When David Died: A True Story

by John Locke

  Fridays with Nicki were the best times of my life, and saying goodbye was the worst. But this particular Friday I couldn’t wait to get home, knowing Michael would be there soon, knowing within hours I’d have a dozen pornographic photos of Nicki to sustain me for the six days I wasn’t able to see her each week.

  That evening I offered to take Michael and Alison out to dinner. While they were getting ready I sneaked into Michael’s room, found his phone, and hoped he hadn’t changed the security code Nicki provided.

  He hadn’t.

  From there it was a simple matter of locating the photos and transferring them to my phone, then deleting them from his. Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am! Unlike Michael, I protected Nicki’s photos with a separate security code: my date of birth.

  The following Tuesday I was very proud to announce: “The photos you were worrying about have been removed forever.”

  She couldn’t contain her happiness. “Thank you, David! This calls for a celebration. By the way, from now on I’d like us to meet at my place. But you can’t tell anyone where I live, okay?”

  I nodded.

  “I’m renting a house in Shelbyville, so it’s a bit of a drive for you.”

  “No problem.”

  “I’ll want you to rent a car each week, wear a ball cap and sunglasses, and arrive as close to noon as possible. When you turn into my driveway I’ll open the garage door so you can drive right in. Then I’ll close the door before you get out of the car. That way no one will see you.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “It’s just a matter of protecting your privacy. This only works if it’s safe for you.”

  Actually, it would have worked for me whether safe or not, because if Alison or Michael found out, I’d still want to see Nicki every week. If Alison wanted a divorce I’d buy a house and ask Nicki to move in with me. But yes, I did appreciate all the care she took to protect my marriage. As she said months earlier, she loves Alison. Yes, she’s fucking Alison’s husband, but she still considers her a friend.

  Wait: did I just say Nicki and I were fucking?

  It’s true. That was the celebration Nicki was referring to on Tuesday after I told her I erased the photos.

  What was it like to finally make love to Nicki? Incredible? No, better than that: it was everything I dreamed it would be. And she was totally into it: no vomiting, no anger. Like a great dancing instructor, she led. Like an eager student, I followed. She showed me what she liked and didn’t like, and what worked for her; and guided me through the process with great care and affection. And after a few clumsy missteps on my part she made it clear I finally understood how to bring her the maximum pleasure possible.

  But much as I enjoyed the lovemaking, nothing compared to the erotic stimulation she performed as I stood on the stool with the—are you ready for this? —hangman’s noose around my neck.

  Until Nicki came along, I’d never even seen a hangman’s noose, much less held one. But she actually taught me how to tie one!

  As she coiled the rope that first time she said, “There’s a long, storied history of hanging, and a proper rope is the product of numerous considerations.”

  “Like what?” I asked.

  “The victim’s height and weight, the height of the tree branch or beam, and the intended purpose.”

  “Isn’t the purpose to kill the victim?”

  “Ultimately, yes. But do you want him to experience a humane, instant death, or do you want him to suffer the torture of the damned for several excruciating minutes? Do you want to disembowel him as a lesson to others, or humiliate him by making him shit and piss himself in front of his friends and loved ones while gasping and flopping about like a fish on a stringer?”

  “It’s a gruesome business,” I said.

  “It can be.”

  I resisted the urge to ask why we were tying a hangman’s noose and how she knew so much about them.

  “The knot is placed under the left ear,” she said, “and your body weight, plus the force of the fall is usually sufficient to break the neck. The noose is designed not to jam, while being virtually impossible for the victim to loosen, even if he manages to get his hands free.”

  As she wrapped the coils she said, “Each coil adds friction to the knot, which makes it that much harder to loosen. Six to eight loops on a sturdy, natural rope is sufficient to kill anyone.” She finished the knot, then tested it, and handed it to me.

  “Impressive,” I said.

  When I handed it back, she untied it, then handed me the rope and said, “Your turn.”

  It took me several tries to win her approval, at which time she continued her lecture: “Long drops kill you instantly, breaking your neck, tearing your internal organs, causing them to leak through your lower…openings. Everyone urinates and defecates after a long drop hanging. Conversely, while the short drop also tends to cause involuntary shitting and pissing, it’s more likely to occur with women and girls. In Nazi Germany the soldiers enjoyed humiliating girls by making them stand on buckets with a tight noose around their necks. When the bucket was kicked away the girls would gasp and convulse for several minutes while urinating and soiling themselves. The soldiers thought that was particularly gratifying to watch, as it discouraged others from hurling rocks or insults at them.”

  “That’s…horrible.”

  “Standing on a platform with a noose around your neck is very dangerous, David. It’s something you should never do with or without someone close by that you can trust to save your life if something goes wrong. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is serious stuff. Welcome to the big time!”

