Kayfabe

My hand stroked her cheek, and she kissed it, the tears trailing across my knuckles. "Because I love you, Dee. I'll always love you."

I held her as she wept. She was so scared, far more scared than I'd been angry. It rankled, but Rod was right. I was the one that made this work. But he was wrong, too; she couldn't give this up. She wanted to, but she couldn't. Not yet, not even if I'd asked. It would have dug into her brain and festered. Killed her love for me, not because she wanted these things, but because she needed them. Or, rather, needed something she hadn't found yet.

We showered separately after she finished crying, then ate. Dinner was quiet; not an uncomfortable silence exactly, but a sort of mournful one. Dee knew now how much she'd hurt me, and I knew, I could finally admit to myself, that she'd have to keep on hurting me for a while. I hated it. I wanted it, in a strange way, but I hated it. Most of all, though, I loved her, and I knew that the only way forward was through. And that meant the best plan was to talk to...

"Rod." The big man was dressed in khakis and a golf shirt. It was a bizarre sight, like seeing a theme park mascot with its mask off, smoking a cigarette behind one of the rides.

"Martin!" Rod grabbed my hand and pumped it up and down, as enthusiastic a handshake as I'd ever seen.

He slapped me on the back as we walked to the corner table in a bar he frequented. There were beers already waiting for us. "So, how'd it go, man? Did she ease up?"

I nodded. "Yeah, but... look, I think you were wrong about... about the other. She'd quit, yeah. But I don't think she could deal with that. With not finding whatever the hell it is she's looking for."

Rod took a drink and grimaced. "That's not good. I've misread this whole thing. I'm sorry, man. That said..." He pondered. "I think it's still a thing we can get you two past. I was looking forward to, well, to a collaboration of sorts with you. Just going bigger and bigger, giving her a bigger show for the hell of it."

I laughed, but he continued. "No, man, I had so many cool ideas! I..." He frowned. "Never mind. Maybe we can get to some of them, if they'll be helpful. But, look, there's three ways this goes, Martin, and two of them are bad. We have to thread the needle here and hope whatever she needs is on the other side of it, to mix a metaphor."

He ticked them off on his fingers. "One is that you have to tap out before she finds what she needs. I know... look, you're a tough son of a bitch, but what she needs might be on the far side of something you just can't or won't do. What if she needs to see you, I don't know, suck a cock? Could you do that?"

A vigorous shake of my head. "To save her life, yeah, probably. But not... no, not as a way to scratch her itch. If that's what she needs, she's going to keep needing it, and... no. I'm not wired that way, and I'll be miserable."

"Hey no judgment. People are who they are. So that leaves the second possibility. There's nothing for her to find. She's just..." With a grim look in his eyes, he stared down at his beer. "I've seen this go that way. The husband's need for humiliation or the wife's need for stimulation just grows exponentially until... until it matters more than their marriage. Maybe more than their whole life. They never find what they're looking for, because all they're looking for is 'more.'"

"I... I don't think..." I took a drink, putting the words together in my head. "She needs a thing. A specific thing. It's not stimulation, whatever it is. Not even necessarily sex per se. But I don't know what it is. It's some experience, but I can't, for the life of me, figure it out."

Rod's face was understanding and kind. There was admiration there, too, which surprised the hell out of me. "Well, then. It's a good thing she's got the two of us to help her find it."

The next few months were wild. Rod and I hung out more often, becoming, oddly, friends. His other hobby, which he also took very seriously, turned out to be community theater. He schooled me in how to act without overacting, some basic stagecraft, blocking, how to take a fall safely, stage combat, all sorts of other things. Most of it would never come into play; any kind of actual physical violence would have Dee throwing him out, and we both knew it. But it was fun and if he could teach me how to, say, be safely "forced" to my knees and make it look good, like I was struggling against him? We had that in our bag of tricks now.

He also worked with me on improv. We could plan out the broad strokes of what he was going to do and how I'd react, but he wanted to leave some surprises for me. Part of that was because some of the humiliation had to be real. I just wasn't a good enough actor to be believable for an entire scene. Part of it was because Dee continued to be a wildcard; this was for her benefit, after all, and if she reacted poorly to something we had planned, a quick pivot would be necessary. And part of it, frankly, was just because it was fun. Rod, normal Rod, was an enormous goofball and a lot of fun to just hang out with.

