All in One Night

An adult stories – All in One Night by Sutekhthedestroyer,Sutekhthedestroyer All in one night

-Cuckold or Victim, what would you prefer to be?.

By Sutekh the Destroyer

Authors note

Dear readers,

This is my first story, so thank you for your kind consideration.

Although a work of fiction, there are some factual elements within and the rest is greatly embellished.

I hope it brings a smile to your face at times, but hopefully not too much puzzlement!.

Granted it’s a long story, but I’ve seen many readers complain as they begin to read a story that’s sub-divided into parts, subsequently discover that later instalments either fail to materialise or are delayed to such an extent that the story loses cohesion and thus readers attention.

Thus I’ve chosen to present my first story as one large rollicking adventure for the reader to partake in their own time!.

Oh yes, this story is set in Australia as I’m an Australian, so if I may paraphrase the sentiment from a well-known writer in the LW genre from my country;

Please insert your “Aussie English” 5.24 inch floppy disc into your circa 1982 Hyperion portable computer with its glowing 7 inch orange cathode ray screen that matches mine!.

Hopefully then you’ll enjoy my story as much as I had writing it, thank you.

The Author wishes to thank Destodes777 for long standing support, advice and friendship, also Stev2244 and Vandemonium1, all true scholars and gentlemen.

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“I like cars”, I half sang, half hummed to myself the lyrics to that old song by Elton Bog, called “Island girl” as I happily drove my little car in the gathering dusk.

Then I smiled as I remembered that it actually took me ages to realise that “Island girl” was the name of the song and not “I like girls” as I originally thought!.

I openly chuckled to myself. wondering if other people upon first hearing that song also realised that Elton Bog was in fact a screaming homosexualist?.

“I like girls, da de da, something, something, something, I like girls”, I continued to mutter as I glanced at the car instruments on the dashboard as I mentally checked my trip progress.

Not far now after driving a distance of some 160 kilometres in my little Renault ‘Zoe’ electric car.

This little French “hot hatchback” only had a 400 kilometre range at best and perhaps a lowly 135 km/h top speed, but I was in no hurry and besides, driving is one of my favourite hobbies and I particularly liked the challenge of driving these little cars to their limits, balancing speed with range as a function of fuel, or in this case, electricity capacity in the battery pack.

I smirked at the thought of my veritable arsenal of cars I had at home including; off road 4×4’s, luxury sedans, hot hatchbacks and my personal favourites, the European supercars that are so fast they seemingly try to kill you with their horrendous speed and acceleration!.

‘Andrew my son’, I thought to myself, ‘you’ve done well and you deserve it all!’.

So I was in a good mood indeed as my little electric car continued to whiz along the Midlands highway to my destination this evening.

Oh yes, some cars have their own personalities and mood; supercars for instance I felt are mostly female within their aerodynamically shapely form and containing all the variety of nuances that the females exhibit!.

This little electric Renault ‘Zoe’, although far from a supercar, still felt like a pert young French woman, like the girls I met and dated at university years ago.

She seemed like a sexy French girl like the plucky and attractive journalist “Alice Avril” I’ve seen in French adaptions of Agatha Christie crime mysteries?.

Ah happy days, I fondly reflected as I drove on with a smile on my face remembering all the pretty women from my university days.

Soon though my destination loomed ahead in the form of the approaching small rural hamlet of Kempton, located here in southern Tasmania.

I actually had to turn off the highway to a gravel road that skirted the town to the north, then follow it down a few kilometres to some open crown land near a creek which was my final stop.

With no traffic, but still with enough light to see, I soon found the site after carefully negotiating the gravel road at low speed before finally stopping and exiting the car, stretching my legs and straightening my back after a two hour economic drive to this quiet sylvan glade.

It was a still April night, with autumn evident in some of the surrounding trees, but I had work to do and quickly opened the car boot and removed my telescope, camera and computer attachments which filled the tiny electric car’s carrying volume.

I was here for an Astronomy “run” tonight, so I was keen to set up the equipment and begin before the end of twilight!.

As I hurriedly worked, I idly thought about my wife Sophie and what she was up to now back home?.

Probably yapping to her friends on the phone if she runs true to form, I concluded wryly.

That stray thought then pushed another more unwelcome consideration into my mind as I continued to assemble the equipment, Sophie’s “friends”, actually one in particular I utterly detested, bloody Barbara Holgate, a first order slag with no redeeming features whatsoever, came to the fore in my mind!.

Sophie and I had been married for three years now, with the first half of the marriage, “beau ideal”, until Sophie met that slag Holgate through her work.

A twice divorced, cheating low life with more diseases than brains I had rapidly concluded about Holgate!.

The slag quickly went through her two husbands, expressly for her self-enrichment, so now living well of their money, she now only went to “work” for two reasons I could think of; to maintain her bank balance at its high level and to meet more men to seduce and exploit!.

Indeed, her workplace was more like a fucking safari park for that sexual predator, such that any man around her would do well to be alert, lest her claws and teeth sink into their flesh when she struck and mostly behind their backs too.