  She pointed to the thick wooden beam in her den and said, “My plan for today is to throw this rope over that beam and tie it off. Then you’ll stand on a stool naked and I’ll place this noose around your neck and tighten it. Then I’ll pleasure you. When you’re done, I’ll do everything I can to save you. But you’re twice my weight, and this is an 8-coil noose. It will be very hard to open. What I’m saying, you’d have to be an idiot to do this. But from what I’ve read, the payoff is other-worldly: like graduating from cocaine to heroin, but better: because the noose engages every aspect of your mind and body. It will be everything you’ve experienced with the slip knot, plus five times the danger. So: Are you in or out?”

  “In.”

  She grinned. “God, I love you!”

  “I love you too, Nicki. Swear to God!”

  18.

  AFTER THE HANGMAN’S noose, there was no going back to the slip knot or anything else we’d ever done together. From that day to this she gave me a choice between making love or being stimulated while hanged, and I always chose the noose.

  I was hopelessly addicted.

  Don’t get me wrong: sex with Nicki was as good as sex gets. But I could get sex elsewhere, if necessary. If not Alison, perhaps one of our social friends. Or, last resort, a hooker. But where on earth would I ever find a gorgeous young woman who’s willing to hang me in her home while stimulating me to orgasm, and who can be trusted to save my life?

  One Friday, after several weeks of earth-shattering orgasms using variations on the noose, Nicki placed a small box on her dining room table and surprised me by saying, “Would you like to give me anal today?”

  “Seriously?”

  She nodded.

  “I’d love to!”

  “I figured you’d say that. And I want you to know that I love you enough to let you do it to me. Except…I think it’s only fair you should have at least a small idea what I’ll be experiencing. Which is why I bought this.”

  She opened the box and showed me a strap-on penis and said, “It took me forever to find one this small, but it’s your exact size.” She giggled. “I’m sorry. That didn’t come out the way I meant it.” She giggled again. Then said, “I’m very happy with your size, David. You’re just right, as far as I’m concerned, and if you were bigger our lovemaking would be fa
r less pleasant. What I meant to say was most people who buy these things apparently want giant ones. So anyway, I found one your size, and if you want to give me anal, it’s only fair that I do it to you first. Is it worth it to you to take it in order to give it?”

  I took a long time before answering yes. And when I did she wasn’t overly pleased, but said, “Okay, then. I’ve never done this before, but I’ve been reading about it and the key appears to be adequate lubrication. I also recommend we focus on the method that affords the least pain for most people.”

  “I agree. Which method is that?”

  “You bend over a table or some other object that’s approximately waist-high. And the other person…well, you know.”

  We looked at each other a moment. Then I nodded, assumed the position, and let her lube me up. When she strapped on the penis I said, “Be gentle.”

  “Always, darling.”

  Was she? I couldn’t tell. It was agony. And then it occurred to me we hadn’t set ground rules regarding time. With each thrust I tried not to scream, but it dawned on me she’s hammering me with a dildo, which means she’s never going to “finish.” After about six minutes of soul-sapping pain I said, “I don’t want to break any rules.”

  “I appreciate that,” she said, and kept thrusting. Then added, “Did you have a question?”

  “Yes.”

  “Please ask it, then.”

  “How long were you intending to do this?”

  “I feel it should be the same amount of time you’re going to do it to me.”

  “How long has it been so far?”

  “Twenty-eight seconds.”

  “What? That can’t be right.”

  “I set a timer when we started. Want to see?”

  “Yes. After.”

  “Have you had enough yet?”

  While I considered her question she continued thrusting the dildo into me, harder than before, and I realized she was trying to get me to quit. That way she wouldn’t have to do it as long. But since this might be my only shot, I wanted to maximize my upcoming experience with her. So I said, “Let’s stop at the one-thirty mark.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  When it was over, she showed me the timer and said, “How bad was it?”

  “Brutal. I swear, when you told me twenty-eight seconds, I thought you’d been at it more than six minutes!”

  “Great,” she said, with a total lack of enthusiasm. “But fair is fair, and now it’s your turn.”

  She pulled down her pants and panties and assumed the position, but just as I was about to go for it I said, “Nicki, it was a lot more painful than I expected. I don’t want to hurt you. I’m going to give you a pass.”

  She stood up and turned to face me. “That’s not how it works, David. If you refuse to do this, it will set our relationship back. And neither of us wants that. Come here.”

  I moved closer, and she hugged me and said, “I think it’s really sweet of you to say, but—and I’m being serious now—don’t ever do that again. I wouldn’t have offered myself if I wasn’t 100% willing to do it. I just wanted to make it less pleasurable for you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I always knew you had a fantasy about giving me anal, and you proved it today by agreeing to take it up the ass in order to do it to me. But until today I’ve resisted because anal intercourse is not a loving gesture. It might give you pleasure, but it can only give me pain. So I wanted you to experience the pain, even though I wasn’t able to experience any pleasure, since for me it was nothing more than pushing a latex mold into you. Based on your comment, you probably won’t derive the same amount of pleasure you were expecting because you’ve realized your fantasy was personal, selfish, and never took my feelings into consideration. Now you’re aware how badly you’re going to hurt me, and I think that might diminish the experience for you.”