When we were on, though, we were ON. Rod introduced all sorts of new things in the bedroom, trying to find whatever it was that Dee needed. He threatened to make me suck his cock, which Dee got upset at; that was too far and went back up on the shelf. He brought another woman in several times: to fuck Dee, to dominate her, to dominate me, to masturbate me, to fuck me. I liked that last one in particular, but Dee wasn't too happy about it; she was a little snippy until I pointed out her hypocrisy. Then she absolutely fucked me into the ground for a couple weeks as a way to say sorry.

Toys, light and medium bondage, pain play, cum play, restraints for me, sensory deprivation, orgasm denial, forced orgasms, pegging, femdom: we tried a whole lot of shit out. Some of it was fun for both Dee and me, some just for her, some just for me. But that wasn't the point. Gradually, very gradually, we began to home in on what Dee needed, what she was looking for. Rod figured it out before me.

Our weekly meeting was somber. "Marty, I think I know what she needs. But..." He paused. "You're not going to like it."

I gulped. "What is it?"

Rod shook his head. "That's the problem. I can't tell you."

He had earned a certain amount of trust at this point, but my eyes still narrowed slightly. "Why?"

"Because you're going to hate it, and for it to work, you're going to have to hate it. I can tell you it won't break any of your hard 'no' boundaries, but..." He spread his hands. "I can't tell you anything else. You're just going to have to trust me that I want what's best for you and for her."

I studied the big man's scarred face. He seemed both earnest and miserable. I'd never entirely let go of the fear that this might be a trick, that he was just doing this as an elaborate con. But he'd had plenty of opportunities to fuck me over so far, and he hadn't taken advantage of it. Well, more than the obvious. If it was a con, it was a very, very long one.

"Alright." I sounded more sure than I was.

We stood and shook hands. "For what it's worth, this has been the most fun I've ever had as a bull. Thank you, Marty. You've been a great nemesis." Then he left me to sit with my beer and a mounting sense of unease.

The next week was torture. I'd gotten so used to being on the inside that being on the outside again was maddening. I knew that we had progressed far faster than usual in terms of the things that Rod was willing to do; there was stuff we'd checked off on the list that he said he often wouldn't do until years in with most couples. But me being there, giving him intel on what did and didn't work for both of us, what seemed to really get her going, that sped things up significantly.

We were also able to move faster because, knowing what was coming, I was able to get myself psyched up for it. It wasn't any easier each week; knowing what was coming meant I could acclimate faster, which meant more intense experiences, which meant we could seem like we were taking the safeties off while still keeping them on. We were able to stick, both physically and emotionally, to the "bruises, not broken bones" rule, for the most part.

Now, something extremely intense was coming. Something that gave Rod pause. Something that, by the way we parted, told me this was the endgame no matter what happened. Either Dee would find what she needed, or I'd no longer be able to keep going with her.

She could tell something was wrong. I hadn't been like this since the weeks before Rod and I had our sitdown. Dee kept asking me what was wrong, trying to soothe me, trying to guess why I was stressed. She kept asking if it was work, my parents, a friend. If it was her. But as we rolled along, as the day drew closer, she realized what it was.

"We can end this right now, Martin. I love you, and I can tell... this is.... It's like when I really hurt you."

I shook my head. "No, it's... I'm just in my own head too much. It's a bunch of little things, hon. It's not Rod." I put on my best smile, but I could tell she wasn't convinced.

Later, after dinner, we made love until the early morning. She did her best to show me that I was her man, the only one she loved, regardless of what we both knew was going to happen in a couple of days. It was wonderful, but my heart wasn't fully into it; the gnawing fear was back, and it was worse than ever. And worst of all, unlike the last time, I'd completely signed on for it. This wasn't Dee misunderstanding cues and hurting me unintentionally; this was me being hoist by my own petard.

That day, the day he was coming, I sent Dee out of the house. I was as nervous as I'd ever been, probably more nervous than the first time she went home with someone else. Told her to take a spa day, that I knew how she liked to pretty herself up before Rod came over. That stung, too, but it was a familiar pain, one that I could hang onto and use to dull the larger one. The one that came from not knowing if life as I knew it was about to end.

