Breaking The Ex- Husband

Breaking The Ex- Husband

On the large side, and less than a looker, a young woman with a trust fund becomes a target for a predator who marries her with the intent of filing for divorce shortly after; thus claiming a share of the wealth left to her by her deceased parents. Unfortunately, for him, the trust under which the money was left to her is iron-clad and he receives no part of it.

What he does receive is his ex-wife’s undying hatred and a desire for retribution that will see him become little more than a human dog and domestic servant and plaything, set to live out the rest of his life caged in her cellar.

Then she falls in love with his former girlfriend…


Rachel Wells ran her eyes over her former husband’s uncomfortably stretched body she had secured to the wall of her cellar and admired the body she had decided to make hers by force after the bonds of matrimony had failed to hold him.

He would, she had promised herself, and hating it or not, be held now.

Despite the cool cellar air, his skin was bathed in a sheen of perspiration that was part the exertion of his unnatural and unyielding position and part fear. His arms were stretched and pinioned above his head by the manacles she herself had anchor-bolted into the stone-wall along with those that shackled the ankles of his outstretched legs below. In fact, the whole cellar had been her doing and, even if she said so herself, had been executed to perfection; even allowing for the absent outside help from professional artisans the criminal nature of her purposes denied her.

It was windowless, Spartan, and very secure.

She had placed her still groggy former husband in his current position some three hours ago now and, notwithstanding the hate-filled looks he blazed her way whenever their eyes met and which grew in intensity as the drugs in his system wore off, the cock with which he had once seduced her was as hard as she could ever remember.

“Somebody seems to like being all strung up and helpless,” she commented, fetching forth a fresh burst of futile struggling and more hate-filled looks.

The large balls she had always enjoyed handling when they were a couple; when he would allow it, and before she realised her only real attraction for him had been the Trust-Fund her late-parents had set-up for their only daughter; were attempting to vomit themselves up towards his cock as a prelude to spouting their load as she handled them once again.

Only to find themselves denied their objective by the ball spreader and stretcher in which she had imprisoned them.

A large woman, easily as tall as her ex-husband and, after exercise had added muscle as well as strength to what had once been bulk; Rachel Wells moved closer to those lean and handsome features that had so beguiled her and caused her so much mental pain. The intensity of her own eyes even greater than the hate beamed towards her from her victim. So great, it was her ex-husband, still groggy from the medication that had kept him under or not, who blinked first and turned his head from the features he had described as “Piggy” before leaving her for good.

“I wonder how your little girl-toy would feel to see her big strong man get all hard in his ex-wife’s hands?” she laughed, sensing all the impossible thoughts running through his head as he tried to form words around the ball-gag with which she had fitted him and succeeded only in forcing out some untranslatable mumblings that sent saliva past the gag to trickle down his chin.

And why wouldn’t those thoughts be impossible?

Only last night he had phoned the latest and trusting little girl toy to fund him and provide house-room. She had been at her mother’s home in Whitby and he had assured her he couldn’t wait for her visit to end and her return to the love-nest in Holloway her salary as a mortgage-advisor bankrolled. Call made as he spent the evening in a busy club in nearby Camden. A club full of the scantily dressed young women he couldn’t resist – despite the superior version he had just spoken sweet nothings to.

The next thing he knew; he was waking up in the cellar of a home he hadn’t known existed that was now owned by his ex. Two days later and some seventy miles away on the Sussex/Hampshire border. Seventy miles that may have been a million for all the chance he ever had of returning to the shallow and carefree life so unbecoming a man of his 37-years.

If, that is, she had her way.

And what was there, other than carelessness on her part, to stop her?

The look of incredulity that had vied with his grogginess, upon seeing the wife he had used and divorced stepping towards his helpless frame, heels clacking upon the stone-floor and dressed like some demented female educator from the 1930’s, was almost comic. Almost in itself, she had thought to herself with a chuckle, worth the expense of time, patience and money, she had expended to bring him to such a pass.

And to hell with repercussions!

Rachel recalled her fear after finally managing to slip the sleeping-agent into his drink unnoticed, and then introducing herself to nearby and disinterested revelers as his sister who had come to take him home, this after it took effect to react with the drink he had already consumed and make his eyes heavy and his speech slurred. She had dressed differently and used a blonde wig and contacts rather than her usual glasses so as not to be noticed – by him initially, and by anybody studying the CCTV images should his disappearance be investigated, as it no doubt would.

She needn’t have worried. The girl he had been attempting to seduce had been only too happy to palm the “drunk” off to his “sister”, and after that it had simply been a matter of manhandling him out into the street and into the side-road where she had parked the transit-van with false plates.

Strangely enough, it was the journey back to her new home outside Bosham on the Chichester Harbour that frightened her the most. She had affixed a false registration to the old transit bought in her name and had a drugged and unconscious man gagged and tied in the back. If the Police stopped her for some reason…?

Again, she needn’t have worried.

And now he was here. Safe and secure without a person other than her knowing his location. The trip back to London with his keys to strip the flat of his belongings and ferry them back to West Sussex had been made without incident. Again at night and with both blonde wig and contacts as well as the false car-plates.

Before leaving the flat, she’d already had his lap-top up and running. Giving thanks as she went about it for his laziness and the unchanged password she had tapped in for him after buying it as one of his birthday presents. Once in it had been simple to email all the contacts that mattered – mostly women; and the girl-toy in particular. This to tell them he had met and fallen in love with a lovely Scottish girl and was accompanying her back to Fort William.

Simple and with no over-complication likely to make anyone suspicious; especially the girl-toy to whom she offered a curt apology in his name while insisting there was simply too great an age difference between “us” for there to be any long-term future involved.

Did she feel guilty about hurting another innocent in such a way?

Yes, and no.

On the one hand, she regretted putting the girl through some of the same pain she herself had experienced. While on the other, she knew she was saving her greater heartache down the line when her ex-husband’s next target came along.

Not only that, but she had made the girl’s acquaintance on a number of occasions now – without letting her know just who she was, of course – and their initially accidental meetings had now become regular coffee-dates. She was fast becoming a friend and confidante and found herself surprised that the girl already had doubts about the older lover her efforts at the workplace were keeping. Her ex’s lover nowhere near as credulous as she herself had been at the same stage of her relationship with him – which was not so surprising given her looks and features that were decidedly not “Piggy”.

There was also a spark between them, Rachel sensed, that went beyond a budding friendship and excited her in a way she found… surprising.

She had left his keys and those to the girl’s car he had been using on the kitchen table and confessed to mild surprise that it had taken such small pains to make him disappear so plausibly.

She also knew it would be a shock for the girl, despite her own misgivings about her older lover, and a part of Rachel empathised with her loss; despite being its cause. The young woman was another innocent, after all, but, while it was a shame, it was also unavoidable.

And it would spare yet another trusting young ingénue far greater pain down the line.

In just over a day, she had congratulated herself on the drive back to West Sussex, she had caused her former husband to drop off the planet.

Or at least to Scotland.

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