The Taming of Nikki Kim

"How did you know it would be me, Nikki?" he gloated, the tip of his spear beginning to graze against my slit. "How did you know I would be the one to fuck you?"

"Because my husband is a cuck," I whimpered, my hips wiggling uncontrollably as this aggressive white boy and his teenage cock began to open me up for the second time in less than 12 hours. "And because you're so fucking big..."

"Tell me what you want, Nikki," he crowed triumphantly. "Beg me for it..."

"I want you to fuck me," I squealed, the walls of my pussy already expanding around him. "I want you to fuck me with your big, white cock..."

The words had barely crossed my lips when Johan slammed into me, his hips colliding against my ass, bottoming-out inside me with a single stroke. The force drove me forward, burying my face into the mattress, which muffled the cry that erupted from my lungs.

"My pussy," he seethed, pounding into me again. "My bitch..."

His strokes were violent, belligerent, remorseless. My face was pressed so deep in the mattress that I could barely breathe, much less scream, but that didn't seem to concern him. I could hear the contempt in his voice.

"He can't fuck you like I can," he snarled. "He'll never be able to fuck you like this..."

Both of the previous times that Johan had fucked me, he'd been aggressive, but never like this. He was still angry that I had tried to lock him out, and he was using his incredible cock to punish me, to put me in my place for trying to refuse him, to teach me a lesson about what it meant to submit.

His hips were slamming against my ass with malicious intent, hammering into me mercilessly, but my body was absorbing all the wrath he could deliver. It felt as if the harder he pounded into me, the more ready my body was to receive him.

That was when I realized that something fundamental really had changed inside me.

Talking to my sister about Johan, I'd been surprised by her lack of judgment, how tolerant she had been of my marital indiscretion. Nina hadn't encouraged my behavior, of course, but she hadn't demonized it either. She made me feel like what I'd done was more human and less monstrous than I'd imagined.

And then, I'd watched in awe as another young, beautiful Asian wife willingly submit to her own hung white stud. I was still processing my reaction to that video, but it had clearly made a bigger impression on me than I had realized. It seemed to prove that I wasn't the only Asian woman out there who had fallen prey to such dark temptations. It made me feel less broken for wanting this.

Then, as Johan's strokes began to quicken, the muscles of my body suddenly relaxed. I felt a moment of clarity, as if a clogged drain inside my mind had suddenly become unstuck, letting all of the tension and turmoil flow out of me like murky water.

I wanted this, and that was okay. It wasn't wrong to want this. What I was doing with Johan wasn't hurting anyone. Not unless they found out. And they would never have to find out.

I turned my head to the left, freeing my mouth from the mattress.

"FUCK ME!" I screamed. "FUCK ME, JOHAN!"

He was grunting incoherently now, half animal, sweat pouring off his body onto the bed.

"HARDER!" I screamed. "MAKE ME--MAKE ME YOUR SLUT--"

I felt his balls contract, and I knew he was entering his vinegar strokes, passing beyond the point of no return.

"MAKE ME YOUR CUM-SLUT!"

"ASIAN CUM-SLUT CUNT!!" Johan howled, the words almost unintelligible. "OH OHHHH OHHHHHH YOU WHITE COCK SLUT!!!"

"OH OH OHHHHHHHH YESSSSSSSSS!!!" I screamed. "YES YES YESSSSS--"

He was cumming inside me again, but I didn't care. The pleasure of my own forbidden orgasm was so deep that it drowned out any feelings of shame or guilt or regret.

I could feel all of that later, but not right now.

Right now, I had a big, white cock buried deep inside my married, Asian cunt. I had a 19-year-old college boy fucking me as hard as he could, harder than I'd ever been fucked, harder than my husband ever could. Right now, all I could feel was ecstasy. All I could do was moan.

"YESSSSS YESSSSSS OHHHHH GOD YESSSSSSS!"

"You're my fucking cum-dump," Johan sighed, panting raggedly. "My slutwife cum-dump..."

"Ohhh god--ohh god," I moaned, the waves of my orgasm finally starting to recede. "You... you came inside me..."

"Twice now," he growled appreciatively. "You're built for this, Nikki. This is what that porn star body of yours is for."

"I... I need to wash these sheets," I murmured as he withdrew from inside me. "And I need to go to the pharmacy."

