Message-ID: <11590eli$9805271525@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: cwcobblest@aol.com (Cwcobblest) Subject: Hubby Humiliation Bonanza: "Obscure," part 11 Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-Id: <1998052416381300.MAA02632@ladder01.news.aol.com> "Obscure," Part 11 (MmF, wimp husband - or, rather, EX-husband!) by c.w. cobblestone The divorce was anticlimatic. There was no ceremony, no fanfare, no emotion. One night while I was serving dinner Luke ordered me to fetch his briefcase. When I brought it to him, he reached in and pulled out the divorce papers. Then he reached in again, produced a gold Cross pen, and told me to sign on the dotted line. Then he told me he wanted more potatoes. That was it. Natalie never said a word; she was flipping through a bridal magazine while she ate, and didn't seem to be the least bit interested. To her, signing the divorce papers was simply a formality. Our marriage never did mean that much to Natalie, but now her entire attention was focused on her upcoming wedding with Luke. But signing those papers ripped a hole in my soul. Through the years, I had worked relentlessly to try to keep our marriage together, and when I scratched my name on the bottom of the hated document I felt like I was giving up on life itself. It was an uncontested divorce; Natalie got everything, of course. Not that it mattered anyway - the house, the cars, and all the stocks and bonds were all in her name from the get-go. But, just in case, Luke had a provision written into the settlement that required me to give Natalie 50 percent of every penny I would ever earn for the rest of my life. Quite a one-sided alimony agreement, to say the least. But what did I expect? Luke's a sharp lawyer. Despite the change in our marital status, the daily routine pretty much stayed the same in our household. Natalie and Luke still treated me like a socially inferior moron whose sole purpose was to make life comfortable for them. And I continued to work my ass off without not so much as a thank-you. One big, happy family. I was kept busy running around town getting ready for the wedding. Luke pretty much left the whole thing up to Natalie - and she pretty much left it all up to me, or at least the gopher part of it. She told me what she wanted, and I hopped on the bus and took care of it. Money was no object, either. Almost $2,000 for an ice sculture? No problem. One night, about two weeks before the wedding, I was in the master bedroom folding Luke's underwear, when I discovered a diamond necklace I'd never seen before in Luke's top drawer. I picked up the necklace and turned toward Natalie, who was lounging on the bed watching television with her fiancee. "Uh, Natalie, did you lose this?" I asked, holding the necklace up to show her. "I found it in Luke's underwear drawer." I was surprised when I saw Luke throw back the covers and lunge toward me. I didn't know what was going on, and I had no time to duck as his hand crashed across the side of my face. My head snapped back, and I immediately felt my nose start to bleed as I slumped to the floor. "You fucking stupid cocksucker!" he screamed at me. "That necklace was supposed to be a surprise! I was gonna give it to Natalie when we got to Hawaii. And now, you went and fucked it all up!" I was lying on the carpet hunched up in a fetal position when I suddenly felt Luke's foot crash against my ribs. The blow knocked the wind out of me. I was trying to catch my breath when he kicked me again, this time catching me behind the ear with his foot. "Get up, asshole!" he screamed at me, and I scrambled to regain my feet. As soon as I was standing upright again, Luke slapped me on the back of the head, then kicked me hard in the ass. "Get out of our bedroom, you sorry piece of shit!" he hissed. "I'm too tired to whip your ass tonight - but tomorrow, you're gonna get a hundred with the cane. At least a hundred. Maybe two. Now get the fuck outta here!" "Y-yes, sir," I whispered as I backed out of the bedroom. DON'T FORGET TO SET YOUR CLOCKS AHEAD THREE HOURS NEXT WEEK. AND DON'T BE LATE FOR DINNER. -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----