Chapter 1

I sat at my computer, staring in disgust at the pictures of my wife on the monitor. I didn't feel the things I expected to feel. I didn't feel the rage. I didn't feel the hate. I suppose that more than anything else I felt curious. I found it almost impossible to believe that my asexual wife is the woman in the obscene pictures I was looking at. I suppose that after everything I went through to get these pictures I shouldn't find it so hard to believe. After all, if I didn't have every reason to suspect that she was doing these things I wouldn't have the pictures in front of me.

I felt a sudden sense of loss because these pictures spell the end of our marriage. That's a reaction I wasn't anticipating since I've known for quite a while now that it would come to this. And I suppose that if I'm honest I have to admit that it was always a one sided relationship. I guess it's time and past time to be brutally honest with myself. As my friend Rick is fond of saying, it's time to wake up and smell the kimchi.

The pictures were even worse than I expected. Her small body looked so fragile between the two large men who were slamming their cocks into her so violently. It looked like it had to hurt. But she wasn't fighting them. She was, in fact, quite literally eating it up. The look of lust on her face was hard to believe.

I wasn't totally surprised. I expected something like this. But I have to admit, these obscene images were even worse than I expected. I didn't expect to see her with two men. And I was taken aback by the violence of it.

It was apparently just exactly what she wanted, though. In those pictures where I could see her eyes there was no question that she loved what they were doing. In all the years I've known Paula, after all the times we've made love, I've never seen that look on her face when she was with me.

I suppose the look in her eyes answers any lingering questions. The sexual hunger was obvious, even as those two large cocks plundered her small body in one of the most violent sex acts I've ever seen. This was, for her, what was missing from our marriage!

I think that before I begin to tell this story I have to tell you a few things about my wife, our marriage, and how we got to this point.

My wife is a strange woman, though I didn't realize it at first. We met in college and for me it was love at first sight. I fell madly, desperately in love with her. She was then, and now, eight years later, she still is incredibly beautiful and extraordinarily sexy.

Paula is twenty-eight now but still looks like a teenager. She stands five foot six, weighs one hundred and eighteen pounds most days, and has an hourglass figure. Her breasts are a perfectly proportioned B cup and her legs seem to go on forever. Even standing right in front of you in a pair of tight jeans or better yet a pair of short shorts, they look like they must have been photoshopped!

She has naturally blonde hair and dark green eyes. I've become familiar with every square inch of her body and I don't believe there's a flaw anywhere to be found.

Though she's extremely intelligent she didn't finish college. She quit in her junior year when we married. She's very well read, extremely knowledgeable on a wide range of subjects and could have been anything she set her heart on becoming.

I hasten to add that I had nothing to do with her decision to quit school. I encouraged her to finish. But by that time I already had a high paying job lined up, as well as plans for starting my own company. At least in the beginning we agreed that she would be a full time housewife. If that didn't make her happy I had no problem with her going back to school or getting a job. I only wanted whatever it would take to make her happy.

Paula and I lived together for eight months before I asked her to marry me. It seemed as though we were living in paradise to me. That's why I was so shocked when she turned me down the first two or three times I proposed. I thought she loved me as much as I did her. I could have saved myself a lot of heartache if I had taken the hint. But her refusal only seemed to make me want her more!

I didn't understand why she kept turning me down. We seemed perfect together. She was the victim of a strict catholic upbringing and was a bit tentative, maybe even a little reluctant when it came to sex. But she seemed willing to learn and I was more than willing to be patient and show her that sex could be about a lot more than just procreation. It could actually be a lot of fun ... for both of us.

I thought she showed every sign over the months we lived together before the wedding that she was slowly loosening up and losing her inhibitions.

I apparently misread the signs. Either that or I was blinded to the truth by my unremitting adoration of that sexy creature. On the first night of our short honeymoon we checked in at the hotel. The bellhop brought our bags up to the room and left after receiving a substantial tip. I locked the door behind him and returned to the room to find her sitting on the bed with a serious look on her face.

Until that moment the day had been perfect. I didn't understand what could be causing her so much concern. I sat down beside her, held her hand and asked her what was wrong.

She was hesitant at first, obviously uncomfortable with the subject. But she stared at her hands and told me that she didn't want to live a lie. She didn't think it would be fair to me. She explained that she doesn't enjoy sex and didn't think it would be honest if she went through life faking it.

