The following is the second episode in a new series, "Max Burnage." Each episode can be read as a separate story, but you may want to read the first installment to understand the full context.
The following was inspired by Athena_e19's 2007 story, "
Defending His Right
." In that story, a wimpy husband sought help after witnessing his wife get raped. Unable to protect her, he went to someone he thought could teach him how to fight. Instead, he became nothing more than a punching bag for the "teacher." Meanwhile, his wife and the teacher belittled and degraded him further, beating and cuckolding him. By the end of the story, the wife was full of ideas on ways to abuse and humiliate her already destroyed husband.
The names have been changed in this story, but the initial premise remains the same. Ralph Wilcox was first featured in my story, "Turning the Tables." Adrestia Rhamnousia is featured in my series, "Cheater's Gallery" and Elijah Jones is featured in "Justice."
As always, constructive comments are always welcome and appreciated. Please refer to my profile for more on my personal policy regarding comments, feedback, follows, etc. (Yes, I do moderate comments.) And remember, this is a work of fiction, meaning that it is not real in any way, shape, matter or form.
...
Introduction, by Max Burnage
My name is Maximilian Burnage, but you can simply call me Max. I was born Maxwell Burns, but changed my name after my wife and her cohorts targeted me in an illegal scheme that included a plot to murder me. With the help of two incredible individuals, namely, a Civil War veteran named Elijah Jones and an immortal goddess named Adrestia Rhamnousia, I was able to reclaim my life and get a measure of justice from those who sought to do me harm.
I spent three months at Camp Rollins, a facility in north Idaho set up to help men in situations like mine. After my return, I was, for all practical purposes, a completely new man. Adrestia bestowed upon me a gift, something she called a "command voice" that allows me to make anyone do anything. With her guidance and Eli's tutelage, I have learned to use that gift for the good of those who seek my help.
After I dealt with my now ex-wife and her accomplices, I started the Burnage Agency to help people deal with cases of extreme marital betrayal and infidelity. Both Eli and Adrestia have lived up to their promises, providing me with the tools and the guidance to do my job. Adrestia even provided me with the software and systems I would need to monitor anyone, anywhere on the planet.
And for those who are wondering, yes, Adrestia and I are in a fully-committed exclusive relationship. It's a bit difficult to explain -- maybe I'll do that in an upcoming episode.
I'm an accountant by trade, and not a writer, so I am grateful that Saddletramp1956 accepted my invitation to shadow me on some of my cases. This is just one of my stories. At my request, the names of those involved have been changed to protect the innocent.
...
Ryan Davis looked at the door simply marked, "Burnage Agency," and wondered if he was doing the right thing. He had seen a pop-up ad on the Internet that said he should immediately visit the agency and was intrigued. The ad said no appointment was necessary and simply gave an address. Surprised that it was located in his home town, he drove to the address and took the elevator to the fifth floor.
He turned the knob and opened the door. When he walked inside, he was greeted by a slim brunette receptionist in business attire. Looking around the office, he felt as though he had stepped back in time.
"Good morning, Mr. Davis," the receptionist said with a smile. "Please come on in. Mr. Burnage has been expecting you," she added, pronouncing the name, "bernahj."
"He has?" Ryan asked, a bit shocked.
"Of course," she said, standing up. "Right this way, please." He followed her to a door marked, "Private." She tapped on it twice before opening it. He walked inside and noticed a smoky haze in the office. A well-built man in a dark business suit sat behind a large wooden desk. He looked up as they walked inside.
"Good to see you, Mr. Davis," he said, extending a hand. "I'm Max Burnage," he added. "Please, have a seat." He looked at the receptionist before speaking again. "Sally, would you please bring us some fresh tea?"
"Of course, Mr. Burnage," she said, walking back into the front office.
"You knew I was coming here to see you?" Ryan asked Max.
"Of course," Max said.
"But how did you know that?" Ryan asked. "I never even called."
"The wonders of targeted Internet marketing," Max said. "My better half is a whiz at that stuff." Ryan noticed a picture of Max and a very lovely blonde on his desk and pointed at it.
"Is that her?" he asked. Max smiled as he looked at the photo of him and Adrestia. He nodded his head.
"Yes," he said. "That's her. I'd be nothing without her."
"You're a very fortunate man to have someone so lovely supporting you," Ryan said.
"I wholeheartedly agree," Max said. By then, Sally returned with two large cups of hot tea. She set one down in front of Ryan and handed the other to Max, who took a sip. "Perfect, Sally, thank you." He looked at Ryan as Sally left the office, closing the door behind her. "Go ahead, take a sip."
