Danielle's Revenge Redux

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

My unsolicited sequel to DamonX's story Danielle's Revenge.

DamonX is an excellent writer. Unfortunately his plots are extremely aggravating. In the case of Danielle's Revenge, a new bride takes exception to her husband being with one of her friends before they were even engaged. She sets out for revenge, in a disgusting over the top fashion. It's a perfect case of unreasonable escalation.

In my mind, the escalation would likely continue. The level of disrespect, humiliation and torture were enough to ensure no reconciliation. The new bride turns out to be truly psychotic.

She's bound him, and made him watch her have sex with a stranger, acting like a total slut, and doing all the things she'd never do with her own husband, with 'Ramon'. She rubs his face in it, then leaves him bound and gagged, at the end of the story. At least at the end of DamonX's version.

I believe there's more to be said here... Fair warning, this is a really cruel and ugly one.

There are too damn many intriguing stories that are never completed. If I find a story that's been left hanging for too long, 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.

I don't want to step on too many toes, and hijacking an author's work is not what I'm intending. It's just that so many authors start up and then disappear. They do comeback, so I'm not going to jump on a story after a few months of inactivity. So here's what I've made as my own criteria for completing a story.

1) Writer has not submitted anything in over 2 years

2) The story has not been added to in at least 3 years

3) Story comments indicating a desire for the story to continue

4) Interesting enough premise to make it worth while to continue

or

Irritating enough that it makes me want to respond

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

After wallowing in my misery and shock, I started to come to my senses.

I'd married a psychopath. No two ways about it. Sure, I'd had sex one time, nearly two years ago, with Michelle, before Danielle and I had even been engaged. We had been on the outs at the time, and I was considering moving on. Michelle made sure I knew she was available.

I guess the only real mistake is that they were such close friends. Other than that, I can't see anything wrong with what I did. I never did anything with Michelle since then, and made sure she knew, years ago, that although I enjoyed being with her, it would never happen again. I'd never done anything inappropriate since.

And this ways my new bride's idea of payback?

My hands were tied together, as were my feet. I was still leaning against the wall where she'd left me. The stench of their adultery hung over me, a miasma of treachery. My head ached from whatever she'd given me. The lousy bitch.

It wasn't easy, but I managed to crawl my way into the bathroom. Trust me, being tied up with your hands behind your back, and gagged is a pain. It must have been a good half-hour later before I'd managed to get my hands untied, using only a toenail clipper. The paucity of blood on the floor was a miracle. They ached fiercely as the circulation returned to them.

I was going to get revenge. No doubt about it. I ached for it. Could think of nothing else. I was going to start by documenting what she'd done. I went down to the station and reported an assault. I'd been tied up and drugged. I wasn't sure who'd done it, I told them. I suspected my wife, but God only knows why. I woke up in my bedroom. At their suggestion I went down to the local Doc-in-a-box, and had a full blood workup done. I told them I'd been drugged unconscious. I'd receive the toxicology report in a few days.

When I got home, my loving wife had still not returned. I started to wonder if her parting 'Goodbye dear' was meant to be final.

I hoped not. How would I get my payback if it was?

I made a few preparations, my anger building. Turned out I had plenty of time. She didn't return until almost 5:00 am. The lights were off downstairs as she'd left them, the light in the bedroom still on. I was sitting in the dark, waiting. Replaying her betrayal over and over again, in my mind. Every last detail as clear as if it was happening again. By the time she arrived I'll readily admit, I was partially unhinged. Furious.

She closed the door quietly behind her, and I could see she was moving gingerly. I almost laughed out loud at that. If she was sore now, we'd see how she was before too long.

Danielle didn't turn on the lights, she didn't call out. I was wondering if she was having second thoughts. Too late for that, you evil bitch.

She walked down the hall carefully, and I got to my feet and followed quietly behind her. I was only a couple of steps away when she turned into the bedroom. "Honey?" She called out nervously, when she didn't see me.

Honey? Like I'd ever let the loathsome bitch use any term of endearment with me again.

I pushed her roughly into the room, slamming her onto the bed. She squealed and struggled, but I had 80 lbs on her. I had her hands and feet zip-tied within a few seconds, and I reached under her skirt and ripped her panties off. I shoved them in her mouth, and duct-taped them in place. I wasn't gentle.

