Bill Dalton pulled into the driveway of his house and looked at the outside of the two-story structure. At one time, he considered this “home,” but in the last few months, it had become his personal Hell, thanks to his uncaring wife, Sara. At one time, he loved that woman and would have done anything to keep her happy. That’s why he worked so hard. But now, that love had been burned away and had been replaced by revulsion and hatred.

It was three and a half months ago that he came home after a grueling 12-hour work day at Olson Enterprises, where he worked as an account executive, to be told by his wife that she was bored. Because of that, he was to be her slave, and from that time on, she referred to him as “slave,” never by his real name.

That first night, she slapped a chastity device on his genitals and forced him to suck a plastic penis. She ordered him to fix her dinner and bring it to her in bed. Hoping to get back in her good graces, he complied.

But it didn’t work. In fact, things only got worse as Sara spent her days devising new ways to torture, emasculate and belittle him. Now, he was expected to work 12-hour days, then come home and do all the household chores. If he wanted clean clothes, he had to do the laundry. If he wanted a clean house, he had to do all the housework. If he wanted to eat, he had to cook. Then he had to satisfy his wife’s masochistic desires.

Many nights, he didn’t get to sleep until 3 am, only to get up at 6:30 and start all over again. Some nights, he got no sleep at all. Sometimes, he went nearly three days in a row without sleep.

And it got worse with each passing day. She took his ATM card and his credit card, handing him just enough money for gas and food. He learned to cut back, putting a few dollars away, hoping he could leave Sara behind once and for all.

Then she decided he wasn’t worthy to eat at the dinner table, even though he did all the cooking and all the housework.

“Where am I supposed to eat?” he asked her. Sara clamped a collar around his neck. Attaching a leash, she dragged him to the floor where she had placed a dog dish. She dumped his food in the dish and ordered him to eat it there.

“What?” he asked. “Don’t I even get a fork?” She laughed.

“You’re no better than a dog. Eat it like a dog if you’re really that hungry,” she ordered. “EAT!” He looked at the mess in the dish and picked it up, but she knocked it out of his hand, spilling the contents on the floor. “No hands,” she said. “Lick it up like a dog.” He looked at the mess on the floor and decided to take a pass. “Fine, starve,” she hissed. “See if I care. And clean that mess up!”

And she got even more brutal with her plastic strap-on dildo. One night as he slept, she pulled down his underwear, opened his legs, tied him up and rammed the thing into his ass with no warning or lubrication. He woke up suddenly, screaming from the pain. His cries fell on deaf ears as she kept ramming the thing inside him, tearing his rectum. She kept it up until she had an orgasm, then dumped him on the floor and left him, crying in pain and humiliation.

He begged with her, pleaded and made promises, but Sara refused to listen. She made it clear his job was to bring home money and serve her in whatever sick and depraved way she desired, no questions asked.

One day, he sat at his desk and noticed his hands shaking. He looked around his office and took stock of the photos of him and his wife in happier times. That’s when he realized that he had become what he most hated – a wimp. Never had he raised his voice to his wife or asserted himself in the marriage. Everything he did was to please her. But it was all for naught.

He spoke to attorneys and was given the bad news – that he lived in a “no-fault” state and worse, the courts were heavily aligned against men. Sara would end up getting at least half of his pay for the next three years and he would be required to maintain the mortgage and utilities on the house. She would also get half of his retirement and at least half of all their assets. He did the mental math. That would leave him with almost nothing, practically forcing him to live in his car.

The only other choice he had was to simply put up with the abuse, since, he was told, the authorities rarely, if ever, took action against abusive wives. Worse yet, the lawyer said, Bill would become even more of a laughingstock as his plight would become a matter of public record.

He had even contemplated suicide a couple times, but realized that Sara would benefit from his $500,000 life insurance policy. He thought about killing her, but he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life in jail being Bubba’s “bitch.” Plus, he really didn’t think he could actually do something that drastic.

He read a few stories online to see what other men in his situation had done, but realized he didn’t have access to the resources he would need to extract himself from the relationship. He found many of the stories entertaining and some that were way “out there,” but he realized there wasn’t going to be any Special Forces types, trained assassins or ancient mythical goddesses of justice saving him at the last minute. He shook his head at some of the comments left by readers.

