Ftds

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A wrongful revenge retaliation - my ending to simple49's Wrongful Revenge

http://www.literotica.com/s/wrongful-revenge

Simple49's story is another in the endless chain of The Troubador's "Hildy" (RAAC) wannabe's. Stories like Blue88's Ties That Bind (RAAC), K.K's It's The Same Old Story, Charlye Ace's June Gets Even (RAAC), DamonX's Danielle's Revenge, JPB's Alana Asserts Herself, Brian Was Bad, and Jumping to Conclusions. Stories where the wife decides for some reason to get revenge on her husband, ties him up and fucks someone else, usually his worst enemy, in front of him.

Does that kind of thinking EVER work out well? Not this time.

I like finishing stories. I guess I'm a little weird. Sometimes they are stories that have been abandoned. In cases like this, it's a story where the author has invited others to continue their work, as in The Troubador's & Patricia51's tradition. That or an invitational.

When offered the opportunity, 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.

Some of you won't like my endings. That's fair enough. I'm happy to hear your reasons. This is only one author's idea of a fitting resolution. You're welcome to try your hand at writing your own. I hope you enjoy this one.

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When Bob awoke in his hospital bed, he hurt all over. His head, in particular ached, and he reached up and felt the stitches. Whatever painkillers they'd given him weren't enough.

Once his eyes focused, he saw he had visitors.

"Mr. Sims? I'm Detective Mason, and this is Detective North. We'd like to ask you a few questions."

It didn't take long to get the story from him, and Bob didn't try to pull any punches. He explained the events of the night before, from the point of waking up, until he ended up in the ER. The detectives had a few questions, which he answered quickly and honestly. He also gave them the video he'd taken from the house, while leaving. With the corroborating story from the Halls who had dropped Bob off, they had all they needed. It was late morning by the time they had the paperwork in order, and a ten minute drive brought them to the address of the victim.

Carrie heard the knocking, and doorbell ringing that just wouldn't stop. She untangled herself from the pile of bodies surrounding her, her mind still fuzzy, her thoughts focused on how thirsty, sore and worn out she was. She grabbed the shirt the giant Scandinavian had been wearing, and wore it like a robe as she staggered to the door to stop the infernal racket.

She opened the door, the sight of the man and the woman on her doorstep finally clearing the mist from her thinking.

"Mrs. Sims? Carrie Sims?" The woman asked.

"Yes?"

"We have a warrant to search your home."

Carrie stepped backward, shaking, while they walked past her, barely avoiding a naked Asian man who exited one room to enter the bathroom across the hall. They paused in the hallway, taking in the scene, before walking into her bedroom.

Carrie followed them, and almost fainted when she saw the state of the bedroom. There was blood everywhere, the bed had collapsed, the posts were broken, and the ropes that had restrained her husband were bloodied and on the floor. The remains of the broken vase were laying where she'd left them.

"Do you want to tell us what happened here?" the police woman turned and asked the stricken wife.

"He cheated on me!" she snapped. "The bastard was fucking a woman in our bed. He deserved it."

Carrie's temper was a dangerous thing, and was coming back to the forefront, in spite of the evidence of her husband's injury. Sadly, she felt no remorse.

"So you tied him up, beat him, and made him watch you have sex with another man? Or should I say men?" the male officer sneered.

Danielle Mason examined the evidence. Everything seemed to fit the husband's sad tale perfectly. She nudged the vase with her foot. "This is the vase you hit him with?"

"I had to! Don't you understand? He was fucking that skinny ex-model whore in our bed."

Danielle sighed, pulling the handcuffs off of her belt. "Carrie Sims, you are under arrest for assault and battery, unlawful restraint, and attempted murder. You have the right to remain silent . . ."

Detective North walked down the hall, opening doors, telling the occupants to get dressed and come down to the living room. He called in the situation, and gathered all the witnesses together, while making sure none of them made a run for it. This was going to be a hell of a story back at the station. He wasn't looking forward to the paperwork.

Ben North noticed one of the men was skulking his way toward the back door. Ben cut him off, and directed him back to the couch, relieving him of the tape he was attempting to hide behind his back. The man argued vehemently, proclaiming his innocence, screaming he wanted to see his lawyer. The detective sighed. It was going to be one of

those

, he just knew it.