I was more than a little surprised. Up until her confession I was under the impression that she was getting over that. I think I'm an informed and concerned lover. I always made sure when we made love that one way or another, Paula enjoyed an orgasm. I've been blessed with a great supply of stamina and she often climaxed when we had intercourse, or at least I thought she did. When she didn't, I made sure that she had an orgasm in some other manner. I tried never to leave her wanting.

But our relationship wasn't just about the sex. I loved everything about her. We seemed to be in agreement when it came to just about everything. We like the same music and foods. We're both Liberal Democrats and we are both tree huggers; yes, I say all of that proudly. Caring about the future of our planet is a good thing.

Although we were in agreement in all the major philosophical areas, we quickly began to find things to fight about. We also learned how to fight about nothing at all. And I soon discovered that she has a real talent in one area of our lives. She turned out to be a highly accomplished world class nag. She manages to find fault with everything I do. She knows of a better way of doing everything I do and a better way of saying everything I say.

Another problem she has with me is that she bitterly resents the time I spend at work, especially when I was getting my own company off the ground and there just didn't seem to be enough hours in the day. And yet when we're together she does nothing but criticize. She couldn't seem to make up her mind whether she wanted me to spend my time at work or at home.

I later came to believe that it was a defense mechanism. Whether she does it consciously or not I can't really say. But eventually I figured out that the constant fighting was her way of keeping me at bay. We can't be affectionate and have a calm, quiet conversation when we're fighting or when she's nagging and I'm biting my tongue to keep from saying something I can't take back.

I also discovered that she suffers from extremely low self esteem. That was completely incomprehensible to me. How could anyone so beautiful, so sexy, and so highly intelligent suffer from low self esteem?!

I tried to get her to go to counseling, both for her low self esteem and for her sexual aversion. I offered to go with her. After all, I have a lot at stake in our relationship, too. But she insisted that she doesn't have a problem with the way she is.

I knew it wasn't that, though. She was just too embarrassed to talk to some stranger and divulge her innermost secrets.

During some of those increasingly rare moments when we were able to sit and talk like two mature adults I tried to discuss sexual fantasies. I thought if I could find out what turns her on I could turn our whole relationship around.

She steadfastly insisted that she doesn't have fantasies. I didn't necessarily believe her. But it was obvious that if she has them she has no plans to share them. Not with me anyway.

I began to understand something else about Paula as the years passed. Although she seemed to enjoy my company on her better days and could even be quite clingy when the mood struck, she didn't love me, though she would often say that she did 'in her way.'

Thinking back, I can't remember a time she ever said that she loves me without adding "in her way."

As I came to understand her better I realized that the real reason she married me was so that she wouldn't be alone. She has a terrible fear, almost a phobia of being alone and lonely. I firmly believe that she decided to quell that fear by finally accepting my marriage proposal. She probably could have had any man she wanted. But she didn't realize it. Either that or she suspected that I would be easier to control than the other men she knew.

There have been many times after our first few years together when I thought about leaving her, getting a divorce and starting my life over. I was stopped by several things. First, although I've built up quite a case of resentment for the pain she's caused me, a vestige of the incredible love I felt for her still remains.

That's probably a part of the second reason I couldn't bring myself to leave her, too. In her way she still needs me. It isn't the way I hoped for. And as I said, I'm convinced that she doesn't love me and never really has. But she would be lost if I left her. She'd be alone and that terrifies her.

Thirdly, I wasn't sure that I was ready to face all the rancor and all the mental anguish that are part and parcel of separation and divorce. And of course, what may be the biggest reason of all, I seem to have been suffering from a serious case of inertia.

I suppose none of that matters now, though. Our marriage isn't going to survive the thumbnails I'm staring at on my monitor or the recordings they represent.

I reached this point when I became suspicious of all the time that Paula spends on her computer. I'm not a computer geek. I possess the same computer skills that most of my peers do. I can exchange email and Google something as well as the next guy.

If I'm in the mood I can usually find some decent porn without too much trouble. That talent comes in handy since my sex life with my wife has dwindled down to about zero times a week. As beautiful as she is she just isn't worth the hassle.

It isn't that she turns me down. More often than not she does. Or at least she did when I bothered to make the attempt. But not always. The bigger problem is that when she's generous enough to allow me to make love to her there are so many do's and don'ts, mostly don'ts, that it just isn't fun anymore. Pillow talk for Paula consists mainly of "don't touch me there."

