Copyright© 1991-2003

A new dramatist of the absurd
Has a voice that will shortly be heard.
I learn from my spies
He's about to devise
An unprintable three-letter word.

Marnie set the hot pot of stew onto the table. The sound of her husband chopping wood outside stopped. She knew he would be in to eat his lunch, as he did every day. Every day of the weekend, Dave worked on his large house. During the week he slaved as a bank loan officer. He loved the secluded house. She hated it.

She was always alone, except for her husband. There wasn't anyone within ten miles and she didn't have a vehicle. And even if she could, Dave wouldn't let his wife out of the house. He had made that perfectly clear. Marnie had the bruises to prove it. In fact she often had bruises, and her bottom was often too sore to sit down. Her husband believed a woman belonged in the home and always obeyed the man.

He came in, smelling of sweat and damp wood. Without a word he sat at his place at the table - the head, of course. She handed him a damp towel with which he wiped his hands off. Then she sat on his left-hand side as he filled his bowl with the meat stew. He tore off chunks of bread and ate heartily. Marnie barely ate and certainly didn't talk. A woman only spoke when spoken to.

The happy couple had been married for six years, two years after Dave returned from Western Front. He never let her forget that he had almost singlehandedly beat the Nazi hoard.

When he finished eating, his hand reached out and grabbed at her chest, roughly squeezing a large breast. A shudder ran through Marnie, knowing what she would have to go through in the next couple of minutes. He pulled her dress apart, revealing her bra and ample cleavage. Dave's eyes gleamed as he pulled her over onto his lap. His breathing was already quick, and the look in his eyes was one of hurried lust. Roughly he pulled his wife's clothes off her body, tearing and ripping buttons off in the process, while leaving welts on the women's still-young skin. He shoved his mouth over a dime-sized nipple and bit hard; a hand roughly forced her thighs apart and without preliminaries he shoved two fingers up his wife's dry vagina.

Marnie hated her husband, she hated her life, and she hated herself for allowing herself to be in this situation.

The sex was as it always was, fast and hard. Remembering that he was a "man", Dave threw his wife over the front of the table after dumping his empty bowl onto the floor, then shoved his short stubby cock into her still-dry vagina. His hands held onto her hips and narrow waist, and he pounded fast and hard into her pained hole. Thankfully, it never lasted long, and he came deep into her cunt only a moment after entering her.

Once before, she complained about their sex life, but never again. He beat her so bad she took two months to heal.

Dave left the house, leaving the door open as he left, buttoning his fly. Marnie sat up and without emotion dressed herself. Then she closed the door and cleaned up the lunch mess.

The perfect marriage?!

Marnie stopped washing the dishes after hearing a car coming up the gravel road. She looked out the window, seeing her husband standing, watching the car approach. Any distraction to her life was a blessing.

A dark man, wearing a brown hat and a suit, stopped the car and got out. Dave put down his double-sided axe and walked towards the stranger. Marnie wished she could hear what was being said; her interest was sparked by the obviously well-off man. When the stranger suddenly hit her burly husband in the gut, then followed with a knee up into his crotch, Marnie yelled out, surprised.

The stranger looked up and directly into the eyes of the young wife. She jumped back, hoping he hadn't seen her, but knew he had. Her husband had collapsed onto the ground after getting hit, and Marnie peeked around the window corner to see her husband being dragged towards the house.

Her heart was beating fast; her hands trembled and she broke out into a cold sweat. She heard the two men come across the wooden porch, one walking steady, the other stumbling, half- dragging. Marnie stood rooted to the spot, unable to do anything to help her husband nor to stop the stranger. She thought about going out the back door, but couldn't make herself move.

The door flew open.

"Don't move, girl!" The stranger was holding onto her husband's arm, half-dragging him, a revolver poking into her husband's ribs. "Are you his wife?"

She nodded, unable to get enough nerve to speak up.

The stranger threw her husband into his chair, the one at the head of the table, the "man's" chair. The dark man nodded to her husband. "Tie him up, real tight, doll!"

She couldn't budge.

"Move!" he yelled.

