CHAPTER 1
Sylvester Tweed violated his wife's rectum, ignoring her screams that she'd changed her mind, and inflamed in desire he rammed her into a submissive blubbering heap. Tweedie as he liked to be called, was upset sufficiently by his wife's uncooperative attitude and unseemly behavior with so much crying to suggest perhaps they ought to split up.
Rita didn't even need to think. She shouted "Yes!" and Tweedie who prided himself on his popularity and had only made that offer to make his wife plead for a second chance began to panic.
"But why," he bleated.
"Because you're an insensitive moronic asshole who deserves to have his nuts cut out, that's why."
Aghast, Tweedie shouted: "Then go ahead an divorce me and pay the costs you stupid bitch. You'll not get a dollar beyond my paying my share of legal fees. Fucking you is like fucking a dead coyote."
The 35-year-old brunette Rita didn't bother asking how was he able to make that comparison. But she made a mental note to throw the carcasses of 10 coyotes into the pool and then to kick her insensitive, self-centered husband in after them.
The couple had no children, although they'd tried for pregnancy in the two months before marriage and in the three years since marriage. The small-minded business owner assumed Rita would walk away with next to nothing and smiling he signed the papers and returned them to the attorney Rita had hired without bothering to read what he was signing or looking into all aspects of divorce.
It was only when the 45-year-old was called to a settlement conference and contacted his own attorney that he learned his much younger wife had a legitimate claim on half of their joint assets including the business, in which Rita had been working as company accountant and secretary and was listed as holding 48% of stock, and their mortgage-free home. The company leased their cars.
Tweedie was gutted and pleaded with Rita not to proceed with the divorce but she remembered the pain of his anal assault and humiliation and said just two words: "Drop dead."
When it was all over following the court order confirming the negotiated settlement based on a clean break between the couple, Tweedie was almost insolvent. The house sold below market value, his ex-wife taking half the net proceeds and he'd borrowed to the hilt to pay her $1.87 million for her share of the assessed valued of their business he'd made over to her at the time of their marriage. Tweedie was anxious to be seen as a successful operator because the Professional and Business Association had chosen him to contest the Lambton City mayoral election. There was wide dissatisfied with the incumbent Mayor who since being elected two terms ago had divorced his wife and married a former night club stripper.
Following her divorce settlement Rita reverted to her maiden name of Riley.
Divorcee Riley thought she'd date a dozen or so guys and then find a suitable guy to marry, definitely a guy not into anal sex.
Simple. A brilliant strategy, or so she thought.
She had returned to live with her parents while sorting out her life and replaced their ageing sedan with a new one of his father's choice but unhappily she was unsuccessful with romance, being forced to pay for sex because no one had come calling.
She chatted to the madam of the brothel about her predicament.
"Rita your problem is you live in a rather small community. Everyone who matters has heard word from your ex-husband you lost your temper and rammed a broom handle up his ass and that's why he divorced you. No man in this city will touch you now. That's why my elite male worker Frank insisted on handcuffing you before having sex with you and you may have noticed he hand a butt plug inserted and insisted I lock our broom cupboards."
Rita gritted and said she'd sue Sylvester Tweed and sighed when Mrs Smith warned if she took Mr Tweed to court then everyone would know full details. The news media would report a the case of the husband's allegation of Rita slamming a broomstick up his ass and then Rita giving her explicit version of what really happened to trigger divorce action.
"My dear I suggest you are done in this city. With the alleged broomstick story spreading through bars like wildfire you're being cast into a sexual wasteland. No man and for that matter no woman will wish to associate with you sexually. That means you are being classified as a pariah.
Rita went home depressed and wondering how a retired prostitute running the city's most discreetly sited brothel was aware of the existence of a word like pariah. She recited to herself a memorable line from childhood reading that she revisited in English studies at high school and also at college. It came from Mark Twain's 'Tom Sawyer': 'Shortly Tom came upon the juvenile pariah of the village, Huckleberry Finn, son of the town drunkard'.
She left the city and drove for almost 280 miles before turning off the interstate and booking into the Social Outcast Motel although it was actually named the Flamingo.
Miraculously she attained release to her sexual frustration. In the bar after dinner a guy came up to her and offered her a cigarette. She said no she didn't smoke and he said he didn't either and she thought that was a little strange. He bought her a drink and then another and then to her astonishment this guy calling himself Gilbert invited her to his room to watch TV.
She said okay.
Well that guy was really, really lucky. They didn't switch on the TV and he had a rather small dick but Rita was so thrilled to be hauled out of the wilderness of sexual deprivation that she had poor Gilbert holding on to the bars of the bed-head for dear life as she bucked him, screwed him, and yodeled very badly riding him cowgirl. During Gilbert's battering they both came four times before she ran out of steam.
Poor Gilbert. He was covered in sweat and appeared half dead but the heavy panting suggested life was left in him.
"Please go now," he pleaded. "Please go."
"Thank you for extricating me from the sexual wasteland."
"Shove off, you're talking rubbish and I need sleep."
Rita dripped her way into his bathroom and showered and when leaving for her room saw poor Gilbert on his back with his mouth wide open and breathing like she'd image someone would breath like running up the mile-long steep include. The silly man; he shouldn't fuck someone like Rita Riley unless he believed he'd last the distance.
Rita decided to stay another night at the motel and in the bar after dinner and guy hit on her. She decided she ought to make some cash out of being in demand.
"All right I'll come to your room for four hours but it will cost you five hundred bucks."
"What are you mad? I've never paid for it in my life."
"You are the one who is mad arrogantly thinking you can get casual pussy without charge. Fuck off you miserable man."
The guy fled.
About twenty-minutes later, a guy who'd been eying Rita came over and invited her to his room.
She said sure and she'd stay with him for four hours but it would cost him five hundred bucks.
He finished his whisky and looked her over.
"What about two-fifty and we dispense with anal?"
Rita agreed immediately. Hell she'd forgotten about guys wanting her ass.
'David' as the guy claimed his name was a skilled seducer and worked on Rita until she was near liquidized in ecstasy before he shafted to her and was obviously delighted that she banged back with vigor and unlike many of his casual women didn't squeal like a stuck pig into release well before he was ready to fire.
"You're very good."