In short, he was doomed, with no way out. Walking into his private office restroom, he looked at himself in the mirror and didn’t recognize the man who looked back at him. While he was never “ripped” or “buff,” he always tried to take good care of himself. But the man in the mirror looked like a shell of himself and he noticed that he had lost some of his muscle mass. What’s going on, he asked himself. Once upon a time he was a fairly successful account executive who received respect wherever he went.

Now he was just “Wimpy Bill,” trapped in a loveless, sexless marriage to a shrew of a woman who had no respect or love for him. Her abuse had left him hungry, weak, emasculated and shaking. And now, his work was beginning to suffer, and others had noticed as well. Bill got up and threw the photos in the trash. This ends, now, he told himself.

That night, he came home to find a motorcycle in the living room and a big, burly, greasy man sitting on his couch with Sara, naked, riding his cock. They looked at him as he walked in.

“Oh, hi, slave,” Sara said. “This is Bruno. He’s going to take care of my sexual needs from now on, okay? He might even get me pregnant and we can have those children you said you wanted. Maybe if you’re a good little boy, I’ll let you eat his cum out of my pussy. Now, go fix our dinner and do your chores.” The long-haired greaseball laughed.

“Yeah, cuck, go serve your mistress while I fuck her brains out. Oh, bring me a beer, willya?” They laughed as Bill brought Bruno a beer.

“By the way, slave, I need you to lick up his cum off the couch. While you’re at it, make sure the bed has fresh sheets. I don’t want Bruno sleeping on anything you’ve dirtied up or sweated on,” Sara said.

By now, Bill was fed up. Fuming, he went upstairs and while the two were fucking loudly on his couch, he grabbed his ATM card and his credit card out of Sara’s purse and walked out of the house. Sara and Bruno stopped as they saw him leave.

Bruno and Sara jumped on his motorcycle and followed Bill down the street. Bill was prepared to leave, but he wasn’t able to outrun Bruno, who overtook him, opened the car door and dragged Bill out, repeatedly punching him in the street. He tossed Bill, now beaten and bloody, back into the car and Sara climbed in the driver’s seat.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked. “I told you you needed to follow my orders if you want to keep me happy and you disobeyed me. Having Bruno fuck me makes me happy and you’re to do whatever he says, got it?”

“God damn you, bitch,” Bill said. “You’re now an accessory to assault. I’m calling the cops.” He pulled out his cell phone and dialed 911, but Sara knocked it out of his hand when the operator answered, ending the connection.

“Damn you, you’re not calling the cops on me, you asshole. Now you’re really going to pay,” she said.

After getting back to the house, Sara and Bruno took Bill to the upstairs bedroom and stripped him naked. Bruno started to punch him in the stomach but Sara stopped him.

“I’ve got another idea,” she said. “Something I’ve always wanted to do. Take your pants off and let’s tie him up.” Bruno smiled. They tied Bill face down across the bed, his arms and legs spread with his head hanging over the side. She put some pillows under him, raising his ass.

“Feed him your cock,” Sara told Bruno as she donned her strap-on. She got next to Bill’s head. “Now, slave, you get to suck the real thing, and you’d better do it nice and swallow it all,” she said. Bill shook his head back and forth but Bruno stopped him and forced his manhood into Bill’s mouth. At the same time, Sara slammed her plastic phallus into her husband’s rectum with no lubrication.

Bill struggled and cried through the ordeal, but they continued their assault.

“Better not bite me asshole, or I’ll fucking kill you,” Bruno said, emptying himself in Bill’s mouth. Sara pulled out and replaced Bruno’s cock with her dildo, now coated with blood and feces. She pushed it hard into his throat, making him gag. After brutalizing him to their satisfaction, they tossed him into the back yard and chained him to a pole, where he spent the night crying in pain and praying for relief.

Now, he wasn’t just a wimp, he was a cuckold as well. The only thing worse than the pain was the humiliation. He had loved Sara without reservation and this was the way she chose to repay him.

The next day, he was allowed to shower and go to work. His ass hurt and his chest felt tight.

“Bring home lots of bacon for Bruno and I to spend,” Sara said.

“Yeah, and get some more beer,” Bruno added. “I’m almost out.” Bill said nothing as he walked out the house, the two cheaters laughing.

