The Good Husband

by Lucian Bane

  Going Back

  “Holy hell,” Cheryl whispered when Ben reminded her. “I never even thought of that.”

  “We’ll have to tell him before we see him. Before we see my parents,” he added. Otherwise, they might all have heart attacks when they see what kind of surgery he had.

  “I like it here. You?” she asked, grabbing his hand from his lap as he drove.

  He eyed her, wondering what she was thinking. He scratched his thumb nail along her palm, letting her know what he was on his mind. She turned his hand over and raked her nails over his skin, making his pulse tremble. He kept glancing at her, baffled and curious over the reaction he had to it. His sexual appetite was becoming a treasure trove of psychotic dysfunction. The term something is wrong meant things nobody could imagine they might. There was something wrong with what was wrong. His urges went from wanting to kill to wanting to be punished sexually. Since that discovery, he’d had quite a few other wrong urges. One was wanting to have Cheryl sit on his face and try to suffocate him. Another was wanting her to wrap him like a mummy, except his cock, and force him to orgasm repeatedly. And then there was the freaky balloon idea. He wanted to fill those skinny ones with hot water and real cinnamon, then shove them in her pussy and ass and fuck her till they burst and enjoy the fiery burn of the ride.

  He didn’t even know that cinnamon was literally hot till he looked it up. Why did he even have the idea, and did it have something to do with the chili and cinnamon rolls thing that was in his head?

  She pulled his hand to her mouth and kissed it, effectively causing a wreck with all the urges inside him. She smiled at him, sliding his hand along her cheek next, looking just like somebody that knew something he didn’t.

  His adrenalin spiked as he pulled his hand away, holding on to the steering wheel. Did she know something? Was she hiding it? Why would she?

  They pulled into the drive leading to their temporary home. “Oh my, this is beautiful,” Cheryl whispered.

  Ben eyed the area, waiting for memories to hit him. He’d done that since they’d gotten into town, feeling the pull of things that happened there. He wanted to get this over with as much as he wanted nothing to do with it. He’d get everybody settled then call Uncle Leroy. He was the only one he felt safe being with. He prayed his urges didn’t turn to hurting old people. Now, to convince Cheryl that she didn’t need to be with him for this. She didn’t need to be with him ever, but he was too far gone to let her go. Some part of him couldn’t live without her, and he prayed that part kept his psychopathic urges from killing her.

  After they unpacked everything, Haiku accompanied Alice and Charlie on an exploration of the ten-acre property, while Ben contemplated what kind of sex he would have with Cheryl. He couldn’t get it out of his head and knew he wouldn’t be able to think until he fucked her.

  In the master bedroom, his cock led him around, looking for what it wanted with her. Finding nothing of interest, he made his way downstairs and found a cellar. He wandered around in it and paused at finding a roll of twine on a shelf. He turned it over in his hands, his cock getting hard before he even knew what he’d do. Closing his eyes, he watched himself tie Cheryl up in some elaborate formation on her hands and knees. The rope cut into her skin at her breasts, forcing her nipples to pucker tightly. It was the same way crisscrossing her ass then along her legs and back and finally around her neck. He sat with his legs open as she sucked his cock. He realized when he forced her to the base, the rope strangled her. He gasped on lust as he held her head down, feeling her choking and gagging on his cock. He let her up enough to catch her breath only to do it all over again.

  Ben clenched his eyes tight, resisting the sick torture. He threw the twine against the wall, growling in rage. “Fuck you,” he seethed at the psycho in his head, ready to kill something. He stalked his way back upstairs, needing to talk to Cheryl.

  He heard the shower in the master bathroom and waited for her in the room, pacing through the arousal that demanded he go in there and fuck her till some part of her bled. Mixing blood and cum tears was suddenly his obsession. It was like his brain belonged to fifty different demons that shuffled their wickedness through his mind daily. Sometimes hourly. He needed to see about getting restraints for at night so he could rest without worrying about waking up to find he’d acted out one of his nightmares.

