The Taming of Nikki Kim

I almost collapsed at the sound of his voice. Instead, I ducked down behind my bed, as if that would somehow hide the fact that I was in here.

"Don't worry," he said, a hint of good cheer mixed into his German-South African melange. "It's just me. There's nobody else home."

As if that was supposed to make me feel at ease. I remained motionless behind the bed, barely daring to breathe.

"C'mon," he chided. "You can't stay cooped up in there all day. You've gotta come out at some point."

Say nothing. Do not engage.

"Well, I'm hungry," Johan said. "Gonna make myself a little lunch. You want anything?"

The only thing I want is for you to get out of my life, I thought.

"Okay then," he said. "I'll be back in a bit."

For the next few minutes, I could hear him rummaging around in the kitchen, opening the refrigerator, turning on the burners.

How in the world had I ended up here? How was I locked in my own bedroom, afraid to make a sound while a teenager had his run of my house? Why was I crouched behind my bed, subsisting on fruit and yogurt while some college boy fixed himself a hot meal in my kitchen? The injustice of it all gnawed at me bitterly as I listened to him cook.

"I'm not much of a chef, but I make a mean tuna melt," Johan announced upon returning to my door. "I'll give you half if you want."

Did he really think he could open me up with half a tuna sandwich? I feel my blood starting to boil, but I knew he was trying to rile me up, so I resolved to keep my cool.

For awhile, I just sat there in silence, listening to him eat his lunch on the other side of the door. Then, he knocked on the door again.

"Listen, Nikki, I understand if you're still processing what happened last night," he said. "I am, too. And I... I just wanted you to know that I'm here for you if you wanna talk about it."

For some reason, it was this fake sentiment--this cheap, tawdry pass at concern for how I was feeling--that I couldn't abide.

"The only thing I want is for you to pack your things and go," I said stonily. "I want you out of my life, and out of Danny's life, forever."

"I get it," he said. "You're upset because things are changing, and change is hard. But it's normal."

"What is with these awful fucking platitudes?" I said, standing up from behind the bed. "'Change is hard, but it's normal?' Do you even listen to yourself?"

"There's truth in every cliche," he replied.

"Was that your yearbook quote?" I asked venomously. "You sound like a fucking fortune cookie."

"Okay," he laughed. "Now that's just funny."

"I'm not being funny!" I said, raising my voice. "This is not a joke, Johan. I want you out of my fucking life."

"Look, why don't you open the door and we can talk about this?" he said. "Like adults."

"You're not an adult," I spat. "And I'm not opening this door for you."

"If I'm not an adult," he replied. "Then you let a kid fuck you last night."

I paused, unsure of exactly how to respond to that.

"So let's just agree that we're both adults," he continued. "And let's open the door so we can have an adult conversation."

"I didn't let you fuck me last night," I said slowly.

"C'mon, Nikki," he chuckled. "Are we really gonna play denial? Now which one of us is acting like a child?"

"I didn't let you fuck me," I said again, choosing my words carefully. "You... you raped me."

I hadn't planned to say this. I wasn't totally sure I even believed it. But Nina had planted the idea in my head, and it seemed like the clearest way to disavow what had happened last night.

"Now that... that's an interesting choice of words," he said, a hardness entering his voice. "How exactly did I do that?"

"I said no, and... and you forced me."

"Hmm," he said. "The way I remember it, I was asleep by myself... in my room, in my bed. And then you... you left the bed that you share with your husband, and came to my room by yourself in the middle of the night."

"So what?"

"I dunno," he said. "Seems like maybe you wanted something from me."

"I did!" I yelled. "I wanted my Ambien back."

"And I gave it to you," Johan replied. "Didn't I?"

"You--you drugged me," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

"You just said you came to my room for an Ambien," he said. "So I gave you an Ambien."

"You--you put it in my mouth," I stammered. "With your tongue."

"Because you asked me for it," he continued, his voice unruffled. "I didn't drug you, Nikki. You drugged yourself."

"It doesn't matter!" I cried. "None of that matters because... because that doesn't give you permission to--to fuck me!"

"You just don't remember it clearly," Johan said. "That can happen when you take Ambien."

Was this how he was going to play it? That I was some kind of drugged-up pill slut who couldn't remember letting him fuck me? The fucking audacity.

"I'll tell you another thing I don't remember," I snapped. "Letting you write that degrading filth on my body. I would never, ever have let you do that."

"What are you talking about now?" he said.