Bill went to the coffee room and grabbed a cup of coffee and a donut – the only thing he had eaten since the previous day – as his boss, Mike Olson, came up to him.

“Bill, are you alright?” he asked. “You’re not looking too good.” Bill looked at his boss, the man who started the company and hired him all those years ago.

“I’m fine,” he stammered.

“Maybe you should go home and get some rest,” Mike said. Bill’s eyes grew wide.

“No, I can’t go home,” he said, the pain in his chest growing. Suddenly, he felt nauseous and the pain began spreading to his arm. His vision blurred and he slumped to the floor, spilling his coffee. He knew he was having a heart attack and he prayed that death would overtake him soon and release him from the hell Sara created for him.

The next thing he knew, he was in the back of an ambulance, looking up into the face of a paramedic. His chest still hurt, but it was a different kind of pain. It was the pain that often came about after CPR, and it was a pain he would feel for months afterward. Bill later learned that the paramedics had not only given him CPR, they had to use paddles on him twice before his heart started working again.

“I’m okay, just a bit tired,” Bill croaked. The paramedic shook his head.

“No, you’re not okay,” he said. “We almost lost you, twice. We’re taking you to Mercy Hospital and the doctors there will fix you right up. Hang in there, buddy.”

The ambulance pulled into the hospital emergency room area and Bill was rushed into a room where doctors and nurses began working. After giving him some fluids to stabilize his system and taking X-Rays, he was taken to another room where a doctor explained that he was going to give Bill a stent to open up a blood vessel that was almost completely blocked.

The next time Bill awoke, he was in a different room and his mouth was dry. Unable to speak, he motioned for some liquid and was given some ice chips to suck on. A nurse gave him something for his pain and he fell asleep again.

His mouth was still dry the next time he woke up and he was given more ice chips to suck on. He looked around the room and saw his boss, Mike Olson, who looked at him with concern.

“We’re all praying for you, Bill,” he said. “Listen, your wife and some guy came by a bit earlier to see you and find out what happened. She didn’t look too happy. Is everything alright between you two?” Bill shook his head, terror in his eyes. He tried to tell Mike to keep her out but he was unable to speak very well.

“No,” he croaked. “She ... did ... this.” Mike was now very concerned for Bill, who was more than just an employee. Bill was one of his first account executives and worked hard to make the company successful. Mike owed him a great deal and promised himself he would do whatever he could for a man he considered a friend and colleague.

“What do you mean, she did this?” Mike asked. Bill tried to grab Mike’s shirt and looked at him with pleading eyes. “Look, maybe in a day or two I’ll bring Ralph Stimson by and we can talk about it some more, okay?” Mike asked. Bill nodded his head. Ralph was the company safety man who also doubled as the company psychologist and counselor. He often helped employees get through stressful times at work and was very well thought of by everyone.

A doctor came into the room and checked Bill’s vitals. He consulted Bill’s chart before examining him. He sat down and looked at Bill, concern on his face.

“Mr. Dalton, I think you’re going to be okay, but we’re going to keep you here for a few days just to make sure. While I’m here, I’d like to ask a couple questions if you don’t mind,” he said.

“What?” Bill asked.

“Go ahead and ask, doctor, I’m Bill’s boss and his friend. Whatever you need to say, you can say in front of me as well,” Mike said. The doctor looked at Bill.

“Is that okay with you, Mr. Dalton?” he asked. Bill nodded his head and gave a weak “yes” in response.

“Very well. We noticed when you were brought in that your rectum appeared to have been, er, assaulted. There was significant tearing and we noticed some bleeding. We also noticed some bruising inside your throat, and you appear somewhat malnourished,” he said. “We also noticed some anomalies in your blood work. I don’t mean to intrude on your personal life, but I was wondering if you could shed some light on this?” Bill’s eyes began watering and he started sobbing. Mike comforted him as best he could. The doctor sat back and took notes. He continued when Bill seemed to calm down.

“I take it things aren’t going too well at home, is that right?” the doctor asked. Bill shook his head. “Look, we’re not here to judge you, Mr. Dalton. Your lifestyle choices are yours to make. I just thought maybe you could give us an idea of what happened.” He looked at Mike. “Honestly, if this were a female patient, I would swear that there had been a sexual assault along with abuse. All the signs are there.”

