A Bird in Hand

Author's note:

Since I got a green light from the requesting reader, I went ballistic in this final chapter. To highlight the moral of the story, to show how horrible things could get when you meddled with something beautiful. And, that there are points of no return.

As the idiom in the title implies.

This is my most disturbing and depressing story (not in a dull way, of course). Since loved ones are precious, it was hard to empathize the MC when writing this one.

It consists of infidelity in disturbing ways, besides graphic descriptions.

Disclaimer:

None of the characters and events in this story is real.

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When I woke up I couldn't remember falling into sleep. I couldn't even remember much about that night after she left.

I was feeling a bit dizzy; I shouted her name but no answer. I couldn't understand what time it was but she was already gone.

She was serious. She left me at home like that. Tied to bed, alone.

Near my head, I saw some 'food' she left for me.

One peeled carrot, a celery, a cucumber. It wasn't possible for me to understand if she did anything with them but they all reminded me of the night before. Because they all looked 'insertable'.

It was obvious that she chose all to make me wonder.

I smelled them, I couldn't figure it out. For a second, I suspected the cucumber could have been in dire situations but I wasn't sure. I wasn't sure what sort of a smell I was looking for. Hot? That was the word came to my mind thinking about her show.

But it was stupid.

I couldn't imagine her waking up, brushing her teeth and inserting a cucumber in her ass while putting on her make-up, right before changing her clothes. I wished she did.

Not that I preferred my cucumber that way, no.

But it would mean that she woke up with a twisted joy of playing with me. If that was the case, she was at school, thinking about me. Marinating me for her return.

That sort of thinking helped me make peace with my situation. Otherwise, I'd probably panic too much.

When I heard the door open, I thought of calling her name. I couldn't. I heard her talking. And, someone else's voice.

A guy. She brought a man to our house. Knowing that I was at home. Tied to bed buck naked.

She was there with a man.

That was the answer to my question, about 'Those days will already be too hard for you'. That was the reason for all her words about me 'regretting' to go down this road.

The only thing I felt was rage and my instinct was telling me to shout.

I didn't. Considering my situation.

If she was bringing someone, she wasn't shy about me being seen like that. Furthermore, she could make this even worse, displaying me or even letting them both make fun of me.

I already learned that I had to 'not provoke' her.

Besides, I was helpless.

If I was free, my anger would probably force me to escalate things, even to get physical with that person, if it came to that.

For? If Amy wanted to have sex with someone, what would it change if I beat the guy? Other than restoring my masculinity, of course.

In theory, I could only stop this downfall if she felt threatened, only if I could make her worry that I would leave her.

Considering the things she said, did, how she made me suspicious the previous night, there was no hope in that option as well. So, my options were to leave her or endure until I couldn't.

At the moment, in my current mood, I could only beg her not to leave me. Not to cheat on me. But, begging her to stop what she was already doing had no meaning anymore.

And, leaving her was something I even couldn't think of. I wasn't ready to consider such a thing. She got me in a very difficult situation. Leaving her meant leaving my sweet Amy too. Was I trying to convince myself that my Amy was possessed by an evil being and I had to endure not to abandon my sweet girl?

Bullshit!

Not leaving her?

Returning to normal? After those happened? I finally understood why they broke up with her ex. No chance to survive in this, no chance to return to normal.

I stopped thinking and tried to hear what was going on.

Was it that kid? If it was, man, was she telling me the truth the day before?

Laughter on both sides. Some inaudible sounds of a conversation. Her high pitched giggle.

Her voice, unnecessarily clear this time "Wait, what are you doing? What if he returns home?"

She made sure that I heard her.

I was still trying to hope that she was alone, pranking me into thinking that there was a man there.

Muffled moans.

I silently tried to get rid of my handcuffs, as if I hadn't tried that 20 times the whole day.

What I heard was clear. A grunt coming from Amy. Like a grunt you'd hear at the moment of penetration. Followed by a soft moan, some inaudible words from her, then increasing, high-pitched and...

Yes, rhythmic groans. Never ending.