When we did have sex, and I say did because I've quit trying, I was conscious that she was only lying their counting the minutes, impatient for the distasteful experience to be over. I could have found more passion with a streetwalker.

One Saturday morning when she was out of the house I went to her computer room and did some investigating. Lately she has been spending an inordinate amount of time in her computer room and when I asked her about it she became defensive. It made me curious.

I know that there are people who can tell all sorts of things about a person if given access to their computer. I'm not one of them. But I'm smart enough to look at the browser history and find what sites she's been visiting recently.

What I found shocked me. All these years I've assumed that Paula was asexual. That was definitely not the case. I couldn't believe what I found when I went to the sites she's been visiting. Nearly every site I went to was a sex site, usually the nastiest kind of sex I could imagine; or a chat site where, I can only assume, she met other people online and discussed kinky sex with them.

I also looked at some of the pictures she's downloaded. She is apparently so certain that I won't spy on her that she doesn't hide things very well. Either that or she just doesn't care if I find what she's been keeping from me. To simplify things even more, she keeps a list of her passwords in a document right there on her desktop. Since I was there and snooping anyway I even read some of her emails.

I'll admit that when I first sat down to poke around I felt guilty about invading her privacy. I lost that feeling in a damn hurry! I was totally at a loss now. Apparently it isn't sex she doesn't care for, it's sex with me ... it's making love!

I found a huge collection of pictures that depicted women being raped and abused; violated in ways that were unimaginable to me. I found two files containing hundreds of short stories, all on that same subject.

But most incriminating of all, I found emails from men she has been in contact with; men who share her interest in those sorts of things.

It didn't appear that she had progressed to the point of actually meeting any of these men, at least not yet. I also found some incredibly raunchy chat logs she saved and in them she still remained anonymous, not yet ready to share her name and address. But there were several men with whom she seemed to be rapidly building up to the point of arranging an actual meeting.

I sat there for a long time, too astonished by what I'd found to form a rational thought. I stared at all the evidence, proof of things that I could never have believed about my wife. My first thought, once the shock that had me in its grip finally left me capable of thought, was that I had to tell her what I'd found. We had to discuss this. She would have to agree to get therapy now.

But soon enough I realized it wouldn't go down like that. If I told her I was snooping on her computer the argument wouldn't be about what I found. We'd fight about my invasion of her privacy and how she couldn't trust me anymore.

For the longest time I sat staring at the thumbnails for one of her picture files. I saw images of women being raped and tortured, having sex with huge numbers of men, being urinated upon and even having sex with dogs and various farm animals.

This is what turns her on?!!

I copied everything I found onto a thumb drive and returned her computer to the way I'd found it. I went to the garage and got the Harley out in the hopes that maybe a nice long ride would clear my head.

I rode around for a couple hours and decided to stop somewhere for a beer or ten and something to eat. I was trying to decide where I felt like going when it occurred to me that I wasn't far from my buddy Rick's house. Maybe I could get a free beer AND some free advice.

Rick was just finishing up detailing his bike when I pulled up. He offered me a beer and I watched him finish what he was doing and put everything away while we talked about nothing in particular. After he put his bike in the garage we went inside. He asked me if I was hungry and we ended up calling out for a pizza.

While we were waiting for the pizza he sat down and asked, "Are we going to dance around this all afternoon or are you going to tell me what's really bothering you?"

I took another big swallow of beer and struggled with that decision. I did want to talk about it. I didn't know what to do and I knew that I needed the opinion of someone who wasn't so emotionally involved. There's no one on this planet I'm closer to than Rick. I trust his judgment and I trust him to keep anything I tell him to himself. And a little honest conversation about what's bothering me is, after all, the main reason I stopped by his house.

But this would necessarily be a very embarrassing conversation. I was going to come out of this sounding like a huge pussy.

I admitted that I did want his advice. I told him that it would be hard for me to say what I would need to say. Before I could say more he said, "This is about Paula, isn't it?"

My friends all know Paula. They all liked her at first. You couldn't help it. She's beautiful and sexy and the first impression with which she leaves everyone is that she's the perfect woman. But that attractive facade begins to crumble quickly once they get to know her better and see us together. It never takes very long for my friends to begin to draw back from her.

