The Saga of Kurt and Kim Pt. 03

Kurt was in a fragile state when he met Kim. Newly-divorced, he was lonely and starved for good sex. He found it with Kim - and he found out things he didn't like about himself. Part 3 of 4. All characters are adults over 18

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"From the nature of our last session, I suspect that today you're going to talk about the things that made you question whether you should stay in a relationship with Kim," Dr. O'Connor asked.

"That's right," I said. "I'd just gotten divorced, and my intention was to have casual relationships for a while. I never wanted to dive into anything as intense and serious as what I had with Kim. I kept telling myself that we'd split up eventually, but I put it off because we had such great sex."

"Did you ever imagine having a permanent relationship with her?" Dr. O'Connor asked.

"I did. But I soured on that idea pretty early. I began learning things about Kim that made me certain she shouldn't have a permanent place in my life."

"Let's go there. What were these things you learned about Kim?" my therapist asked.

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Although the sex was great, there were problems with other aspects of our relationship. Our issues became more problematic as time went by. The biggest thing was that we simply had different values; I figured out quickly that Kim wasn't someone I wanted to be my daughter's stepmother.

I'm not a smoker, but Kim smoked constantly, and this became more annoying as time went by. I never suggested she quit smoking. That was her business. But I thought it was reasonable to ask her to cut back just a little when I was around.

I understood that smokers like to have a cigarette immediately after sex, but Kim wasn't satisfied with one. She'd smoke a second one, and a third, and a fourth, and she always kept smoking until I couldn't stand to breathe the air in her little bedroom.

We had a polite discussion, and she agreed to stop after one cigarette. But she never kept that promise. I kept reminding her that she'd agreed to cut back when we were in bed, but nothing helped. I finally got so angry and I took off my belt and whipped her ass. It was the first time I did something like that for reasons that had nothing to do with sex.

"How many fucking times do I have to tell you to cut back on those fucking cigarettes when I'm around!?" I said as I whipped her bare ass. The sound of the leather strap slapping the cheeks of her butt echoed off the walls. "Are you ever going to keep your promise? Are you? ARE YOU!?"

That particular episode left her with bright pink welts that criss-crossed her backside from her waist to the back of her knees. She cried loudly, then curled up on the bed and sobbed for several minutes. I'd never struck a woman in anger before, and it was a shock to discover that I could get mad enough to do that. I sat in the chair wondering if I should get up and leave. Then I saw Kim lift herself off the bed and kneel in front of me.

"I am so sorry, Sir," she said, still sniffling. "I promise I'll be good from now on. I promise I'll stop after one cigarette. Please give me another chance."

That was the moment that things changed between us. Kim stopped being my Sweet Little Bitch or my Sexy Little Bitch. She became my Naughty Little Bitch or my Dirty Little Bitch. A few days later she came to the door wearing a thin nightgown and holding one of my belts.

"I'm sorry, Sir. I've been naughty today, and I need to be punished," she said.

That was unexpected, but I played the role as best as I could.

"What did you do!?" I asked in the harshest voice I could manage. "What happened today?!"

"I touched myself," Kim said. "I knew you were coming over to see me tonight, and I got so excited I started playing with myself."

"Did you make yourself cum?!" I asked.

"Yes, Sir. I am so sorry."

"Don't you know that I'm the only person allowed to touch you down there?!"

"Yes, Sir. I know that Sir. I promise I won't do it again."

"You're right, Dirty Bitch! You've been very naughty, and you need to be punished!" I said. "Get your nasty ass over here!"

I dragged Kim by the elbow, sat on the couch, then pulled on her arm until she was over my knee. I lifted the back of her nightgown, revealing her bare ass.

"Please be gentle!" she said.

"Shut your slutty mouth!" I said. "I don't want to hear any complaints while I'm whipping your ass!"

With that I gave Kim a good, strong slap with the belt. It had to hurt. I did it again. And again. I'm not sure how many times I whipped her ass, but by the time I was done I saw pink welts criss-crossing her butt. That sight became a familiar sight over the next few months as I continued "punishing" Kim for being "naughty."