She took a cord from the under the sink, tying her husband's hands to each side of the chair, then she tied his ankles to the legs of the chair. The idea of letting a knot loose didn't even cross her mind. She was too scared.

During this time the stranger had taken off his hat and watched her work while browsing around their small house. He opened the two doors out of this room, and looked in. Nothing. When she was finished, he nodded to the pot of stew.

"That warm?" She nodded. "Get me a bowl." She jumped to comply with this dangerous man as he sat down at the table, facing inward towards the room. Her husband hadn't said a word yet but just glared at the stranger.

Marnie set the bowl and a spoon down in front of the well- dressed man, then worked up the nerve to ask a question. "Bread?" Her mouth was dry and only sounded like a raspy grunt. He looked up into her eyes. "Would you like bread?"

"Sure, doll." He waited until she dropped a quarter of a loaf in front of him, then he asked her, "How long you been married?"

Nervously, she answered, "Six years." She looked down at her feet.

Between mouthfuls he mumbled, "That much? You hardly look twenty."

She noticed he ate slowly and daintily, relishing every mouthful, enjoying his meal. "I'm twenty-two." She realized this stranger was talking civilly to her, something her husband rarely did. Marnie sat in a chair next to the dark man, her fear slowly disappearing and turning to something else.

"How you get stuck with a pig like this?" Dave was about to say something, but the stranger picked up the gun and pointed it at his right eye, stopping any conversation. "Dame like you should be in the city, the wife of some rich old man." Marnie blushed, and the stranger smiled at her. "Yup, man should be proud to have a fine doll like you! Hey, knuckle head, hope you treating your wife right." Dave only glared at the man.

Marnie noticed his bowl empty. "Would you like another?" He smiled at her and shook his head. She felt the blood come to her cheeks and took his dirty dish to the sink. While she gently dumped the dish onto the pile, she could feel the gaze of the dark handsome man on her backside. Slowly she turned her head to look behind her; there he was, staring at her behind, and as she turned he looked into her eyes and smiled. She dropped the spoon onto a plate, causing a crash, and she jumped. The stranger laughed.

"Yup, you sure have a fine looking wife. Hard to believe a man like you could hold onto a looker like that. Hell, I'd sure wouldn't want to lose a dame that foxy - make a man nuts! Yup, crazy." Marnie could hear him standing up. "Hey, doll, stuff that dish towel in hubbies mouth."

Nervous and uncertain, she pushed the damp dirty cloth into her husband's mouth, shoving until most of it was in. Dave just stared at her, his anger written over his face.

"Go stand by the window." She did as ordered, wondering what he was doing. She stood her back to the window the sun warm on her back, facing the dark man. "What's your name, doll?"

Marnie noticed his eyes were looking up and down her body, and she realized with the sun behind her, her inner thighs were revealed through her dress. "Marnie."

"Pretty name. Are you happy with this pig, Marnie?" He was standing behind her husband's chair, both of them watching the young woman.

She nodded yes, but watched the floor lest he could see her doubt.

"Hmmm. That dress you're wearing doesn't really do you justice. A figure like that should be wearing silk." He studied her for two, maybe three minutes. She clenched and unclenched her hands together in fear and something she could not identify.

She worked up the nerve to ask a question. "W... what's going to happen to us?"

He ignored her, and continued to study her body. Smiling, he looked directly into her eye, "Marnie, take off your dress!" It was a order.

She almost collapsed.

Marnie looked to her husband for help, but he just glared at her. She realized if she disobeyed the stranger had the power to make her do anything he wanted - look how easy it was to stop her husband. No man, besides her husband, had seen her naked or even in her underwear. Just the thought of being seen by this dark man sent shivers down Marnie's spine.

He frowned at her pause. His gun lifted up and pointed at her. Marnie could see down the dark barrel. She was very scared. Her arm felt like lead as she brought it up to her waist. She undid her belt. Marnie felt her dress loosen on her hips, then it dropped open.

In truth, nothing but two inches down her front could be seen, but the stranger squinted at her. Marnie shivered, knowing her panties and bra were revealed to this total stranger. She could feel the sexual heat from him, as she would from her husband, but she felt different about it.