  ****

  Cheryl carefully washed the battered parts of her body, again trying to figure out how not to become a chew toy for Ben’s sickness. His condition was worsening, she could tell. He was antsy, pacey, fidgety. He was battling alone, and that part made her crazy. She had to find a way to help him. There had to be a way to slip inside with him and see where she fit in this solution.

  She recalled the incident in the closet and how he’d submitted to her aggression, almost became child-like. It was yet another face of this sickness, she knew. It was almost like a loophole that she could maybe use. If she was in charge, it meant less chances of him injuring her accidentally. Or on purpose. Either one seemed to drive the sane parts of his mind over an edge.

  Cheryl shut off the shower and wrapped in a towel. She opened the bedroom door and glanced in, hurrying to the suitcase on the bed. She grabbed the zipper and winced when she tried to get it past the curve in the bag. Using both hands, she got it open and found her intimates.

  Dropping the towel, she screamed at hearing a gasp. She looked and found Ben staring at the bruises on her breasts from a chair in the corner. Snatching the towel up, she wrapped in it and hurried to him where he leaned forward on his knees, holding his head and heaving.

  He shoved her comforting hand away. “I can’t live like this,” he choked out.

  The sound of his anguish brought her own sob. “Don’t cry,” she said, kneeling next to him.

  “This is wrong, this is so wrong,” he ground out, shaking his head in his hands. “I’m supposed to protect you.”

  “You have protected me all our marriage,” she whispered. “You took a lot for me, Ben. Let me protect you now.”

  He jerked his face up to her, furious. “Why are you doing this? Why are you letting me hurt you?”

  Her face crimped as a sob escaped her. “Because I love you more than my own life?”

  “You’re being stupid,” he seethed at her. “You can’t let me do this,” he said, back to begging weakly, shaking his head. “I need to be institutionalized.”

  “No!” she gasped, wrapping her arms around him tight. “No, you can’t, please! We’ll find a way to fix it, I swear it.” She pushed back, looking at him. “We’ll restrain you at night and…and make sure there are people around, just like you said?”

  She forced his face up and kissed his lips.

  He grabbed her arms roughly and devoured her mouth with a desperate hunger then let her go, petting her softly. “I want to make love to you,” he confessed, bitterly. “And… I can’t. My brain hates love, it hates…soft and kind.”

  “Okay, listen to me,” she whispered, holding his hands on her face. “We have this hand dealt to us right now, right? God doesn’t give us more than we can handle.” She grabbed his shaking head. “Don’t say no, it’s true. Ben, look at me.”

  He finally did and the desperate look in his eyes screamed for her to help.

  “Now… you got this stuff in your head and I’ve been praying and thinking,” she said, kissing along his face. “A lot of what you do to me…I love it.”

  He pulled back, eyeing her, his breaths coming unsteady. “What are you saying,” he more demanded than asked as he slid his thumb over her lower lip.

  “I’m saying…I’m your wife. Your soul mate, your protector.”

  His breaths turned more ragged as he pushed his thumb in her mouth and dragged it along her teeth.

  She bit along his thumb, getting that submissive reaction she’d seen in him before. The unrestrained lust in his moans brought a boiling between her legs. “What you suffer, I suffer. What you want…” She sucked h
is thumb to the knuckle then pulled slowly off. “I want,” she gasped, kissing the tip.

  His lusty gaze devoured her face.

  “You’re safe with me,” she whispered, moving to his next finger, sucking it deep before guiding the wet tip to her nipple and dragging his nail over the tip. “And I’m safe with you. You’ll protect me. You’ll protect us,” she barely said between moans.

  She could see the idea she presented creeping into his mind, making it burn with a hunger. To have his sick desires and not lose her seemed to intoxicate him. And not losing him and finding a way to help him intoxicated her.

  “You just have to tell me what you want…” She forced his fingers to strum over her hard nipple, watching the way he let her make him. “And I’ll find a way to let you do it. Nobody has to know. Just me and you. And you’ll protect me when we play.”