~ * ~ * ~

The interviewing room was busy most of the day. The modeling gigolos had their turn under the lights, explaining their part in the fiasco. None were even aware there was a husband involved, other than the fact that the middle-aged wife wanted revenge.

Tom Jensen on the other hand, made every effort possible to lie, even when the truth would have served him better. He lied about his initial involvement, about having sex with Carrie, about inviting the male models over, even about filming the event. Why would a man lie under such conditions? It was the kind of man he was, part of the reason his business wasn't the success that Bob's was. Tom was a liar and a scumbag. Something that wasn't lost on North and Mason.

The detectives never called him on his endless lies, letting him dig his own grave.

Sophia Jensen was brought in, and she was in tears half the time she was there, taking longer to get her story out than anyone else, even though she didn't have that much to say. It hadn't taken long for her to figure out what had happened. She'd been bombed the night before, but she did remember her husband escorting her out of the Hall's home. She remember the sexy teasing, and her husband undressing her and getting her worked up before she passed out. Now, in the aftermath, she understood her husband had taken her next door and left her in another man's bed. Why he would do that she couldn't understand. She felt hurt, betrayed, and was devastated by her part in the assault on Bob. She also remembered that he had given her the best sex she'd had in years.

The Halls were brought back in, to see if they could shed any more light on how things started. They recalled the circumstances of Tom's reappearance, asking if anyone had seen his wife. With Sophia's statement about being escorted next door by her husband, it became clearer the entire situation was a setup by Tom Jensen. The big problem was that it wasn't illegal. Despicable maybe, but not against the law.

It was late in the day when they got back to Carrie. She was over her anger, and now afraid.

"So, Mrs. Sims, you knew your husband was drunk, and you saw him leave alone, while you were 'dancing' with other men. Did you think he came back and took Mrs. Jensen back to your home for sex?"

Carrie didn't like to think about it. "I don't know. When I saw him with her, fucking in our bed, I didn't really give much thought to how he got her there."

The detective nodded. "Mr. Jensen, your husband's competitor, asked you to go over to your house with him, to find his wife. Would you care again to explain what happened when you got there?"

Carrie was exasperated, having to repeat her story once again. "I heard them first. I knew those sounds. When I turned on the light, I saw them going at it. He was screwing that slut. She started screaming, and he pulled away from her. The vase was there, on the table, and I guess I threw it at him."

"And hit him. Hard enough to knock him out."

"I didn't think it hit him that hard. I had to do something," she snapped.

"You didn't think it hit him hard? He was bleeding and unconscious. He never woke up while you planned your infidelity with the man who set you up, then you tied your husband up, and beat him while he was unconscious."

"Don't you think he deserved it? He was cheating on me! Fucking that slut in our bed! I was angry, is that any surprise?"

The other detective spoke up. "You never spoke to him? Asking him what happened? You just tied him up, gagged him with your panties, beat him black and blue, and made him watch you cheat on him?"

"I didn't need him to explain anything. I

saw

him. There was no question that he'd cheated on me. He needed to see what it was like."

Ben kept at her. "So you engaged in sex with the man you both disliked, then had him invite some more men over, and had sex with them as well. During this time, you never once checked on your husband? You didn't try to stop the bleeding? You didn't notice that he almost choked to death? You never heard the bed break? Once you'd finished with your first round of adultery, you didn't go in and check on the man you married?"

Carrie knew things weren't going well. "I . . . I think I need a lawyer," she finally said.

"No kidding. Go ahead, make your call. It's not going to make any difference," Ben sneered. "Some wife you are."

"But he cheated on me!" Carrie screamed.

Ben laughed. "I'm just surprised it took as long as it did. Married to a harridan like you, it's a miracle he put up with your shit as long as he did."

Carrie turned to the female detective, and recognized she'd get no sympathy there.

~ * ~ * ~

Carrie ended up accepting a plea deal, getting eighteen months in prison. It was a gift. She could have gotten up to twenty years, with what she was being charged with. With what she'd confessed to. She had to serve the full time, turned down for parole when she displayed the same temper in prison she had at home.