“Oh my God,” Mike said. “That would explain why he doesn’t want to see his wife. Are you serious about this?”

“Absolutely,” the doctor said. “In fact, I’m debating whether or not we should get the authorities involved.”

“From what I’ve seen, the authorities in this town aren’t worth shit,” Mike said. The doctor nodded in agreement. “At best, they’d make a report and then it’d be all over the evening news. Look, let’s keep this quiet for now and see what we can come up with. Can you keep his wife away from him?”

“Yes, we can,” the doctor said. He looked at Bill. “Is that what you would like?” Bill nodded his head. “Very well,” the doctor said. “I’ll make a note of that. If she does come by again, we’ll have security escort her off the premises.”

“Thanks, doc,” Bill said. The doctor patted his arm.

“You’re welcome. Now, get some rest, okay?” Mike looked at Bill after the doctor left.

“Bill, I’ve been a bit worried about you the last couple months. Others have been as well. Is this what’s been bothering you all this time?” he asked. Bill nodded his head.

“Yeah,” he said.

“I understand,” Mike said. “Hang in there, Bill, we’ll get this figured out. Now, do like the doctor said and get some rest. Don’t worry about anything. Ralph and I will see you in a day or two.” He gave Bill a reassuring bat on the shoulder and walked out. Finally feeling a bit of relief, Bill closed his eyes and slept.

That night, Sara and Bruno came back to see Bill. The staff in the ICU wasn’t aware of the order keeping her away and said nothing as she entered his room. She looked at the tubes connected to Bill and roughly threw off his covers.

“What the hell are you doing?” she hissed. “What’s this shit about a heart attack? You didn’t have a heart attack. You’re just faking it to stay away from home. Get the hell out of that bed right now. You need to make my dinner and clean my house, slave. Go on. MOVE, dammit!”

“Yeah, and you need to get my beer, asshole!” Bruno shouted. By now, Bill was awake and terror-stricken, watching as Sara began pulling on the tubes and wires connected to Bill. He frantically pressed the nurse’s call button. A nurse had been walking by the room and heard the commotion, along with Sara’s statements. She came into the room and pushed Sara away from the equipment next to Bill’s bed. Bruno grabbed the nurse and threw her into the hallway, which alerted other nurses, one of whom called security.

Soon, security was in the room and had pulled Bruno out. Sara, however, remained defiant.

“Dammit, I’m his wife, and he needs to come home right fucking NOW and make my dinner,” she screamed. “He’s faking this. He didn’t have no heart attack!” Bruno tried to get back into the room, pushing against the security guard.

“I’m gonna kill you, motherfucker,” he said. “Now get up and get my goddamn beer!” The security guard hit him with a taser. As Bruno slumped to the ground, police officers showed up at the door. They took statements from security and the nurses before addressing Bill.

“Mr. Dalton, would you like to press assault charges against these two individuals?” the officer asked.

“Lock. Them. Up,” Bill said defiantly. Sara looked at him with hate in her eyes.

“You motherfucking bastard,” she screamed as the officer cuffed her hands behind her back. “I’ll get you for this. You don’t know what pain is. I’ll fuck your ass until you fucking bleed to death, you worthless piece of shit!”

Two officers led them away as a third came to Bill’s side. He looked down at Bill, who was being covered and checked by the nurses. Bill gave him a statement, leaving out the sexual assault from earlier. The officer took his notes and handed Bill a card.

“I’m truly sorry about this, Mr. Dalton,” he said. “Just so you know, chances are, they’ll be held for about 96 hours and then let go with a fine. If that. Our jails are pretty crowded right now and, well, that’s just the way things go in this town. I’d suggest you get an attorney and get an order of protection against those two. I’m sorry, sir, really. That’s just the way things work here.” Bill nodded his head.

“Thanks, officer,” he said. The policeman patted Bill on the shoulder and headed out. After the nurses got Bill calmed down and situated, they gave him some more medicine and he fell asleep.

By the end of the second day, Bill had been transferred to a private room in another part of the hospital. He was starting to get his strength back and was able to walk up and down the hall before going back to bed. The hospital put him on a special cardiac diet and gave him infusions to bring his blood levels back to normal.