Someone was fucking Amy. They were probably on the couch and what I pictured was nothing like our couch sessions. It was clear that she wasn't in charge there. It wasn't stopping, she was short of breath and I could hear her rhythmic gasps, loud and clear.

The sound of the couch joined to this acoustic inferno. Our couch was on the carpet but probably it was moving with the thrusts of that bastard, pumping into my no-longer-sweet Amy. She wasn't mine; she wasn't sweet, decent, faithful or even merciful.

And my blood froze with her sigh.

I knew she was in great pleasure; I hated every second of that. Lying on the bed like a paralyzed man, completely naked, I felt like my life was slipping away from my control. As if it didn't already.

Without any chance of recovery.

Soft moans, soft dialogues, her giggle, then her loud moans again.

What the fuck? They were back at it again. Probably he waited for her to recover from her orgasm and continued. It took an eternity and a few more orgasms of Amy until I heard his grunting voice.

I could picture her in my head, with the unbearable heart ache. And, what the fuck?! I had no idea how and when it happened but I had a full erection and my cock felt very sensitive, completely on the edge. If anything touched it, I'd cum. I didn't want such a thing to happen. I didn't want to be found like a pathetic cuck, who came hands-free, listening to his girl get pummeled in the next room.

This wasn't about being a cuck; that category still was the worst thing to happen. I wasn't willing, so, by its latest definition, let's say according to some recent definitions, I could fool myself that I wasn't a cuckold. Oh, Amy, why did you do that? Put me in such an impossible situation?

I was getting aroused proportional to my troubling feelings. She was turning me into a masochist.

I couldn't hear much anymore but there was a conversation, a few giggles, and laughter once in a while.

Then they started again. This time they weren't on the couch because I learned to differentiate its sound in the last hour.

This time her voice reminded me of those porn movies where the bitch was constantly praising her fucker, with a voice like a cat's meow.

It took another hour and two of her climaxes for both to sync into a shared orgasm and calm down.

It was a very rare thing she came more than once in our sex. Not that I wouldn't last, she always calmed down after her orgasms. I wondered if I did things in a different way, instead of following her guidance, would it change anything. Was she looking for a man who led her in bed? I could have done that. At least I'd try. If I knew that was what she wanted. But I'm not a selfish person, so, I could do it to a point.

Silence for ten minutes, a few teasy-touchy word exchanges, the door being shut down loudly.

I looked at my cock, it was like a flag pole, directly looking at the ceiling. I wanted it to go limp, I was about to cry.

She opened the door to see my erect cock.

I couldn't take my eyes off of her.

Her hair was a mess, she was covered in sweat, her skin and cheeks were glowing red. She had her panties in her hand, torn into pieces.

I could see her pussy; wet with various things I could think of. I just thought it was savagely roughed up. She looked she was savagely roughed up.

When I looked at her pretty stomach, seeing how her body was still shaking, how she still couldn't catch her breath, I came. Without touching anything. The first spurt reached to an unexpected, ridiculous height.

Our eyes met, she had a victorious but condescending look.

She chuckled, walked near me, dropped a half-eaten cookie near my head before she closed the door and left me there.

I still can't believe how we both didn't say a word.

I wasn't surprised that she didn't talk to me but me?

I probably hated myself more than I was angry at her. There was no explanation to my erection or ejaculation. Instead of her, I was the one feeling ashamed. As if I enjoyed having my woman being used by someone else. As if I was the one who betrayed our relationship.

That wasn't what happened but I was sure that that was what she saw.

While thinking about our situation, I found myself trying to make myself believe she was the one using the other, in that betrayal of hers. As if it would be less demeaning for me. But anything I heard didn't sound like that.

I couldn't speak because I knew she burnt the bridges on our path to normal. There was no going back. This, or the break-up.

Amy probably realized that I was never going to accept her to fool around. That I was never going to let her do it with my permission or consent.

And, she planned this. To keep me tied up and go on with her betrayal. Where I had no chance to leave before it was over. Maybe she thought it would be 'bygones' after it was over. That I wouldn't have the reaction power when this cooled off, when my feelings settled down. That was a snake-level cold blooded behavior.

