Chapter 10

"Final tally, Tara Brinks, 147 million dollars; Preston Brinks, whatever is left over."

Well, as you can tell from the end of Chapter 9, Tara's plan didn't keep her from getting a load of Armand McCarthy's cock-sauce up her ass.

But she did succeed in getting Preston fired. Armand was waiting for Preston after the town meeting, and when the couple got to their car, Armand told Preston he was fired, and why. (But he didn't tell Preston how he knew, for which Tara was grateful.)

Tara wouldn't speak to her husband on the drive home. As it was, her breasts were experiencing a considerable amount of discomfort, since the punishment bras always hurt the most right after a town meeting ended. All that cool, soothing lotion and warm, invigorating sperm, the cock-massages, the caressing and cupping, all served to comfort her injured boobs. But then she had to feel the bite of whichever bra she had worn to the town meeting.

Her poor ass was another story. While it was within Mr. McCarthy's rights as a Titshurt husband to fuck the ass of any nakedblonde in the cream-pit, Tara was sure Kristin would have tried to put a stop to the abuse if Preston hadn't already had his fun with Kristin's butt (not to mention the forced mouthfucking he'd subjected her to at the office). Tara was so angry with Preston, she couldn't even stand to look at him. When he went to bed, Tara told him she was going to sleep on the couch.

Then she remembered she had hidden the London barrister's letter under the cushions. After reading it again, she decided to call her friend Trent, who was a Los Angeles attorney.

Tara wasn't surprised that Trent was still awake at this time of night. It was an hour earlier in L.A., and this was Saturday night. Trent was at a club having drinks with a few friends, and said he'd be glad to help her. She explained the situation to him, and he took a few notes and said he would call her back the next day.

"No, I'll call you! I don't want Preston to know about any of this yet, since I may be divorcing him. Just tell me what time to call."

"Okay," Trent said, "let's see... make it three your time, which will be two o'clock here. I should know something by then."

So at 2:45 Sunday afternoon, Tara went for a walk in the wooded hills behind their house, and called Trent from her cell phone at three o'clock.

"Good news, Tara," he said. "I was able to find an attorney with the Colorado Office of Legislative Legal Services, and fortunately, he was home. He told me that Colorado is not a community property state. The Colorado laws that address the division of property when a couple divorces create a system of marital property that is somewhat similar to community property concepts, yet radically different when applied to the situation you're facing, with your inheritance and divorce."

"Okay, Trent," Tara replied, trying to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. "Whatever that means."

"Well, for example," he explained, "the Colorado law on dissolution of marriage defines 'marital property' as property acquired during the marriage, except property acquired by gift or inheritance! Did you get that? You're doubly protected under Colorado law. One, your uncle died before you were married, and two, the 147 million is an inheritance."

Tara was still a little uneasy about the risk of Preston figuring out how to get his hands on half her inheritance. "Preston can easily afford the best attorneys around," she pointed out. "Are you sure there aren't any loopholes he can use to get around this?"

"It's really cut-and-dried in a case like yours," Trent assured her. "In dividing the marital property, Colorado courts follow a two-step process: First, each spouse gets his or her separate property; and second, the marital property is divided in such proportions as the court considers fair, but not necessarily equal. So, Tara, you can give Preston all the 'marital' property - which the court would consider more than fair to Preston - and keep all of your 'separate' property, which you legally acquired before you were married. Final tally, Tara Brinks, 147 million dollars; Preston Brinks, whatever is left over."

Tara thanked her friend profusely, then added, "I need to get going. I just have to change my bra soon! This one is killing me!"

"Uh... what?"

Tara giggled. "I'll tell you all about it sometime. You'll love it!"

Before Tara had her talk with Preston, she decided to find another place to live. Not another place in Titshurt, but a different town altogether. She couldn't remain there after her divorce, and even if they stayed together, she certainly didn't want to be known as the wife of a man who was fired for sexual harassment.

But the more she thought about it, the more she wanted to remain married to Preston. She loved him, despite his brutish behavior of the past two weeks.

She consulted her real estate agent, who told her about a town in Wyoming that might be a good place for the two of them to live. Like Titshurt, it was small, quaint and secluded, and like Colorado, Wyoming was not a community property state.