Then it was all over for the unsuspecting man, as that sexual predator Holgate quickly devoured the man alive!.

For some bizarre reason though, Sophie although fully aware of her reputation still felt sorry for the slag and to my chagrin they soon became friends.

Curses!.

Indeed, I could still recall when Sophie first introduced me to Holgate.

An expression of sneery condescension flitting across her face as her cruel mouth twisted ever so slightly upon seeing me for the first time; a man in his late twenties, light brown hair, below average height certainly but slim and very fit with hardened, manly proportions dressed in a smart and expensive dark Zegna suit, plus my smiling blue eyes set on an intelligent face.

Although I’m not model material (I still think all male models are homosexualists), I nonetheless look after what God gave me to work with and Sophie certainly thought so too as she raved about how wonderful a husband she had to all her friends!.

Business man, scientific entrepreneur, a couple of advanced degrees in physics and engineering, long distance runner, a very fast solar plexus “killer punch” if necessary, large rural property containing a large 1930’s white modernist Art Deco style manor house and did I mention lots of cars?.

That’s me, mostly quiet, witty, capable, sort of like a modern and younger version of “Captain Arthur Hastings” the ever-affable associate from the “Poirot” mystery television series and always happy to oblige and smile!.

But how did I become so successful, how did I do it exactly?.

Quite easy really, by single-handedly creating a business, making synthetic gems for industrial purposes via my self-designed “free electron laser” device.

Who knew that so many people here in Australia and around the world like synthetic gems such as garnets, topaz, amethyst’s and are also prepared to pay me for it too?.

Nice work if you can get it eh and to borrow an amusing expression from the great “Arthur Daley” from a popular 1980’s British comedy;

“The world is your lobster my son, the world is your lobster”!.

Anyway, it appeared that I clearly failed to measure up to the slag Holgate’s expectations upon meeting me, as she seemed instead to be fixated on men who were the archetypal tall, dark and handsome types, but to me these men I again suspected were likely secret homosexualists too, as I just don’t trust that sort and disliked being around them, which seemed to just cement in her mind her negative view of me which was all too evident, especially to me!.

Sophie herself was conservative by nature but very loving and emotional, but she was also “down to earth”, with intelligence and much humour, as that was what I liked the most about her character.

Plus her curvaceous body of course with golden hair like Olivia Newton-John and a nice set of knockers which was a welcome addition to the overall package that was “my dolly bird Sophie” and my wife!.

That said, I was increasingly of the view that something wasn’t quite right between Sophie and yours truly and that slag Holgate was at the centre of it!.

Indeed, Sophie and I had argued many times about “the slag” as I called her, during the 18 months she and Sophie had been friends.

Like most women, she’d taken an overly sympathetic, even protective outlook toward her misunderstood “friend” and contrary to my firm objections too!.

Indeed at times we had become quite heated in our “discussions” as I pointed out my concerns about “the slag”, including the suitability of such a “person” being friends with a married woman in the first place!.

The implication being all too clear concerning the negative influence she could have on Sophie as a result of Holgate’s cheating past!.

Indeed, Holgate made no secret of her past adultery and clearly revelled in her overt sexuality as a “badge of honour”, often boasting how she had hoodwinked her two witless husbands repeatedly in a series of illicit affairs and sordid rendezvous’ of varying durations, which resulted in her being nothing less than an apologetic slag in my estimation as it became clear over time that was exactly what she was really like when subjected to even cursory scrutiny!.

Thus within a few months of being introduced, I had put my foot down when it became quite clear what the slag was like, such that I banned Sophie from having that slag in MY house (which it actually was)!.

Further I told Sophie straight out that I considered Holgate to be bad influence and “warmly” reminded her that the slag was a double divorcee and contrary to her claims that she was “too clever for her clueless cuckold husbands”, she was eventually discovered by both of them, after which she then showed her true self and promptly dashed off to her solicitor to begin nothing less than total and destructive “lawfare” on each husband, which resulted in their impoverishment, humiliation and defeat as she cleaned out and gutted each husband in turn, such was the ruthlessness of her female solicitor!.

Banning Holgate from the house and making it clear what I thought of her, along with her unsuitability for a married woman to associate with, all occurred in the first six months of her arriving on the scene, after which her name was seldom mentioned, but I knew they were still close and talking many times a week.

To reinforce the point, I put up a few emotional barriers between Sophie and myself, becoming more distant towards her until she realised in distress that I was unyielding in this matter, so with rising concern she soon relented and made many promises of loyalty to me and that she’d be careful in the future, saying that she’d never do anything to endanger our marriage.

It’s remarkable what a woman who is “on a good wicket” (to borrow a cricketing term) will do when there is a threat to her lifestyle, such as a disgruntled husband!.

I told her that although I accepted her word but I again emphasised my real concerns about Holgate and her motives, including the clear threat to our marriage which utterly shocked Sophie as she just didn’t see any danger from this “poor misunderstood and persecuted woman”!.

In response to her naive “claptrap”, I made it very clear to Sophie that although we were in the early years of a hitherto happy marriage, the unwanted presence of this slag was the real first threat to us and had the potential to destroy us entirely as a couple, which shocked Sophie amid her repeated denials!.

