I Hate Him...

I hate him...

I hate everything about him. I hate his arrogance, I hate his voice, I hate his demeanor, and I hate his attitude.

Mostly, I hate that he's in my head. And I hate how he got there...

"He" is a man named Jaime ****. Oh, he must be in his fifties by now, but he first entered into my universe when he was just shy of forty. You see, he is my wonderful wife's ex-husband. An abusive, controlling, domineering stereotypical Hispanic male. When she finally had the courage to leave him after 14 years, she left everything. Her life, her clothes, and, painfully, her children. Our relationship is built on a strong empathic desire to protect her from such an evil presence. He was one of those men you hear about who presents such a perfect image in the public sphere, but destroys those he captures in his private web of power. She escaped that web...I became it's victim. I would be devastated if she ever discovered the weakness I have succumbed to because of him.

A little about me would help inform the path I eventually found myself on regarding Jaime. In a very short version, my childhood was riddled with enough intimate relationships that I developed intensely contentious issues with my sexual identity. Most importantly, was a strong attachment to cross-dressing that enhanced an innate effeminate nature. That being said, it should be no surprise that I have had a life-long struggle to suppress these developmental obstacles. As successful as I had been with these battles, dark forces found it amusing to see Jaime penetrate these walls. Quite accidentally, my greatest nemesis became judge, jury and executioner over my entire life. Like a sacrificial lamb, fate laid me at the feet of my enemy.

And I couldn't stop indulging my demons...

Demons are a subtle influence in the lives of men. They dwell in the realm just beyond our consciousness. I know this because I see now that it is my fault that this began in the first place. It was I who grew up addicted to the vanity that satin, silk, and lace fed. It was I who confessed before the gods my desire to be a woman when, as a 10-year-old, my pre-teen lover taught me how to be kissed by a man. And it was I who found myself in that old hay-shed, day after day, knowing that it would lead to deeper and deeper intimacy with a boy. In retrospect, I can't help but to think that innocence can carry the burden of my indiscretions. But now, I cannot escape the reality that at this point, it's my choice. I am the one to blame for the heinous sins that I have continued to commit.

I have consumed sufficient amounts of wine to finally confess Jaime's victory over me.

It began a decade ago when that dark demoness within me betrayed me into the hands of that most reviled of men. It was an evening where my wife was working a late shift and it was I who had the responsibility of surrendering the children to Jaime. Now this particular weekend required some discipline to be exerted onto one of the boys. Unknowingly, this began a series of events that would eventually lead to my undoing as a man – at least, to a severe degree. After I had surrendered the children, I relaxed with some wine and an apparently innocent indulgence to that old harlot that I let free in times of solitude. Knowing I had until midnight as well as the following afternoon to myself, I rifled through my wife's underwear to find a pair of dark blue tights and pink satin thong. Fearing no interruptions I also found her glittery maroon nail polish. After drying, I slid into that most exhilarating state of effeminate paradise. That's when all hell broke loose. Jaime had returned infuriated that I had the audacity to usurp his fatherly duties and discipline any of his children. He was honking his horn and, in short order, banging on my door. Needless to say, I was terrified because I was in no condition to see anyone. In a panic, I through on a pair of loose sweat pants and some slippers. I had no time to consider that my ankles would still reveal the tights between the sweats and the heel-less slippers. Nor did I have time to tie the drawstring. In my arrogance, I rushed down with the delusion that I would be able to calm the situation to a positive resolution. I was wrong in so many ways.

When I turned that door knob, the world unknowingly turned upside down. Time began to slow down to a crawl. And when I came face to face with him, my knees began to quiver at his hyper-masculine power. He was furious, inconsolable, and I was overwhelmed by my inability to reach any place of settlement with him. The volume and demeaning level of profanities he was hurling without any consideration to my neighbors beat me down to the point of near desperation to diffuse the situation. After all, the incident involving his son was so minor in comparison to the anger he was exhibiting. I can only attribute it to the controlling nature that I had been told about. It couldn't have been from the substance of the incident. It was then I realized how powerful this kind of man can be and how futile it was to resist it. As he stood there reducing every semblance of masculinity from me, I found myself no longer able to speak. And that's when it happened...