  His gaze shot up to hers. “Play,” he gushed, petting her face with both hands, pulling her to his mouth. “I can play so carefully,” he promised, eating at her lips. “I can make it hurt perfectly. I can… make you bleed perfectly, beg perfectly, cry…so perfectly,” he swore, making her dizzy with fear and arousal. He grabbed her under her arms and pulled her tit to his mouth, using his teeth to bite and his tongue for vigorous, delicate flicks. “See?” he shuddered when she moaned and cried out. “I can make bleeding feel so good… I can make the pain perfect.”

  Desperate to love him in a way he understood, she fought to open his pants. He helped her with surprised, eager moans. She worked his clothes off then shoved his legs open in the chair, watching the power that had over him. “You’d do that?” He groaned as she sucked his cock deep and tight. “You’d be my dirty toy? I wouldn’t break you,” he promised, pressing her head against his cock until her throat spasmed with gag reflexes.

  She shoved his hands off of her and forced his legs over the edges of the chair, making him gasp. Grabbing his cock again, she went all the way down, hitting her throat before working her way back up. As she rose, she bit him every inch of the way. He gave pained, hot gasps while gripping the chair tight and lifting his hips off the seat. “Don’t hurt me,” he whispered as she licked up and down it now. “Don’t hurt my cock till I come so hard.” His body heaved with lusty growls. “Please. Please don’t do that.”

  Dead Bodies

  Ben sat at the end of his uncle’s driveway, dialing his number.

  “Hello?”

  “Uncle Leroy?” Ben answered.

  “Who’s this?” he demanded in his gruff.

  “It’s Ben.”

  “Ben who?” he asked, reminding Ben his voice was different.

  “Your

  nephew that had an operation?”

  “Benji?” he asked.

  Ben laughed a little, nodding. “Yeah, Benji.”

  “You sound different, you sonofabitch. Where the hell are you? You left without telling anybody jack-shit!”

  “Yeah,” Ben nodded, smiling a little. “It’s the operation. It uh…changed my voice. Sorry about leaving like that. It’s just the odds of surviving the operation were pretty slim to none and we decided to not say much. Figured if it worked, we’d let everybody know.”

  “Well, I’m glad to hear it worked. What’d they do?”

  “Gave me a new head, basically.”

  “Wow,” he said, clearly not getting he meant literally. “You alls back home? Your momma calls me every other day asking questions. I was running out of stories,” he said, sounding pissed.

  “Listen, Uncle Leroy, I have a problem,” he said, ready to get to the issue.

  “Yeah?” he wondered, curious. “Tell me,” he said, impatient.

  “I said they gave me a new head in the operation, and I meant it literally. I got a new head, a head transplant.”

  Ben waited in the silence. “A what the what plant?”

  “A head transplant. Like a heart transplant, only a whole head.”

  “Benji…” he shot out, pausing. “I mean….”

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t lie about something like that,” Ben said, figuring he was deducting as much at that moment.

  “A fucking HEAD TRANSPLANT?” he yelled now. Ben nodded for several more seconds of silence. “A MOTHERFUCKIN HEEEEAAAAAAD TRANSPLANT?”

  “So, I’m at the end of your driveway and figured I needed to tell you that before I showed up and you tried to shoot me. I don’t look the same.”

  His uncle gave several rounds of shocking sputters before finally managing, “I’m fucking flooooored, Benji. A HEAD TRANSPLANT. Wait, wait, wait,” he said, mentally backing up. “You said you have a problem.”

  “Yeah, it gets more interesting. Turns out the head I got belonged to a serial killer.”

  Five seconds of silence followed with his Uncle’s laughter blasting through his ears. It lasted a good whole minute with howling and yelling. Ben waited and nodded patiently, reminding himself it was a lot like the stages of death, this kind of thing.

  “A serial killer,” he barely got out between wheezing. “What the fuuuuuuuck” he howled before taking another minute just to catch his breath. “I have tears streaming down my face,” he informed, after finally calming down. “Obviously, I have to see this shit with my own damn eyeballs. Come on up, I’ll put the coffee on.”