Thus we left matters with the clear understanding (or so I thought) that Holgate was indeed a bad influence who wouldn’t be the first “lady of dubious virtue” as I diplomatically and euphemistically described her, who corrupted spouses and destroyed marriages for her own malign reasons such as loneliness or simply because she just enjoys meddling with people’s lives!.

Suffice to say, Sophie was shocked at my cynicism but we closed the matter with a firm understanding, including my reminder of her vow of fidelity to me and the dire consequences for her that the pre-nuptial agreement would incur if she ever betrayed me!

Basically, the house was mine, paid for in full well before Sophie appeared on the scene and thus, she would leave with only her belongings and nothing of mine or what I paid for if the marriage ended due to her adultery or betrayal specially cited within the agreement which we both signed!.

In addition, I’d insisted on us having separate bank accounts and unbeknownst to her, I even, quietly transferred a large percentage of my wealth into a special account belonging to my Mum, who always instilled into me having a back-up in case things went “pear shaped”, which was sage advice that I never forgot!.

After discussing matters with my Mum, she readily agreed with my assessment of Holgate, including the potential threat she posed to my marriage as well.

Thus, a year after that discussion I seldom heard much about Holgate, giving Sophie sharp looks whenever she mentioned her in passing, after which her name was quickly dropped, so I knew they were still friends and that they talked and saw each other quite frequently for luncheons and so forth.

But Sophie knew my position, as well as the thinly disguised “consequences” for her if “the slag” ever influenced her for worse and endangered our marriage!.

So I got on with life, being happy with Sophie, my home and my work which allowed us the kind of lifestyle we sought, here in the best country in the world!.

So now I was here in the fading light, setting up an overnight camp with my Zeiss M-675LT refracting telescope at the centre of my preparations for the long observing run.

Why was I here in this rural idyll?.

Comet watching actually, in particular the return apparition of Comet Wilson which last graced southern skies at its best back in April and May 1987.

Discovered in 1986, after Halley’s comet rather disappointing apparition that year, Comet Wilson surprised many with its unexpected appearance and brightness in 1987, such that by April and May, with the comet passing very close to the nearby Large Magellanic Cloud galaxy made photography of the juxtaposed celestial sights a rewarding effort indeed!.

Comet Wilson actually split into fragments after its peak viewing, with the bulk of the comet vanishing into deep space and unlikely to be ever seen again.

However a pristine fragment was influenced by the gravity of the planet Jupiter which later flung it back into the inner solar system with the freshly exposed interior now experiencing the sun’s heat for the first time as it now edged toward perihelion in a striking display for observers in southern skies!.

Interestingly, the Russians were quick off the mark and managed to launch a small space probe to fly by the comet, thanks to some surplus “Dnepr” ex- ICBM’s now converted to launch satellites, instead of aiming nuclear warheads toward populations like Ross-on-Wye during the cold war.

Sitting in the launch silo at Site 109 within the vast Tyuratam cosmodrome, their storable rocket fuel allowed them to be rapidly launched without refuelling beforehand and so treated as “ampules” with only the new payload being installed in the form of a prepared space probe, modified from a small “Strela” communications satellite and then launched into space via the big ex-ICBM booster and sent on an interplanetary trajectory where the space probe would intercept the returning comet Wilson.

Thank goodness again for the “Ruskies”, they saved the world from the Nazi’s during the World War II and forced the surrender of imperial Japan with their threat of invasion as well, the nuking of Hiroshima and Nagasaki being mere theatre by contrast!.

Now they were exploring space this latest comet space probe I reflected as I stood in this peaceful place far from anything and contemplating the mysteries of the universe above me in the gathering darkness.

After setting up the telescope, tent and the basic amenities of life in this rural glade, I began to scrutinise the comet via the finder scope attached to the main telescope as well as my trusted Zeiss binoculars.

It was then that I wished Sophie was here to see the comet’s coma, dust and ion tails with me, which then lead to the inevitable question wondering just what she was doing now?.

Once having thought the words though, the notion oddly then seemed to take on a life of its own for some reason, why exactly I have no idea but the idea just festered in my mind as I contemplated her more and more as I worked around my campsite.

Yes, what was Sophie doing now?.

Granted, she had only an idle passing interest in Astronomy but when asked, refused point blank to come with me this evening, even though she quite liked riding in my little Renault ‘Zoe’ electric car (as did most women), often sitting in the front passenger seat and smiling as we drove in the countryside around rural Tasmania on Sunday drives, talking and enjoying the scenery with me.

That said, soon after we were married I bought her a “cute” little Renault Clio RS200 hot hatchback that was painted in a so called “liquid yellow” colour which she absolutely adored, calling it a “proper woman’s car” of which I dutifully and smilingly agreed, even though I myself had a lot of fun driving it around as much as I could, as truthfully I liked fun little hot hatchbacks myself!.

Anyway, I’d planned the Astronomy trip for over a week now and mentioned it to her several times, saying we’d never see the comet again and it would be an adventure we could share!.