His vocal tirade finally subsided with an open-palm strike to my face. It sent me reeling into my living room dazing me with a flood of shock, fear, and helplessness. Dazed, I lay on the carpet completely unaware of my circumstances. You see, when I had been laid out by Jaime, my untied sweats had drug upon the carpet pulling them down about halfway down my buttocks, I had lost one of my slippers, and one of the legs had rolled up halfway on my calf. On top of that, the extremely over-sized T-shirt I had thrown on had exposed the matching bra that I had put on. From my point of view, I was ready to just beg for him to calm down. But from his point of view, everything had changed. There was no longer any reason to hide the fact that I was hiding some intense female leanings and that is when his violence transitioned into something much more sinister. This was, to him, like a great gift. Here was the man who was now banging his wife, nothing more than a woman himself. And in his sick and twisted mind, I had become someone completely different. He stepped across the threshold of my home, shut the door, and locked it behind him. "You fucking cunt! You're nothing but a little whore, aren't you!?!", he whispered in serendipitous disbelief. I began to lift myself up to my knees when I felt his strong hands hold me in place. "I think I know what can help us resolve our disagreement."

My face was still stinging when he removed my Tee in a single fluid motion. I was no longer in a position to defy him. My words were abhorrently inadequate against such reckless irrationality. But his anger had now become focused into something much more gratifying to him – purposed humiliation. "Take it out." , he said with a seething yet commanding tone. I was awash with so many emotions that the resulting delirium was like being intoxicated. I see now that I was bathing in a flood of testosterone-induced euphoria that emanated from Jaime's masculine power. I became detached from myself as I watched my hand reach up to meet his bulging slacks. Like watching a movie, it seemed as if someone else was in control of my body. I knew then that Jaime had evoked that shameful harlot within that I've contended with for decades. As she moved my quivering hand closer to his zipper, I caught a glimpse of the maroon nail polish that I had so willingly decorated that hand with. Like standing before a judge, I realized that I had plead guilty to the charge of lasciviousness for failing to restrain the demon I was charged with keeping imprisoned. That demon was free now and I was to bear the sentence for her sins. With his zipper down, I reached in and willingly retrieved Jaime's "gavel".

Jaime **** has a rather beautiful cock as I discovered. Easily 8 inches when erect, somewhat thin, and an upward arch that ended with an oddly over-sized but well-cut helmet. The musky scent was repulsively strong which wasn't a surprise given my realization that he had a thick mound of pubic hair. He had obviously showered much earlier in the day and had confined his member to the darkness of these slacks. It was almost surreal as my detached spirit looked down in shame at the situation. I was kneeling in nothing but a blue satin bra, gray sweats woefully failing to hide the blue hosiery and pink panties. Locked in a hypnotic spell with Jaime's cock just inches from my face I found my mind had wandered to a long lost paradise where a naïve woman was asked to eat from a tree she knew to be forbidden. I, like her, became lost in the euphoric moment foregoing any thought of the consequences for the sinful indulgence. I wet my lips with the pre-cum that had gathered there and in a deluge of ecstasy, I plunged my head down the whole length of him. I had surrendered to him, my masculinity had been slain by him, the harlot inside had betrayed me onto the altar of sin. I hated Jaime for the fact that he had now chained me to him. I would never be able to restore what I had given away to him. With each waving motion of my head back and forth I was further and further away from who I had so desperately tried to be.

