How did I loose my hair the first time? Part one of the answer

WARNING: This story is graphic. Do not read if you have an easily upset stomach. There will be four parts to this answer. I will post this warning at the start of each.

Part 1 Jay Leaves Me
Copyright Deni Wom 2003

Looking back, I guess it did start well before I was aware that there was a problem. Hubby didn’t make love to me on the night before he left on his last trip. This is highly unusual, but not a first. His frequent trips out of town have left me more or less at my own ends, and so while he was gone for the week, there was no indication that we were nearing a real change in our relationship.

He had hinted at there being a “big surprise” coming when he came back from his trip, and my eagerness to find out what it was may well have been enough to make me less intuitive about the two of us.

The “big surprise” seemed to be a man, my husband’s best friend while growing up. He arrived on Sunday afternoon. His name is seth, and to my surprise, he addressed me as Mistress Deni. His head is always bowed and his eyes do not look at me when he speaks.

His build is slender, yet he is a bit overweight. The weight hangs on him rather awkwardly somehow.

Hubby did not make love to me that night of his return. That was a first. We always make love for hours on the night he returns. Instead, he and seth stayed up late talking and laughing together. I soon felt out of place and retired. I awakened at around 2 AM and could still hear them talking in the family room. I drifted back to sleep and found that seth and hubby had already left when I awakened the next morning.

They were home when I returned from work that evening around 10:00 PM. Just before leaving the office, I had finally screwed up my courage and sent a picture of my face to Harley, my first cyber lover, a man I had grown incredibly fond of, I can even honestly say I felt love for him. I had then hurriedly turned off the computer so that I would not hear from him until the next day. I guess that I felt like that way I could prolong any negative reaction.

My husband is aware of these cyber chats I have and often reads them. I save them all for him. They often spice our love making up and sometimes we play the roles of the chat’s participants.
Arriving home, I found that seth had cooked a wonderful meal for us. Mine was in the oven, still warm. I noticed that the house was very clean, not like the normal lived in rooms that I am used to. I spent a little while talking with seth, and learned that he was retired, had made a lot of money in some business ventures he had sold, and was planning to move here and buy a house. In fact he and hubby had already located a house that he was thinking seriously about making a tender offer on. They again were wrapped up in reminiscing and talking about their lives together so many years before. Feeling like a fifth wheel on an automobile, I soon decided to retire, and left them to their friendship.

My husband not making love to me on the second night he was home was more than I could believe. I sorely missed our time together and decided to ask him what was going on at my first opportunity.

The next day started out very badly. Harley’s reaction to my picture was decidedly negative. I needed to hear that he liked my appearance. His comment was that I wasn’t J-Lo. It hurt horribly and after waiting for several minutes in shock and horror, I shut off the chat and tried to get some work done. I finally gave up on that idea several hours later, and headed home.
Hubby was at the door as I entered the house. He looked at me and told me he was leaving me.

In absolute horror, not really sure I had heard him correctly; I looked at him and asked, “Why?”
In essence, his answer was, “You don’t want to know.” With that he walked out the door, got into the car with seth, and drove off.

I woke up on the floor a short time later. This is the second time in a few months that I passed out from receiving such shocking and incomprehensible news. The first time being the death of a previous lover, Joe, that I had loved with great intensity. We had been separated for ten years at the time of his death.

I lay there for a long time, wondering if it was worth getting up again. I didn’t have the wherewithal to even move.

I have no idea how much longer I lay there, but M, my neighbor, knocked on the door, and then in her typical style walked on in. She very nearly tripped over me.

“Sweety, what are you doing down there?”

I just looked at her.

M is very intuitive, and immediately kneeled beside me and hugged me. “Tell me girlfriend , what has happened?”

She picked my limp head and shoulders up and hugged me tightly. The tears flooded my eyes, and my breathing came in racking sobs. She held me tightly until I could get my breath back. Gently she helped me to my feet and then led me to the living room sofa, sat me down and just looked into my eyes, waiting, until I could talk.

“He left me, M.”

“Who, Jay?”

“Yes.”

“What the fuck? How can that be girlfriend? He loves you with all his heart………………………….Are you really telling me that Jay walked out on you?”
The whole story came blurting out.

I cannot be in that lonely empty house, so I retire to my office and pace. Thinking. Trying to understand. Puzzling. Grasping at straws. The morning finally dawns and I try to call Jay’s cell phone. No answer, turned off. I anxiously try again through out the day. No answer, turned off.

I have a brain storm and call information and find that seth does indeed have his new phone listed. The operator system transfers my call to the new number. Seth answers, I ask for Jay. I hear a muttered conversation. Seth obviously has his hand over the mouth piece. “Master Jay has asked me to tell you not to call here again. He does not want to talk to you. Goodbye Mistress Deni.”