I even suggested we could snuggle up under the stars, cook some hot food and spend some time alone in the tent, doing whatever we could think of to entertain ourselves, nudge, nudge, wink, wink you know what I mean?.

Just two people in love and sharing that love under the stars with a new-ish comet.

But instead, she just seemed so distracted, as lately her interactions with me

perfunctory, friendly certainly but it seemed her mind was far away, dwelling on something, but what exactly I just didn’t know, but it did seem to be growing in importance whatever it was as I again pondered what was she doing now?.

Soon thoughts of the comet became secondary as I increasingly mulled Sophie’s behaviour more and more until gradually the connection clarified in my mind;

Absence, my absence, her recent distraction, something else she was thinking of my absence.

That slag Holgate, of course it was now crystal clear to me!.

Just what is being planned behind my back by those two?.

Going out together somewhere, to cheat on me perhaps?.

What about bringing men back to MY house and do it in MY wonderful home and bed?.

No, I won’t stand for it!.

That is just the kind of sick thing that Holgate would do after repeatedly being unfaithful to her two ex-husbands and I’ll wager that crazy slag has been trying to brainwash Sophie to do the same!.

That’s it, of course that must be it as my thoughts finally coalesced into clarity and resolution!.

Misery likes company, but slags like Holgate just enjoy hurting others for the thrill as well, especially when they feel inferior and thus have the deranged compunction to attack the very person who makes them feel bad!.

Holgate certainly had absolutely no achievements whatsoever in her worthless so-called “life” to be proud of, which is why the useless slag hated me so much and tried to cause so much trouble in my marriage as a result!.

Turn the wife against the husband, hurt and humiliate him and damn the consequences, that’s Holgate to a tee!.

That must be it and now Sophie has succumbed to the brainwashing over the past 18 months from that vile slag, I was now sure of it!.

Damn them both!.

I knew I was right regarding my suspicions of her over time, so now they feel sufficiently confident with me out of the way to finally act, unless Sophie has already been unfaithful?.

Could that be right I mulled?.

Sophie and I were seldom apart after only three years into our marriage as we holidayed together, socialised and we both worked in our respective careers, but then as I carefully recalled, Sophie has never actually been alone in the evening at home, even though she has had ample opportunities to be unfaithful during her work hours.

Oh no, just how long had she been doing this to me, I wondered?.

The sickening realisation made me angry as I struggled to control my fears, breathing deeply I concentrated and wrestled to regain control of my emotions.

Gradually though from a flurry of confused feelings and thoughts, I finally resolved within myself some coherence as I articulated in my mind my fears;

Fears for my marriage and fears for my self-respect!.

Sophie and the sub human slag Holgate were planning something tonight, I was now sure of it and that explained Sophie’s distraction and utter disinterest in something we both would usually have done together if things were right between us, such as this Astronomy foray!.

That’s it, that’s bloody it and here I am in some fucking remote Sylvan glade, helpless to learn the truth and to act!.

I knew that panic wouldn’t help, but what if I was wrong?.

Should I go speeding back home and find out what was happening in my absence, but what if I was wrong and I discovered that all was innocent and a non-event?.

Then I would look like an insecure fool, so some discretion would be the best approach I decided, even though I was now sure in my own mind that I’d be checking on her but what about the campsite and the observing run with the comet?.

Perhaps a telephone call would be best?.

No, that would alert them and they’d lie anyway as to what they were up to, so what would be the point?.

If Sophie had been lying for me, then it would have been for a long time, so silence and surprise were the best approaches, but how?.

Then it hit me, a solution, actually two solutions in reality.

Firstly, I could programme the telescope computer to automatically track the comet across the sky tonight and to also set the computer to take a series of photographs at random times throughout the night so as to give the impression that I was here all the time, whilst in reality I could use this ongoing programming to then return home at best speed in my little car and find out what was going on!.

If my fears were fruitless, then I could quickly return to this place later tonight and then cancel the telescope tracking and photography programming!.

That would work and no-one would ever know!.

My camp site was isolated and it was unlikely anyone would come here tonight as all would be dark with no lights to alert unwanted eyes to its existence.

Brilliant!.

The other solution was in the form of my little Renault ‘Zoe’ electric car.

It’s quiet running would help me arrive home unheard and unseen in the dark, especially with the lights off!.

Indeed, I recalled reading that just a few decades ago many nations armed forces “commando” units cried out for quiet electric vehicles so they could operate unheard in near silence.

Idly, I wondered if they now operated such modified civil vehicles in this modern age?.

Perhaps the Aussie SAS commando’s, who are arguably the best in the world, now drive around in modified Renault ‘Zoe’s’ like mine?.

Naahhhh, surely not, that’s bloody ridiculous!.

Shaken from my reverie, I made my plans for returning home to see what I could discover.

Swiftly I completed the equipment preparation; aligning the telescope and programmed the telescope tracker and attached camera via the on- board computer.

I then chose random times for the camera to take a snapshot from the comet’s apparition upon full darkness until shortly before dawn when I’d plan to stop anyway.

