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My unsolicited sequel to DamonX's story Danielle's Revenge.
DamonX is an excellent writer. Unfortunately his plots are extremely aggravating. In the case of Danielle's Revenge, a new bride takes exception to her husband being with one of her friends before they were even engaged. She sets out for revenge, in a disgusting over the top fashion. It's a perfect case of unreasonable escalation.
In my mind, the escalation would likely continue. The level of disrespect, humiliation and torture were enough to ensure no reconciliation. The new bride turns out to be truly psychotic.
She's bound him, and made him watch her have sex with a stranger, acting like a total slut, and doing all the things she'd never do with her own husband, with 'Ramon'. She rubs his face in it, then leaves him bound and gagged, at the end of the story. At least at the end of DamonX's version.
I believe there's more to be said here... Fair warning, this is a really cruel and ugly one.
There are too damn many intriguing stories that are never completed. If I find a story that's been left hanging for too long, I'll give you my idea of an ending. Fair warning though, I don't write about total wimps. May not be BTB, all nuclear and shit, but no voluntary cucks, or whiny simpering wimps.
I don't want to step on too many toes, and hijacking an author's work is not what I'm intending. It's just that so many authors start up and then disappear. They do comeback, so I'm not going to jump on a story after a few months of inactivity. So here's what I've made as my own criteria for completing a story.
1) Writer has not submitted anything in over 2 years
2) The story has not been added to in at least 3 years
3) Story comments indicating a desire for the story to continue
4) Interesting enough premise to make it worth while to continue
or
Irritating enough that it makes me want to respond
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After wallowing in my misery and shock, I started to come to my senses.
I'd married a psychopath. No two ways about it. Sure, I'd had sex one time, nearly two years ago, with Michelle, before Danielle and I had even been engaged. We had been on the outs at the time, and I was considering moving on. Michelle made sure I knew she was available.
I guess the only real mistake is that they were such close friends. Other than that, I can't see anything wrong with what I did. I never did anything with Michelle since then, and made sure she knew, years ago, that although I enjoyed being with her, it would never happen again. I'd never done anything inappropriate since.
And this ways my new bride's idea of payback?
My hands were tied together, as were my feet. I was still leaning against the wall where she'd left me. The stench of their adultery hung over me, a miasma of treachery. My head ached from whatever she'd given me. The lousy bitch.
It wasn't easy, but I managed to crawl my way into the bathroom. Trust me, being tied up with your hands behind your back, and gagged is a pain. It must have been a good half-hour later before I'd managed to get my hands untied, using only a toenail clipper. The paucity of blood on the floor was a miracle. They ached fiercely as the circulation returned to them.
I was going to get revenge. No doubt about it. I ached for it. Could think of nothing else. I was going to start by documenting what she'd done. I went down to the station and reported an assault. I'd been tied up and drugged. I wasn't sure who'd done it, I told them. I suspected my wife, but God only knows why. I woke up in my bedroom. At their suggestion I went down to the local Doc-in-a-box, and had a full blood workup done. I told them I'd been drugged unconscious. I'd receive the toxicology report in a few days.
When I got home, my loving wife had still not returned. I started to wonder if her parting 'Goodbye dear' was meant to be final.
I hoped not. How would I get my payback if it was?
I made a few preparations, my anger building. Turned out I had plenty of time. She didn't return until almost 5:00 am. The lights were off downstairs as she'd left them, the light in the bedroom still on. I was sitting in the dark, waiting. Replaying her betrayal over and over again, in my mind. Every last detail as clear as if it was happening again. By the time she arrived I'll readily admit, I was partially unhinged. Furious.
She closed the door quietly behind her, and I could see she was moving gingerly. I almost laughed out loud at that. If she was sore now, we'd see how she was before too long.
Danielle didn't turn on the lights, she didn't call out. I was wondering if she was having second thoughts.
Too late for that, you evil bitch.
She walked down the hall carefully, and I got to my feet and followed quietly behind her. I was only a couple of steps away when she turned into the bedroom. "Honey?" She called out nervously, when she didn't see me.
Honey? Like I'd ever let the loathsome bitch use any term of endearment with me again.
I pushed her roughly into the room, slamming her onto the bed. She squealed and struggled, but I had 80 lbs on her. I had her hands and feet zip-tied within a few seconds, and I reached under her skirt and ripped her panties off. I shoved them in her mouth, and duct-taped them in place. I wasn't gentle.
She was obviously terrified, when I rolled her onto her side.
"So you're a whore, are you?" I smirked. "Good job choice. Consider me your pimp, you heartless cunt."
It took a little over an hour to get to the summer cabin. I drove her car, meticulously obeying the speed limit. She rode in the trunk. I figured I could use one of the dirt-bikes that we left up there to get home.
The small, three room building had been winterized, and was isolated enough for me not to have to worry about neighbors. At the last minute, I had a change in plans. Mr. and Mrs. Thompson had the cabin half a mile from ours. They rarely used it in the summer, and never in the winter. As with most of our neighbors, I had a key to their place for emergencies. This was an emergency if ever there was one.
There were a lot of advantages to using their place. They had solar power, so any electric use would be minimal. They had a garage, her car wouldn't be sitting out in the open. If anyone wanted to investigate her disappearance, they'd find out about our family cabin easily enough, it might be risky leaving her there. No reason to investigate the Thompson's. They were retired Snowbirds. They headed to Florida every winter. They wouldn't use the cabin for many months. They were paranoid of their belongings, and never rented or loaned the place out.
It seemed ideal, for my purposes.
The cabin was cold, but I started up the propane heater. I looked around, and figured it would do for now.
I dragged my dear sweet wife out back of the cabin, and hosed her down. She didn't seem to like it much, I'm sure the water was uncomfortably cold, it was, after all, mid September. She struggled a little when I tore her slutting clothing off of her, showing a bit more cooperation when I took out my knife to cut the last remnants away. I pressed the hose nozzle up her cheating cunt, and against her ass, rinsing her off good. Have to keep your property in good shape, you know.