I cannot grasp what has happened, it makes no logical sense. My husband is acting totally out of character. He normally takes great pains to assure that no questions remain before taking action. He has always been 100% up front with me. I do not believe that man could lie even if it meant saving his own life. Nothing is adding up.

The next morning, my wonderful friend Wanda finds me heart broken in my office, and tries her best to calm me down, to get me to eat something, to sleep. I can do none of them. She holds me as I sob, and dries the tears as they stain the papers on my desk. Her comfort is heartfelt and real, and I slowly respond to her loving ministrations. Like a mother hen watches her brood, she takes care of me as I sit there, too numb to even pace the floors.

After two nights of no sleep and not being able to keep food down, I seek refuge in human contact from my friends on the internet. I chat with a friend that has become special to me as he and I seem to connect so well sexually. I save the chat and send it to my other net buddies and lovers. This spares me the need to tell everyone my painful story over and over again. I send the chat out to everyone late in the evening.

I try to go home, but cannot find the strength to open the front door of the house. I return to my office and try to sleep on the floor. Morning finally comes. I smell, I am filthy, I cannot eat, I feel like a pig in its pig pen, wallowing in mud. My body aches, my head pounds, I am light headed from lack of water.

I log on to the chats. My net friends are also shocked at the news. They cannot offer anything in the way of possible reasoning other than what I have already puzzled out. Most think he is having an affair. Harley, once I gain the nerve to contact him, tells me that he thinks it is seth that Jay is having the affair with. None of it makes sense.

Jay has to know that I would accept him if he told me he was bisexual. He is clearly an incredible lover, I have been married to him for eight years, truly the happiest years of my life.

Talking to my friends on the net calms me down a lot. I sleep for a short while at my desk, the first sleep since he left me. Wanda covers me with a blanket she has found somewhere, and puts a pillow under my head. I awake to a roaring headache, a stiff neck, and my back is in horrible pain, but mentally I feel a little better. I can focus a bit again.

I decide to take a vacation. I will pack up my things and take the motor home on a trip with Hubs, my dog.

I have just bought a laptop computer. I install GoToMyPC so that I can access my home files while I am away. Late that evening I return to my house to find seth mowing the lawn. I hurry into the house hoping to see Jay, but he is not there.

I ask seth about him, but his answer is no answer. I am ignored. Only the sound of the lawnmower…………….

Again broken hearted I drive south in the motor home that I had nicknamed Maude. She is a 23 foot, wide dowdy woman that meanders down the road in uncertain directions. Hubs, seeing my tears, is solicitous. He places his head in my lap as I drive. We travel about an hour and I pull into a camp site. I sleep fitfully for several hours. I awake hungry. We find a bit of food in the refrigerator, then stop at the first restaurant we come to. I eat a small portion, and Hubs enjoys the rest. We drive for several more hours and arrive at the last large town in Oregon before the California border. I find a motor home park to stay the night, and then go for a walk.

Not more than a few blocks from the motor home park is a bar with internet access. I find a table in the corner, then decide to get my computer and talk to my net buddies. I return with my laptop and take the corner table.

The corner table is perfect, I can see the whole bar and the people there, yet it is somewhat private. There are few people there when I arrived, and I log on to talk with my friends. Harley is upset because I am at a bar. He attempts to make cyber love to me as I sit there. I remove my clothes and tell him so. The bouncer tells me I have to get dressed if I want to stay. I tell Harley that a man is standing there helping him by touching me where he types that he is touching me. Harley leaves the chat in a huff, feeling rejected. I can’t make any man happy anymore, I guess. I start chatting with a good female friend that is also bi. We have made cyber love one time before tonight.

One thing leads to another, and we are soon chatting about sex. The tequila with beer chasers is aiding my growing sense of calmness.

As I chat with her, a continuous string of men pass by, feign interest in my laptop, then hit on me. I attempt to maintain a pleasant smile and fend them off civilly, but I may not have been totally successful. As Harley has told me, I can be a mean drunk. The chat with my increasingly good friend becomes intimate and specific, and aided by the tequila I start sharing my deepest fantasies with her. For the first time sense Jay left, I feel wetness between my legs.

The chat continues and I become very wet. I forget where I am and beg relief from Mistress Carla (newly acquired mistress tonight) and am granted, indeed ordered, to have an orgasm. I am a very noisy lover, and I did not remember to restrain my drunken ebullience. My excited screams catch the other patrons by surprise, and I received applause for my efforts. Not completely sated, I return to our highly sexual fantasy chat, and in my drunken state I again cum noisily. I again receive applause. This time a man gropes my breasts as I orgasm.
It occurs to me that I am past being responsible, and decide it is time to retire to Maude for the evening. Hubs is very glad to see me, and after I undress, supplicates me with lingual stimulation until I reach heaven twice more. I collapse into dreamless sleep, my legs wrapped around his neck.