"B--" I said, before stopping myself.

"B... what?" Johan asked naively.

"You know what!" I said, trying to avoid the words themselves.

"If you can't even say it," Johan chuckled. "Then how am I supposed to know what it is?"

"B... BWC," I stammered. "You wrote that on me..."

"BWC?" he asked. "Is that all?"

I shut my mouth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing me say the rest.

"Do you even know what that means?" he asked.

I stayed silent, folding my arms over my chest crossly, as if Johan could see my body language through the door.

"If you do," he continued. "Then you should know that what I wrote wasn't meant for you."

"Oh really?" I shot back. "Then why did you write it on me?"

"Because," he said, "it was meant for your husband."

I felt my stomach starting to knot up. I hadn't planned on having this conversation at all, and now, it had taken a turn into dangerous waters.

"You're fucking disgusting," I stammered. "You'll never be half the man that he is..."

"Oh, don't suddenly pretend like you have so much respect for him," Johan sneered. "Actually, I respect him more than you do."

"How--how the fuck can you say that to me?!" I screamed through the door. "You've done nothing but disrespect my marriage this whole time!"

"What about you?" he shot back. "Can you honestly say you're a good wife after everything we've done?"

I felt the knot in my stomach move up into my throat.

"At least I respect him enough to tell him what's been going on between us," he continued. "But you... not only are you fucking another guy behind his back, but you're also lying about it to his face. How is that respectful?"

I felt my lips beginning to quiver. Johan had struck a nerve.

"There's... there's nothing going on between us," I murmured. "You just won't leave me alone..."

"Nikki, you spent last night in my bed, not his," Johan sneered arrogantly. "We've already fucked twice, and on top of that, you sucked my dick. Don't you think your husband deserves to know about all that?"

Tears sprung to my eyes. I wanted to argue with Johan, to say it was all a lie, that none of that had happened. The fact that it really had was almost too much to bear.

"So your way of respecting my husband... is to fuck his wife, then write on her body that she's a slut, and wait for him to find it?" I said slowly, stupefied by the words. "That's your sick idea of showing respect to my husband?"

"I mean, he needs to know the truth, Nikki," Johan said. "I could just tell him what we've been doing, but he might not want to believe it. This way, he'll know that it's true."

My heart sank even as my body began to shake. Because if Johan was serious about this--if he was really intent on telling Steve what I'd done with him--then I was almost out of options.

If he wasn't nervous about what Steve might do to him...

If he wasn't afraid that I would accuse him of rape...

If he wasn't concerned about what this would do to my family...

If none of that was enough to stop him, then I knew there was only one thing left that could.

"Why?!" I moaned plaintively, tears running down my cheeks. "Why are you doing this to me?!"

"Nikki, don't cry," he said softly. "Just open the door and we can talk about this."

"There are so many other girls for you to fuck!" I wailed. "I'm... I'm just an ordinary housewife! Why--why do you want to destroy my marriage?!"

"Nikki, you gotta know that isn't true," he said, almost chuckling to himself. "I wouldn't be doing this if you were any ordinary housewife."

"But I am!" I moaned, my chest wracked with sobs. "P--please, Johan, don't do this! I'm just an ordinary housewife!"

"But you really aren't, Nikki," he said, his voice calm and measured in comparison to my hysterical sobbing. "You don't realize how insane your body is. Thirty-four D tits and extra small panties? You're basically a porn star. Except you're hotter than the girls in porn because you're real, Nikki."

"I'm not!" I protested. "I'm not!"

"You are, though," he insisted. "You're a real life Asian slut MILF."

"I'm not!" I pleaded. "Please, I'm--I'm just a wife! I'm just a mom! Nothing more!"

"Most guys go their whole lives without ever meeting a piece of ass like you," Johan continued. "But I actually get to fuck you, Nikki. I can't just walk away from that."

"We can't do that again," I cried. "Please, Johan, you have to understand! You have to let me go!"

"I can't, Nikki," he said through the door. "I won't. Not after last night. Not after you let me cum inside you."

"What?" I gasped. "What did you just say?!"

"Don't tell me you forgot," Johan said. "You're gonna hurt my feelings..."

"No--no... there's no way," I stammered, shaking my head.

"It felt so fucking good," Johan growled. "I think that was the hardest I've ever cum..."

"You didn't... you're lying," I muttered, my entire body suddenly on pins and needles. "No way..."

