The following was inspired by Hidden_Submissive's post, "A New Cuckold Ch.01," in which a husband finds his marriage and his life turned upside-down by a wife who decides to take total charge of her marriage and her husband. The characters in this story are different and the story is written in the third person rather than from the husband's perspective, but the basic premise remains the same.
As you can imagine, I decided to give the wife in this scenario a healthy dose of the "Saddletramp treatment."
Is it realistic? Not really, and please do not consider anything here to be actually scientific, as this, after all, is fiction, and not reality. If you want reality, watch the evening news. If, on the other hand, if you want to read about a man who takes back his life and gets revenge against a brutal, ungrateful, overbearing, masochistic, scheming, cheating spouse, then strap yourself in and enjoy the ride. You have been warned...
Additionally, I made mention of a character from my "Revenge in Advance: A Sequel" series and another character from two of my "Cheating Zone" stories.
As always, constructive comments are welcome and appreciated. And remember, this is FICTION, not a docu-drama.
*****
Bill Dalton pulled into the driveway of his house and looked at the outside of the two-story structure. At one time, he considered this "home," but in the last few months, it had become his personal Hell, thanks to his uncaring wife, Sara. At one time, he loved that woman and would have done anything to keep her happy. That's why he worked so hard. But now, that love had been burned away and had been replaced by revulsion and hatred.
It was three and a half months ago that he came home after a grueling 12-hour work day at Olson Enterprises, where he worked as an account executive, to be told by his wife that she was bored. Because of that, he was to be her slave, and from that time on, she referred to him as "slave," never by his real name.
That first night, she slapped a chastity device on his genitals and forced him to suck a plastic penis. She ordered him to fix her dinner and bring it to her in bed. Hoping to get back in her good graces, he complied.
But it didn't work. In fact, things only got worse as Sara spent her days devising new ways to torture, emasculate and belittle him. Now, he was expected to work 12-hour days, then come home and do all the household chores. If he wanted clean clothes, he had to do the laundry. If he wanted a clean house, he had to do all the housework. If he wanted to eat, he had to cook. Then he had to satisfy his wife's masochistic desires.
Many nights, he didn't get to sleep until 3 am, only to get up at 6:30 and start all over again. Some nights, he got no sleep at all. Sometimes, he went nearly three days in a row without sleep.
And it got worse with each passing day. She took his ATM card and his credit card, handing him just enough money for gas and food. He learned to cut back, putting a few dollars away, hoping he could leave Sara behind once and for all.
Then she decided he wasn't worthy to eat at the dinner table, even though he did all the cooking and all the housework.
"Where am I supposed to eat?" he asked her. Sara clamped a collar around his neck. Attaching a leash, she dragged him to the floor where she had placed a dog dish. She dumped his food in the dish and ordered him to eat it there.
"What?" he asked. "Don't I even get a fork?" She laughed.
"You're no better than a dog. Eat it like a dog if you're really that hungry," she ordered. "EAT!" He looked at the mess in the dish and picked it up, but she knocked it out of his hand, spilling the contents on the floor. "No hands," she said. "Lick it up like a dog." He looked at the mess on the floor and decided to take a pass. "Fine, starve," she hissed. "See if I care. And clean that mess up!"
And she got even more brutal with her plastic strap-on dildo. One night as he slept, she pulled down his underwear, opened his legs, tied him up and rammed the thing into his ass with no warning or lubrication. He woke up suddenly, screaming from the pain. His cries fell on deaf ears as she kept ramming the thing inside him, tearing his rectum. She kept it up until she had an orgasm, then dumped him on the floor and left him, crying in pain and humiliation.
He begged with her, pleaded and made promises, but Sara refused to listen. She made it clear his job was to bring home money and serve her in whatever sick and depraved way she desired, no questions asked.
One day, he sat at his desk and noticed his hands shaking. He looked around his office and took stock of the photos of him and his wife in happier times. That's when he realized that he had become what he most hated - a wimp. Never had he raised his voice to his wife or asserted himself in the marriage. Everything he did was to please her. But it was all for naught.
He spoke to attorneys and was given the bad news - that he lived in a "no-fault" state and worse, the courts were heavily aligned against men. Sara would end up getting at least half of his pay for the next three years and he would be required to maintain the mortgage and utilities on the house. She would also get half of his retirement and at least half of all their assets. He did the mental math. That would leave him with almost nothing, practically forcing him to live in his car.
The only other choice he had was to simply put up with the abuse, since, he was told, the authorities rarely, if ever, took action against abusive wives. Worse yet, the lawyer said, Bill would become even more of a laughingstock as his plight would become a matter of public record.
He had even contemplated suicide a couple times, but realized that Sara would benefit from his $500,000 life insurance policy. He thought about killing her, but he didn't want to spend the rest of his life in jail being Bubba's "bitch." Plus, he really didn't think he could actually do something that drastic.
He read a few stories online to see what other men in his situation had done, but realized he didn't have access to the resources he would need to extract himself from the relationship. He found many of the stories entertaining and some that were way "out there," but he realized there wasn't going to be any Special Forces types, trained assassins or ancient mythical goddesses of justice saving him at the last minute. He shook his head at some of the comments left by readers.
In short, he was doomed, with no way out. Walking into his private office restroom, he looked at himself in the mirror and didn't recognize the man who looked back at him. While he was never "ripped" or "buff," he always tried to take good care of himself. But the man in the mirror looked like a shell of himself and he noticed that he had lost some of his muscle mass. What's going on, he asked himself. Once upon a time he was a fairly successful account executive who received respect wherever he went.
Now he was just "Wimpy Bill," trapped in a loveless, sexless marriage to a shrew of a woman who had no respect or love for him. Her abuse had left him hungry, weak, emasculated and shaking. And now, his work was beginning to suffer, and others had noticed as well. Bill got up and threw the photos in the trash. This ends, now, he told himself.
That night, he came home to find a motorcycle in the living room and a big, burly, greasy man sitting on his couch with Sara, naked, riding his cock. They looked at him as he walked in.
"Oh, hi, slave," Sara said. "This is Bruno. He's going to take care of my sexual needs from now on, okay? He might even get me pregnant and we can have those children you said you wanted. Maybe if you're a good little boy, I'll let you eat his cum out of my pussy. Now, go fix our dinner and do your chores." The long-haired greaseball laughed.
"Yeah, cuck, go serve your mistress while I fuck her brains out. Oh, bring me a beer, willya?" They laughed as Bill brought Bruno a beer.
