Author's Note:
Just a warning to readers that this story gets pretty nasty in places. The protagonist has some quite unpleasant ways of revenging himself on his soon-to-be-ex girlfriend, and he is not a likeable character. I also want to emphasise that you have to suspend disbelief in a few places. There's no such thing as a drug that wipes out memory after the fact -- date rape drugs have to be administered beforehand, so memories never form in the first place. It's just a plot device to get the protagonist off the hook at the end.
This was my first attempt at a story for Literotica. I didn't understand the categories then, and mistakenly posted it under BDSM rather than Non-Consensual. As you can imagine, some of the comments were pretty negative, to put it mildly. I'm wiser now. I've also largely given up writing non-con once I ended the Theo series.
Amanda turns up again in the Theo series ("The Scold Returns"), but this was originally written as a stand-alone story, and doesn't really belong in that series.
***
Amanda and I have been seeing each other pretty steadily for at least eighteen months. We have never formally moved in together, but we have spent a lot of time at each others' places -- usually mine, since I have a house that has a lot more space and privacy than Amanda's tiny apartment.
At first the relationship was really good. Physically, she's a knockout -- petite, with shoulder-length chestnut hair, a trim body with breasts just big enough to make an inviting handful but not big enough to have any droop. We have tastes -- in music, in films, in outdoor activities -- that overlap enough to make our lives compatible without being so much the same that it would be boring. She seemed to enjoy my company, my conversation, our shared activities, and most of all, our sex life. She loved fucking me, and could come three or four times in a row seemingly without effort. She could always nudge me into some of the best orgasms I've ever had.
She was especially good at deep throating me. She had long ago learned to control her gag reflex so that she could take me balls-deep down her throat without gagging, and we had quickly learned just the right rhythm -- thrust, breathe, thrust, breathe -- that meant I could face-fuck her seemingly for hours without her gagging. She liked to lie on her back with her head hanging over the edge of the bed, aligning her mouth and throat to make it easier to take me all the way down and milk my cock to ecstasy with her throat muscles. From time to time, she would even do some do some light bondage -- nothing too serious, but sometimes getting fucked in handcuffs seemed to turn her on.
The bondage was my favourite, although I sometimes yearned for something just a little heavier.
About the only thing she refused to do was anal -- she said that she had tried it once and found it so repulsive and painful that she would never let anyone fuck her in the ass again. Oh well, two out of three holes can't be a bad thing.
But then, over the last six months or so, everything started gradually to change. She never seemed to want to do anything I wanted to do -- not just sometimes, but all the time. We still had sex, but she gradually started treating it more like a chore than a source of enjoyment. Deep-throating became a thing of the past -- a few superficial sucks on the end of my cock and then over.
Worse than what she did, or didn't do, was her attitude. Nothing I did seemed to be good enough for her. I couldn't load the dishwasher right. A towel on the floor, even in my own house, became a national incident. If I chose a movie, she didn't just disagree, she couldn't believe how anyone could have such lousy taste as to make that choice. She belittled me at every turn, not just disagreeing with my way of doing things but telling me that I was lazy, stupid, a loser. In short, she had become what people in the seventeenth century aptly called a "scold."
Most people would have just decided to call it a day, explain that they were no longer interested in being around her, and continue with their lives. But I had made the mistake of letting this all go on far too long. I had developed a deep-seated resentment of her constant belittling and carping. I developed a smouldering hatred for this twenty-first century scold that called for a much more spectacular breakup that would quench my desire for revenge. And I knew what people in the seventeenth century did with scolds.
They gagged them.
***
I decided that if I was going to break up with Amanda, I would do it with a bang. I wanted to spend a night when I could release the pent-up frustration and anger that had been building up over the past six months all at once. I didn't want to really hurt her. I'm really not into torture porn, and whenever a porn video gets to the part where the fake whips come out, I usually fast forward to the fucking that interests me more. But I wanted to be really creative in the ways I taught her a lesson.
I spent some weeks researching and ordering equipment on line, most of which fit nicely in a big satchel I had bought for the purpose. I made some modifications to the bedroom in the basement, a nice large room with no windows and not much furniture, since I didn't use it as a bedroom. I even made some modifications to some of the equipment I had bought.