"Hey, you're on birth control, right?" Johan asked suddenly. "Because I've got 3 siblings and a ton of cousins. The men in my family tend to have pretty good aim."

"Ohmygod," I said, clapping a hand over my mouth and sinking to my knees, trying to suppress the wave of nausea that hit me. "Ohmygod ohmygod..."

"Now do you understand why I can't just walk away?" he said. "I can't just let you go after that."

"Johan," I said, crawling towards the door. "I--I need you to tell me the truth, okay? You... you didn't really cum inside me last night, did you?"

"I wouldn't lie about something like that, Nikki," he sneered. "I came inside that wet little Asian pussy last night, as hard and as deep as I could. And I can't wait to do it again."

"Johan--listen to me, okay," I said, having reached the door. "I'm not on any birth control, okay? So I... I need to go get a Plan B pill today, right now, before I pick the boys up from school."

"Sounds like it's time to open up, Nikki," he crowed, surely realizing that my voice was now coming not from the middle of my bedroom but just on the other side of the door.

"You need to let me go and do this, Johan," I pleaded. "For both our sakes. You know I can't pregnant."

"Of course," he said cheerfully. "Just open the door."

I swallowed hard. I could almost feel his greedy, rapacious teenage lust radiating through the wooden door. I wasn't sure what to do, but I remembered my sister's advice: Steve can never find out. Do whatever it takes to protect your family.

"But Johan, you--you need to stop trying to destroy my marriage," I said softly. "If Steve finds out about... about any of this, it'll ruin me."

"Listen, Nikki," he said, his voice beaming with the confidence of a man in control. "We don't have to tell him about any of this if you don't want to. But I can't keep this a secret from him if you keep insisting that he's a man who deserves our respect."

"What--what do you mean?" I whispered uncertainly.

"What I mean is, if we're going to keep all of this a secret, then I need you to admit that you don't respect him as a man," Johan said, his German-South African accent dripping with honeyed arrogance.

"I... I can't do that," I stammered.

"I need you to tell me that your husband isn't a real man," he continued, clearly relishing each word. "If you can admit that he's just a cuck and nothing more, then I'll keep all the secrets you want from him."

I couldn't say that about Steve. I just couldn't.

But I also couldn't let him find out about any of this. Whether or not Johan had raped me--or whether he'd just cornered me with bullying, coercion, and manipulation--the fact of the matter was that I'd done things with him that were deeply disloyal to Steve and an affront to our marriage. If the truth came out, I wasn't confident that context would make things right.

It felt like the future of our family was at stake here.

"If... if I say it," I whispered tentatively. "Then you... you won't tell him anything?"

"That's right," he crowed. "Just say the words and open the door."

"Promise me, Johan," I said. "Swear on your life that you'll never say anything about us. Not to Steve, not to Danny or Riley. Not ever."

"I won't say anything about us to your sons or to your husband," he said. "Cucks like Steve don't deserve to know about what a bull does with their wife, do they?"

I bit my lip and swallowed hard.

"No," I said softly. "They don't."

"You'll have to do better than that if you wanna buy my silence, Nikki," Johan sneered.

I looked down at my wedding ring, the one that Steve had put on my finger almost 15 years ago. I love you, I said silently. I'm sorry.

"I... I don't respect my husband," I said softly.

"Why not?"

"Because he's... he's not a real man..."

"What is he, then?"

"He's--he's just a cuck," I said, forcing the words out of my mouth. "Nothing more..."

"Why's he a cuck, Nikki?"

"Because I cheat on him," I said, my breathing becoming shallower as I leaned against the door. "Because I'm fucking someone else..."

"Who are you fucking?"

"Another man!" I moaned, my nipples hardening as I spoke.

"WHO ARE YOU FUCKING?" he thundered, his voice rattling the hinges of the door.

"A--a white guy," I moaned softly, slipping my fingers inside the waist of my jeans.

"WHO ARE YOU FUCKING?" he yelled, and I felt his fist slam violently into the door.

"I'm fucking a white guy!" I cried, rubbing myself through the gauzy thong I had on, which was already wet to the touch. "I'm a fucking a white guy with... with a big cock!"

"WHO ARE YOU FUCKING?" he screamed, his voice practically a war cry as his fist hit the door again.

"It's--it's you!" I moaned, my fingers now moving frantically over my clit with shameless abandon. "It's--it's you, Johan!"

"OPEN THE DOOR!" he bellowed.

