Matt’s psychic ability to sense my life was in desperate need of an intervention is proof we’re meant for each other. We’re like two bodies with one brain and one soul. Soulmates. He is the insatiable lover I longed to find. All those years I’ve endured living with my loneliness struggling to find someone who can understand me were finally worth suffering through now that I’ve found him. Yet somehow we remain different, and I often find myself obsessively trying to decipher him; understand his kind of violence. Sometimes I think he’s just too dangerous, but I’m not sure why. I’m hoping my hunch is wrong; that the unusual vibe I get from him as well as his disturbing ways of living are harmless and will keep me away from serious danger.
There’s a reason why damaged and complicated individuals are just so intoxicating; they draw us in, make us do crazy things. It’s the lifeblood of romance; being devoted to a lost, tortured soul. Matt is a vessel of violence, one that unlike other people, I’m not looking to fix nor save him from. Being with him is unpredictable and never boring. He has a startling sense of eroticism which makes our sex life so fucking exciting. His requests are clearly deviant but carefully hidden under the guise of romantic love. After complying with one perverse request, he always asks for more and of course I comply, making his behavior and his treatment of me seem normative. Who cares, though? He gives me the fast, hard sex no one has ever given me before. I’d get goosebumps on my neck as soon as I sense a moment between us is about to turn sexual. The way he kisses me; slow, deep, his tongue getting deeper and deeper down my throat. He reads my body carefully almost effortlessly and gives it exactly what it wants and when it wants it. His utterances about what he likes to do it to me are inauspicious and they often leave me desolated, but I always find myself wanting more. And so we start again. He fucks me almost languidly, owning every breath, every gasp coming out of my body while my heart pounds against my chest, causing it to ache by the end of it. I feel a compelling iniquitous foreboding getting me more and more involved, pulling me in whenever the thought of fleeing crosses my mind. He is beyond my control.
Matt is a control freak when it comes to how he likes things done. He has a ruminative attention to detail and repetition, and that heavily translates into his morning routine. He’s a living proof that nothing comes easily; I’m not just talking about work and money, I’m talking about how he manages to maintain his clean and toned facial completion and his meticulously ripped physique. It all started when the sound of the shower woke me up early one day and I couldn’t go back to sleep. Our bedroom bathroom door was half-opened, and I remember catching him as he slowly peeled off his face mask while deeply staring at himself in the mirror; a scene forever etched into my memory. He practices the same routine daily without ever skipping any of the steps. It all starts with an ice pack he applies on his face for ten minutes before moving on to applying body lotion to the whole body and letting it dry for a few minutes before hitting the shower. In the shower, he uses a water-activated gel cleanser followed by a honey-almond body scrub. Shampooing and conditioning is usually an every three-day deal with a few exceptions. After cleaning the body with a shower gel, he uses another cleanser infused with beta hydroxy and salicylic acids to gently exfoliate. After exiting the shower and drying himself comes the peel-off face mask. He chooses an organic, skin-firming mask made primarily with herbs as part of its ingredient list. After the mask comes the alcohol-free toner and then the moisturizer. Overall, the entire process takes about half an hour.
Matt is also a sharp and slick dresser. If I had to describe his style, I’d stay it’s minimalistic for the most part. His walk-in closet is huge, but the pieces of clothing are all duplicates, tightly curated and hanged perfectly. His color palette consists of black, gray, navy and some white. The pieces are all designer and pretty expensive. He owns a lot of leather and suede garments. He has an outfit formula for each look he’s created and doesn’t bother mixing to change it up a bit. This micro-capsule wardrobe lifestyle makes getting ready for any occasion way easier while people like me often suffer from decision-fatigue trying to figure out what to wear or what to buy. For him, every element of life has been analyzed to its greatest detail. He knows what he likes and doesn’t like, and there’s no arguing when it comes to his taste or how he likes things done. Part of me admires that, but when you’re expected to live up to that kind of obsessiveness life can get kind of stressful.
On the outside, he seems like a man who’s got it all; someone who walks through life on a breeze of rose-scented air when in reality he’s nothing short of a social misfit. We were a damnable couple, skewing our personalities in someone’s else favor, but doing it was just so much fun. We were no resting souls, and I was eager to learn and become the person I’m destined to become. I’m slowly turning into some kind of sophisticated machine operated by him. He tunes certain elements of me depending on his mood or certain situations, eliminates the things he doesn’t like, modifies others. The act of being managed like that is despicable, but he’s only trying to improve upon me.