Using the computer, I rapidly selected different times over the next several hours until I had over thirty set times all pre-programmed into the telescope computer.

No regular pattern, just varying times such as 7.51PM, 8.24PM etc. through to 6.06AM.

The telescope computer and camera both used fully charged batteries, so I had ample power for the night as well.

Now all I’d have to do is delete the programme times afterwards just in case anyone checked, then act naturally and pretend I was here the whole night on an observing run!.

No-one would ever know as I had “plausible deniability” and it was unlikely anyone would come to this place tonight to contradict my story, so as long as didn’t give myself away, then I’d be alright.

If I was wrong about Sophie then I could sneak back home and no-one would ever know!.

Looking one more time around the campsite I made sure there were no lights on, I then activated the telescope computer programme and finally jumped into the little French hatchback.

I quickly started the electric motor, disabled the satellite navigation system and turned off my P1 pocket phone before removing the battery as I didn’t want any unwanted calls, nor any “official” tracking giving me away either!.

So much for a free society with freedom of movement eh!.

Then I thought about what I would do if I did indeed find Sophie up to no good such as cheating on me?.

Proof would be useful to have during any confrontation or later action such as a divorce and I would of course divorce her in any case of adultery, of that there was no doubt!.

I then remembered that little “Leica 720S” digital holographic camera I carried down here as a backup.

That would be ideal if any proof were required, so I immediately dashed out of the car, went to the tent and retrieved the pocket camera.

I switched it on, checked the batteries and turned it to “silent” mode, that took still, video and audio modes all available.

I decided to leave the “Agfa” plug in bubble memory unit attached, as I didn’t know what I’d be recording tonight so that extra memory unit might be useful?.

German technology at its best, I reflected as I deactivated the camera.

Taking a deep breath, I hoped for the best and re-entered the little electric car before quietly driving away, briskly but not too noticeably as although the Renault ‘Zoe’ was a near silent electric car, there was no benefit in drawing attention to myself from even casual observers as the last light of the day faded and my tense journey home began.

Soon I left the gravel road and then turned north onto the main road, the Midland highway linking Hobart the southern capital to the north of Tasmania including my home near the small historic rural hamlet of Bishopsbourne, still some 160 kilometres away or thereabouts!.

I switched on the headlights to low beam and settled in for the drive home.

Was I being foolish I pondered as I accelerated slowly to cruising speed and then settled into my best economical speed?.

Perhaps I was being silly but I still needed to know of any possible wrongdoing tonight and besides no-one would ever know what I was up to tonight anyway, so what’s the fuss!.

Looking at the main instruments behind the steering wheel I thought that this little electric car wasn’t really suitable for my purposes in many ways, despite its sleek teardrop shape that was designed to cut down on as much aerodynamic drag as possible to help the batteries and improve torque, its performance was lacklustre to put it mildly, despite the advantage of near silent operation I’d need when I arrived home.

Barely able to reach a paltry 135 km/h at top speed, in truth I’d be limited to quite a bit less than that as the range of the batteries was only 400 kilometres on a full charge, at best!.

Admittedly I had sufficient range to reach home and may at times take the ‘Zoe’ up to her maximum speed if the charge allowed when I was closer to home, but really a mere 135 km/h now in this worrisome situation just wasn’t enough for the job I now conceded and by extension the “game” of energy management for this now emotionally fraught trip was no longer the fun it once was when it was a part of a relaxing astronomy run earlier!.

Good grief I reflected, whatever happened to that affable, comfortable man of leisure having some fun not that long ago?.

Was I really a civilised man at leisure, but now reverting back to something more basic at the perception of a threat to himself and his relationship, imagined or real?.

Or was that potential in all people when threatened and if so, then how far would I go?.

I considered myself to be no “push-over” despite my below average size and being a bright lad growing up here in Australia meant that I was protected and encouraged by wider society and our ethos to an extent.

That said, there were always bullies and when they appeared I certainly stood up for myself and knew that I had a certain “driven” aspect to my character which served me well in bringing me success in life, but I’d never been pushed to my limit and wondered what I’d do if that time ever came?.

Returning from my musings to reality, I again looked somewhat obsessively at the curvaceous central instrument column, making doubly sure the “Galileo” satellite navigation, trip computer and even the wireless communication systems were all switched off in order to save both precious watts and because I just wasn’t in the mood for any blaring music on the car radio and I certainly didn’t wish to give any indication that I was on the move at this time.

This was an electronic age and I was now in an electronic battle of wits!.

So just keep calm, stay alert, watch the instruments for range, speed and time, as it’s only an hour and a half until home I kept telling myself.

No-one knew what I was doing, my phone was turned off and with luck I could sneak home and determine the state of my marriage without anyone ever being the wiser.

Yes, this covert jaunt would work, so I pressed onwards towards home as the night enveloped me and my near silent little electric car!.

Yes home I considered, as my mind drifted again, my home ‘Hedgeleigh’ was a glorious white multi-story mansion built in the early 1930’s in the so called modernist Art Deco style and situated on a large verdant rural property.