Somehow, someway, it had come to this. To protect Steve from the truth--to save my marriage from destruction--I was going to let this 19-year-old white boy fuck me. Again. But this time, he was going take my sworn, married Asian pussy on the marital bed that I shared with my husband.

I'd tried everything that I could think of, but now I understood that there would be no stopping him. I knew that he was willing to destroy my marriage, and he knew that I would do anything to stop him.

I would give him whatever he wanted in order to save my family. And what he wanted was my submission.

"OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR! NOW!"

I'm ashamed to admit that I didn't even hesitate. I stood up, and before I had even flipped the locked, I started retreating towards the bed. By the time Johan had thrown the door open, my jeans were already unbuttoned.

What was the point of continuing to fight him? The war was over and I had lost. We'd already negotiated the terms of my surrender.

He was going to claim me for a third time. And I had no illusions left that this time would be the last.

I could tell by the way Johan burst into the room that he was angry, possessed by a certain kind of male fury that comes from being denied something that you believe to be yours. To Johan, my Asian body was a conquered land from which I had tried to expel him.

But my efforts had failed, and I knew that now, his response would be vicious. He was going to crush my rebellion with such savagery that I never dared to rise up against him again. He was going to be rough with me.

As he stormed into the room, I was standing next to the bed, facing away from him. Before I could say or do anything, he slammed into me from behind, practically tackling me onto the bed.

"YOU THINK YOU CAN LOCK ME OUT?!" he screamed, grabbing a fistful of my long, silky hair. "YOU THINK I WON'T BREAK DOWN THAT DOOR?!"

"Johan--please--please don't hurt me--" I begged.

"DON'T YOU--EVER--FUCKING LOCK THAT DOOR!" he cried, pulling my hair back. "THAT'S MY DOOR!"

"I won't!" I squealed in terror. "I won't!"

"THIS IS MY ROOM!" he screamed, holding my hair with one hand, tearing at the waist of my unbuttoned jeans with the other. "THIS IS MY BED!"

"It's yours!" I cried. "They're yours!"

"And you," he sneered, pulling my hair, forcing my face closer to his. "What about you?"

"I'm yours," I moaned plaintively. "I'm all yours!"

"Who do you belong to, Nikki?" he growled, yanking my jeans down past my thighs.

"I--I belong to you," I murmured, my heart racing faster and faster.

The volume of his voice had started to return to normal. He released my hair, and with both hands, he pulled my jeans completely off.

"Who owns this body?" Johan had said, slapping my ass hard as he tossed my jeans onto the floor.

"You do!" I moaned, my body recoiling from the blow.

"Who owns your holes?" he spat, smacking my ass again.

"You do!" I cried. "You do!"

"Who gets to fuck you?" he snarled, spanking me a third time.

"You--you do," I stammered, biting my lip to cope with the pain stinging my ass. "You do, Johan..."

"ONLY ME," he grunted, grabbing my hair roughly, forcing me to look at him. "Only me..."

"Oh--only--only you," I whispered.

He smiled wolfishly at me, victory burning like fire in his bright blue eyes.

"I'm glad you're such a shitty wife, Nikki," he said softly, slipping his fingers inside my thong. "Because that's what makes you such an amazing fucking slut..."

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. There was nothing I could say to that.

"God, you're so fucking wet," he said, running his fingers along my slit as he began to drag my panties down. "You fight so hard, but you're loving this, aren't you?"

As Johan pulled my panties off, leaving me naked from the waist down, I thought of the Asian woman I'd seen in the video on Reddit. How many of the 41,000 readers on that page were other Asian women, I wondered. Women like her. Women like me.

"I like these," Johan smirked, holding my thong up to my face. "Did you wear these for me?"

When I didn't respond, he pressed the crumpled thong against my lips, forcing me to feel my own wetness, to taste my own shame.

"Was this for me?" he asked again.

"Yes," I whispered reluctantly, smelling the scent of my own deceitful musk.

"You knew, didn't you?" he snarled, unzipping his jeans. "You knew when you put these on that you were going to get fucked today, didn't you?"

"Yes," I sighed, closing my eyes as he climbed behind me.

"Did you think you were going to fuck your husband?" he laughed cruelly.

He took hold of my hips and pulled them up, lifting my ass into the air, positioning me to receive him.

"No," I murmured. "I... I knew it would be you..."

He took both of my wrists and gathered them against my back, pinning my arms behind me, forcing me to slump forward unsupported, my face and shoulders now pressed against the bed. I couldn't have been in a more helpless or vulnerable pose.