She did something unacceptable and this probably meant she had nothing to do with me anymore. Even if I didn't end this, she probably already ended us in her head.

I wished I had the power not to eat that cookie, to show how she disappointed me. I wished I had a tiny hope that she would care.

I wished I had the will to end this relationship that moment. Probably any earlier version of me would.

But I was feeling dizzy, I needed to eat.

Eating it didn't change anything.

I was hungry, wasted, broken when I fell asleep.

In the morning, I couldn't open my eyes easily. It was worse than the previous morning. My head was still spinning, probably from hunger, I thought. I had a bad taste in my mouth, having trouble to breathe.

Then I noticed that my arms weren't above my head anymore. They were at my back. Tied together? And, my mouth. I had a gag on it again. How? When?

It wasn't hunger. She probably put something in that cookie. Like a thief feeding a guard dog before jumping in the garden. Yeah, I'm nothing like a guard dog. I'd put shame on that dignified, proud creature, I know.

I remembered that feeling. She probably tried the same with that sausage. Maybe that chemical taste was the drug. Something, somehow inserted in the sausage. In a lower dosage. Maybe she made it a powder and...

She was trying her drug. Doing a calibration.

I tried to move, I noticed my legs were tied together as well. And, probably, there was some rope between my hands and legs, to keep my hands on my back. Not too tight, but definitely very disturbing.

And, inconsiderate. If I choked or something happened to me, I had no chance of surviving. I prayed she was at home.

I wondered what else she did. She had hours to do whatever she wanted to do. I was unconsciously at her mercy, like a prop. I wondered if I had to be worried about my life.

When I tried to change my position, I realized that I could move. There was an orange rope which looked expensive, with a lock at its end, like a leash attached to my neck and the other side to the radiator. It looked like one of those ropes used by climbers.

I couldn't stand but I could move on my knees. I was moving but where? Why?

Obviously, that rope was arranged to let me go to the bathroom, not out of the door. It was interesting that I still didn't need to go to the bathroom.

Probably because she didn't let me drink much water the day before. She didn't let me eat much in the previous days.

Was she planning this? To avoid my need to go to the bathroom? If it didn't work? I was sure that she would love it if I pissed myself.

And, if I needed, how was I supposed to go there and pee? I gathered she was going to untie my legs at some point. When she decided that I could use the bathroom.

This time I not only feared about my love life but my life too. When I looked inside the bathroom, I saw a bowl on the floor, full of water. Oh, she wanted me alive. At least for some time.

Was she crazy? What if she starved me to death? Why would she do that? Why did she do all the other crazy stuff? I didn't have a rationalization for any of them as well but she was doing them.

How and why was she waiting to show her kinks? For how long was she waiting? Did she need my consent?

Or, was she already doing anything she wanted, without letting me know?

That was interesting. I realized something at that moment.

I didn't have it in me to leave her, even after what happened the day before. Probably because she warned me many times, I just couldn't imagine this could happen. I begged her to take me into this life. I deserved to be cheated by this Amy. Or, my sweet Amy. I gave her that right when I chose to risk our sweet relationship for kink.

But...

I wondered how I would react if she had already been cheating on me, before this period started. That would change everything.

I would not listen to the mood I was in. I wouldn't care whose fault it was.

Even at that moment, I'd leave her in an instant if that was so. I know cheating is cheating. But this wicked relationship style was my choice, even if I didn't know.

I wished she didn't do such a thing. It was unacceptable for a decent girlfriend to have an affair.

An evil and deceitful girlfriend? I was still processing on that part. I had to figure out if she was my girlfriend or something else first.

I heard something inside. I made as much noise as I could, to get her attention.

She opened the door. Without stopping there, walked to me in haste and started to beat me. Not like before.

She wasn't acting cool like she did before. She was telling me to keep quiet, saying one word at each blow, completely in frenzy. Slaps, punches, kicks. I was on the floor trying to protect my face.

She stepped on my face with her bare foot "Keep quiet, I'm expecting a visitor. Or, make any sound and you will regret it. You choose."

She left, locking the door from outside. What the fuck was that? She was excited, even worried. As if she was expecting a royalty as her guest. In panic that something could go wrong.

