Cindy was driving aimlessly about, no destination in mind, she just wanted to escape. She ran it over and over in her mind; the sudden and violent end to her two year marriage. It had gone from suspicion to confirmation to confrontation to shocking conclusion in one afternoon.

There were clues that things weren't right for some time. Brad would come home from work late, his cologne heavier than it had been when he went out. At times he was visibly disheveled, sometimes nervously distracted. She had been suspicious, but had chosen to ignore it. That afternoon the facts had presented themselves to her; driving through town she saw his car go by, Brad at the wheel with a woman at his side. She followed them as best as she could until the car went into the parking garage of a local hotel. She found a spot to pull over and called Brad on his cell phone. He answered and told her he was at an important meeting and would get back to her later. All she could think was that he was a lying bastard.

She went home and waited. He arrived an hour late, apologizing, claiming the meeting ran late. Cindy bit her lip, trying to maintain her composure.

"Where was the meeting, anyway?"

"Why do you ask?" There was a wary tone in his voice.

"I saw you pull into the City Hotel," she spoke deliberately and precisely. "There was a woman in the car with you."

He laughed it off, insisting she was wrong; it had been somebody else with a similar car. She didn't buy it, stating it was definitely him. Then the story changed, yes it was him and a girl from the office, they were there to meet a client. He had denied it at first because he knew she would misinterpret it. When she told him that she didn't believe him, he grew angry. Was she calling him a liar? This is why he kept things from her; she was a jealous, petty little bitch.

"Liar?" she shouted back, losing control. "You're worse than a liar; I don't know what the fuck you are."

"A guy like me has needs, bitch. And since you're not woman enough to supply them I have to go elsewhere to get what I need."

"The only thing you need is your god damned head examined."

At that he exploded, stepping forward and slapped her hard, jerking her head to one side. Then the backhand came, even harder it caused her to stagger in the opposite direction. Grabbing the front of her dress, he shook her violently. Then, turning her around, her shoved her into the kitchen table.

"Now you'll find out what I need, you tight assed, prissy little cunt." His voice was more of a growl as he pulled the hem of her dress up to her waist.

Clutching her by the hair, he pushed her head down on the table. Cindy could not believe what was about to happen. She had never thought about a man raping his wife, it almost seemed pointless; she would eventually have put out for him after she calmed down. She was one who thought it was her wifely duty, which is what made it difficult for her to understand what he meant when he accused her of not giving him what he needed.

"Please, Brad, not like this. Let me up, I'll do whatever you want, but not this way."

He ignored her and grabbing the side of her panties by the leg opening began yanking up. The elastic in the waist and leg bit into her flesh as they refused to break. Finally with a jerk that almost lifted her off the floor, the fabric gave way with a loud ripping sound. The torn panties hung from one thigh, held up by the elastic in one leg hole. He kicked her feet apart and one handed undid the front of his pants. She thought there was a chance he wouldn't be able to get a hard-on under these circumstances. Then she felt his erect dick against her ass. She resigned herself to the fact that this was going to happen.

She also decided that she wouldn't beg or plead again for him to stop. She refused to give him the satisfaction. She could not, however, keep from crying. Her cheek pressed against the table, tears ran across her face as she bit her lip to keep silent. Then she felt the head of his hard cock probing her cunt until it pressed into the opening. He stepped forward slightly and thrust his hips against her ass. She felt his cock slam into her, all the way, in one sudden move. He began ramming it into her pussy viciously and rapidly, deliberately trying to hurt her; he was successful. She had never realized a penis could be used as a weapon.

Her lips now pressed tightly together, tears running diagonally across her face onto the tabletop, her mind seemed to separate from what was happening. It was as if her brain was trying ignore the hard cock that was raging inside her. She wondered why this was so painful, he had often fucked her vigorously in the past, and at times when she wasn't aroused and it was never like this. She remembered hearing that some women had rape fantasies, she didn't understand why. This was nothing she would wish on anybody; it was painful, humiliating, and frightening. Then he stopped hammering at her tortured snatch and jammed his cock as deep in as he could go and held it there as she felt it spit a load of cum into her. Hopefully it was over.