I awake to a thundering hangover. But the pain in my head is not enough to quell the pain in my heart. I untangle myself from Hubs and rise. It is still early, so I walk along the streets thinking of how to soften the pain I feel inside.

When the stores open, I visit a sporting goods store and purchase a few items, then return to Maude and my devoted Hubs.

We check out of the motor home park and head south again, then turn west toward the forests of the Pacific Mountain Range. The roads lead us to higher elevations and the cool forests welcome our little traveling home.

I turn off the main road and travel until I am at the end of the dirt road. I can see a lake through the trees. I have seen no one else for over two hours. The afternoon sun is hot, and Hubs and I take an alpine bath in the cold waters of the crystal clear lake.

I open a new bag of dog food, and lay it on the floor so that Hubs will have plenty to eat. I refill his water. He sits there and looks at me with sad patient eyes. He refuses to eat or drink. He nuzzles my hand as if to say, “Pet me, I love you.”

I find several strong sticks lying on the forest floor that will meet my needs. I place pillows at both ends of the motor home couch, some for my hips, some for my head.

I lie down on them and adjust them until they are in the right position. I determine where to put the mirror so that I can see where I am going to work. I attach the mirror so that it is stable and will not move.

Taking the rope I have bought, I again lie down and tie my feet to the sides of the couch my legs spread wide and my uptilted worthless cunt fully exposed, fully visible in the mirror. My hips are supported by the pillows so that my body is fully exposed and will support anything that I lay upon it. Using the wooden stick, I tie my knees apart so that they will not flex as I work and thereby get in my way.

Using the fish hooks I have bought, I pierce my wet inner lips with the hooks in a manner that roughly positions them as I want them. Reaching for the stapler, I staple my ugly cunt lips together so that they will be nicely aligned. I reach for the curved awl.

Inserting the nylon fishing line through the eye of the awl, I begin my task of sewing myself together. I do not want another man to enter me there.

I sew myself neatly and take pride in the neatness of the stitches, pausing periodically to examine my handy work in the mirror. Several times I have to remove some of the stitches to re-stitch them as evenly as I want them to be. I want Mistress Carla to be proud of my work when she has her pleasure of me. I use paper towels to blot the copious blood that results from pulling long strands of nylon thread though the gouged openings, being careful not to stain the fabric of the couch.

Finally I am satisfied with my handiwork. I have left enough room for Mistress Carla to use me if she desires. I run the largest fish hook through my clitoris, piercing myself as I had fantasized and chatted about with her, for her use whenever she wants to cruelly use me there.
The pain in my heart is still overpowering the pain in my body.

I reach for the salt packets. Opening four, I steel myself and pour them onto my useless cunt. Listening to my own screams, I watch in the mirror as my fingers grind the salt into my bloody cunt lips, pulling and twisting the fish hooks, staples, and stitches. My screams slowly soften as my throat no longer responds to my brain. A finger is snagged by one of the barbs on the fish hook and I cannot get it off. In raging frustration at not being able to loose the pain in my heart, with my free hand I grab the fishhook that is piercing my clit and pull as hard as I can, feeling it rip through the tender useless meat. Blessed blackness envelopes me as I realize that even this is not enough to stem the pain in my heart.

In the darkness, I awaken to feel Hubs curled up next to me. At my first movement he raises his head and licks my face, caressing me with his own kind of kisses. I stare into the face of the only one I trust now.

Lying there, I savor the pain that totally encapsulates my body. Every part hurts. My finger is still attached to the barb of the fishhook, and my thumb on my other hand has been pierced by the hook that is only partly pulled through the meat of my clit. I feel the urgent need to urinate, and just let it come. In the light from the nearly full moon, I watch as the warm stream arcs through the air onto my chest, soaking my breasts and stomach. I push harder and the stream reaches my face, showering me with its liquid heat. I open my mouth and drink my own fluids. The stream slowly subsides, dribbling down my chin, then across my breasts, down my stomach, then disappears into its source.

I can vaguely see myself in the mirror. Both of my hands are trapped to my worthless ugly cunt by the hooks, and my lower body is red with dried blood. I realize with great disappointment that I have stained the sofa fabric with my blood.
Blackness again envelops me.

It is light now. I cannot see the clock, but the temperature of the air tells me that it must be early. I am shaking with cold. I am lying in urine and the wetness of it has irritated the skin of my back and bum. I smile as I feel the pain that cocoons me. Its welcome tentacles remind me that I can still feel something.

I can no longer feel my legs, and my hips are locked in their wide open position. The fishhook in my clit has finally torn through, and my left hand is now free to move. I caress Hubs, taking care not to use my thumb for fear of hooking him with the large sharp hook.

