Dirty Little Secret - Part 1

She finds herself living with a man she can’t remember.

Image by Katarzyna Bialasiewicz from Getty Images Pro

Welcome to my dark, transgressive tale. Hope you decide to stick it out through the end.

***Content Warning — this story contains a non-consensual sexual encounter and may be triggering for some readers. All characters are adults, 18+. Please be advised.***

Nicole

She woke up feeling like she was completely new, remembering nothing. Before she even opened her eyes, she tried to gather sensory information about where she was. She was in a bed, which felt soft and comfortable. There was a comforter over her, she felt warm, but she was also entirely naked. What had she been wearing? There was no memory. It was a complete blank. She lay on her side, the cotton fabric draping her body, tucked in under her chin, her skin feeling smooth against it. She also wasn’t alone.

That was the next thing she became aware of, after familiarizing herself with the feel of sheets against her naked body. There was a man in bed with her. Was it his bed or her bed? She couldn’t remember. Nothing seemed familiar. His arm was draped around her underneath the covers, his fingers splayed out against her belly possessively. He held onto her firmly, pressing her to himself. His body outlined hers, his front to her back. She evaluated the feel of him behind her, creating a mental image of this man she couldn’t actually remember. He was much bigger than her, her head seemed to be tucked in underneath his chin. His chest felt hard against her back and so did his penis, an inflexible ridge digging into her back. She could feel the soft hairs on his legs pressing against her smooth ones. He breathed evenly, apparently asleep.

She didn’t feel panic at this situation. Somehow, despite having no idea where she was or who she was with, she felt only mild concern for her lack of memories. She opened her eyes, taking in the room in front of her. It seemed like any typical bedroom. There was a nightstand next to the bed holding an alarm clock, which read 6:27 am, a small lamp, and a box of tissues. The wall parallel to the bed held a double closet with sliding doors, and between the bed and the closet sat an ottoman. There were a few articles of clothing on the ottoman, but none of them looked familiar. Were they hers or his? There was soft blue carpeting on the floor, and the grey sheets she lay in had a pattern of a similar blue color on them. She could see a door in the corner of the room, closed.

It must not have been her room because it seemed entirely unfamiliar, but when she tried to imagine what her room looked like, she drew a blank. Nothing surfaced. She tried to imagine the house that she lived in, but that wasn’t coming to her either. Her heart picked up speed, worried at the idea of being unable to remember these things about herself. Before she could become any more concerned with her lack of memories, she felt the man’s hand tighten on her belly, pulling her closer to him, while simultaneously pressing his erection more firmly into her back. He groaned. She felt herself grow very still, waiting for what he would do, what he would say to her.

His hand moved down her belly on a trajectory to her pussy. Her breath hitched, but she wasn’t sure how to react to this. She was in bed with this man; he was spooning her, everything about this situation suggested that he had her permission to touch. His fingers skimmed over the smooth area preceding her slit and the thought that occurred to her was that she didn’t remember ever shaving there. His fingers wedged into her seam, entering her folds, gliding through them towards her entrance. His touch felt good; it was firm, but not forceful. He wasn’t hurting her, and she was able to relax into his touch.

“Open up for me,” his voice was deep and quiet, coming from above her. It jarred her. There was nothing about this voice that sounded familiar. Her heart sped up again, something inside her body signaled danger. “Open your legs, Nicole,” he repeated his instruction. Her breath caught at the mention of her name, a name that sounded entirely foreign. Nicole? Why didn’t that sound right? He pressed his palm up on her thigh, lifting her upper leg away since she failed to respond to his verbal instructions. Her brain was too busy trying to process the name and the voice.

His fingers slid down into her pussy, filling her. She could feel her body react by producing wetness. The digits slid in more easily on his second pass, and her passage seemed outright slick on the third. He continued to work his finger in and out of her while his cock seemed to rock gently into her back. The sensation was wonderful, tingling, igniting sparks inside her. She felt her knee fall further open, splaying her out to him.

“Ah, you’re awake now?” His voice seemed to smile. It put her slightly more at ease.

He moved down her body, readjusting himself. His lips met the nape of her neck, kissing her tenderly. Oh God, why did she have no recollection of who this man was?! He obviously knew her! He pulled her leg back, hooking it over his hip, opening her up to him even wider. His cock now aligned with her entrance, the tip gliding through her folds, building up to something more intense. He shoved the length of his cock inside her unexpectedly. She yelped at the sudden intrusion. He was thrusting deep inside her, filling and stretching her pussy in a way that, although pleasurable, also left a distinct sting.