I cleaned the house in my frilly floral apron, another small humiliation that made the larger ones easier. It was part of a familiar ritual, and I focused on that: so far, nothing had been so bad that I couldn't overcome it. Enjoy it, even, to an extent. I would find my strength in my weakness; it was the only refuge I really had.

Dee came home, as lovely as she'd ever been. Part of me wanted to have her call Rod then and keep him away; I wanted this beauty for myself. But then, the voice in the back of my head, the one that loved her, said, "this is you keeping her, letting her do what she needs to do." I'll be honest: I went into the bathroom and had a tiny breakdown, because it hurt, even as I knew it was what she needed. She knew, I think but she didn't say anything, didn't take it as a chance to humiliate me like she might otherwise have during the pre-game. Dee knew that something was different that day.

The doorbell rang.

Dee opened the door, ready to greet Rod, but it wasn't Rod. Well, it was Rod, just not the one we'd expected. Standing there was the kind, unassuming friend I'd made over the past six months, holding a six pack and wearing khakis and a golf shirt. "Dee! You look beautiful. Can I come in?"

She looked like... well, like I imagine I looked when I first saw regular Rod. "Uh, uh, of course, Rod." As she stepped aside, he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, no different than he might give to an old friend. Nothing romantic, nothing sexual, just affection. My wife was deeply confused.

"Marty!" He laughed. "Take that thing off, man. We're going to all sit down and have a drink and talk."

"What--?"

Rod grinned kindly at me. "Trust me, Marty. Trust me one last time." I nodded, then pulled my apron off. "Here, let me take that." He went and hung it in the kitchen as Dee and I sat on the couch.

She hissed, "What the fuck is going on?" I just patted her knee and smiled reassuringly.

Rod laughed when he came back. "Giving me the comfy chair? Thanks, bro." He handed us each a beer and coaster, then sat himself.

After taking a drink, he said, "So, Dee. I'm sure you have some questions." She opened her mouth, but he raised his hand to stop her. "I promise, I'll answer most of them, and Martin can answer any others you might have after, okay?" Her head dipped for just a second, a curt, slightly annoyed nod.

"The long and the short of it is this, Dee: Marty and I have been working together. Part of it was to improve the experience for you, part of it was to manage his discomfort, but the most important part has been to..." He chewed his lip. "I really like the two of you. I mean that both as people and as a couple. You really love each other; I've..." The big man sighed. "Well, I've been a bull for a few couples where it was clear that the love was gone, and I was just the mechanism for them to finally end things. The 'reason' that wasn't actually the reason.

"With you two, though? Even though it's clear that Marty would rather not be doing this a lot of the time-- " Dee looked at her feet and shifted uncomfortably. "-- he's completely devoted to you. And I can tell that you love him, too. I can tell that this is why you're doing this, because you love him. Because..." He took a drink. "Because you think he's going to abandon you, and you want him to. So that he can find someone who won't hurt him so much."

Her head shot up. "What? No! No, that's not--!"

He smiled sadly. "It is, Dee. You love him so much, and you think you're too fucked up to be loved in return. I've been doing this a long time. I get things wrong sometimes, but I get them right more often. I watch the way you look at him, the way you first revel in his discomfort, because you know he likes the humiliation, at least a little. Then there's the fear that he'll leave you, but it's mixed with the hope that you've finally pushed things too far." Dee started to cry.

"And then, when he doesn't reject you, the joy. When you look at him and see that he'll endure this thing for you, the love and wonder, the pure adoration. It's..." The bull's voice cracked just a tiny bit. "It's fucking beautiful. But then there's the sadness when he stops looking at you. Because you know that it's just a matter of finding the thing that will do it, that finally makes him push you away. Because it hurts you way too much to even think about doing it yourself."

"Dee?" I knew how hurt I sounded, but I couldn't help it. She shook her head, unable to speak.

His next words were said in a soft, kind voice. "But it's never going to happen, Dee. He loves you too much. You're insecure; you're beautiful and smart and successful, and you're still so worried that you're too broken for anyone to truly love you. Deep down, you think either the people that claim it are lying or they just don't understand how worthless you are. And you know that Marty's not lying, so it must just be that you haven't shown him how unworthy you are yet."