Thanks to Mike, several people from the office sent flowers to Bill’s room with cards encouraging him to get well “soon.” He smiled at that.

On his third day, he was sitting up in his bed, watching the news, when Mike and Ralph entered the room.

“Hey, Bill,” Mike said as they entered his room. “How’re you feeling?”

“Better,” Bill said. “Almost human, even.”

“Well, you sure look better than you did the other day,” Mike said. Ralph shook his hand and the two men sat down next to Bill’s bed.

“So, Bill, would you mind filling us in on what’s really going on?” Ralph asked. Bill looked nervously at the two men.

“Is what we say here confidential?” he asked. Ralph nodded his head.

“Absolutely,” he said. “What gets said here stays here between us. Think of me as your therapist, okay? The same rules of doctor-patient confidentiality apply.”

“Okay,” Bill said. “I’m pretty embarrassed about all this, you know.”

“No need to be, son,” Mike said. “We’re here to help but we can’t help if we don’t know what’s been going on with you.”

“Alright,” Bill said. After giving Ralph permission to record the interview, he filled them in on the events of the last three and a half months, from the time Sara made her first announcement to the encounter in ICU that landed her in jail. Ralph stopped a few times to ask questions and took notes as he listened to Bill’s story. When Bill finished, the two men appeared shocked.

“My God, this sounds like one of those stories you read online, doesn’t it,” Mike said. Ralph smiled at that.

“Yeah. I’ve never heard of anything so outlandish,” he said.

“So, is there anything we can do?” Mike asked. Ralph thought for a moment before answering.

“I’ll need to make a call, but I think there is,” he said. “Ordinarily, I’d advise getting a lawyer and filing for divorce, but I think this case requires something more, especially given the physical and emotional damage that’s been done. A divorce is stressful enough even under the best of circumstances, but this...”

“What are you thinking?” Mike asked.

“I remember a seminar I attended in New York a while back. The speaker said he was working on a special kind of treatment specifically designed for cases of extreme emotional damage. It’s not been approved by the FDA or anyone else, but he said he’s open to looking at cases where there has been significant distress. Maybe he’d be interested in this,” Ralph said.

“What are we waiting for?” Bill asked.

“Keep in mind, Bill, that if he decides to take your case, it could be expensive and since it’s experimental, your insurance wouldn’t cover it. And there’s no guarantee he’ll even look at you,” Ralph said.

“Don’t worry about the cost,” Mike said. “I’ll take care of that.”

“Okay,” Ralph said. “I’ll make some calls and get back to you. Meanwhile, Bill, I’d like to come by and talk with you one on one for the next few days if you don’t mind.”

“I’d like that,” Bill said.

“Good. Then it’s settled. I’ll start making calls today when we get back and hopefully I’ll get an answer soon,” Ralph said, standing up. Mike stood up as well.

“Are you going to be okay?” Mike asked. Bill nodded his head.

“Yeah. I’ll need to talk to an attorney and get a protection order, though,” he said.

“I’ll see what I can arrange. Maybe I can get someone from legal to do that for you,” Mike said.

“Thanks,” Bill said. He shook their hands and settled back in bed after they left. He felt better than he had in weeks.

Ralph came by and held impromptu counseling sessions with Bill for the next three days and Mike, true to his word, got one of the company lawyers to file an order of protection keeping Sara and Bruno 500 feet away from Bill and his place of work. They could stay at the house so long as Bill was in the hospital or undergoing in-patient therapy, but had to vacate as soon as they knew he would be back. The attorney suggested Bill take measures to protect his finances.

Mike also brought Bill’s laptop from work. Connecting to the hospital’s guest wifi network, he logged into his bank account and made a number of changes, paying off and closing out their joint credit card and moving half of their funds into a separate account in his name only. He had the statements and forms mailed to his office. Her ATM card still worked, so she would still have access to some funds.

The policeman’s prediction also came true. Sara and Bruno were held at the county jail for 96 hours but were released on their own recognizance after the judge decided neither of them had actually struck Bill. The threats, which had been captured on the hospital’s surveillance system, were deemed irrelevant.

There was no fine, no probation, nothing. Not even a warning to “play nice” with others. So much for the “justice” system. The two were served with the protection order the day they were released from jail.