Johan climbed off the bed, leaving me lying there in a pool of sweat, half-naked and utterly spent, his cum already beginning to ooze out of me.

"Just remember, I'm here for two more days," he grinned, pulling up his pants. "So you better get a few extra pills."

...

I spent the rest of that afternoon frantically rushing from one task to the next, trying to keep my mind occupied and my body in motion, as if by staying busy I could somehow distract myself from what I'd done with Johan. But it wasn't easy to forget about it when one of my tasks involved driving to three different pharmacies in neighboring towns to buy morning after pills.

Still, I somehow managed to pick the boys up from school on time and have dinner on the table when Steve arrived home from work.

At dinner, I sat there like a zombie, staring down at my plate but unable to eat. Johan had come up from the in-law unit to join us for dinner, and I just couldn't look him or Steve in the eye. Instead, I had to sit there and listen while Johan engaged Steve in small talk, chatting with him casually as if nothing were amiss. I almost envied Johan's capacity for deception: either he was an incredible actor or a truly deranged sociopath. Maybe both.

But unlike Johan, I didn't have the stomach for this kind of thing. When Steve asked why I wasn't eating, I told him that I was feeling nauseous, and that was actually true. I was so anxious that I was sure I would throw up if I tried to eat anything.

After dinner, the boys all went into the TV room to watch something while I cleaned up. Ordinarily, the Danny and Riley are responsible for chores like dishwashing, but I'd volunteered to do the job tonight because I just needed to keep myself busy.

I was washing dishes in the sink when I heard Johan's voice behind me.

"You know, Nikki, you should really eat something," he said. "You're going to need your energy tonight."

"Be quiet," I said softly, turning around to face him. "Everyone's home."

"Right, of course," Johan grinned, walking right up to me, so close that he could whisper, backing up me against the sink. "You're so fucking sexy..."

I couldn't stop myself from blushing. I was wearing an apron, my hair was up in a messy ponytail, and I had latex kitchen gloves on my hands for washing the dishes. I couldn't have felt less sexy, yet here was this 19-year-old stud, coming onto me even now. How was he able to make me feel so good and so bad at the same time?

"You know, I didn't get to see your tits earlier," he whispered, putting his hands on my hips and pulling me into him. "I bet they look so good in that sexy bra I left for you..."

"Not here," I whispered frantically, pushing him away with my hands, the latex gloves leaving soapy water marks on his black t-shirt. "Not while everyone is home..."

"I know, I know," he whispered, his hands still anchored around my waist, refusing to release me. "Tonight, after they all go to sleep..."

"Not tonight," I whispered, looking over Johan's shoulder to make sure nobody was coming. "It's too risky when everyone is home."

"Nikki," he whispered sternly, a note of disapproval in his voice. "I thought I made myself clear..."

"Tomorrow," I said quietly. "After Steve goes to work. After I drop the boys off at school."

"I don't like waiting," Johan frowned, his fingers beginning to creep inside the hem of my shirt, touching my bare skin.

I knew I needed to say something to stop him, right now, before he began to feel me up right here in the kitchen. And I knew I needed to try a different approach, because every time I had tried to refuse Johan, it only seemed to encourage him.

"But you do like waiting," I whispered, trying to make my voice as sultry as possible. "You love the anticipation, just like me."

This seemed to draw his attention, and for a moment, his fingers ceased their climbing.

"I wanna spend all night letting the anticipation build," I whispered. "Thinking about what you're going to do to me..."

"Oh, really?" he smirked, looking at me with intrigue in his eyes. "Is that what you're going to do?"

"I'm... I'm going to touch myself," I said, breathing the words into his ear. "Tonight, in bed, after Steve falls asleep. But I won't be thinking about him..."

Johan's hips were still pressed against mine, and I could feel his hardness beginning to stir.

"What will you be thinking about, Nikki?" he growled, a little too loudly.

"I'll tell you," I said, giving him a shove. "Tomorrow."

This time, Johan let me push him away, stepping back from the sink.

"Okay," he nodded, licking his lips. "Tomorrow."

...

The next morning, on Thursday, I woke up after a deep, Ambien-induced sleep to a beautiful, sunny, Southern California morning.

