“No, no, no,” Edward rages, “that’s still not it.”

He yanks back the covers and storms off. Edward expects me to do one hundred kegels a day. He says my cunt is a cavern, he can’t feel anything. “Fuck it, I’m going to a meeting,” he yells from across the house. I hear the front door slam, then the car door. The dog next door barks in protest of the outburst.

Our sex life is lubricated by tears and venom. I can’t do anything right. He’s made it his personal mission to become Henry to my Eliza. Every step is a battle. Edward is ten years older than me, so I just assume he’s right about everything.  I’m not supposed to read novels, smoke, watch tv, drink, or eat processed foods. He considers my past sex life to be nothing short of shameful and horrific.

“I like the exact moment when the dick enters the pussy,” he tells me, showing me dozens of porn clips of smiling blonde people in the the missionary position.  I tell him I like to have my ass licked. “Jesus Christ!” he exclaims, jumping out of the bed, “you just don’t say that to someone. Fuck!”  When I call him to tell him I just masturbated at work, he’s appalled. None of my usual tricks works with him, I don’t know how to please him. I wanted my previous lover to hold a loaded gun to my head while we fucked,but I don’t know what to do with Edward. One day I sashay out of the bedroom wearing nothing but knee high black leather boots. He glances up from his book and snorts “God, you are so predictable,” then goes back to reading. 

I cry almost every time we have sex, he’s ruthless in his criticism. After months, he says he still can’t feel anything with me, even with the kegels. During my annual exam, I tell the doctor that I do one hundred kegels a day, she looks at me like I’m crazy and says that’s more than enough. I suggest that maybe he would like anal sex better, that it might be tighter, and I’m surprised when he agrees to try it. We spend an evening carefully working his dick in my ass, but then he says he really can’t feel much there either. As usual, the night ends in tears.

One morning, feeling both brave and helpless, I tell Edward I might like to be tied up. He thinks it over for a moment, then goes to the garage, returning with a length of rope. A thrill ripples through me as he tightly binds my wrists together, hoisting my arms towards the headboard. I spread my legs wide in anticipation.  Edward lights a stubby candle, and my mind goes wild with the possibilities. He places the candle on the dresser, dangerously close to the curtains. He leans over and kisses me, then pulls the heavy comforter up to my neck, then places the wooden desk chair on top of me. I’m more than bewildered. Walking over to the bookshelf, he selects a volume, then reads me “The Raven.” I start to panic a little, but he’s tied me tight. I can’t even wrap my head around this bizarre scenario. He shoves the candle a hair closer to the curtains, then tells me he’s going to the store. I stare, dumbfounded. He removes the chair, then leaves the room.

I think he’s kidding, but I hear the car pull away. I think maybe he’s just going to drive around the block, but he doesn’t come back. I have to pee and the candle is making me nervous. I test the ropes again, but he’s got me bound tightly. My bladder starts to strain, the more nervous and upset I get, the more I have to go. I lay there a moment before I realize there’s a pillow behind my head, using up the extra slack of rope. I turn my head back and forth, and manage to inch it along until it falls off the bed. I hear a car, but it passes by. I have enough slack now that I can easily loosen the bindings and slip my hands out. I blow the candle out, run to the bathroom, then come back and get dressed.

Edward returns about ten minutes later laden with grocery bags. I’m so angry that I can’t even speak. He asks why I untied myself, and all I manage to say is that I had to pee. He says I could have peed in the bed if I wanted. I’m so furious that I’m shaking, but he’s putting groceries away and doesn’t notice. As he places the last box on the shelf, he turns to me and says “Oh my God, that was so amazing for me. I loved walking around the store, seeing all these people just going about their normal business, knowing I had you tied up at home. Holy shit, was that exhilarating!” I begin to cry.

4 thoughts on ““No, no, no,” Edward rages, “that’s still not it.”

  1. Yet another tale that begs the question; If there are so many guys like that in the world…WHY THE FUCK AM I SINGLE???

  2. jesus christ, it would throw the bastard out and find someone who’s main goal in life wasn’t killing my spirit and uniqueness.

  3. This, like many of my posts, happened a long time ago. I think this took place around 2000 or 2001.

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