I apologise for this story briefly being pulled, but someone reported it. Frustrated that their attempt to one-bomb the story was unsuccessful (the score still rose over 4 before it was pulled) they invented a reason to report it. In the first 30 minutes of its first foray into the Lit world, i.e. before anyone even had time to read it, the story had 35 votes and was scoring near 1. Someone on this site has access to at least 30 votes. Please join me in feeling sorry for that person. They have nothing better to do with their life than take petty pot shots. Maybe they should re-divert their time to more healthy pursuits, like moving out of their mom's basement, actually getting a PhD or two, or finding an actual partner and having children.
Recently, there was a pickaxe handle free story event hosted here. Please accept this story as a 'palate-cleanser' after that. Thanks to Nancyharpman17 for contributing to this story and XTCH for editing services. CTC, only had to do a final polish.
This is another one about a man given two choices he doesn't like so he finds a third.
Warning, this is what XTCH said about this one, "Wow! When you go dark you really turn off all the lights." If you don't like extreme justice, better give this one a miss. It's about as extreme as my 'Dave and the Sociopath'.
In many cheating wife stories here, when caught, the cheater is remorseful. What if they aren't...
My apologies to anyone trying to contact me via the feedback portal. It still doesn't work. You can get me via CTC's and my joint profile, SemperAmare.
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Dave always keeps his promises. He drove home from work slowly, pondering the sad state of his marriage. Things were bad enough that a normal man would have requested a divorce long ago. But Dave wasn't a normal man.
He hadn't known Lisa well in high school, as she'd been two years below him. He remembered she'd been one of the late developers; plain and flat-chested long after her peers were well into womanhood. It wasn't until he'd graduated from university and moved back to town, courted and married her, that the disturbing conversations started. Not with her, but with fellow high school alumni. More than a few acquaintances expressed surprise that a rising star such as him would marry someone like her. Unable to resist, Dave had pressed them for details.
Dave built up a picture of a young girl who had confused sexual promiscuity with popularity. You saw them in school. The plain or overweight ones who put out because that ensured them lots of attention. The logic being, I have all these guys hanging around me, therefore I must be popular and attractive. To butcher a famous philosophical quote, I fuck therefore I am. Mature reflection proved the fundamental flaw in this logic. Teenage boys will screw absolutely anything. Dave surmised that Lisa had probably realised one day, one week, or one month, where she really stood in the beauty stakes, with the added suspicion that she was now a slut.
He suspected that even after she finally developed and morphed into the nice-bodied, well above average looking young woman, she still had major confidence issues.
Their eight-year marriage started out with the usual passion. Dave was world wise enough to know that the passion would fade over time, unless it was constantly the focus of effort on both their parts. He put in all the effort he possessed to keep things fresh, but that hadn't stopped their sex life dwindling to practically nothing over the last half year. In fact, he'd reached the point of giving up badgering her for sex, simply to avoid the smack in his confidence's face he inevitably received.
Thinking back on it, he was pretty sure he knew the reason for the abrupt cold shoulder behaviour. Since Dave, MD, had started work at the huge cosmetic surgery clinic three years prior, Lisa had been applying gentle pressure for some free improvements. Breast enhancement had been mentioned, as had face and ass lifts. This was when his suspicions about her fundamental confidence issues really solidified. He knew he was as biased as any husband, but he seriously believed Lisa was as perfect as could be and didn't need anything to improve her thirty-three-year old body. Certainly not enough to warrant the possible side effects of any treatment. Lisa appeared to lap up all his words and attention but still the gentle pressure remained.
At some stage in the silent battle, Dave's acquiescence to her demands, became linked to Dave's conjugal rights and his continued stubbornness became the cause of his continued frustration. Still he remained unmoved. One of the biggest problems was his fundamental disrespect of his patients. He knew he lived in a shallow society, where rich women were willing to risk all to look that little bit younger; that little bit better. Take Botox treatment, for example. Talk about truth in advertising. Botox is a contraction of Botulinum Toxin. Day after day Dave injected toxins into women that looked pretty good already, just to feed the dream that they could look as good as the airbrushed models gracing the glossy pages of the thousands of magazines out there. Every time he explained the risks; partial paralysis or worse, he might as well have been talking Chinese.
If forced to put a date on the last change in Lisa's behaviour, Dave would have said about five weeks prior. The secret smiles, the new glow on her face, the lips swollen, perhaps from kissing, and the subtle behaviour changes, adding up to the growing suspicion that Lisa might be fooling around on him. The main reason he was going home on time for once was to ask a direct question. It was time to bring things to a head. If she admitted cheating, then he would propose a quick, fair divorce. He no longer had the will to fight for his marriage. She could have no doubt that infidelity would end it, they had discussed it often enough.
The prospect of divorce did not alarm Dave. He knew exactly where he stood in the visual and social pecking order. The unremitting aggressive flirting he received from patients and clinic staff, constantly reminded him of that. It did disturb him slightly, though. Divorce was a failure of marriage and he wasn't used to failure.
He pulled into the driveway at 5.30p.m., wondering when the last occasion he'd returned home on time was. There was Lisa's car. There was also another car that looked vaguely familiar. A car way too scruffy to belong to any self-respecting woman. Besides, Lisa had very few female friends. With a premonition of dread, Dave entered his house. The sounds of two people enjoying sex assaulted Dave as soon as he opened the door. Feeling numb, he walked straight into the master bedroom. There was Lisa being pounded missionary style by a muscular blond man. On pure reflex, Dave walked to the bed, grabbed a handful of blond hair and pulled upwards. With a squeal, the guy lifted himself to stop the pain, allowing Dave to guide him to the other side of the bed and deposit him on his back. With shock, Dave recognised Stewart, one of the technicians from the clinic.
Opening her eyes at the sudden release of weight, Lisa looked at Dave. Making no attempt to cover her nudity she blurted, "Dave, this isn't what it looks like. I can explain." Shocked, Dave could only look from Lisa's relatively impassive face to Stewart's smug smile. With him totally at a loss for words, Lisa continued. "Well, that wasn't as much fun as I thought it would be. Bit of a waste really. Dave, darling, I don't suppose you'd agree to watch us, would you? That would be so hot for me. No, I thought not."
With her husband still standing mute by the side of the bed, Lisa reached under her pillow, pulled out a black device and quickly brought it to his thigh. The sudden 6,000 volts threw Dave to the floor. He realised it was the Taser he had protectively bought Lisa two years earlier. He registered nothing more until he felt a moist cloth being held over his mouth and nose. He only had time to sense an acrid, yet sweet smell, before everything went dark.
Dave dreamed. He was on a medieval rack torture machine. He was being crushed under a fallen tree. Something was licking his nose. Sudden light briefly pierced him as he opened his eyes, only to be obscured by a penis hovering mere inches above his face. In reflex, he tried to bring his arms up to push the owner of the member away. They wouldn't move. Confused by a flash, amongst many other things, he turned his head to the side. Well that explained his immobility. He saw his right arm secured to the bedpost of their king-sized bed by a scrap of what looked like torn up sheet. Out of his line of sight he heard Lisa say, "That will do. Come and have a look."
The weight was released as Stewart moved from his position straddling Dave's chest and walked to where Lisa was holding a camera. Dave briefly examined both restrained arms then tried to move his legs, only to discover they were also securely tied. He used all his considerable strength to attempt breaking his arm bonds by brute force but all it did was hurt his wrists. He focused on the conversation.
"Delete that one, it shows my face."
"Right. Oh, that's a good one. That's it, five is enough."
"Go and show our star, he's awake."