Modelled on “Joldwynds” in Surrey, England, it was of a similar shape in the form of a “T” planform coupled with that elegant geometric white coloured simplicity within the lines of the house, both internally and externally.

Richly furbished with Tasmanian woods lining the many rooms and lavish gardens, again all arranged along simple geometric lines, I loved everything about it as a man’s home truly is his castle you know!.

I’d bought the place a few years ago, before I met Sophie of course and paid for it in cash outright, such was the healthy state of my bank account via my work.

A “modernist” representation of the future or what they thought of the future and what it would look like back in the thirties, the place had an elegance all of its own.

Yes the house and property was home to me and it was all mine, I considered possessively as yes a man’s home is truly is his castle!.

I always felt safe and comfortable there, always cool in the summer and warm in the winters, just the sort of place where a well disposed young man could relax and get away with wearing a sharp navy blue blazer and a cravat if he felt like it, I half smiled to myself!.

Despite my familiarity with ‘Hedgeleigh’ and its associated warm and comfortable feelings, I anxiously continued to wonder just what I would find upon my arrival, indeed what if Sophie wasn’t there, I considered with sudden alarm?.

No just stay calm and carry on, home was getting closer….

Fortunately, the batteries in the little ‘Zoe’ were holding up well as the heater was only occasionally used and with no radio switched on to distract me from my thoughts and plans, the range could only be extended and thus a slightly higher average speed attained which translated to an earlier arrival!.

Thus, at times I was able to accelerate the little curvy car out to its maximum speed, even though it was only a paltry 135 km/h!.

So with the batteries running inexorably lower but with enough range I drove steadily onwards, safe in the knowledge that I’d make it in good time and with no traffic problems either as everyone else just overtook and sped by me as I drove further north at my modest speed!.

Actually, that low speed helped me as these days all major Tasmanian roads were now fully “open roads” with no speed limits, which was an excellent idea we borrowed from the Germans and their superb “Autobahn” network of roads.

With a smile I again reflected fondly;

‘Ah Germany, the last refuge of freedom in the world today!’.

Indeed, “Free driving for free citizens” was the rough translation of a well-known German slogan in the 1970’s!.

Thank God, we were following their lead now with the Midland highway and most roads now without limits, a fact that I was acutely conscious of as an intermittent procession of much faster cars roared past me, situated as I was in the outer “slow lane” on my way home further north.

Also, thank goodness too for the new Australian government lead by our great Prime Minister; Jeremy Clarkson and also his Roads and Infrastructure Minister; James May as well as the little fellow who was the Transport Minister; Richard Hammond!.

They even had a mysteriously silent white suited character who supposedly drove around on every road in Australia, just to determine the highest speed possible for any given road!.

No-one knows his name, but some say his genitals are on his body backwards and his voice can only be heard by cats!

Anyway leaving this mysterious character aside, I wondered what the Germans would instead call me driving this pissy little French electric car?.

“Die Langsame” most likely- “The slow one”!.

Oh well at least I can still smile despite my growing apprehension.

After what seemed like an interminable drive in this now inadequate little car, I finally neared home and in the darkness pondered my next move as I noticed traces of fog starting to appear about the countryside, which would help obscure my movements I reflected.

‘Keep quiet Andrew, just slowly drive up and sneak inside and see what you can find out’, I told myself.

Easy in this quiet little ‘Zoe’ electric car, it should be a doddle!.

Approaching the main gate with its buttressed brick walls that guarded the entrance, I slowed and extinguished the headlights, noticing at once that the main gate was fully open, even though I knew that I had closed it many hours ago when I departed on my astronomy expedition.

Why had Sophie gone out or has someone come to visit her?.

I decided to continue cautiously as the tension in my stomach began to build.

On minimum speed, I silently crept up the driveway, my familiarity with the road making headlights unnecessary and now thank goodness this quiet little electric car made no discernible noise that anyone could detect even at close range!.

Edging closer up the long tree lined driveway, I again muttered a silent thanks that it was a smooth flat stone surface with just a slight uphill angle the closer I got to the house, which began to loom ever closer in the darkness as I crawled forward almost painfully slowly, no more than walking pace so that the closer I got to the house and past the darkened trees and bushes, the more it made me feel as if I was actually visiting Dracula’s castle at night!.

Driving closer, the white painted upper floors of the modernist house were now shrouded in total darkness and towering above me, their featureless silhouette stared down at my small form as the slightly lighter night sky made them look sinister and unapproachable even to my eyes!.

Odd that I never noticed that until now as what was once familiar, now seemed remote, strange and forbidding as the house stared blankly down at me!.

Then as the front entrance loomed ahead I began to see some lights in the downstairs front rooms.

Not too many lights though, so could that mean Sophie was leaving a few lights on for herself as she pottered around perhaps watching the telly or having a snack?.

Perhaps she left some lights on if she went out?.

But if she did that, why not leave an outside light on for her return, say if she went to check on something such as a possum in the trees?.

I increasingly felt more and more uneasy as I drew closer, my beloved elegant home now seemed like a fearful house of mystery and danger, one where I was an unwanted trespasser, as the evil within didn’t want me near!.