He yanked his dick out of her and wiped it on her ass cheeks and crack. Then he used the hem of her dress as a towel to dry himself off. When he finally released her hair, Cindy slowly slid off the table onto her knees, one hand still on the tabletop. She sat there, head down, quietly sobbing. For the first time Brad spoke.

"You're not even a good fuck. From now on, anytime I can't find a real woman and I need relief, you get it. I'll fuck you whenever and however I feel like it, if you don't like it, tough shit. New rules; as long as you live in my house, you're mine, understand cunt? And I owe you no explanations."

He finished buttoning the front of his pants and left. She heard the back door slam and his car start. He was gone for now. Cindy decided she had to leave, and leave quickly. She stood up the torn panties still hanging from one leg. She removed them and used them to wipe her crotch dry, to get as much of his semen off her as she could, then tossed them on the kitchen table: a little souvenir for the bastard. Going into the bedroom, she changed, putting on a sweat suit then packed an overnight bag. She left the dress on the floor; she never wanted to see it again. For some strange reason, she turned every light in the house on before she went out to her car, leaving the door open as she left. It was his house, let him worry about it. That's when she drove off into the night.

"Filthy prick," she said aloud. "Damn filthy prick." If anyone had heard her they wouldn't have been able to tell whether she was speaking about the man or his organ. They were both the same to her.

"That's the last time that filthy prick gets inside me." Again, man and member were one.

She'd driven long enough, it was time to go someplace, though she didn't have a clue as to where. She needed to talk, but to whom? Tell her mother or her sister? That would be too embarrassing, she was already humiliated, the same for her girlfriends. That's when she thought of Dave, he would probably understand, or at least be sympathetic. She found a place to pull over and stopped the car.

Dave was her nephew, although he was only a year younger than her; her mother had Cindy's sister when she was 18 and Cindy when she was 35, her sister gave birth to Dave a year later. Growing up, they lived in opposite sides of Cindy's mother's double house. They had always been very close growing up, so when she called on her cell phone and asked if she could come over and spend the night, he agreed without asking why.

When he opened the door to his apartment and she saw the concerned look on his face, she knew she must look like hell. How could she not? She asked him if she could please take a shower, she wanted to clean up before answering any questions. In the bathroom she looked at herself in the mirror, it wasn't a pretty sight. Her eyes were red rimmed from crying, at the corner of her mouth her lower lip was swollen, one cheek was puffy looking, and as she undressed, she saw the welts on her hips and stomach where her panties bit into her when Brad ripped them off. As she showered, she thought to would be good to just stay there until she felt clean inside and out, but she also wanted to talk, so she cut it short. While she was drying off there was a knock on the door. She opened it slightly and looked out. Dave passed her a pair of pajamas and a bathrobe.

"They'll be big on you, but the bottoms have a drawstring waist, so they'll work."

It was the first bit of kindness she'd experienced that day, and she was touched. Her eyes welled up again. She quickly dressed and went out into the living room and sat on the couch, leaning forward elbows on her thighs, hands clasped in front of her.

"Now, what's happened?" he asked as he sat down next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Talk if it helps, don't worry about anything, just talk."

Cindy was quiet for a moment, then blurted out, "Oh, God, it was awful."

Then she burst out crying. Dave put his arms around her and pulled her back to him, her head against his chest. She leaned into him, her clasped hands now between her knees, weeping uncontrollably. With one arm he held her close while the other stroked her hair trying to sooth her. She felt him kiss the top of her head.

"Let it all out, baby girl, cry it out. They say it helps."

"Lousy bastard was cheating on me," she spoke between sobs. "When I confronted him about it, he got mad and hit me. He slapped me around and raped me. Held me down and fucked me."

She turned her head slightly, looking up at him. "It wasn't even sex, he just fucked me."