I didn't feel safe.

This woman, who was nothing like my Amy, a stranger, had me tied up in 'her' bedroom and I was waiting for whatever she had in her evil mind for me.

At the moment, I couldn't have cared less about jealousy or who her visitor was.

I was in a nightmare; in a few days, I walked into her hell willingly.

I even thought of screaming and asking for help from her visitor, when he came.

In a place between reality and my thoughts, I heard the doorbell ring.

I wanted to avoid that day's torture; I didn't want to hear anything. And I stayed as far as possible from the door. Like a captive animal.

Until hearing curious sounds. In the most embarrassing ways, I rolled and crawled towards the door.

Things were getting heated up in there. Amy was again in pleasure.

In so much pleasure that her gasps, moans, grunts, groans were almost echoing in my ears. This couldn't be that same person; she was having something at another level there. I couldn't recognize her, I never heard her so vocal.

I couldn't control my erection, listening to those sounds. There was nothing sexier than a woman in pleasure. Especially if that was Amy. There was nothing more disturbing than that, since I wasn't the one giving her this pleasure.

I was angry, jealous, heartbroken, worried, all at once.

And, how was that even possible? For her to find mind blowing sex opportunities with more than one man? Did she already have them on the side?

If that was true, she had to be cheating on me all along. If that was the case, I was going to leave this house as soon as I was free. After insulting her an hour, to ease my pain, of course.

Her screaming orgasm woke me up from my thoughts. Her voice was hoarse and deep.

I was trying to understand what was going on in there; I couldn't picture them in my mind like I did last time. There was only mild, inaudible voice of my Amy, which sounded like she was gratefully showing her admiration to her lover. I hated every second of it but I was about to explode, I couldn't control my arousal. Was she successfully turning me into a willing cuckold? This wasn't like the day before. This time, I was getting aroused by her voices, more than my agony.

There was a short silence.

Then, the door was opened and Amy quickly stepped in and closed the door behind her.

I tried to crawl back, afraid that she was going to start hitting me again. She was quick, caught me by the hair. Standing close, she leaned forward, looked me in the eye from a few inches distance.

When I stood still, she started working on my mouth gag. She removed it, she caught my hair, with her other hand on my chin once again, pressing. Forcing me to open my mouth, as she trained me well in those days.

Her euphoric mood, content and satisfied eyes were making me very uncomfortable. And she never opened her mouth since she got in that room. That got me thinking.

I resisted and got slapped hard.

This time it was beyond my worries about our relationship. This time it was about me, my existence. I wasn't going to let her do that. I knew she wouldn't push it if I showed I didn't want it. I hoped so.

When she noticed I wasn't going to cave, her expression changed. She wasn't disappointed, no. She got angry and had that determination in her eyes. She let my hair go, moved forward, got one leg behind me, then the other. My neck was pinned between her lower thighs. She held my chin, used her other hand to dig into my cheek on both sides. She was expert in that technique.

She wasn't sparing me, I felt like her nails were going to pierce through my flesh. She didn't stop until I opened my mouth.

There was no escape for me, I couldn't move.

She leaned forward a bit, without rush. I was watching her take her time aiming my mouth. When she was ready, she increased her grip on my jaw and made sure I couldn't close my mouth. This was harassment. This was violation of my many rights.

She emptied whatever she was keeping in hers into my mouth. A very large, slimy, sticky blob. And released her grip. She didn't give me the chance to empty what was in my mouth. Her hand got my mouth and kept it closed. Like she did in that sausage case.

I panicked. Thinking she probably thanked her extraordinary lover by letting him cum in her mouth, I wanted to throw up. She couldn't have done such a thing to me. Knowing me to my core.

But she wasn't letting me open my mouth.

I could feel the taste of it, what she gave me.

It didn't feel disgusting, taste wise. It was familiar. It was her cum. Her juices. I tasted nothing odd.

How? How could her cum end up in her mouth? How could I comfortably assume it was hers? I was about to puke, I wanted to puke.

I couldn't see what it was and I didn't know how my own cum tasted. What if it was the same? My eyes were red, begging her not to force me to do such a thing.