Nearing the front well-manicured lawn and courtyard now, I felt my eyes unconsciously widen and I gasped when I suddenly saw two cars parked out in front that instantly shook away my unease and instead began to really, really annoy me!.

Due to the lights emitting from the house, the first car I immediately recognised as belonging to that disgusting slag, Holgate.

A fucking pastel green Nissan Juke!.

Clearly and indisputably the ugliest and stupidest car in the entire world with its exaggerated wheel arches and excessive pinching of its central body, it looked like a partially melted drink bottle I’ve always thought!.

A car with no redeeming features whatsoever and appropriately so like its owner, a woman who was a festering pustule on the anus of humanity!.

The other car was unknown to me but it looked equally ugly; an old Chrysler PT Cruiser, with what appeared to be a fabric convertible top and appallingly, a faux wood panelled brown colour on the exterior!.

What kind of demented moron would drive a car like that?.

At some level though, I instinctively knew that this was a car driven by a man, even though I had no evidence, I nonetheless knew I was right and could feel it in my soul as I silently came to a halt and despite the instant chill from the icy air, carefully exited my car for a closer look around!.

Sitting right at home beside these two interlopers though was Sophie’s lurid daffodil yellow Renault Clio RS200 which had a cold engine when I touched the bonnet to check whether it has been recently driven?.

As cold as a witch’s vulva, which matched the cold misty air that surrounded me and caused me to shiver involuntarily!.

So what do I do now?.

I assumed that I was still unseen and undetected as for starters no-one was looking for me as they simply didn’t expect me to be home at this time, but for how long could I remain undetected and maintain my level of surprise?.

Still with “invisibility” in my favour, I decided to creep the little ‘Zoe’ silently past the house and toward the large converted barn that I now used as a garage further up the driveway, past and a little offset to the side of the house.

Climbing back into the little Renault I again moved forward past the house too the side, where from this perspective I could now see a few upstairs lights on that lead to the bedrooms which only heightened my disquiet further still!.

Crawling very slowly and quietly at low revs, I continued past the house until I could see the looming outline of the barn garage.

Still without headlights but with my home knowledge of the terrain ahead, I gently eased the car toward the back doors of the garage where I’d be obscured from the house.

Finally stopping, I again exited the car and stepped into the cold night which hit me like a cold wave as the chilly air now fully engulfed me.

Shivering a little and with the electric engine now inactive, all was deathly silent around me.

Reaching in my jacket, I produced and activated a small pocket torch with a red filter that astronomers use to preserve their night vision.

The red pall dimly illuminated the car and garage as I very quietly and carefully manually opened the garage door which swung open with little noise to reveal an inky blackness within.

Feeling safer here, I remembered where I had parked the ‘Zoe’ from earlier in the day, so after re-entering the car, I silently drove it into the garage and using the torchlight alone from the open driver’s door, quickly found its empty parking space amongst my other cars.

Swiftly switching off and locking up, I knew I’d have to leave the ‘Zoe’ there as it was low on battery charge and would struggle to take me even another 30 kilometres, perhaps to Launceston the nearest city but no further, unless I recharged the batteries such were the inherent limits still with electric cars.

Using my red torch, I quickly found the charger unit and plugged the car into the power supply to begin the multi-hour recharge cycle.

In truth the car’s job was done for now I reflected and yes the little French electric hatchback had served me well tonight as I stood watching the gentle humming of the charger revitalising the little Renault.

Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I then backtracked and gently closed the rear doors to the garage before quietly walking back toward the house in the dark as it was time to learn the truth on what was going on!.

Who was that man in my home, why was that slag Holgate there in my house after directly contravening my express wishes not to ever have that detestable woman in my home and what was Sophie’s involvement tonight?.

I decided to enter the house via the side patio glass door which was usually locked but I naturally had a key.

Carefully I padded up the steps and the many geometric terraces to the side door being extra careful, as although I suspected the front door was unlocked, I wanted to be cautious and undetected, thus I entered my home via this side door into the middle of the house.

With no lights in this section of the house, I quickly entered almost silently and quietly, gently closed the door behind me.

I then paused, my heart and breathing sounding far too loud for my liking as I felt certain that hostile ears would hear the pounding of my heart within my chest.

Pausing now, I carefully and deliberately listened, before satisfied I was safe and hearing nothing around me, finally and very slowly, stealthily moved toward the front of the house via a ground floor hallway which obscured my movements and any footfalls due to the rich thick red carpet.

Slowly passing various parlours, galleries and minor sitting rooms, I moved carefully, ever closer to the main room, each footstep calculated to leave no noise for unwanted ears to hear my approach.

The darkened house felt truly forbidding now and not at all like my familiarly elegant and comfortable home which verily slowed my progress to careful and tentative footsteps forward before repeatedly pausing to listen and shallowly breathe!.

Each deeply shadowed doorway now looked frighteningly sinister as if Dracula himself was lurking in the darkened gloom, waiting his chance to suddenly lunge out and grab me in his unbreakable grip as the monster then sank his fangs into my neck as I struggled powerlessly, as if in a bad dream that I couldn’t escape from!.