Jaime was reveling in the power I had conceded to him. His hands rested firmly on his hips as I did all the servicing. "I didn't even ask you to put it in your mouth!", he snorted in disgust. That realization covered me in humiliation. He was right, I devoured him like a nursing animal, driven only by lustful hunger. With each demeaning word from him hurled like lightning at me I quickened my impalement on his sword. As his anger gave way to pleasure, my pleasure gave way to anger. Each thrust was a furiously self-inflicted punishment that I knowingly deserved. "Look at me!" he commanded. I obeyed without losing my rhythm to lock eyes with him. They were so dark and his smile so sardonic and twisted. He stared right through me as he spit in my face. The only secret I had left was that my tucked erection was struggling against the tight panties that held it firmly in place – but that too would be exposed in time. After what seemed an eternity Jaime took over by grasping my head with both hands and began thrusting his cock into my mouth. The terror was exhilarating because I knew that he would soon be through with me. His pace became much more rapid than I could maintain and his cock was penetrating deeper and deeper into my orifice. His ranting was equally rapid, "You're a worthless whore, you should be thanking me for letting you taste me!"

"You're going to pay for all the pleasure my wife owes me..."

"How does it feel to be nothing but a little cock-sucker?"

"Tell me you love the taste of Mexican meat, you little white prick!"

"I'm your cock-daddy now, and you are my little slut!"

Relentlessly he pummeled my face with his cock and my heart with his tongue. He had worked himself into such a rage that he was almost caught off-guard when his snake started feeding me endless shots of his hateful venom. My eyes had begun tearing up as much from shame as from gagging as I felt his sperm shoot its way inside my belly. Warm and salty, I was surprised how I didn't feel an intense desire to throw-up. And there was enmity still between us, but a new order had emerged. A hierarchy in which I would be permanently reduced beneath him. He removed his still unusually erect penis from my mouth and wiped the last drips of cum slowly across my left eye and cheek. I was completely helpless and in a state of shock for what we had just done. Like the submissive position I was in I knelt in silence waiting for him to say something – or more to the point now, to command me. Jaime so willingly obliged by telling me to get on my feet. "Take off your sweats," he said. I did as he said and volunteered to kick off my remaining slipper. I stood there before his harshly judging eyes that looked on me now as nothing but a slut. "I want to know if you enjoyed this...take out your pathetic prick." As if the guilt and shame wasn't enough up to this point, I couldn't hide what he wanted to know. My dick was as stiff as iron and had been since he first bitch-slapped me. Avoiding his mesmerizing gaze I reached into my panties and arched back to release my 6-inch erection, pulsing uncontrollably before him. "That's what I thought, I just wanted to know if this is something I should expect regularly."

He then took me by the arms and forced me over the end of my couch and a renewed fear gripped me. "Don't you ever spank my kids ever again!" he whispered as I heard his belt being undone. With nothing but a negligible nylon covering he began whipping my quivering buttocks repeatedly. My wife had revealed little to me about her failed marriage with Jaime, but insatiable sexual appetite, sadistic tendencies, and control issues were primary. All the abuse she rejected from him, I was shockingly enduring. After about ten hard lashings from him, I felt his whole body lean oppressively over mine. His cock was not only still out, but immensely hard. With a whisper he said, "Now tell your daddy you're sorry..."

I was whimpering like a little girl now, ashamed and writhing in pain. I meekly replied to him, "I'm so sorry daddy, I'll never do it again..."

"That's right cock-sucker..." and his hands reached into my undergarments at the hip and pulled them down just below my pink ass cheeks. He took position behind me and released a large wad of spittle into my crack. He guided his cock up and down my valley to moisten his member and began sodomizing me. I was exhausted now, and was no longer able to restrain the grunts and moans that escaped with each pounding thrust. This became more of an initiation or a training fuck because he began to dictate the terms of this new world I had opened up to him. By the time he had shot a second load all over my back and hair, I already knew what he was going to say after he told me to get dressed.

"Sarah [apparently my new name], this is far from over!"

And with that, he used my bathroom to clean up a little. As he unlocked the door to leave, he mockingly said, "I think I'd prefer you with blonde hair next time..."

And I heard him whisper to himself in arrogant disbelief as he left, "What a fucking cunt..."