  ****

  “Sorry, son, I will never get used to that head of yours,” his Uncle Leroy said, glancing at Ben every five seconds while he drove them back to Nebraska.

  “Take a right on highway 4 coming up in half a mile. From there, we go seven more to the town called Friend. From there we go five miles south to a farm and take the tracks by foot.”

  “Still don’t know how you spose to know where on the track to go,” he muttered.

  “Hoping my head tells me.”

  He did that five-glance thing again. “What it like…tells you stuff?” Like that would creep him the hell out.

  “It does,” he said. Leaving off exactly how his head helps him. “Excuse me while I tell Cheryl we’re okay.”

  He gave a mild grunt. “Tell my Charlie I said I’m still waiting for him to come spend a weekend.”

  “I will,” he said, opening her text box. What are you doing?

  He stared at the phone, his leg jumping while waiting. Ever since she’d said those things to him, a deep fear that she’d change her mind produced the promise of a monumental panic attack circling the edge of his fucked-up mind. The idea she’d presented to him felt like a safety net. Only it wasn’t safe for her. But knowing he could indulge in his sickness with her seemed to calm it.

  His pulse leapt at seeing the ellipses waving on the screen.

  Missing you. Thinking of you. Needing you.

  He turned his face to the window, closing his eyes as he let out a slow breath of relief. He texted her back. I’m with Uncle Leroy headed to the site. I want you to force me to give you an orgasm when I get back.

  You like me making you do things?

  His cock jerked and he rolled the window down a little for fresh air. He typed back, I do. So much.

  The ellipses danced for a while this time while Uncle Leroy talked about fishing and trapping.

  I like making you. I’ll make you eat my pussy till I come, while I…

  His fingers shook over the keys as he typed, While you what? Tell me.

  While I hurt your ass and cock.

  Ben turned to the window as the torment in his cock locked him up hard.

  “You remember that fish you caught when you was just ten?” Uncle Leroy went on, non-stop.

  “Yeah, I do,” Ben said, typing. How will you hurt me?

  “You cleaned it, and you cooked it, and you et it allllll!” he said, proudly.

  Her text came through. It’s a secret surprise.

  Fuck, he loved how she played. Love that she played.

  “Charlie needs to meet his roots,” Uncle Leroy fussed while Ben thought about his sweet wife. Everything she’d done in their marriage was forgiven, even though he stil
l knew she wanted to be punished for it. And he loved that she did because he needed to punish her. As much as he needed her to want him to punish her. That was the ultimate drug for him where she was concerned. She craved that pain because it gave him pleasure. It put her in a special place in his sick urges. One of high esteem, one he wanted to hide and protect.

  “Believe that town is coming up,” Uncle Leroy muttered.

  Ben texted her. I have to go. We’re getting close.

  “I’m gonna get gas at the exit.”

  I love you, Mr. Rabinowski.

  More than just his cock jerked at seeing those words. He wondered then if he loved her too? In the way she loved him? In the way a husband loved his wife? He wished he knew. His brain remembered the love by definition but not by feeling. He considered what he did know. He loved her the way a psychopath loved his sickness, he knew that.

  “Yeah, think I’m ready for a coffee,” Ben said before returning to the love concept. It would probably hurt her if he didn’t say he loved her back. His cock hardened while imagining her pain. It was a different pain that came with a very particular high. The pain of needing him, yeah. That was it. But he honestly didn’t know how to label his feelings, he only knew his brain seemed ironically incapable of lying about it. Just another sick perversion, he was sure.

  He typed, I love my wicked toy.

  He quickly removed all the evidence of their texts, realizing that excited him too. The hiding. He liked that part a lot.

  At the gas station, Ben bought a scarf and hat, not wanting to be recognized then got two coffees. Back in his Uncle’s pick-up, Ben checked the map for the farm and the tracks.

  “God-damn freezing my god-damn balls off,” his uncle grumbled, climbing back in the truck and cranking the heater up while rubbing his hands near the vent.

  “Here’s your coffee,” Ben said, handing it to him.