Rod laughed sadly. "It takes one to know one, Dee. Deep down, under all the bluster and bravado, I'm just as insecure as you. I just... it's like I told Marty, I could never be as strong as him. I put on my 'Heel Rod' mask and--" She looked up at him quizzically. "Marty will explain later-- I put my mask on, and then I'm this unstoppable fucking machine that can have any woman and humiliate any man and I'm the biggest fucking badass on the face of the earth. But I'm not. I'm--" He shook his head. "Doesn't matter. This isn't about me."

He took another swig of his beer and pointed the bottle at me. "Your husband has been working with me for six months to make bigger and better spectacles for you. I've pushed through shit I wouldn't have tried for years if it wasn't for him working with me, so that we could find what it was you need. He wants to help you so much, he'll do just about anything."

Dee looked at me, wide-eyed, and said, "Martin? What does he mean?"

"I-- Dee, I love you. And I can tell there's something missing. I didn't know what it was, but I knew... knew we couldn't stay together if we didn't figure it out. And if Rod is right..." I shook my head. "Dee, I'm not going to leave you. You're wonderful; I don't like all of this stuff, but everything else? So much more than makes up for it. Sweetheart, he's right: I would do just about anything for you."

Her eyes filled with tears. "But, I... God, baby, I'm a fucking monster! I do these things to you, and they hurt you, and I know they do, but I can't-- I need you, I know I do! But-- God, I want to say that I love you, but who does this shit to someone they love? I can't... I say it, but it can't be true, because what the fuck kind of love is that?

Rod sadly said, "The kind a lot of us have. I-- Look, Dee, I ruined a happy marriage because I was broken. I didn't know how to deal with-- to deal with my own insecurities. My way was to..." He looked up at the ceiling. "I told you before, Marty, that I'm just playing a character. And it is, now. But it didn't used to be. I was so angry and so... brittle, I guess. Couldn't stand to be challenged. And in a marriage, you have to be challenged, don't you? You're trying to build a future together."

He looked at Dee. "Martin's been really on edge this week, right? Super anxious, worse than that time when you and he had the talk, right?"

"You know about that?" He nodded. "Yeah. I've... I almost called and canceled with you. I can't... I won't put him through this anymore. I'm broken, I know that, but there has to be-- has to be something else I can do. I didn't mean for things to get here. They just-- I just ended up here." She turned to me. "God, Marty. Oh god. I'm so sorry, baby, I'm--" She started to sob, and I just held her as she cried. "I don't want to lose you! I'm so fucking selfish! I love you, but I'm too weak to do what's best for you, so I try to make you get out, save yourself from me. I--"

I angled her face up to mine and kissed her, silencing her protests. "No, Marty, I--" Another kiss, more forceful this time.

"Dee. I love you. I'm not going to leave you. You're fucked up? Maybe I am, too. But we'll figure it out." I nodded at Rod. "He's given us an idea of what's going on; we can figure it out from there. You were all ready to call things off; that says something on its own, that you're finally... well, you're finally willing to face this head on."

Then, I had a nagging curiosity. "What did you have planned for today, anyways?"

Rod laughed. "Oh, man, it was huge. I had a couple of guys coming over and--" Then he grimaced. "Ah, you know what? Never mind. What I realized was that... Look, I knew what the problem was. I knew that you two loved each other. I just had to..."

He looked up at the ceiling. "I was going to go big, like I said. Then I was going to pretend that we hadn't been working together the whole time, tell Dee everything while mocking you. Really twist the screws. But then I realized I only needed to do one of those things: break kayfabe. Just break it and talk it all through with you, not as a bull, a cuck, and the woman they were struggling over, but three people that are each fucked up in their own way."

Dee perked up. "Kayfabe? Like, pro wrestling?" We both looked at her, confusion written across our faces, and she beamed happily. "What? I saw GLOW on Netflix."

We sat and talked for a while, all of us, laughing and joking like friends. Which we, kind of, sort of, oddly were. Rod and I explained how we'd started our collaboration, how we'd trained, worked out what to do next, laid the whole thing out for her. She was a little pissed at first at being manipulated, but as she saw the shape of what we'd done, what I'd done for her, I could see the wonder in her eyes grow and grow. "You did all of this for me? You would have... you'd take on that much pain to make me happy?" I nodded.