BAM...The empty shot glass slams down on the bar.
The bartender looks warily over at the man who has been drinking shots alone for the last hour.
The rage has begun to build up and this time there is nothing that can be done to quench the thirst. Well...there is one thing. Maybe the tequila will take away the ability before the rage vomits itself out of him and onto another human. All the other times before, alcohol has won out, but tonight it seems to have no effect. Mind still racing, blood still boiling, and closing time is bearing down.
Tim's wife keeps telling him "OHhhh we are so proud of you...so happy you are with us.." etc...etc...ad nauseum. He's been out of prison for almost 2 years now. 18 months served on a 5 year sentence for aggravated sexual assault. A testament to our judicial system, everyone knew he wasn't ready, but there were others needing a cell. Member of a church, husband, father, average Joe with a 9 to 5.
And day by day...hour by hour...minute by painstaking minute, it is slowly, but surely, driving him insane.
Six months ago he started an online relationship with a married sub in a neighboring town. Since he had more to lose than just a marriage if things progressed (parole board looks down upon philandering husbands) he stood his ground and refused to meet this person in real life. Not that an affair would land him directly back in the pen, but it would increase his supervision to a point that would make incarceration inevitable.
He began collecting information about this person without ever even realizing what was going on. Real name, where she worked, hours, schedule, hell...even the route to and from work, and vehicle. On the surface he was just knowing more about the person he lusted after, but subconsciously there was more to it.
From there it didn't even seem crazy that he began following her home from work.
They would swap erotic stories of bondage and discipline. She wanted to be tied, spanked and even humiliated. Very few knew more about that subject than Tim. She giggled to her friends about the explosive orgasms she experienced when he would talk to her on the phone about how he wanted to take her. Always wanting to meet. Trying to coax a private get together for the two. Never realizing just how close to danger and a true meeting she was.
Last call...one more shot...he knows it won't be enough.
During their online and phone encounters it is always the same. He strokes to orgasm as they are playing and discussing what it would be like if they were together. Then later...after everyone is asleep he steals away to the basement and has another cum, just for him, where his own special fantasies are played out. The conclusion of these angry orgasms often ends with Tim slamming his fist into the basement wall. Once he bit into his lip so hard as to bring blood. A lame excuse of tripping and falling was used to cover up the bloody lip, but did nothing to quieten the harmful passions that were continuing to build.
At first this was enough. He could pound out all his frustrations into that amazingly strong orgasm as his sick mind ran through the most disgusting images. He thought that maybe if he increased his alone time he could squirt all the rage out the end of his cock and be done with it. So lately he has been masturbating 3 - 4 times a day to his "special" collection of porn, maybe once with his submissive obsession, then if it happens to be "the day," a quick non responsive fuck from his wife. But all this seems to have done is increase his lusting. Now tonight it has pressed to the surface like a puss filled blemish that is aching for release, and he knows that there is no stopping it.
Grabbing his jacket he throws back the Tequila shot and slams the empty glass upside down on the bar. Tossing a few crumpled dollars to the bartender as he makes his way to the door. The man behind the bar is glad to see him go. Scary fuck is all the time mumbling and drinking alone. Bad for business.
There is no real plan. There's hardly any thought going on at all. His mind has no forethought of the actions of the body. No thoughts of repercussions or future regret. There is just a roll of duct tape in the car seat, and a determined look on his face.
Her husband is at work and will be gone all night. The kids are away at their dads. And Tim has told her that as punishment for some offhand remark she made, that she must sit at home alone tonight contemplating her actions. It's not even a plan when things fall together as easily as that, it's more like fate.
It's about 3:30 in the morning as he parks the car down the street from her home. Grabbing the tape and the beer he has been nursing on the way, he heads down the street. There are no houses nearby. He walks confidently straight up to the door. Finishing the last of the beer he throws the empty can against the house. Lifting his foot he smashes in the front door. A snarl escapes his lips as he pushes through the shattered door frame. He has never been in the house but he knows where the bedroom is and he hears her scrambling out of bed. She's running out of the room in a state of frenzy, yelling, and hollering for whoever the hell they think they are just better get outta my...WHAM.
