26/07/2025
Seven Days to Burn
I used to think I was in control.
People called me “Alpha male.” I commanded rooms, made decisions that scared men and attracted women. But deep down, I was tired. I was tired of always being the one with the power 360 days a year.
All I ever wanted was to be dominated completely. To surrender control. I never told anyone; how could I? In a world where people worship strength, no one understands the hunger to kneel and submit.
I just wanted someone else to take control. Is that too hard to ask?
When I married Linda, I picked her carefully, like I picked my friends, my habits, my life. She was submissive, soft-spoken, yansh and brezz in portable sizes. The perfect wife.
She obeyed every instruction, never questioned me. But my fantasies were bigger than obedience. They were wild, dangerous… unspeakable like the action and k!lling movies my wife was obsessed with.
I assumed I could control her to learn to control me. I was wrong!
The first time I shared one of my deepest kinks with her, we were making love, and I told her to spit on me—she recoiled as if I’d turned into lucifer himself.
She nearly called both families and our pastor for intervention. Called me names, ritualist, yahoo boy, demon possessed. After that, I buried it. I would rather kpai than tell her my real fantasies.
Reason am, how can I open my mouth and tell my wife that my greatest fantasy is watching her getting fvcked by two strangers while I watched… or pleasuring her while she pretended nothing was happening during one of her live business streams on IG and TikTok
The idea of her struggling to keep a straight face while I’m between her legs in front of thousands of people watching, makes me hard
Well, I gave up on ever fulfilling my desires —until Cassandra.
We met online, debating s3xual taboos in Africa. She was bold, unfiltered, alive in ways I had never seen.
I knew what was coming, so I reached out to my trusted segz plug—Klassic waves fashion store on IG and TikTok then I chatted them on WhatsApp (WhatsApp +234 815 056 3070), and ordered my toys, male mastvrbators, cuffs, low-temp romantic candles, whips, mask, costumes— you name it! they had it. Discreet, fast, no questions asked.
When Cassandra and I finally met, she didn’t hesitate. She owned me— told me to kneel. I obeyed. She spat on me, slapped me, chained me, made me bark like a dog, then urinated on me.
I had never been so alive.
Cassandra became my addiction. No limit, no judgment, no shame. She was my genie and fulfilled all my wishes.
I watched her get fvcked by two men while I stroked myself raw. We role-played as doctors and nurses, did things Linda would call “abominations.”
My favorite was wax play, Wax play is therapeutic for me, so I brought out the dripping hot, low-temp candle I got from , unlike your regular candles, they burn at a lower temperature, so you can enjoy the heat on your body without worrying about causing injury.
Cassandra laid down and allowed me pour wax over her naked body and watched it dry while she moaned.
But every addiction has a cost, and mine came with hers: “My fantasy,” she said one night, “is to watch you with your wife. And when you’re done, I join you both.”
I laughed so hard tears were coming out of my eyes. I told her it’s easier for her to become the president of Nigeria than getting my wife to do that and she should just forget about it.
But Cassandra wasn’t laughing. “You owe me,” she whispered. “Every fantasy you’ve had, I’ve given you. Now it’s my turn.” I want to watch a married couple together, and join them. Make it happen.
When I said no, she sent me a video—me, naked, chained, barking, covered in her urine.
“Seven days,” she said. “Make it happen, or the world sees this. All of it… and then some”
Day one: I begged.
Day two: I offered money.
Day three: I considered running.
Day four: I tried deleting every account I owned.
Day five: I prayed.
Day six: I sent Linda and the kids to her parents… then invited Cassandra over.
The doorbell rang. Cassandra walked in with a smile that could cut glass.
Behind her… was Linda.
My wife, confused but calm, held Cassandra’s phone. “She sent me a video,” she said. “Told me to come see for myself.”
My stomach fell into my feet. I couldn’t breathe
My wife’s face darkened as she scrolled through all the videos. Her breathing changed.
“I didn’t trust you, so I invited your wife. Now, let’s make this fantasy real.” Cassandra said grinning
I was enraged at Cassandra, I was shouting at her asking why, when Linda came out of the kitchen and walked over to Cassandra holding her phone —smiling.
“I never knew you liked to watch,” Linda said, voice low. “I’m gonna tell you a secret, I have a fantasy too,” Linda said quietly. “I like to watch… people die.”
Before I could react, Linda pulled out the kitchen knife she must have hidden behind her back and slashed Cassandra’s throat in one clean motion. Blood sprayed everywhere. Cassandra dropped, gasping, eyes wide with disbelief.
I stood there, mouth open, as Linda dragged me into the bedroom and locked the door. “Stay here. We’ll talk after I’m done handling your mess,” she said, her eyes cold.
An hour later, Cassandra’s body was gone. Phone—smashed. Every incriminating video—wiped. Linda came back, covered in sweat but calm.
Three weeks have passed. I still don’t know how to process what happened—how my quiet wife turned into something fierce, dangerous even and in control!
Last night, she whispered in my ear: “Next time you have a fantasy, tell me first.”
And then… she spat on me.
“I own you now!”
That’s the last thing my wife said… right before she urinated on me.
⸻
THE END
©️Ajebo Writer
©️Kingdavid Chinaeke Ofunne