Tom Jensen's lawyer managed to finagle a plea as well, on the only thing they charge him with, accessory to felony unlawful restraint. He got off light, with probation and a fine of a $1000. He was unable to stop Sophia from divorcing him, having him kicked out of their home and served with a restraining order.

His business failed, when Bob made sure that any business Tom managed to attract was undercut and stolen, even if at a loss. Bob was not happy with Tom, and used his superior financial position to start his revenge. With no children at home, and no wife, he focused all of his attention on destroying Tom's livelihood, ruthlessly.

When Tom was discovered behind a local bar, thoroughly beaten and unconscious, a cursory investigation failed to turn up any leads. Detective North and Mason were in charge, and to nobody's surprise, they informed Mr. Jensen that there were no suspects, and they were closing the investigation, within 48 hours. They delivered the news to him in the hospital, where he had just undergone his third round of surgery to repair his knees, and was about to have an artificial testicle inserted to replace the one he'd lost from the beating.

After his third beating, Detectives Mason and North tracked down Bob Sim's in his new apartment.

They accepted a cup of coffee, and sat down with Bob in the living room.

"Mr. Sims," Ben North said, leaning forward. "I'd consider it a personal favor if the beatings to Mr. Jensen were to cease."

Bob smiled. "Are you accusing me of having anything to do with that?"

Danielle shook her head. "No sir, your alibi is unassailable. But it is making a lot of paperwork for us, and burning up valuable time that could be spent pursuing serious criminals."

"The slimy bastard deserves everything he gets."

Ben agreed. "He's a snake, a disgusting piece of humanity. I feel like I need to take a shower after every time I speak to him. That said, he's in pretty rough shape. He's lost both testicles, and he'll never walk without a cane. At the latest count, he's had fourteen bones broken, and a detached retina. He's deaf in one ear. I believe he's learned his lesson."

Bob was slow to respond. "I continue to assert I had nothing to do with Mr. Jensen's unfortunate luck, but I'll take our discussion under advisement."

Danielle spoke up. "We'd appreciate it. If anything more were to happen to him, I'm afraid we'd have to expend considerably more energy on looking into the issue."

Detective Mason and North didn't have to worry about any more follow-ups. Tom's last beating was enough to convince him that it would be healthier for him to move.

With Tom's treachery dealt with, Bob addressed his problems at home. He sold his business, for a song, if the legal papers were to be believed. The true amount he received for the business, was considerably less than it was worth, but still managed to net him a few million dollars in distributed offshore accounts. Bob had never been able to sleep in the house after that night, and it was sold at a distressed price, at a loss on paper, while his offshore earnings increased by a couple of hundred thousand.

By the time the divorce from his incarcerated wife went through, he was far more generous than he had to be. She would receive more than $80,000 when she got out. Approximately two percent of the money that Bob had managed to accrue outside of the country. Nearly double the 30% of their documented wealth the courts would have dictated.

Sophia didn't get much from Tom. There wasn't anything to be had. But she was a beautiful woman, with a good personality. It wasn't long before she was being courted, and she landed on her feet, married to a man who loved her, and was able to provide for her exceedingly well. The fact that he was much better in bed was a nice bonus.

Bob saw his wife one last time. Less than a week before she was to be released, he visited her for the first time in prison. It wasn't a conjugal visit.

She was sitting at the table, when he was directed into the room. The orange didn't look good on her. Then again, nothing about her looked very good. The time behind bars hadn't been kind to her.

"Hello Carrie," Bob said, taking a seat opposite his ex-wife.

He was barely seated when he saw her eyes tearing up. "Hi Bob. I'm kind of surprised to see you to be honest."

"How are you doing?" he asked.

"I've been better. I'm a forty-five year old convicted felon single divorcée whose kids won't have anything to do with her. I don't have much to look forward to." She was unable to disguise the bitterness in her voice.

Bob shrugged. "I'm unemployed, and lost the love of my life. I still have nightmares. I have a reminder of the worst day of my life I'll never get rid of," he replied, pointing at the white patch of hair on his head, a daily reminder of where his wife had hit him with the vase. They'd shaved that area of his head when they put in the stitches that fateful night. The hair had grown back paper white.