Tara showed Preston the letter from the London barrister, and explained to him what her Los Angeles attorney-friend had told her. She informed Preston that he would receive a comparatively tiny settlement if they were to divorce, and therefore, she would be calling all the shots in their marriage for awhile.

She also informed Preston that they would be moving immediately - tomorrow.

"We can't sell this house by tomorrow," Preston objected.

"We don't have to. We have 147 million dollars," Tara reminded him. "Our real estate agent can handle the details for us. We don't even have to pack much, other than a few suitcases. The new owners can have all the furniture."

"So... we're packing our bags, and leaving in the morning?" Preston asked. Tara could tell he didn't feel bad about moving out of Titshurt, since he had soiled his reputation.

"Yes, and it shouldn't take long to get there," Tara replied. "The town is only one state away."

"Where will we be living?"

"The name of the town is Cockpain, young man," she informed him with a smirk and a giggle. "Cockpain, Wyoming."

As you can probably guess, Preston was not exactly thrilled about moving to a town called Cockpain, but what else could he do? He knew he deserved to be disciplined for his carelessness and infidelity, and he loved the idea of being a multi-millionaire, so he had no choice but to let Tara be in charge from now on.

Every once in awhile, on the drive north, Tara would turn to Preston, who was sulking in the passenger seat, and, giggling with anticipation, say: "Cock-pain."

Once they arrived in Cockpain, and had checked into their hotel, Tara asked the manager where she could get a list of the town's laws. She didn't want to risk a repeat of what happened with Sheriff Tom back in Titshurt.

"A list of the town's laws?" he asked.

"You know, any special laws that new residents need to be aware of, so we don't accidentally get into any trouble."

The manager grinned. "Let me guess: You two are from Titshurt, Colorado, right? And you've recently had a major disagreement over where you want to live?" He motioned toward Tara. "And you won?"

"How did you know all that?" Tara asked.

"Oh, we get a lot of pissed-off wives bringing their husbands here from Titshurt," the manager explained. "They get referred here by the Titshurt real estate office, from what I understand. Just come to the Cockpain Town Meeting, and you'll learn everything you need to know."

"When is the town meeting?"

"Monday, Wednesday and Friday nights," he answered. "So you two will get your first taste of Cockpain justice tonight. Attendance is mandatory. I guess that's the only special law we have here in Cockpain."

"What time?" Tara asked.

"Eight o'clock," said the manager. I'll run over to the sheriff's office and give him your names, so he'll know you're coming tonight. Oh, that reminds me, I hear there's another Titshurt couple who just moved to Cockpain today - arrived only a few hours ago. I haven't met them yet, so I don't know their names. But the wife looks a lot like you: young, blonde hair, beautiful, with, um... well, I'll just leave it at that."

Tara was excited as she did her makeup before the Cockpain Town Meeting. For one thing, it was such a relief not to have to wear a punishment-bra. And she was looking forward to finding out what sorts of torments the Cockpain husbands had to endure at the town meetings.

But she was also curious about the other Titshurt couple. According to the hotel manager, some other Titshurt wife had been fed-up enough to force her husband to move to Cockpain, and the only wife Tara could think of who might be angry enough to do that was Kristin.

Tara sure hoped it was Kristin. She liked the idea of seeing Armand McCarthy and Preston Brinks, two chauvinistic, authoritarian husbands, side-by-side at the town meeting, getting their erections punished. How would the pain be administered, and by whom? Would there be some sort of clamps or other devices that pinched or constricted? And most importantly, which would be worse: the cock-abuse, or the public humiliation?

The hotel manager had given Tara directions to the theater where the town meetings took place, and Tara insisted on arriving early. She happened to park right next to a car with Colorado plates in the parking lot. "This must belong to the other Titshurt couple," Tara said, still giddy with anticipation. Preston was silent, dreading the public abuse he imagined was coming when they arrived at the town meeting.

Outside the theater she saw the Titshurt librarian, Michelle, with her husband.

"So you're the other Titshurt wife?" Michelle asked, smiling at Tara.

The husbands wandered a few feet away to commiserate over their impending public cock-punishments.

"Michelle! You look so much happier here than you did in Titshurt. At the last town meeting, you looked like you were calculating an overdue-book fine instead of taking it from two hard cocks at the same time."