Bathroom Bull: Violent Cuckold Submission

Viola’s body trembles as Ali’s relentless thrusts continue, her moans echoing off the tiled walls. The bathroom, once a sanctuary, is now a stage for my humiliation. His grunts are animalistic, each one a reminder of my impotence. I watch, transfixed, as he takes her from behind, his hands gripping her hips with brutal force. Her face is pressed against the cool tiles, her eyes closed, lost in a haze of pleasure and pain. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh fills the room, a brutal symphony of their coupling. I can see the sweat glistening on their bodies, the intensity of their encounter palpable. Ali’s stamina is unmatched, his endurance a testament to his virility. He doesn’t tire, doesn’t slow, just keeps pounding into her with a ferocity that leaves her gasping for air. Her body is a canvas for his dominance, marked by his hands, his teeth, his cock. She is his, completely and utterly, and there’s nothing I can do but watch.

Kitchen Confession: The Aftermath

The aftermath is a mess. Viola lies on the bathroom floor, her body slick with sweat and semen, her eyes glazed over. Ali stands over her, a smug smile on his face, his cock still hard and glistening. He looks at me, his eyes filled with a mix of triumph and mockery. I feel a surge of anger, but it’s quickly replaced by a deep sense of shame. He knows he’s won, that he’s broken me. Viola, still catching her breath, reaches out to him, her hand trembling. He takes it, pulling her up, and she leans into him, her body weak and spent. They leave the bathroom together, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the stench of their encounter. I can still hear their laughter as they move to the kitchen, the sound of a bottle being opened, the clink of glasses. I’m left here, in the bathroom, surrounded by the remnants of their passion, a cuckold in every sense of the word.Three days later, and the memory of that night still haunts me. Viola’s vagina is still wide open, a constant reminder of Ali’s prowess. She’s meeting him again this Saturday, and I know there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I’m a spectator in my own life, forced to watch as another man takes what’s mine. The humiliation is a physical pain, a constant ache in my chest. I can’t sleep, can’t eat, can’t think of anything but the image of them together. It’s a torture, a never-ending loop of degradation and despair. And yet, I can’t look away. I’m drawn to it, to the intensity, the raw, primal nature of it all. It’s a sickness, a perverse addiction that I can’t break free from.The bathroom, once a place of privacy, is now a monument to my submission. Every tile, every fixture, every surface bears witness to my humiliation. It’s a constant reminder of my place, of the power dynamic that exists between us. Viola and Ali, their connection is electric, a force that I can’t control or understand. I’m just a bystander, a silent observer, forced to watch as they rewrite the rules of our relationship. And so, I wait, for the next encounter, the next humiliation, the next step in this twisted dance of desire and degradation. It’s a path I can’t turn back from, a journey I’m compelled to continue, no matter the cost to my pride or my sanity.