She was obviously terrified, when I rolled her onto her side.

"So you're a whore, are you?" I smirked. "Good job choice. Consider me your pimp, you heartless cunt."

It took a little over an hour to get to the summer cabin. I drove her car, meticulously obeying the speed limit. She rode in the trunk. I figured I could use one of the dirt-bikes that we left up there to get home.

The small, three room building had been winterized, and was isolated enough for me not to have to worry about neighbors. At the last minute, I had a change in plans. Mr. and Mrs. Thompson had the cabin half a mile from ours. They rarely used it in the summer, and never in the winter. As with most of our neighbors, I had a key to their place for emergencies. This was an emergency if ever there was one.

There were a lot of advantages to using their place. They had solar power, so any electric use would be minimal. They had a garage, her car wouldn't be sitting out in the open. If anyone wanted to investigate her disappearance, they'd find out about our family cabin easily enough, it might be risky leaving her there. No reason to investigate the Thompson's. They were retired Snowbirds. They headed to Florida every winter. They wouldn't use the cabin for many months. They were paranoid of their belongings, and never rented or loaned the place out.

It seemed ideal, for my purposes.

The cabin was cold, but I started up the propane heater. I looked around, and figured it would do for now.

I dragged my dear sweet wife out back of the cabin, and hosed her down. She didn't seem to like it much, I'm sure the water was uncomfortably cold, it was, after all, mid September. She struggled a little when I tore her slutting clothing off of her, showing a bit more cooperation when I took out my knife to cut the last remnants away. I pressed the hose nozzle up her cheating cunt, and against her ass, rinsing her off good. Have to keep your property in good shape, you know.

She was still bound up tight, and her hands and feet were looking red. I didn't want her to lose them. What a pain that would be.

I cut her hands free, and watched her eyes tear up, as the circulation started up again. I leaned over her face grinning. "Not so fun is it?" I looped the chain around her neck, tightly. Way too tight for her to wriggle out of it. Snapped it shut with a padlock. She reached up to pull the duct tape off of her mouth, and I backhanded her, hard. "Don't touch."

I never had hit a woman in my life, but I guess I had no such compunctions when it comes to vicious, cheating, whore wives.

The chain wrapped around one of the cabin's central posts. A 10" wide natural log that wasn't going anywhere. I wasn't cruel, I gave her about a foot of loose chain to move around, and cleared everything away from the center of the room.

I removed her ankle ties, and wrapped a second, thinner chain around her ankle, locked it in place, and attached that one to the post as well. Gave her a few feet of slack. She could lay down if she wanted. Not much else. The bitch wasn't going anywhere.

I made her sit down, and then ripped the duct-tape from her face, and yanked the soiled panties from her mouth. "Ramone. I want to know everything about him."

"What... what are you doing!" she seemed torn between anger and fear. I was going to make sure fear won out. I slapped her again, then, what the hell, I slapped her a half-dozen more times just to get some of my fury out.

I grabbed a fistful of hair and shook her. "Ramone. Everything. Where he lives, where he works, how you met him."

"Please, honey," she sobbed, "don't..."

The next backhand was hard enough to bounce her head off the post, and leave her dazed, her split lip bleeding.

"You stupid cunt!" I snapped. I returned with my industrial sized container of over-sized zip-ties. She didn't struggle much as I bound her wrist and ankles once again. Duct-taped her mouth good, wrapping it around her head three times.

"I'm going to give you some time to think about it. Maybe I'll be back."

I shut off the heater, and turned at the door. "Yes, I've seen what a whore you are. Thank you for the wakeup call." She looked at me, tears streaming down her face. "Goodbye dear."

~ * ~ * ~

I had a plan, to go along with my blinding anger. I was patient. I called around, talking to her parents and friends. Told them what she'd done to me. Said she'd left with her unnamed lover, who I'd never seen before. Said goodbye and drove off. I hadn't heard from her since.

"I don't know what to do," I cried my crocodile tears. "I love her so much. If she would come home, I'm sure we could get past her indiscretion."

I talked to the police, but they told me there was nothing they could do. Not for 48 hours, and not much even then. "No signs of foul play. She probably realized she'd overreacted and can't face you. Give her some time."