As I made breakfast and got the boys ready for school, I realized that I felt different than I had the past few days. Ever since Johan had arrived, I'd been constantly on edge, tense and anxious and always on my guard. I'd been tip-toeing through each day with a creeping paranoia that danger lurked around every corner.

But today, as I dropped Danny and Riley off at school and started back home, I recognized that I was feeling something very different: butterflies.

This realization itself was exhilarating. My thoughts been dominated by fear, by shame, and by guilt for so long that I'd forgotten what it felt like to just live my life. I'd been so consumed by trying to resist Johan that I'd become numb to my own self-abnegation.

As I drove home with the windows down and the radio on, I suddenly felt like it was all so simple, and I couldn't believe it had taken me this long to see it.

I just had to stop thinking about this situation in terms of love.

Love is the most powerful human emotion, but it isn't the only emotion that we feel. There's more to life than just love, and it was clear to me now that love wasn't going to get me out of this mess. If anything, it was love that got me tangled up with Johan in the first place.

I loved my son, Danny, and that had made me blind to Johan's predatory desires. My love for Danny had kept me in denial, not wanting to believe that his older best friend would use him to manipulate me. My love for Danny had betrayed me when Johan leveraged their friendship to coax me into his bed.

But once I surrendered to him in Sydney, Johan's control over me extended beyond his relationship with my son. Now, he had ensnared my husband as well, and he was using my love for Steve to tighten his grip around me.

Johan had trapped me in a kind of exquisite torture chamber, where the more that I loved my family, the more he was able to control me.

This is the reason why all of my efforts to resist him had been futile from the start: I'd been appealing to love, compassion, and human decency, trying to make Johan see how wrong this all was. But all I'd done is to demonstrate just how much I loved my family, and how easily that love could be exploited. All I'd done was show him exactly how to take advantage of me.

Now I could see it so clearly. Love would not lead me out of this maze. Love would never free me from Johan's tangled web. The only way out was to go deeper, down into the belly of the beast, straight into Johan's ravenous maw.

If Johan told Steve about us, then everything would be lost, including Johan's power over me. He didn't care about destroying my marriage, but he needed the love that sustained it, because that was the basis of his control.

Neither of us stood to gain anything from that outcome. But if I could just set love aside--if I could just ignore how sick it made me to disrespect Steve and dishonor our marriage--then the answer was obvious, because Johan and I both wanted the same thing.

Surrender was my only path forward. I had to submit, not to just to Johan, but to my own forbidden urges. There was no other way.

Love couldn't free me, I thought as I pulled into my driveway. But maybe lust could.

Walking into the house, the feeling of butterflies in my stomach intensified. I knew Johan would be around somewhere, waiting for me, but I wasn't sure where I would find him or what state he would be in.

Cautiously, I opened the door to my bedroom, half expecting Johan to be waiting in my marital bed. Instead, there was a rectangular white gift box sitting on the bed, complete with a little pink bow stuck to the corner. Tentatively, I sat down next to it and lifted the top.

The first thing I saw inside the box was a note: "Put these on and come see me."

I set the note to one side and began to unpack the items beneath it.

The first thing I pulled out of the box were a pair of thin, oversized hoop earrings that appeared to be made of silver. My tastes tended towards the demure, and these earrings were big and bold, ostentatious and attention-seeking. I'd seen earrings like these on other girls, including my sister, but I'd never thought I could wear them myself.

The next thing I removed from the box were a pair of black suede pumps supported by a tiny, pointed heel. When I saw that they were a size 6, I couldn't suppress a little smile, because Johan had gotten my size exactly right. Of course, I'm sure he'd gone through my closet to find my size, but that was besides the point. Steve and I had been married for more than a decade and he'd never once tried to buy me a pair of shoes.

Below the shoes was a soft, silky black cocktail dress, also in my exact size. As I pulled it out of the box, I could tell that the fabric was high-quality and probably quite expensive. I couldn't remember the last time that Steve had bought me something like this.

"How does a college boy have so much money?" I wondered, shaking my head.

As I held the dress up, I could tell that it was going to be much more daring than the modest dresses that filled up my wardrobe. It had thin straps that plunged into a deep, revealing neckline, and it tapered to a cinch around the waist. Below, the short skirt flared slightly into a knife pleat that looked as if it would just barely cover my upper thighs.

I lay the dress gently on the bed next to me and looked back inside the box.