But of all my friends who've made that transition, Rick is the only one who ever had the balls to ask, "When are you going to kick that ball busting bitch out and get on with your fucking life?"

Thinking back on that conversation I chuckled. Then I let it all hang out. I told him everything right from the start. He sat quietly and listened without a word, interrupting me only to pay for the pizza when it arrived.

I laid myself bare during that conversation and asked him what he thought I should do.

He didn't even have to think about it. He said, "You know what I think. You need to get rid of that bitch. She's killing you slowly, but she's killing you. I think you need to wait, though."

That surprised me. He's been advocating getting rid of Paula for years.

He grinned when he saw my confusion. He explained, "Your company is hot right now. You're making more money than you know what to do with. Do you really want her to end up with half of that? What the hell has that bitch ever done for you?

"You need something you can take to court. You need to show the judge what kind of freak she really is. You need evidence, more evidence than you have on that thumb drive you mentioned. In fact, I suggest you keep your mouth shut about this until she actually meets one of those guys she's emailing."

That made sense ... I guess. I got up and got us each another beer and then I asked, "What do I do? Hire a detective?"

He thought about that for a minute before answering, "You know that spy shop over on Park?"

I shook my head. I'd never heard of it.

"They opened up about six or eight months ago. They sell all kinds of neat shit, like hidden cameras and bugs. We need to go over there and talk to the guy. We'll tell him what we need to do and see what he suggests."

I wasn't keen on the idea of telling yet another person, a stranger no less, my marital problems. But Rick was right. I've worked my ass off to make a success of my company. All I've received in the way of support from Paula was whining about the time I spend at work or nagging me about everything I say and do when I'm home. I don't intend to toss her out on her ear without a nickel to her name. But I don't want her to get her hooks into my company. She doesn't deserve that.

Rick locked up and drove me to the spy shop in his pickup. There was one strange looking individual talking to the man behind the counter when we entered the store. We looked around while waiting for them to finish their business.

Some of the merchandise on display was just plain silly. But some of it was intriguing. It made me uncomfortable to learn that some of what we saw even existed. If I spent too much time in here I could get downright paranoid!

The other customer finally left and we approached the counter. The man behind the counter looked us over and I could see the wheels in his mind turning. Before we said a word he looked me over and I got the impression he knew why I was here. That didn't make it any easier for me to tell him what I was about to have to tell him about my personal life in order to get his advice.

He smiled and introduced himself as the owner, Clark Boyle. He's about my age and as we began to talk I found that he wasn't as weird as I feared. In fact, he was rather personable and I think that helped when he asked what he could do for us.

With Rick's help I told Clark my problem. He nodded and said, "I can help you, Mr. Thomas. Fully eighty to ninety percent of my business is helping people with problems like yours. I have a wide variety of equipment that you will find helpful."

From looking at his displays I already knew that he did. I responded, "Please, call me Parker."

Then I sighed and added, "I want your help. But you're going to have to take it slow. I don't know anything about this stuff."

He smiled reassuringly and said, "Not many people do when they first come in here. I'll get you through this, Parker. Don't worry about a thing."

It turned out to be almost too easy, and not nearly as expensive as I expected. The first amazing little gadget he sold me would be discreetly inserted into a USB port in the back of Paula's computer. She never looks behind her computer. The small device connects her computer to my computer via Blue Tooth technology. It will record everything, every keystroke, everything she says or does on her webcam, and every site she visits onto my computer where I can view it at my leisure or spy on her in real time.

He also helped me select devices to record her conversations on both our home phone and her cell phone. With that taken care of we began to discuss his incredible array of cameras. They came in just about every size and shape you could imagine. Despite their small size the better ones are even capable of recording in HD!

With his help I selected cameras for our bedroom, her computer room, the bathrooms, the living room, kitchen and even the foyer. He was so happy with all the money I was spending he even threw in a couple of cameras. He gave me one camera for my backyard and another one to record the outside of my house so that I could see the street and anyone who came to the door. They were all HD, they were all sound and motion activated, and most importantly, they were all wireless. Everything they detected would be recorded directly onto my computer's hard drive.

As an afterthought, I also purchased a relatively inexpensive recorder for her car. It fit under the dash. The camera attached to the heater duct and looked like nothing more than an oversized plastic fastener. It could catch anything that happened in the front seat and record any sounds in the car. Anything it recorded could be downloaded to a thumb drive.