When I started whipping Kim, it had nothing to do with punishment. It was strictly a technique that delayed her orgasms until they became stronger. But at some point Kim decided she wanted more. She's the only woman I've known who likes pain. Plenty of women enjoy being spanked gently as part of some role playing game, but Kim is the only girl I've met who asked me to hit her hard enough to cause pain so severe that her ass was sore for hours.

We'd always have sex after these whippings, and when we did Kim liked being on her back in the missionary position. Every time I'd push my cock down it caused the weight of my body to press her raw ass into the mattress, causing little twinges of pain she enjoyed.

I asked her once what it was about pain that was so appealing. She had to think about that for a while, but she eventually came up with an explanation that made sense to me.

"Pain is sensuous," she said. "I read an interview where somebody asked Arnold Schwartzenager why he was so much better than other bodybuilders. Arnold said it was because he liked pain. When he works out, he has to lift weights that are heavy enough to cause his muscles to hurt. The more it hurts, the more his muscles grow. He said most bodybuilders don't like that pain as much as he does. The pain makes him feel like the best bodybuilder in the world.

"It's like that for me. I enjoy the pain of a good whipping, and it makes me feel like I'm the sexiest bitch in the world. It makes me feel that I am giving everything I have to my man."

It was a learning experience for me.

The single biggest discovery we made in our quest for ways to satisfy Kim involved anal sex. I'd had anal sex with other women, but it was never something they asked for regularly. It was strictly for special occasions. They could take it or leave it. Neither Kim nor I suspected it would be more than that for Kim. We were together for several months before I even gave it a try.

Sometimes, when I ask to initiate anal sex, women decline. That didn't happen with Kim because our relationship went in a direction where she accepted that she had to do whatever I wanted from her. Her opinion didn't matter; if I wanted it, she did it. Every. Single. Time. One night I got some lube, applied it to her tight little butthole, then laid her on her side and gently worked my cock into her ass. She acted nervous, but I didn't ask for permission.

It was difficult the first time, of course. Kim told me later that she'd never had anal sex with any of her previous boyfriends, and it scared her when I did it. There was quite a bit of pain at first as her body slowly got used to the invasion. I was as gentle as I could be, working my cock in and out and going deeper with every tiny stroke, but there was no way to make it completely painless.

Because this was Kim, I knew I had to do something special to stimulate her clit. I started by massaging her pussy with one hand. That didn't seem intense enough, so I reached for her vibrator and placed it directly on Kim's little button.

"Oh! . . . God! . . . Kurt!" she said. Kim began trembling and taking deep breaths as I worked my cock farther up her backside. She started squirming around on the bed. She wasn't trying to get away. It seemed that she just couldn't stay still. Maybe she was looking for a way to move that made it feel just a little less painful.

Her ass was very tight. I wanted to avoid hurting Kim more than necessary, so I continued advancing slowly and gently as the minutes passed. The vibrator never left her clit, and eventually Kim reached down and took the vibrator in her own hands so she could press it where it felt best.

There was almost no warning before Kim climaxed. Suddenly, she began making a sound that was part scream, part wail. Her whole body shook violently, and the strong muscles in her ass clamped down on my cock so hard I couldn't keep moving. Her ass clenched again, and again, and again, and she called out loudly each time.

I wasn't finished, so I began thrusting in and out of her ass in an effort to make myself cum. I could tell Kim's ass hurt because she winced every time. But I couldn't help myself. I needed relief.

Kim later told me she could feel every vein and ridge in my cock as I sawed in and out of her tight ass. She said it felt like my cock was gigantic. Kim felt dirty - in a good way - when my cum flooded her insides.

And that was the secret. If I got Kim nice and excited with oral or vaginal sex, then fucked her ass while she pressed a vibrator against her clit, it caused her to have a Category 5 orgasm. It was remarkable to see such a thing happen. Before she met me, Kim believed she would never have anything but weak orgasms.

You can imagine what this did for my self esteem. My ex-wife never appreciated the effort I made to satisfy her in bed. Kim found endless ways to express her gratitude. It was reassuring to know how much I'd changed the life of a woman who didn't think she'd ever enjoy sex so much.