The next items shouldn't have surprised me: a matching set of underwear made of thin, transparent black lace, not unlike the one pair that Johan had left inside my dresser. If anything, however, this pair was even more scandalous. The extra small thong bottom was a g-string that was barely even there, so thin that it couldn't possibly hide my pussy. The matching push-up bra with 34D cups was cut so low that I doubted if it would even cover my areolae.

Then I came to the final items in the box.

One was a tube of red lipstick. The other was a thin, black leather collar, not much wider than a choker. It was lined on the inside with velvet, and on the back of the collar, it had a few small holes and an adjustable buckle. On the front, there was a small metal loop that dangled from a clasp.

Of all the items in the box, this last one made me the most nervous. I'd occasionally seen collars like this in fashion magazines, usually worn by models dressed in outrageous leather ensembles meant to evoke BDSM aesthetics. I couldn't have imagined in a million years that I would ever wear something like this, but there it was, in the box that Johan had left for me.

Finally, once I'd taken everything out of the box, I saw that there was a photograph sitting at the very bottom.

It was a photo of me and my sister, Nina, at a family wedding, the one from our refrigerator that Johan had commented on earlier in the week. On top of it, Johan had affixed a yellow sticky note that said: "Do your makeup like her."

It wasn't hard to figure out what he meant. In the photo, my makeup was subtle and natural, nude tones meant to blend in with my skin color. But Nina's look was much bolder: red lipstick that accentuated her mouth, sharp eyeliner that made her Asian eyes look larger, and dark eyeshadow that gave her a glamorous smokey eye.

With the box now empty, I took a step back and surveyed the contents, which were now laid out across the bed that I shared with my husband. Looking at them, I could see the fantasy that had taken root inside Johan's head, the dark version of me that he'd been obsessed with bringing to life.

In Johan's mind, I wasn't an ordinary Asian housewife who loved her family. To him, I was a big-breasted Asian slut MILF who needed to be dominated by a young white stud with a huge cock.

I took a deep breath. Then, I unbuttoned my jeans and began my transformation.

...

As I put the cap back on the tube of red lipstick, I looked at myself in the mirror, almost unable to believe my own eyes.

My body was now adorned top-to-bottom by the items that Johan had selected for me. From the pumps on my feet to the oversized silver hoops in my ears, he had chosen every aspect of my look, each piece picked to please him. If I took off everything that had come from Johan's gift box, I would have been left totally naked.

My transformation was exhaustive, complete down to the last detail. The woman looking back at me from the mirror showed not a single trace of my demure life as a wife and mother.

Instead, the woman in the mirror was sexy in a way I'd never felt before. She didn't look cute or pretty, like the women you see in toothpaste commercials. No, she looked hot and stacked and ready to go, like the women you see in liquor ads on the wall of a bar.

The woman in the mirror didn't belong at a PTA meeting, volunteering to make brownies for the school bake sale. She belonged on the dance floor at a nightclub, bent over in front of some anonymous man, letting him grind up against her as the music plays. She belonged in a hotel room, biting her lip as that same strange man pinned her to the bed.

The woman in the mirror was younger, sexier, and more self-assured than I was. She knew what she wanted and refused to apologize for it. She was everything I'd always admired about my sister but never thought I could be.

She's a white cock slut, I thought to myself. And she doesn't care.

I glanced in the mirror one last time. Then, before I lost my nerve, I walked out of my bedroom and out of the house, making my way across the backyard towards the in-law unit.

As the wind caressed my body through the thin silk dress, I felt goosebumps form on my skin, and I had a moment of doubt.

What was I doing? What if one of the neighbors saw me like this? What if someone finds out?

But then I thought of the woman in mirror, and I knew that she wouldn't be plagued by such doubts, because she knew what she was doing. She was having an affair with a big-dick, 19-year-old stud. She was having her needs met for the first time in her life. And her husband was clueless.

Gently, I reached forward and turned the handle, opening the door to the in-law unit. Then, I stepped inside, closing it behind me.

Johan was playing with his phone in bed, his long, lean upper body resting against the headboard. For a half-second, I stood awkwardly in the doorway, conscious of how differently we were dressed. Although I looked like I was ready for a night of club-hopping, he was wearing a simple white undershirt and a pair of warmup pants.