Finally, the doctors declared that Bill could be released. Ralph, however, managed to have the order changed showing that Bill would be released into a “private rehabilitation center,” owing to what he called “extreme emotional distress” which he explained was probably the “root cause” of Bill’s heart attack.

Ralph and Mike showed up in Bill’s room the day before he was to be discharged.

“Good news, Bill,” Ralph said. “I spoke with Dr. Steiner and he’s agreed to take your case. You’ll be transported to his private research center as soon as they’re finished with you here. From what he tells me, you’ll be there for three weeks, maybe longer. Mike and I will go by your house when we leave here, collect your things and let your wife know that you’ll be out of touch for that period of time. Dr. Steiner says he doesn’t want you to have any contact with her while you’re under his care. Any questions so far?”

“Where is this place?” Bill asked.

“It’s a nice research center on the shore of Lake Arrowhead,” Ralph said. “They have everything you could ever need, including a weight room and Internet access, and I’m told the rooms are quite nice.”

“Do they serve black bean burgers?” Bill asked. He had gotten quite used to them after eating them at the hospital. Ralph nodded.

“I’m sure they can scare some up. Are you going meatless?” he asked.

“Nah,” Bill said, “but I am going to start watching my diet a bit better from now on. The hospital here serves them as part of their cardiac diet and I’ve developed a bit of a taste for them.”

“Smart move,” Ralph said. Bill removed his wedding ring and handed it to Mike.

“When you see Sara, could you please give her this?” he asked. “Tell her I don’t want it and I won’t be needing it any more.” Mike took the ring and put it in his pocket.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked. Bill nodded.

“Absolutely. Tell her she can fuck herself with it for all I care. I’m done with her,” Bill said. Mike and Ralph headed to Bill’s house to collect his things. They also wanted to check the place out to see if they could corroborate his story.

Pulling up into the driveway, the first thing they noticed was the unkempt yard, which had not been kept up for at least two weeks. They knocked and Sara opened the door, dressed only in a bathrobe wrapped tightly around her body. Her hair disheveled, her eyes red and puffy, she looked as though she had been “rode hard” and “put away wet.” Mike had known Sara for a long time, but he hardly recognized the woman who answered the door.

“Hi, Sara, we’re here to get Bill’s things for his rehab,” Mike said. Sara invited them inside.

The first thing they noticed was the smell. Dirty clothes and oily rags were everywhere. The house looked as though it hadn’t been cleaned in quite a while. Walking in the kitchen, Ralph saw a large dog dish with the moldy remnants of what looked to have been food at one time. He also noticed the floor around it was splattered with moldy food.

“Do you guys have an animal?” he asked. Sara shook her head.

“No, I’m allergic to dogs and cats,” she said. “Sometimes Bill brings in a stray and feeds it, though.” Ralph nodded and looked around a bit more. The sink was filled with dirty dishes and there were used pots and pans on the stove. He saw trash from various take-out joints and figured she didn’t do much cooking.

He also noticed some odd ingredients on the kitchen counter and the table along with a pile of empty soda bottles. Interesting, he thought to himself.

Bruno’s motorcycle was also parked in the living room, on top of what appeared to be a fairly expensive rug. The rug showed tire marks and oil and several tools along with oily rags lay next to the bike.

“So, you dudes bring some beer?” Bruno asked as he came downstairs.

“No,” Mike said. “We’re here to get Bill’s things. Where are they?”

“They’re upstairs,” Sara said. “I’ll show you.” She led the two upstairs into the guest room.

“Doesn’t he keep his clothes in the master bedroom?” Ralph asked.

“Uh, no,” Sara said. “After Bruno moved in I put his stuff in the other room.”

They went through the closet, grabbing several pairs of jeans, some t-shirts, a pair of tennis shoes and other items they thought he might need. Mike went into the master bathroom and grabbed Bill’s toiletries. He looked around the master bedroom and saw the strap-on dildo Bill told them about. The bed was unmade and the entire room reeked of sweat, urine, feces and sex.

He packed two suitcases with Bill’s things and went back downstairs, Sara on his heels.

“So, where will he be? How long will he be gone?” she asked. “I need him to come home and do his chores.”