She took a moment to steady her breath. "I'm sorry for everything, Bob. I love you, can't you find it in your heart to forgive me?"

Bob gave her a sad smile. "You're forgiven baby. Totally. I still love you too."

Her grin made her beautiful again, and the tears she'd tried to restrain finally spilled over. "Thank you, honey. You'll never regret it. I'm getting therapy for my anger. I swear you'll never have to worry about me losing it like that again."

"I know, baby. You'll never hurt me like that again. Ever."

He sounded so cold when he said it. She felt a chill run down her spine. Her momentary joy dissipated quickly. "Forgiven, but that's all, isn't it?"

He nodded. "I'm sorry. I wish it could be otherwise. I know you were setup, we were setup. That bastard took advantage of your temper, and destroyed us. I wish I could get past it, but I can't. I don't trust you."

"It was a mistake, honey. You have to understand. What I saw, what it looked like, you with that woman in our bed. I overreacted."

"You put me in the hospital, and almost killed me. You fucked the man who destroyed us, eagerly, reveling in it, and you made me watch it. That wasn't enough though, was it? You had to continue your cheating with three more bastards, while I was undergoing surgery. Filming it, so you could punish me even more. The love of my life, the one person I trusted more than anyone else, the woman I had hoped to grow old with, did that to me. Your reaction to what happened was so extreme, so over the top, so hateful, I doubt I'll ever get over it."

She nodded slowly. "I did. I lost it. I'm sorry, and wish to God I never had. But you have to understand, you were screwing another woman in our bed. You really expect me to believe you thought it was me? You can't tell the difference between the tall skinny slut, and the woman you've been bedding for 20 years? You betrayed me, and you know you did. In our home, in our marital bed. I overreacted, but so did you. Putting me in jail, divorcing me without giving me a chance to make it up to you. Eighty thousand dollars? That's my share, after all I did for you, giving you two wonderful children, loving you all those years, supporting you, taking care of you. I screwed up once, and you certainly got your revenge, didn't you?"

"I did. I was angry. Perhaps you can understand why. You destroyed my life."

"And mine's so wonderful?"

"No, I imagine not. But you brought it on yourself. That said, when you get a chance you should thank your children. They've been working on me, and I guess after almost two years, my rage has faded. I've bought you a house near the boys, there's a new car in the garage, and I've invested a million dollars for you. If you're careful, you can live off the returns for the rest of your life."

"I don't want a house and money. I want you. I want you to give me another chance. I love you, and you love me. Don't let that bastard win. Splitting us up was what he wanted. One chance, honey, that's all I'm asking. Please."

Bob shook his head. "You don't understand, you can't. I had nightmares about that night for over a year. They finally stopped several months ago. Once I decided to come here and see you, they started again. I wake up screaming, in a cold sweat. They got worse, the closer the date came. I'm terrified of you, of what you're capable of. There's no way I could share a home with you, never mind a bed. I can't Carrie. God, I wish I could, but I just can't." He raised his hand, showing her how it was shaking. "Even now, Carrie, I'm afraid of you. I'm afraid you're going to explode, and come across that table at me. I'll never trust you again."

"I'm getting help. I know I screwed up, Bob. Maybe we could get you help."

"I did get help. It's the only way I can be here now. I understand what happened was out of your control, in many ways. That doesn't change how I feel. I wish it could be otherwise. I need to get away. I had to sell the house, I was never able to sleep in it again. Everything reminds me of what I had, what you did, and what I lost. I'll be moving away. I hope things work out well for you, Carrie. I really do. You didn't deserve what happened to us."

"Maybe . . . maybe in time, you'll be able to really forgive me. Not just say the words. Will you stay in touch?"

Bod nodded. "We share two sons. I hope to remain in their lives, which means that we'll always have that connection. Who knows what will happen?"

"Will you be here when I get out," Carrie asked.

"No. I'm leaving on a flight tomorrow. I'll be out of the country. I need to start over. The boys will be here. They'll take you to your new home." Bob stood and stepped away from the table. "I'm sorry. I hope your therapy works."