“You’re OK,” he told her. There was a strange tone to this affirmation. He wasn’t asking her, and he didn’t seem particularly tender in that moment; he just announced it to her as a fact that wasn’t up for discussion.

He was thrusting inside her hard and fast, grunting occasionally with effort. She felt lost. The idea of sex was in her head; she knew that’s what was happening, and she had a strong feeling that this wasn’t her first time, but she couldn’t remember doing this with anyone specific. She couldn’t even remember this man’s face, the one whose cock was buried inside her now.

He brought his hand up to her nipple, twisting it between his fingers, creating another instance of that stinging pleasure that she already felt between her legs. She whimpered under his touch and didn’t recognize that sound as her own. Was that what she always sounded like? He moved his hand down her belly, reaching for the sensitive bundle of nerves above the place where he continued to ram her with his cock. He circled it, increasing the pressure until she felt an explosion of pleasure radiating from his fingers. She felt her body shudder and her channel contract around his cock, gripping him tightly. He groaned again, thrust deeply, and halted. His cock jerked inside her, filling her with cum, and she felt a new wave of anxiety as the word ‘protection’ swam up into her consciousness.

They both breathed heavily, her heart thundered in her ears. He pulled out, rolling away, onto his back, and she turned her head to finally look at this man. She was surprised at what she saw.

He was older than she expected. Her defective brain couldn’t remember exactly how old she was, but she was certain she wasn’t as old as him. He was handsome, slim, with a strong-looking chest and arms and flecks of grey mixed into the stubble along his square jaw. He had short, dark brown hair that seemed to be specked with strands of grey here and there, too. Thirty-five? Maybe forty? He sat up, bringing his knees up and resting his arms on them. Looking at her. It was as if he waited for some sort of recognition, for her to say something to him, that would be the ‘normal’ or the ‘usual thing for her to say.

“Good morning, Jack,” he seemed to prompt her. She took a deep breath, getting ready to squeeze out the words from her throat.

“Good morning, Jack,” her voice was quiet and unsure, as if she didn’t know how to use it properly.

“We’re gonna go take a shower now,” he informed her, getting out of bed on the opposite side. She noticed his tight ass and then immediately looked away, not sure if she was supposed to be looking. “Come on, out of bed,” his voice sounded stern.

She got out of bed, looking down at her own naked body. It seemed unfamiliar. She felt frail and weak, which was rather disconcerting. Looking down at herself, she noticed a number of fading bruises, her knees skinned and raw. Her heart was hammering again, not knowing what had happened, why she looked this way, and who had caused it. Was it Jack? Should she be scared of him? It wasn’t coming back to her. He stood in the open doorway, his now flaccid penis dangling between his toned, athletic legs. He had a serious expression on his face, watching her inspect her own body. After a moment, he turned and walked out into the hallway, undoubtedly expecting her to follow him. She did, wrapping her arms around her small breasts, feeling suddenly cold without the covers on her.

They crossed the hallway into the bathroom, the tile floor cold against her bare feet. She could feel his cum starting to drip down her thighs and the uneasy feeling returned, regarding the lack of protection. Was she on birth control? Did he get her pregnant?

Jack had started the shower just as she turned to look into the mirror above the sink. Her auburn hair looked like a tangled mess, coming down past her shoulders. She had dark circles underneath her hazel eyes, and her cheeks looked sunken, giving her face an overall gaunt appearance. Just to the right, her bottom lip had been split, but partially healed now. Maybe this is why she couldn’t remember anything. Maybe she was mugged and beaten and had some sort of head injury. The thought about whether Jack was the one who did this to her crossed her mind again. She looked over at him. He stood in front of the toilet, taking a piss, completely unconcerned with the fact that she was there. She suddenly realized how much she needed to pee as well. He flushed, putting the seat down, and gesturing to her.

“Get in the shower when you’re done,” he told her before stepping inside the tub.

Did this mean that they had some kind of a relationship? That they were so comfortable with each other that they didn’t need privacy for this sort of thing? Was he just her boyfriend? Her husband? Was it possible for her to have been married and not remember any of it at all?

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Thank you for reading!

Stay tuned for more chapters of The Dirty Little Secret - they will be coming at you hard and fast. If you would like another BDSM story while you wait, check out this one: