A Wife Taken Away

Sprawled out across light downy bedding the tall dark haired woman fixated on the void above her, examining the ceiling above her while she thought of whether to close her eyes and pretend to sleep. It had been several years, the journey here, perhaps the longest and most difficult journey's she had yet experienced in her own young life; the peaceful settled life so many of her friends had envied long past, and what was once hers, new home, loving and successful husband gone.

Now she lay in the cold basement of an unfinished house, the room next to her heavy with the shuffle and noise of excited drinking. Heavy breasts so normally the pride of her physique now weighed as a small reminder of all the reasons she now lay here. Those items which remain were soon reflected when at last she turned, pulling her form from it's center to cross down to sit at one side of the bed, facing a mirror.

It was her image she looked up to, a proud woman still sometimes, but seemingly less and less these days. She admired to her guilt the figure she had sculpted over the years, butt, waist, chest. Excruciating with her schedule; diet, exercise, work, and rest; never-mind an appointment here or there, the seminars, lectures, parents, staff, students... her mental list went on, it made her shudder. Inhaling there was a force she took from the air, some of the excess from the next room, with it she expelled the thoughts from her head as she again opened to what she saw.

Long toned legs, wide hips. Nice ass, her husband would say, the fire this once would lit slowly lost in these past years. Waist and chest, one narrow, one heavy with firm breasts she'd change for no other, massive man sized handfuls; the kind waiting for her in the next room, rough hands. She shuddered, the thought passing to near her present mind, a thought she was not ready to commit or confront.

Finally, sat upon its graceful neck, she inspect her face with it's crown of red auburn hair and slight angelic feature; she admired the sun kissed skin hiding the light freckles across her nose, blue grey mottled eyes as deep as wells and wide as saucers, they had no tears just now. Opening, a deep sigh exited her lips, brightly painted lobes, naturally plump they were defined so, so better in her favorite red.

Pouty her father used to tease; the thought of that man's description of her own once decent mouth made a breath catch her throat; it was not so much of that single memory of dad, but of it's contrast of what she'd done with her lips since, and what she was about to do. Tears welled around her eyes then, it was almost fear that did it, and it made her shiver, made her stare into that mirror admiring elegant features and still want to cry.

She could never understand, not if given every living day in the rest of her or husband's living lives, what madness had brought her life to this increasingly pitiful existence. She thought of Jon, and the life they were building, the home much like this that Aaron had helped them build. He was an old friend, well, a friend of Jon's family. There was trust there, but truth be told a man like Aaron was everyone's 'old family friend'.

The man knew everyone, and in his work those contacts were only that more deep. There was not a single builder in her state of any size or consequence that did not personally know Aaron, and there was a list that never hesitated to make time for his projects, or his favors. Megan had slowly discovered just how this man managed the latter.

The bastard had infected their lives, been their friend and confidant through the long hours of helping them plan, budget and build; he had twisted everything, seduced her, manipulated her, made that flame that has been cold so long burn so bright it could vaporize the ocean. When he had first used her, it had felt of love, of passion, she'd never been with someone one that had so totally shook her to the very essence of her being.

It was magnetic, and ever time she'd seen him after that day after she'd melt, the quiet house 'meetings' during work hours, swinging by late to 'check plans' and 'verify schedule', so captured she'd greedily take five minutes of physical contact with that man, and lose an entire day with her husband. She had cancelled a business trip to spend at his camp in northern Michigan, for three days she lost her mind in a bliss she would never forget, even in this torment.

That was two years ago, and her house had long since been built. These long years had strained, it had strained her health, it had strained her marriage and it had strained her career, all because she was still spending so much time with Aaron. Though these days it was no longer to see him, not to melt as she once had, there was no romance. These days she was discovering just why so many of his clients were young, cash strapped couples, and just why it was so very easy to make the budget stretch once the subcontractors had begun seeing her in person.

It had also been long since she had allowed Jon to touch her, her love not wanting for that man to sleep with such a cheap whore. That is what she was now, that noise that was next door was proof enough. This is what whores did, and Aaron with his party and nearly a dozen other men, this would be her first night doing so many like this. Knowing that she wasn't the first either, that pained her, that he could do this to so many. When she had learned that her friend Rebecca has suffered similarly, that was the day she stopped trying to help herself.

It was infrequent, one or twice every six months, she'd arrive and Aaron would bring her to the basement of an unfinished home. She sometimes wondered what poor woman had been raped like this in the basement of her own home sometimes, she thought it may be Rebecca, finding a long strand of brunette hair in her downstairs shower when she had first cleaned it.

It made her sad to think that her sweetest friend, the petite little woman she'd grown through high-school and college had been gang raped in her own home. If not hers though, it had happened. She had been strange when Megan first told her of who they had hired, always quick to change the subject or leaving when it had come up.

It wasn't until the first time Aaron had hurt her that she'd learned, Rebecca knew the moment they met the week following the attack. She'd bled for days that time, and had refused to leave work until so late at night she knew Jon would be in bed. She had hurt just that much and did not want the errant graze or attempted intimacy to betray the wounds Aaron had left inside her.

Wounds made when he'd bound her, fucked her. That cruel massive man and his cruel massive cock used her badly that day; so afraid of him her body contracted when at first he touched his thick organ between her legs; it was a long time before it was easy, longer yet before the agony cease. Thirty minutes he fucked her, body clapping against her own before she came, the shock of it happening disgusting her to this day. After that it had been almost another thirty minutes before he took a break. He did this three times.

It was not love, or sex. He fucked her; it was hard, it hurt and it was entirely for him. A dark part of her soul loved it, and while she was abused a small part of an earlier passion held on, convincing her that she loved every minute. It was why she pleasured him orally even after he'd used the place she'd never desired a cock. With her mouth she cleaned that mess, and she wished she'd bitten it off.

She wished she'd bitten it every time since then, too; more than a half a dozen times now it had happened, but it only took until the third before she'd stopped feeling anything but fear of the man, a trap worse than the passion. She wondered if all the women felt like this.

It was getting hard to ignore the handcuffs that were around her wrists now that these thoughts had cleared and left her along, and in this room just the mirror with it's image of a lonely woman shared her company. It was too bad she was that lonely woman, that she'd experience what awaited her.

There was no strength to take, no reserve of will. She was broken, Aaron's whore to do as he wished. What better reason than to just comply. This last thought passed before she sank back and begun crawling across the bed to latch her padlock to the headboard; wilting, her body sank flat against the mattress to continue her wait, dull thud of the men still coming through the wall.

Time allowed her to think then, the men too engrossed in their game, drink and drug to spare her notice. However she knew with Aaron that this was just part of the game, and his perverse enjoyment of the situation. The sociopath had several times shown he took a certain sadistic pleasure in humiliating and torturing her.

Until this point the worse had been when they'd gone to Michigan together, not to his cabin but Detroit. For three days she'd lived in a hotel room working for Aaron, for three days several dozen men had come for her 'companionship'. It wasn't the money that Aaron was after, he didn't care, and despite her naivety she knew the four hundred dollars she made an hour was scarcely enough for what the men received with a woman like her.

It was for her humiliation, and when they did finally return homeward she had spent every waking moment in Aaron's truck sobbing until she would once again sink into sleep. If it weren't for the drugs hazing those memories she had not doubted how badly scared she would have been.

She was not this fortunate today, and she had only thought of those nights because of the sound of Aaron playing a video of some of her worse clients she had during that weekend. Creeping tension tightening her thighs she again shuddered over the memory of just that video, sudden flare of emotion and fear blinding all other thought.

It was four men that time, young men, black. They'd dressed like some of the boys in her school district where she worked, middle class boys running with poorer relatives in different parts of town. Always posturing and uncertain she thought, but never did she really feel they were dangerous, not then.

Those ones had called her the worse names, had slapped and hit as they fucked her, one or two at a time. They all had refused the condoms. They took her phone and disconnected the hotel line. It was convention season, the hotel was empty and the sound of the television easily stifled her screams when they covered her mouth.

Because of that night she had her first abortion, of the four she sometimes had nightmares, her husband abandoning her in that god forsaken city with the rapist who had fathered her child. Each time this disturbed her sleep it had been another, a different one of their faces each time. They had raped her then too.

The second had been recent, too recent, and she was all to certain of the father of that unfortunate child. It had been one of those nights when Aaron was not the face she'd arrive, three months ago this was, it was a hard day it preceded.

She recognized him, a builder from her home. Awful memories of being tied to a bed for twelve hours and raped repeatedly by an overweight bricklayer. The stench and the sweat as he did the deeds stomach wrenching. It was not worse than sleeping next to him between sessions, always waiting for the next moment where she'd find a short fat little cock shoved inside her womanhood.

That man had put a child into her, and she feared that there would be more to come, something she dread. It had already been so hard to hide these. Jon had wanted children and now Aaron would not purchase birth control.

Instead she'd only been used, abused and knocked up by two strangers. Aaron had been the one to take her to the clinic. He'd been the one to drive her to her rendezvous, he'd been there for all of it; all of it he recorded. For that, she'd learned that too often she had enjoyed it, too often were the videos of her on top of a stranger, of her on her knees, or of her climaxing.

She was his favorite, and she knew. This is what that night was, this was the celebration. Megan was leaving Jon, the papers had been signed, the house sold. Her imagination still clung to the memory that they were married, but it was not so. Aaron was her husband now, they had wed at a courthouse in the next city from her own. She would live here now, in an apartment in a building owned by this monster.

She would not work, she would not go out with friends. Her existence was to maintain what she had sculpted, eat, excise and wait. Never in her imagination was just such a cruel existence possible, or that she so willingly led to it.

Her mind was numb now, and maybe that was it. Regardless, she heard the door opening and knew that this was the start of a new chapter, a new life.