Some of the friends and family questioned my version of whatever happened. I showed them the photos of my bindings, the damage to my wrists, the police and toxicology reports. I guess they were convincing.

Several purchases were made. Not locally, as far from home as I could reasonably manage. Cash. Call me paranoid. I considered it being careful.

The second day of sitting in her own filth, without food or water, in that cold room, tied to that post, she cracked. When I uncovered her mouth, she gave it to me, in detail. I had everything I needed to know about the asshole. I rewarded her. Took her outside and hosed her down. Let her drink from the hose. Gave her a bucket, sponge and some Lysol, allowing her to clean up her space.

She was still fucking gorgeous. Seeing her on her hands and knees, scrubbing the floor, her naked ass waving, I'd had enough. I pulled my pants down, straddled her hips, and fucked her ass raw. She'd given it to him willingly enough. Her husband deserved at least as much. It was difficult getting in her, and she whined and sobbed a lot. Tough shit. He-he. No pun intended.

When I was done, I left her there, crying. I got an empty mason jar and stood in front of her, waving it. "Two bucks. You earned it, my little whore. When you've paid off my investment in you, I'll set you free."

I had given her the entrance mat to sit on, and tossed her a rough wool blanket. "Take care of my investment," I told her.

"Feed me?" she begged piteously.

"We'll see. Depends on how true you were about loverboy. If there's even one lie, you're not going to like the results."

She changed her story. Not a lot, but enough to piss me off. I paid her another two bucks and pounded her tight ass again. I left her there.

~ * ~ * ~

Revenge is exhausting. Keeping all the lie's straight, switching emotions. Dealing with the home, the friends, the neighbors, the family. Working, and taking off to my little hideout as often as possible. Making plans, and following through.

She had another 18 dollars in her jar, and had lost at least 10 pounds when I dragged loverboy Ramone into the cabin, unconscious. He was chained much more thoroughly to the second post. Neck, hands behind his back and behind the post. On his knees, his ankles chained to the sturdy wood. I cut his clothing off, leaving a few nicks and scratches in my wake.

By this time, Danielle knew better than to speak. I removed her gag, and she looked up at me piteously. I tossed her the water bottle, and she drank gratefully.

"Speak if you want to," I told her.

"I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do..."

I shook my head. "You're doing fine. $20 already. Only another $11,460 to go."

Ramone was angry when he came to. Not much he could do about it. He stayed tied up, and I said nothing. Hit him and kicked him when he was in reach. Didn't feed him, didn't water him. Left him in his filth.

I fucked her a lot. Always in her cheating ass. By this time she was practically asking for it, turning her ass toward me as soon as I'd show up. I'd pay her, then water and feed her after a good fucking. Nothing substantial but it was better than starving. No fucking, no feeding. Piss me off, and there was no watering.

After just a couple of days without care, Ramone was close to done. Hanging from his chains, not even looking up. He didn't moan or groan when I hit him. I'd just spent another $4 and pulled my cock out of Danielle's ass, wiping it in her hair. I walked over to her lover. Ripped the duct tape from his mouth, and saw a hint of life. I got a pitcher of water and started pouring it over his head. He shuddered then turned his head upward, desperately seeking the life giving fluid.

Alright, maybe I'm a little mean. I moved the spout around, making him chase it, laughing at him. Then I poured the remaining water directly over his mouth, overfilling it. Fast, so he could only drink a fraction of it, the rest going to waste. When it was empty I backhanded him with my full strength, snapping his head around. "Last time you'll ever fuck another man's wife." I laughed, "Or any woman, for that matter."

Thirty seconds with the duct tape, and he was taken care of. I returned to my wife, and untied her chains from the post, holding them like a leash. "Clean up."

I'd given her a pot for her personal needs, and she quickly cleaned it out while I sat back and watched, playing out the chain as needed. She knelt in front of the under-sink counter, waiting.

"Yes, you may."

She opened it and got out the cleanser, and Lysol. Got the bucket and brushed and cleaned her area. She looked over at the other post.

"Clean his area."

She nodded, and set to work. "Don't touch him," I warned her.

