" She lit up a huge smile, and sat down, still butt naked, to eat her breakfast. I got behind her and began messaging her shoulders. She groaned in pleasure and affection as she was adored by her husband. I hate to make myself look egotistical, but she always says that I'm sexier than Tom Cruise. I had the physique of Bobby Lashley, with even more defined wash board abs than he did. My face, she says, literally makes women's and gay guys' heads turn, and while mine was the only one she had ever seen outside of porno (she was a virgin when she married me), she said I had an anaconda for a cock, literally ten inches long when fully erect, and balls so plump and large that just one takes up her entire gentle hand when blowing me.

As she was enjoying my fried eggs that she loves, I moved up to her ear and whisper "Baby, can I ask you a question?"

"Mm-Hm," she said, chewing on some yolk.

"Exactly what kind of nightmare did you have last night?"

Once again, her veins flared up in adrenaline. This time, it was for a few seconds before she calmed down and asked "Why do you want to know?"

"Well," I said, "Nightmares often mean you have repressed memories, and you haven't told me about any bad experiences before we met? Were you raped at some point?" I knew she wasn't because she bled the first time we made love.

"No," she said, "It's just... I dreamed you were beating me up last night."

Suddenly her shoulders flared up more than they had so far.

"Honey," I asked, "what's with the adrenaline?"

"A... adrenaline?" She said, "I don't know what your talking about?"

"Honey," I said, "can't you feel it? I certainly can?"

"It" she responded, "It just reminds me of roller coasters."

"Sweetie," I said, with fear in my voice, "are you a... are you a masochist?"

She immediately began the biggest sob you can imagine, bearing her head in her hands, "yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeesssssssssssssssssssssssssss!" I began to back up until I hit the dining room wall.

"It's... not just... any pain," she continued, "It's only when you do it. I want you to beat the hell out of me? It's a fetish. I've had it ever since I fell in love with you, but I was scared to tell you, because I was afraid you'd leave me!"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. She had a fetish for pain? Was I the one dreaming now?

I said, "What... what exactly... do you... dream... of me... doing... to you?"

"Breaking my nose," she began, letting it all hang out, "breaking my ankles, breaking a beer bottle over my head, caving in my skull with steel knucks. It makes me so horny when you show me how big and strong you are, I picture the hottest, most hardcore sex ever when you break my bones."

Was I even breathing? I was definitely scared enough to not breath.

Still sobbing, she said, "Hubby, what must you think of me now?"

I knew what I had to do. I walked over to her, lifted her head up, and said, "We'll get through this." She began to smile. "We'll get you the best help money can-"

"I don't want help!" she screamed, "I want you to beat the hell out of me! That's the only way I can be happy again!"

I dropped down to a seating position. "Will you..." I said, "will you leave me if I don't?"

She doubled the intensity of her sobbing, "Noooooo," she said, "I love you too muuuuuch!"

I didn't know what to do. She didn't want help, but how could I do harm to my beloved soulmate, even if she liked it? I began to cry myself.

My thoughts were broken with her sobbing "Punch me! Punch me please!"

"Baby," I said, "I can't!"

"You have to!" She screamed at the top of her lungs, "for the sake of our relationship, you have to!"

She stood up and showed me her belly. I looked at her belly button, preferring to come all over it than punch it. What do I do? Do I punch her with everything I've got, or do I try to persuade her to put this behind us and go back to the way we were (she was happy that way, wasn't she)?

Without realizing what I was doing, I balled up my fist and gave a soft punch to her belly. She didn't budge.

"That was pitiful," she said, "come on, break a bone!"

She must have seen the sorrow in my eyes, because she began sobbing again full blast. That was my cracking point. I couldn't bear to see her this sad. I felt a ripping sensation in my soul, and the next thing I remember was her naked body curled up with her hands on a bruise the size of a basketball. My hand was clenched, and I knew exactly what I had done.

I pulled her head up, as if she were laying on the ground after being skewered with a spear. "Baby! Baby! Are you all right!" I was truly terrified. What did I do?

Her eyes opened suddenly, and she removed her hands from her bruise, showing a giant red circle where I had busted several veins. She grabbed my head and said in a very kinky voice, "Come her you stud!

She pulled my head into her face and began a huge lip lock, twirling her tongue around my mouth. I got an erection so hard that I could have supported the Eiffel Tower on it. Amazing, we had kissed passionately before, but never made out. We had always preferred slow, beautiful sex.

She broke the lip lock (it was too kinky to be considered a kiss) and went down to my briefs. With one quick pull, she ripped them off, exposing my basilisk. Was she going to do what I thought she was going to do? She had never given me a blow job before? It wasn't sweet enough for us.

In one gulp, she devoured my entire wang. I could feel my head and the tip of my trunk down her throat, with her tongue slurping the bottom. It felt soooo good. I thought my dick was going to explode; not cum, literally explode. I began moaning in pleasure as she cupped my enormous testicles with her not-so-gentle hands. That was my breaking point. I immediately felt my balls contract, and she must have felt it, because she took my cock out of her mouth except for my dick's head. I knew, even though she had never done this before, that she wanted to taste my semen.

I came like I never came before, and she swallowed every bit of it. In one gulp after another, it was as if she was chugging down something in a drinking competition. When I finally finished, she still had a mouthful, which she preferred to swirl around in her mouth for a minute before finally swallowing. I had become limp after that, so my dick was out of her mouth. I was sweating like a pig.

"Honey," I said, panting, "That... was... amazing! You never did that before!"

"It was your punch," she said, with the cutest grin, and my heart skipped a beat, "it turned me on like never before."

Oh shit. I had totally forgotten about that.

"Baby," I said, "are you okay?"

She pulled up beside me on the dining room floor and gave me a quick peck on the lips, "I've never been better!" Her eyes had a combination of fire and tenderness that I had never seen before.

Suddenly, it all clicked. Suddenly, causing her pain wasn't that hard anymore. I reached for and cupped her breast, feeling her hard nipple on my palm, and then squeezed it as hard as I could, until I could almost feel my fingers colliding, while simultaneously looking into her eyes for reassurance, which she was giving me in spades. Her eyes fired up and her nipple became more erect the harder I squeezed. She didn't squeal, but moaned in pleasure.

"Yes, honey! That hurts so good!"

TO BE CONTINUED