Matt’s idea of a date is taking us somewhere expensive where we could be seen and envied. Of course, he picked the Italian restaurant where everyone knows who he is, what he orders and how he likes it done. The place was rustic-chic and very low-lit you could only see silhouettes. The place’s obscure ambiance and compelling energy made me feel as if I had stepped into another world. Our table was located a few feet away from the fireplace. As we sat down and warmed up in front of the roaring fire, I couldn’t help but be startled by this figure sitting right across from me. Our dinner date seemed like a somber affair. When he made conversation, I had to show enthusiasm and participate. Although I’m clearly his submissive, it’s absolutely crucial I avoid showing any signs of passiveness. The last thing he wants is for me to look like his dumb arm candy person. I’m not even supposed to come off as his love interest, just a business partner or long time friend, depending on the circumstances and the people present. He also expects me to be at his intellectual level and required my utmost undivided attention. In the dark, his eyes were like bullet holes, and that accentuated his sadistic allure. His persona in public is always different. His physical and mental exertion for control would multiply whenever we were out together and that’s due to his aggressive relentlessness in projecting a certain respectable image for himself. Sometimes I feel like I’m ensnared in a relationship with two different people. Matt is definitely a handful, but he somehow managed to grow on me.
Although he had already made it perfectly clear as to where he stood regarding labels, I was curious to know when his interest in men started. He recalled a few instances in school when he wasn’t popular; guys would harass him and call him a knob every time he approached a girl, something that eventually caused all the girls to turn on him and chase the popular jock types who, at the time, had a lot going for them.
“I’m glad people were such jerks to me at school, because it taught me a hell lot about people”, he declared.
The initial surge of lust and excitement can get a little bit exhausting, but the addiction and insatiable hunger is way stronger. Every night, I go to bed with the magic the fantasy of being with someone like him creates thinking that I’ll wake up in the morning and see things differently; that what we have is unhealthy, maybe even dangerous for me, but so far it just doesn’t feel that way. Besides, I’m done soul-searching and looking for the next big thing. This is as good as it gets. The unequal premise our relationship is built on is what makes me crave it. I’ve always wanted to be taken care of. This is what I’ve always wanted and now I have it, so why can’t I just stop analyzing everything to death?
It’s because of last night.
Matt didn’t reveal anything specific about his idea of a romantic weekend getaway. He had two packed duffle bags ready for us in the backseat of his car. He blindfolded me and asked me to slide in the passenger seat. During our commute, not much conversation happened. All he said was that we were going somewhere revitalizing and relaxing, but the mystery surrounding where he was taking me was only putting me on edge.
When we finally made it, I was left all alone in the car while he took care of some business. He asked me not to cheat and although I was tempted to, I’ve decided to wait.
Minutes later, he was back in the car with what sounded like a set of keys. He drove for a couple of minutes before parking the car. I was escorted out of the vehicle with his arm wrapped around mine as he walked me to the location. We walked up a few steps of stairs and then stopped in front of a door. I heard him go through the keys and opening the door. He unlocked it and we walked inside. When I took a step in, I was immediately hit with a deep, hypnotizing scent that permeated the entire space; it took over me almost instantly like a rush of blood to the head, infiltrating my senses with its gripping incense of vetiver and olibanum. Underneath me, I could feel soft carpeting. He took the blindfold off and I gasped. The room looked like a 70s motel merged with a magical oracle chamber with its dramatic native stone fireplace, steely elements and futuristic, flashy neon accents. There were mirrors everywhere; they covered every inch of the walls and ceiling I could see endless versions of ourselves.
Located in Port Angeles, Purple Moon is a unique theme-style resort with fantasy suite theme rooms. It’s a nice place to spice up any couple’s sex life by providing them with a fresh, sophisticated and unusual scenery when action in the bedroom becomes dull. The rooms were in either duplex or fourplex buildings, each one isolated from the other with its own outside entrance that required everyone to park in the driveway and scurry inside. The buildings had mock windows to make them look like normal houses or condos from the outside, but the inside clearly had none. Each building had its own, immersive world. You could either choose a prehistoric setting like a cave or a forest or something more cultural like a Geisha garden or Indian-themed tent. There were two futuristic options like a room built as a space capsule and another that resembled a spaceship. Then there’s the more regular options with a twist regardless like the retro-decorated motel room covered in mirrors and neon accents Matt has picked for us to stay at.