From that day on, Kim wanted all our sex sessions to end with anal orgasms. We got into a routine where we'd have a ton of foreplay followed by me eating her pussy for a bit, then having a long session of regular sex in a rotating collection of positions. I preferred cowgirl and missionary, but Kim was especially fond of doing it doggy style. Every time she got close to having an orgasm, I'd swat her ass with my belt and pull her back from the edge. The idea was to get her so excited she'd explode when I finally let her cum.

We sometimes spent hours in bed. Kim jokingly referred to our kind of sex as "a matinee." Our times in bed usually had a double feature and several short subjects. It always ended climatically. By the time we finished each matinee, Kim was so exhausted all she could do was lay face down on the bed with her arms and legs spread in all four directions. Her backside was always covered with welts. The photos I took of her after sex are nice mementos of a time when I felt like the best lover any woman ever had.

Although everything seemed to be going fine in the bedroom, I had growing concerns about other parts of our relationship. I didn't like the fact that I was beginning to enjoy inflicting pain on Kim. It was fine that I liked giving her pleasure; I hadn't expected that I'd come to like the sound of her calling out in pain.

But the biggest problem involved Kim's previous boyfriends. There were a LOT of them. Too many. It wouldn't have been so bad if she hadn't insisted on talking about them all the damn time.

I'm just going to get this out of the way quickly and honestly: I was surprised to discover that Kim was such a total slut. When we met, I could see that she was a successful, intelligent woman who was very cute and sexy. I thought that the reason we had sex after our first date was because she felt I was special. It was disappointing to realize that Kim would fuck anybody with a dick.

I didn't like discovering that my girlfriend had been with so many guys. Maybe that sounds sexist. Maybe it seems I was slut-shaming Kim. Judge for yourself.

One day we had a conversation that went like this: "When I went to school, the nuns said that one reason French kissing was bad was because it led to having sex," Kim said. "Man, that was the truth! My boyfriend and I started fucking almost immediately after we started French kissing! That's when sex became a priority for me. I was sucking his cock right after that."

That probably sounds pretty innocuous. It wouldn't have been objectionable if it weren't for the fact that Kim constantly gave me these kinds of detailed descriptions of her relationships with a seemingly endless series of guys. She had sex with a LOT of dudes in college, and some of those encounters were pretty graphic.

"I dated a guy who was very nice, and we hung out with a couple we liked a lot," Kim said. "We decided it would be fun to swap partners. It wasn't supposed to be anything serious. Just sex.

"The problem is that me and the other guy enjoyed having sex a LOT. It was much more enjoyable than what I had with the guy who was supposed to be my boyfriend. We were just supposed to do it once, but instead we started sneaking around and having sex secretly." Kim said the cheating was eventually exposed, of course, and it hurt the feelings of the two people who felt rejected. I thought it was pretty sleazy behavior; she had to know that the only way it could end was with her causing pain for people who were supposed to be friends.

Kim was only 19 at the time. College is a good time to experiment with sex and find out what you enjoy, but Kim did more experimenting than anyone I've ever known.

It escalated after graduation. Kim had a series of boyfriends as she began her career. A lot of those guys were co-workers and colleagues from related businesses. That's not a sensible way to find lovers. Office romances are too risky. Kim repeatedly got herself into situations where she'd start having sex with one co-worker, then have sex with another, and wind up with both guys getting pissed off because each one thought of themselves as Kim's boyfriend. As she told me about more and more of these encounters, it felt as though Kim's life had been one long, steamy soap opera.

The real problem was that Kim insisted on describing all these affairs in excruciating detail, and she wouldn't stop. I finally realized that her favorite topic of conversation was her sexual history. I got tired of it, and I told her to knock it off.

"I don't want to hear about the biggest dick you ever sucked," I said. "I don't want to know about the time your boss bent you over his desk and fucked you during lunch hour. You've fucked so many guys that I realize you'll fuck anybody. Would you like it if I'd fucked more than 100 girls, and I kept telling you about each one?"

"But I feel like I need to be honest with you!" Kim always said. "I want you to know about me." That was just a lie. She liked talking about her sexual history, and it made no difference how many times I told her that I'd heard more than I wanted to hear.

