We hadn't talked in awhile even though we lived in the same house ... he'd usually leave for work in the morning and often not return until late night.  Oh ... he'd still mumble a "Thank you" when he grabbed a cup of coffee I made or cleaned the kitchen ... but there were no conversations.  I was feeling pretty lonely and frustrated.

I had my bits of revenge as now I'd taken to masturbating - loudly and aggressively - every morning.  I'd leave the door ajar on the pretense of needing cross-ventilation.  God it feels so good to cum when I want to ... watching my juice fly up onto my stomach.  Then slurping it up, tasting that wonderful taste of cum.  Often Jeffie would help me ... I'd ride that huge dildo and remember times when I did this in front of Dean ... the difference being that then I culd not touch my cock.

As summer was quickly approaching I took to wandering the house naked, like I used to.  Flaunting my newly unlocked cock in front of its former Master.

After our breakup, Dean would often not return from work on Friday until after work on Monday.  I figured he was staying with some new lover or friend because f the tension in the house.  This went on for several weeks until one early Saturday morning (like 4am) when I get woken up by noises at the front door.   I kinda freaked ... you know how it is when your brain is working solely on your caveman fight or flight response.  But, I got up and sneaked my way down the hall and toward the door.  I didn't see anyone there.  I nearly jumped out of my skin when the door handle jiggled.  I tried not to scream like a girl ... honest!

I twisted the deadbolt and pulled the door ajar - as far as the chain would let it - to find Dean hanging on the handle like a dying man grasping for life.  I whipped the chain off and yanked the door completely open and he half falls, crawls in.  His face is bloody and he reaks of booze, vomit and cigarettes.  He's only got on a t-shirt and his jeans.

I pull him into the house as he mumbles somethig unintelligable.  After locking the door I lift him and drag him to his bathroom.  I dump him into the bathtub and, once I flick on the light, I see he's had a bloody lips and nose.  Either he was bashed or got in a bar fight.  I got  a towel wet and started to clean him off.  But the smell was too much for me and it was taking too long to clean him up.

I figured, 'What the fuck, I'm naked' and climbed into the tub with him and turned on the shower.  I pulled off his tshirt and he started to resist.  i just told him to shut the fuck up, that he had to get clean before I'd let him get into his bed.  Just then he spewed.  Streams on rotten, acidy beer/alcohol vomit.  Ohhhhh ... shit.  It was such a struggle to not vomit in response.  I grabbed the shower wand and just kept rinsing it away.  YUCK.  But, you do these things for the one's you love.

He stopped gagging ... dry-heaving and I risked going for the jeans.  He half-heartedly tried to push my hands away ... but with buttonfly jeans you just need to yank and they're open.  Then I grabbed the top and yanked down.  Because we were soaked they didn't pull easily but I got far enough ... "HOLY FUCKING CHRIST!  HE WAS FUCKING LOCKED!!!!!

I stumbled back against the shower wall and kept saying "Shit!" over and over again as he drunkenly tried to cover his locked cock.  That big, beautiful cock of his.  Locked in a Curve.  His cock barely fit inside. 

I'd had enough at that point and opened the shower door trying to step over his body without slipping.  I grabbed a towel off the rack and ran to my room trying not to cry ... at least until I shut the door.

How could he do this to me?  First he was my Master, my true love, who helped me live the way I thought I wanted to and now HE was someone ELSE's bitch?  I was sooo confused. I sobbed into my pillow for awhile til I got control of myself.

There was a soft tapping at my door, he opened it a crack "I'm sorry."

"Get the FUCK outta here!" and the door shut.

I waited a bit, got up and went to his room.  The door was open and he lay sprawled on top, his Curve glinting in the moonlight from the window.  I looked away "Did you get bashed?"

"No.  Fight with Rick."  Rick who? Who was Rick?  Some trick?  I went to the living room as it was now about 5.  I figured I might as well start my day.  But as I started making coffee a great saddnes welled up inside me.  As the coffee started dripping into the pot I decided on another libation.  I pulled the brandy out of the cupboard, poured me a glass, and slammed it.  Poured another and went back to my room.  

I held back the tears and the pain, just let it all sit there like a ball of fire in my chest strangely dousing it with alcohol.  I sipped the brandy but the first ounces already had me falling slowly back to sleep.  

I gave up.  And slept.