The room had kinky sex equipment scattered around it. In one corner, a modernized version of the St. Andrews Cross was located; it was made of metal and had neon lights in its backdrop. As I acquainted myself with the space, Matt inserted his hand inside my briefs and stroked my cock. He kissed my neck from behind before moving and standing in front of me. He took my shirt off and proceeded in kissing my chest, stomach, all the way down until his mouth securely wrapped around my hard-on. He ordered me to undress completely and walked me to the cross. He picked leather handcuffs and shackled me. Seconds later, I was fully suspended, naked and spread-eagle with both hands restrained above my head. A frisson of excitment ran down my spine when he grabbed one of the whips and whipped my stomach and inner thighs. He then got completely naked and grabbed both of my legs and pulled me up in mid-air. His hands were firmly wrapped around my ass cheeks as he fucked me. After he came, he released me, but little did I know he wasn’t done with me. He said we were going to try something else. He ordered me to get him hard again, and I obliged. I licked his pecs down to his muscly abs and further down until I was facing his erect cock. With my tongue, I teased its shaft then took him down whole, sucked him off until he got fully hard again. He applied pressure to the back of my head with his right hand, forcing my head further down upon his hefty equipment before moving away then lunging back at me. He grabbed me from the waist and threw me across the room and into the spacious bed.
Sweat ran down our backs, and the more we exerted ourselves, the sweatier we became. Our bodies were locked for the most part as we embraced the ecstasy-filled high of hardcore, raunchy sex. His cock flapped continuously against my bared-ass body. I gazed up at the celestial ceiling and stared at the visually impressive scene. It felt so erotic, so surreal, like some sort of sensual sexual encounter from a romance book, except the nature of the sex had turned into something absurd I still can’t quite define. He mercifully bit my nipples as he fucked me again. Next thing I’m being pulled away over to an empty corner. Matt pushed me against the mirrored wall and forcefully slid his cock into me. I opened my ass more and with one stroke he was deep inside me. He rubbed me raw with aggressive thrusts like I was some sort of a blow-up sex doll. At one point, it almost seemed as if he was taking out his frustrations, anger and built-up sexual desires on me. He rocked his hips and bucked me like a tamed bull, then he leaned and started to kiss me. He slowly used his teeth and started piercing my lower lip as he neared his climax. Once he was close, he increased the pressure and sank them deeper into my lip until I started to bleed. As soon as his tongue tasted my blood, he shot his load inside me and then pulled out; his cum immediately seeped down from the crack of my ass and onto the carpeted floor underneath.
I stayed frozen in my spot and licked off my own blood, then moved to the bed and tried to catch my breath. Before he could allow me to recover from my fuck, he was already fondling me, eager to start again.
Sex with Matt has proven to be a continuous power struggle. He wants to test me by expanding my sexual boundaries to see how far I’m willing to go to debase myself and please him. But now I know something’s seriously wrong with him. His urges are strong and violent. It looks like he’s seeking a willing partner on whom to force himself and have sex as rough as necessary to discharge his mysterious, dysregulated, hostile energy whenever he felt like it without making it seem like rape. What really bothered me was his disconnection from me at times, usually when he’s close to reaching orgasm; it feels as if I don’t matter to him at times, like I’m some sort of a mean to an end; his sexual gratification.
There’s a price to be paid for all that sexual joy. The title “perverted boyfriend” has disabled me from seeing and understanding Matt as a human being. During the early stages of our relationship, he made it clear to me that he has his own twisted moral and ethical standards on many topics outside of our relationship. Between us though, he’s trying to be as moral and proper as possible, constantly making sure I’m conscientiously heading into these fetishes instead of being manipulated and pressured into doing things I don’t feel comfortable with. He never crosses any boundaries where I’m endangered or anything of the sort, but it’s also pretty clear to both of us, I think, that his deviant fetishes could eventually turn into something ugly. Although I’ve already found some of them highly objectionable on a personal level, I think his frankness and upfront personality are why I agreed to be in a relationship with him in the first place. He’s loyal and obsessively protective of me. He only needs me to satisfy him. Our relationship may seem toxic to some people, but that’s not how we see it. We have gone through many things as a normal couple outside of our sexual lives, having all sorts of intellectual debates, fun times, movies, dinners, home cooked meals and discussions about our future together. I guess we’re just happy to have found each other.
Felix Eberstark 