"This is delicious," Ryan said after taking a sip. "I've never tasted anything like it."
"It's my wife's personal blend," Max said. "I find it to be... most invigorating. In many ways."
"Yes, I agree," Ryan said. Max picked up a pack of cigarettes and pulled one out.
"Mind if I... smoke?" Max asked. Ryan shook his head.
"No, go ahead," he said. "It's your office." Max lit the cigarette and Ryan was surprised it gave off almost no odor whatsoever. He was equally surprised when Max offered him one.
"Go ahead," Max said. "One won't hurt you." Ryan had never smoked, and considered declining, but something in Max's voice compelled him to take one. He put it in his mouth and inhaled when Max lit it for him. He halfway expected to choke on the smoke, and was surprised when he didn't. Between the tea and the cigarette, he found himself feeling strangely relaxed.
"May I call you Ryan?" Max asked.
"Please do," Ryan said.
"Thank you," Max said. "Tell me about your situation."
"Well, it all began about a year or so ago," Ryan said. "My wife, Jessie, and I had just got back from a night out with friends. That's when we were accosted by two big guys who raped her. I wasn't able to help her at all and I ended up simply watching as they took her over and over again."
"Did you ever report the rape to the police?" Max asked. Ryan shook his head.
"No," he said. "That was at her insistence."
"When you say you weren't able to help her, do you mean that you were held down at gunpoint or forced to watch by the rapists?" Max asked. Ryan shook his head again, looking down. He was clearly embarrassed.
"No," he said quietly. "I, uh, wimped out. I simply laid there and whimpered like a baby. It's like I had no fight in me whatsoever. I can't explain it." He began to cry.
"It's okay, Ryan," Max said calmly. "People react to situations like that in very different ways. It's like a soldier who experiences combat for the very first time. Some people run, others fight, and then there are some who, like you, simply freeze up. I take it you're one of those who prefer not to fight. Am I right?"
"Yes, you're right," Ryan said. "I've never been much of a fighter. And no one's ever taught me how to fight."
"So, after the rape, what happened?" Max asked.
"Well, things between my wife and I got strained," Ryan said. "It's like she was ashamed to even be around me. I decided to do something about it after a couple weeks. I swore that I would learn how to fight so I could protect my wife if anything like that happened again."
"Sounds reasonable," Max said. "Go on."
"I found a place that said they taught mixed martial arts, so I went there," Ryan said. "I had hoped I could learn something."
"Let me guess," Max said. "The instructor didn't teach you anything, did he?" Ryan shook his head. "He just beat you up and sent you home with a black eye, didn't he?"
"Yes," Ryan said. "Then Jessie got upset that I went without telling her. She thought it was funny that I would even try to learn how to fight. Then she started going with me. And that's when the really bad stuff started happening."
"You mean, between the instructor and your wife?" Max asked.
"Yes," Ryan said. "The teacher, Jim is his name, would simply have me attack him. Then after he beat me, he would work with Jessie. He actually taught her some moves and then the two of them would gang up and take turns beating me."
"Did this 'Jim' even teach you anything?" Max asked.
"No," Ryan said. "All he did was beat me and berate me."
"So he took your money but taught you nothing, is that right?" Max asked.
"That's right," Ryan said. "And after they were finished beating me, they would have sex, right there in the ring, in front of me. The whole time they would berate me and humiliate me even further."
"How long have you been married, Ryan?" Max asked.
"Two years when this all started," Ryan said. "Three years now."
"Have you considered divorce?" Max asked. "Or going to the police? It sounds to me like you would have grounds to have your wife charged with spousal abuse and assault."
"I've considered divorce," Ryan said. "I even talked to a couple of attorneys, but they told me I'd basically be screwed. I never thought about going to the police. Truth is, I'd be too embarrassed. I've been laughed at enough. I just want it to end."
"You know, there is a facility that helps men in your situation," Max said. "It's a three-month program, but I think you would benefit from it. I know I have."
"You mean Camp Rollins?" Ryan asked.
"Yes, Camp Rollins," Max said. "You've heard of it, then."
"I have," he said. "I saw their ad on the Internet and checked them out. Problem is, I can't afford it, and my insurance wouldn't cover it. Otherwise, I'd go in a heartbeat."
"Tell me honestly, Ryan," Max said. "Do you love your wife?"
"Truthfully, right now, I don't know," Ryan said. "Part of me still does, but a part of me wishes she would just go away and die. She won't even let me touch her, and she brings Jim into our apartment and fucks him in the bed I used to sleep in. Then she expects me to clean her up with my tongue. She's done even worse than that. I can't stand living there anymore. I've even thought about killing myself. I can't take it anymore."