  “I’m certain it will.” Talk about a buzz kill!

  “Good.” She turned her back to me and assumed the position. “So this is for you, David. Please keep an eye on the timer. That’s all I ask.”

  The first issue was getting hard enough to make it happen. I was so concerned about hurting her I couldn’t get it up at first. But the view she presented made it impossible to remain flaccid forever, and then I had to cope with how incredibly tiny she was compared to me. And that’s when I realized what she knew from the start: how terribly unfair the experience would be for her. But she braced herself and I finally worked my way in, and soldiered on. She tried as hard as she could not to make any wounded puppy sounds, and just as she predicted, the next 90 seconds weren’t half as pleasurable as I originally fantasized…and yet…dare I say it? It was still awfully damn good! So good I had to remind myself to wipe the grin off my face when I finished. I’ll give myself credit for not going in as deep as I could have, and for only moving enough to stay erect. But when it was over and I saw the tears streaming down her face it broke my heart, and soon I was crying, too.

  “I love you,” I said, but she said nothing.

  I added, “You taught me something very profound today about love. It’s a lesson I’ll never forget.”

  Again she said nothing, and we got dressed in silence. Moments later I left her house shamed and filled with self-loathing.

  19.

  THE NEXT WEEK when she opened her door I could tell she’d been crying.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “You’re gonna be mad at me.”

  I felt my shoulders sag. Shit! I knew at once she was planning to end the relationship.

  “I won’t be mad, Nicki. Disappointed? Yes. Heart-broken? Almost certainly. But not mad.”

  “I hope not, but I have a feeling you will be. And you’re probably gonna hate me, too.”

  “Don’t be silly. You’re my treasure, Nicki. There’s nothing you could say or do to make me hate you.”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s not true.”

  I sighed. “Can we sit down and talk about it?”

  “I’d like that.”

  Nicki’s rental house was small. The kitchen, dining room and den were all areas of the same room with no walls to separate them. We sat on the couch, and I couldn’t help but look above me to see the beam she hanged me from as recently as two weeks ago. Now that seemed like a distant memory.

  “Tell me what’s happened.”

  “Nothing. It’s just time.”

  “You’re ending it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

  “Is there someone else?”

  “No. It’s nothing like that.”

  “Then…what’s wrong?”

  “We need to stop.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s not right.”

  “But that doesn’t make sense. Just last week you told me how much you loved me.”

  “I still do love you, David.”

  I took a moment to try to work it out in my head. “You seemed fine on the phone Tuesday. You talked about taking Jessie to the concert Wednesday night, and I did what you said, I stayed away so you wouldn’t see me. And I know Jess had a wonderful time.”

  “It’s not about the concert. Jessie’s great. We had the best time ever.”

  “Then…it’s about our anal session last week.”

  “No. I mean…in a way, yes, but it’s more than that.”

  “Honey, I know I hurt you last week, and I’m so sorry. I told you then that you taught me a valuable lesson about love, and it’s true: you made me a better person. You’ll remember I offered not to do it, but you insisted and said our relationship would suffer if we didn’t. And even so, I tried as hard as I could not to hurt you.”

  “I know. You were wonderful. You’ve been wonderful the whole time. But we need to stop.”

  “Why?”

  She sighed. “I feel compelled to mention you’re breaking the rule about walking away when one of
us says it’s over.”

  ”All due respect, I don’t give a flying shit about the rules right now, Nicki. I love you, and I’m fighting to save us.”

  ”Let’s not end things on a sour note, David. We’ve had a great run. I think you’ll admit it’s been a lot of fun.”

  “No doubt. But—”

  “And surely you knew it couldn’t last forever.”

  Suddenly it became clear to me: this is what Nicki does! It’s what she did to Michael over and over. She breaks up, takes some time alone, then comes back. Sure, she explained that away by saying she kept going back to Michael to be with me, but what if it’s more than that? What if she just gets overwhelmed by relationships after a few months and needs a break?

  She says, “Did you really think this was going to last forever?”

  ”I hoped it would. And I still believe we can get it back.”

  “We could, but you won’t want to.”

  “Of course I want to! I’m not the one trying to end things. I love you, Nicki! You understand that, don’t you?”

  “You say that now, but things change. Except for my love for you. That will never change.” She sighed. “I’m gonna miss our time together, David. Not so much the sex part, but all the attention and love you gave me. That’s something I’ll never forget as long as I live.”

  I took a deep breath. “Something obviously happened to change your mind. The only thing I can point to is the anal situation. I know you hated that, and when I left last week I felt just awful. Every day I wanted to call and talk to you about it, but I didn’t want to break your rules. Then Tuesday finally came and I asked you several times if you were okay, and you said yes.”

  “I already knew on Tuesday we were gonna end things today. But I wanted to do it in person, and didn’t want it to affect being with Jess on Wednesday.”

  “Maybe you just need some space. How about we take a two-week break and see how you feel then?”