The worst thing was that Kim was especially determined to tell me that she'd fucked three of my co-workers, and one of those affairs was especially hurtful and nasty. From then on, everytime I went to work I had to see those guys and know that they'd been with the woman who was supposed to be committed to me. I gradually realized that the guys in my office considered Kim an office slut they liked to pass around. I learned that the guy who introduced me to Kim had slept with her. When I got divorced, he thought it would be a nice gesture if he hooked me up with Kim because he knew she'd spread her legs for anybody. He never imagined I'd develop feelings for her.

Obviously, he overestimated my intelligence.

One day, I snapped. Kim surprised me by saying that one of her ex-lovers was one of my co-workers named Randy. I'd worked on several projects with Randy, and I knew him fairly well. I also knew that he'd had a nasty affair that almost destroyed his marriage. It was a surprise learning from Kim that she'd been the Homewrecker in that sleazy episode.

"I really don't want to know about this," I told Kim. "I'm serious when I tell you I'm tired of hearing all the grimy details about every guy you've ever fucked."

Did that stop her? Of course not. She brought up the topic of Randy several times, describing all the ways they used to sneak around and have sex at times when his wife wouldn't know. I remembered that Randy used to have unexplained absences at work; Kim explained that those were times when they got together for quickies. I learned more than I ever wanted to know about Randy's sexual preferences. He particularly enjoyed the fact that Kim's double-d boobs were big enough that she could wrap her tits around his cock and titty fuck him. Why did Kim insist on telling me this crap when I repeatedly told her to stop?

Randy had to quit his job and move with his wife to Philadelphia, where her family lived. His wife said she'd divorce him if they didn't move somewhere far away from Kim. Like everybody else at the office, I knew Randy left because he'd cheated on his wife. Apparently, I was the only person in the office who didn't know Kim was the Other Woman in this sordid affair.

Kim's constant re-telling of her sexual past got so bad that I started yelling at her. "Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!" I said one day. "I've asked you politely to stop telling me about every dick you've ever sucked! If you're trying to make sure I understand that you're a whore who'll fuck anybody, you can stop now. I got the message! You're a whore! You've always been a whore! You've fucked so many guys that I can't go to work without running into them! I DON'T NEED TO KNOW ANY MORE! JUST SHUT UP!"

Kim began to cry, and I didn't care.

"You don't have to be so mean," she said.

"Apparently I do!" I said. "I've asked you politely a million times, and it does no fucking good! You don't seem to have the part of the brain that you need to understand that guys don't want to hear this much about their girlfriend's slutty sexual history, especially when that girl is someone as promiscuous as you!"

Kim spent the next few minutes crying, and I eventually felt bad enough to put my arms around her. I was so mad I was shaking. I wanted to keep explaining why I was upset. But I knew I was too mad to have a sensible conversation. I figured that I'd finally expressed myself in language Kim would understand.

I was wrong.

Just a few days later Kim began telling me about a time that Randy told his wife he was going for a long run, but that he actually ran over to Kim's house to have some quick sex. That was when I snapped. I yelled at Kim, took off my belt, then pulled her over my knee and gave her an unusually hard whipping.

When I was finished, I did something I'd never done before. I slapped her. Hard. On the face. She looked shocked when I did it. I know perfectly well that some couples slap each other all the time. For them, it's a kind of rough sex game both parties enjoy. For me, it was a bit more than that. Instead of slapping Kim to arouse her, I slapped her because I was mad.

But this was Kim. Being slapped turned her on. A lot. She knew I was genuinely angry, and that only made things hotter for her. Despite the fact that her face and her ass were both stinging, she reached down and rubbed my cock through my pants. It's hard to explain how this made me feel.

Despite my anger - which didn't diminish one bit - I was aware of the fact that I'd found a powerful new way to arouse Kim. Slapping her added a new layer to the growing element of domination and submission in our relationship. She actually liked being slapped! She liked that it hurt! She liked seeing me get angry!

The thing that troubled me was that I realized I liked hurting her. I liked the way it felt to strike her in anger.

My behavior repulsed me.

This isn't you, Kurt, I said to myself. You aren't the kind of guy who beats women. This has gone too far.