He nuzzles me to say “I love you.” He whines in his fear of my condition, then licks me to clean the urine from me. My dearest Hubs.

Looking in the mirror, I can see that my stitchery is indeed very nicely spaced. The nylon fishing threads have been uniformly drawn, and I am pleased with the tidiness of my work. I smile as I think of Mistress examining my work.

I again resolve to let the stitches remain until my unworthy lips have grown together, forming a seal over my worthlessness. If Mistress ever needs to use me there, I will cut it open for her. I decide to always carry a razor blade for the possibility that she might want to use me quickly. I will then be prepared to slice an opening to allow her her immediate pleasure of me.
Happy with that decision I close my eyes and wake again in early afternoon. Devoted, trustworthy Hubs is still at his post, caring for me and watching over me.

Looking in the mirror, I realize that my right hand is also free now. The hook has pulled through, and it is now only in my finger. I reach down and grind at my lips, trying to cause more pain in that horrible part of me. I can feel nothing there. I smile in victory. I have a dead cunt. NO one can use me there again and cause me pleasure. I have won!

My arms still work. I work slowly at freeing my knees, then my feet. They drop to the couch below. Poor Maude reeks of urine. I massage my legs to regain feeling in them. Hubs joins me in licking them. After some time they begin to respond and their color returns.

I let Hubs out to do his duty. He drops just outside the door in his obvious relief of what he has been holding all these hours. It takes a long time for him to finish. He searches for that perfect spot, finds it and then again hunches. I watch my only real friend as he returns to his own normality.

I step from the doorway and together we walk to the lake, enter, and I feel her coldness welcome my deadened body. I stay until I am blue, then leave her welcoming embrace of coldness. She has asked nothing of me other than to hold me. I have obliged her.
I take a bucket of water from her boundless supply, and return to clean what I can of the mess I have made. I pay homage to Maude for being there for me when I needed her privacy.
I take the mirror and inspect my worthlessness. I realize that I have five fish hooks still embedded, and now their barbs have also entered the flesh of my outer lips. They are deeply embedded, and I will have to pull them through my flesh if I am to free them.
I decide to enjoy their gift of pain as they work their own way through the flesh that is my worthlessness.

Using my nail file, I pry the staples open and remove them causing as much pain there as I can. The bleeding starts again, and I stand outside and let the blood run down my thighs. Eventually it stops running. After a bit the blood is caked. Naked and bloody, I walk through the woods, relishing the sharp throbbing pains that the embedded fishhooks gift me. I rub my thighs together to increase the painful sensations. I revel in the pain that I can cause her. I feel detached from her. I feel that she is my problem, and that this punishment is her just reward. I laugh as she throbs and mewls for relief. I slap her until she is red and bloody again. I let the blood run, adding to the caking upon my thighs, the proof that I can punish her for her transgressions.

I return to Maude and retrieve a leather belt. Standing in the forest, I beat her until I can not feel the blows. Again I walk about, feeling the embedded hooks in her worthless bloody flesh. I stop several times and beat her again to assure myself that she has learned her lesson well. I do not want her to forget this important lesson.

I fantasize that it is my new cruel Mistress punishing her, and I add all my strength to my strapping. I feel the skin give way and the blood starts to cum from all of her ugly parts, even my thighs. “GOOD!” I scream, “Take it all there, you useless worthless trollop slut whore cunt!”
I awake again, Hub is curled against me on the forest floor. The throbbing pain in my worthless cunt is greater than the pain in my heart and I know that I am getting better.

I lie there and realize that I am not rational.

I return to the lake’s cold embrace and bathe. Hubs watches me from the bank. The late evening chill is upon the forest. The privacy that this wonderful wood has provided is a gift that I ponder and marvel at. I open my mouth and drink from the lake. I feel the coolness enter my body and begin its healing process. I thank the lake for its wonderful gifts to me, how it has accepted me for the flawed human being that I am, and asked nothing from me in return.

I return to the shelter of Maude, and again inspect my ugly womanhood. Using pliers, I brutally remove the five remaining fishhooks from her, then also the two in my finger and thumb. The bleeding from her is minimal by now. I again wash myself in the sepulcher of the lake. This time I take soap and I remove the grime, blood, and urine of the previous week. My body feels the change in me and responds with the welcome horrendous pain from the abuse that I have inflicted upon it. I limp to my bed and collapse there, wet, exhausted, hungry, thirsty, and in horrible, welcome pain.

I am happy. I have made it through the worst of it. The memories of Jay are not as overpowering now. They are fading, however slowly, into the reaches of my sordid past.
I sleep, dreaming vivid dreams of deep multicolored canyons collapsing upon me as I crawl through them; trying to reach the safety beyond. I awake in a heavy sweat, and the overpowering physical pain returns. I reach for my laptop and start the next step in my healing process, I start to type my story for Mistress to read.