She did what she could. I stood and filled the pitcher with water and diluted bleach and poured it over his lower body. A second pitcher rinsed him off, and I left her to the cleaning.

She was behaving well. I was absurdly proud of her ability to adjust to her new circumstances. "Let's bathe you," I told her.

Danielle seemed happy with the hose down. I guess being clean was better than being cold. She looked good, naked and clean. I bent her over the rail and pounded her ass. It was getting scrawny. I'd have to feed her a little better. Didn't like a bony ass. I rinsed her ass out again, and gave her butt a slap. "You're getting better at that. I may even have to raise your wages."

She shocked me by turning and hugging me around the waist. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

I pulled her head back by the hair. "Not as sorry as you're going to be, you cheating whore."

Nope. 'Sorry' wasn't going to cut it.

~ * ~ * ~

Ramone was wasting away. I gave him enough water to keep him alive. Barely. Fed him a crust of bread every now and then. That was it. He developed a cough, hacking, so I hooded him to keep it down. Developed some rashes but I didn't really care. He should be happy I left him alive.

I don't know what it was that pissed me off. I guess I had some anger issues. I usually slapped or kicked him when he was in reach. One day, I beat the hell out of him. No particular reason, I just felt he needed it. I felt better afterward. I even took a shower and washed off the blood and sweat.

Danielle was desperate to please me that day. I laid on the little rug I'd given her, and let her ride my cock with her ass. I guess I was getting soft. Lately I'd been allowing her to suck me to hardness, slobbering all over my cock before sticking it up her butt. We both knew she was cheating, lubing me up like that, but the truth was it felt better that way.

She was wearing only her neck chain. I had bandaged up her ankle; the chain had started chafing her. She still looked good to me. Sad, isn't it?

She got me off, then took me in her mouth and slowly, surprisingly gently, pleasured me until I was hard again. She looked up at me piteously, with the gaze that I knew was pleading. "What?"

"How can I pleasure you?" she asked. "Ride you again? On my knees, on my belly? How do you want me?"

"Finish me with your mouth, whore."

She smiled and did as I required. She was the best she'd ever been, sucking my balls, rimming me, taking me deep in her mouth. She was wild and wanton, then loving and repentant. I rose up on my knees and fucked her face hard, forcing my way down her throat, ignoring her gagging. Fist in her hair, I pumped her face until I was ready. "Finish me," I growled.

She stroked me hard, sucking me, until I erupted between her lips. She sucked me dry, then showed me her reward. She swallowed, then laid down on my waist, licking and sucking my spent cock. "Thank you," she whispered softly.

"Five. That was worth five bucks," I told her. A compliment.

She looked up at me smiling. "Someday I hope to be worth more. For you."

I smacked her. Not too hard, just to make a point. "Did I say you could talk?"

She shook her head, and went back to playing with me. Surprisingly, she eventually got me hard again. I was a little irritated that I was getting soft with her. I put her on her belly, and fucked her ass hard, driving her into the floor. It disturbed me that she came for me twice. This wasn't supposed to be a reward.

So I spanked her for it. Put her over my lap and blistered her bottom, long and hard. She was crying after the first few minutes, and lying limp and helpless when my hand stung too much to continue. That was better.

I did remember to drop $9 in her jar. Five for the blowjob, and the regular $2 for each load in her whoring ass. I deposited a $10 bill and made change.

~ * ~ * ~

"Merry Christmas, Danielle," I told her, opening the bag.

She looked up at me. "Permission to speak?" she asked.

I nodded.

"Is it really Christmas?"

"December 25th."

She nodded, and tears rolled down her face. "I would have bought you something," she said softly.

I grinned. "Maybe we'll think of something you can give me."

"Anything," she said softly.

I pulled out the first of her gifts. Bracelets and cuffs. Soft leather interior, external metal bands which locked closed. Custom made and expensive. She giggled and put them on, while I brought out a wrapped gift. I handed it to her, and she opened it up eagerly. It was the matching collar, with an inscription. "His Whore." She stroked the material, and felt her neck where the heavy chain hung. "It's beautiful," she whispered. "Put it on me?"

I removed the chain, and massaged the redness around her neck. I slid the collar around her neck, and snapped it shut. It looked good on her.