My movements were therefore very tentative, pausing regularly as the familiar was now dark and mysterious as I carefully stepped forward metre by metre as I struggled to control my breathing rate and rising apprehension.

Suddenly, I heard a noise, it sounded like a mocking chuckle and terrifyingly close by too!.

I immediately froze, all my senses fully aware as I tensed to fight or run, where did it come from?.

Then I heard it again and realised it was my stomach rumbling, which in my heightened state, completely misinterpreted as I heavily sighed in sheer relief!.

Safe again, I struggled to get myself under control, slow my breathing and lower my heart rate as I again glided forward down the corridor, still fully alert for any threat.

In the years before I met Sophie, I familiarised myself with every part of the house and often went about throughout the halls, corridors and rooms at night with only a torch or no light at all, often using whatever natural light was available such as moonlight to guide me inside the darkened house.

Why waste electricity and large power bills when patience and familiarity can save me money?.

Little would I have imagined how this parsimony would reap dividends in the future such as right now as I continued my silent stalking of the corridors and rooms, like a thief in my own blackened and forbidding, though still immaculate home.

Eventually a dim light loomed ahead as I neared the open door to the large comfortable living room which had a few lamps switched on it seemed.

I paused to listen, but only silence was present and so I very slowly peered around the corner with the deep shadows of the corridor hiding my presence from anyone who may be there as I certainly felt that at any moment I would attract attention to myself and somehow give away my presence!.

I heard my rapid breathing in this silent corridor, full of fearful black shadows and menace.

No-one in there I sighed in relief with the living room appearing to be empty, but where was Sophie, Holgate and “the man”?.

Looking carefully around the large empty room to be sure, I then quietly entered and looked around in more detail, somewhat more relaxed at this non discovery.

It was then that my hopes were dashed and suspicions truly confirmed as I saw things that by rights simply shouldn’t have been there with clothes scattered randomly about the room, on the sofa, on various chairs including MY chair and finally on the floor beside the clothes, two women’s handbags!.

“Damn them” I quietly muttered, “Damn them all”, as my anger grew at what I had discovered, where previously uneasy suspicions had now solidified into hard vile facts!.

Instinctively I then knew that the marriage was over and had probably been over for a long time truth be told, but now was not the time to lament my dead marriage, I had things to do, facts to verify and that meant the proof for my own eyes and ears!.

With so much of the downstairs unlit and unoccupied, it meant that upstairs was the only logical place where they could be and I knew that’s where I now must go to get to the bottom of this evil that had been bought to my home, damn them!.

I knew Sophie was now cheating on me and that sub-human slag Holgate was ultimately behind it all, just as I thought all along!.

I now realised that the foul hag had probably starting “working” on Sophie starting some 18 months ago when her evil spirit first entered our marriage!.

I then wondered when Sophie first cheated on me?.

Perhaps I’d never know.

Then again, perhaps the entire three years of marriage plus the engagement and exclusive dating was all an illusion and Sophie never really loved, cared for or respected me?.

Perhaps she just used me for her own mercenary purposes, seeing my love, kindness and good nature as weaknesses which she then exploited to remain married to a too-trusting successful man, with all the benefits that accrue from that desirable position?.

I stood looking around MY home and once again reminded myself that it was absolutely MY home, so now Sophie and everyone else was completely expendable as I and my home was all that mattered now, I told myself to clarify my position.

I gathered my thoughts and then considered my next move and how I felt.

What did I feel knowing that my slag so-called wife was likely cheating on me upstairs?.

Nothing but rage, pure killing rage that quickly engulfed me and I swore then that I would make them all pay, no matter what it took, I would make them pay and if necessary unleash hell itself onto them all!.

But what to do next?.

Charge upstairs and throw the lot of them out?.

I certainly felt that I had the strength to slaughter anyone or anything at that moment where despite being below average height I nonetheless had supreme confidence in my fitness, speed and agility, plus I knew how to really hurt people if necessary from all of my preparation before I exercised most days.

‘Practice makes perfect’ as they say!.

Then it occurred to me, what if there were more than three of them?.

Could I handle two or more men plus the two slags who would also likely turn on me, especially if any other men there were fully clothed or had a knife say?.

I certainly didn’t care about my opponents size or strength as I just wanted to inflict as much pain on them as I possibly could as I recalled something from my childhood, a trite expression what was it, Oh yes;

“The greater the odds, the greater the glory”.

Funny how I’d now remember a saying from an old ‘Doctor Who’ story as a boy.

What was that from, the Sontaran named ‘Linx’, that’s right in an story called; ‘The Time Warrior’, played by an Aussie actor too oddly enough!.

I then realised that I must be very stressed to think of some obscure factoid from an old DVD at a time like this!.

Perhaps this was one moment in my life that was utterly pivotal and my spirit and mind were reminding myself of where I had come from and what to fight for by throwing up long obscure memories and yes I did have a lot to fight for, starting with my dignity!.

Yes, this is the moment and it’s time to discover the truth I decided.

I then carefully moved towards the nearest stairs and carefully climbed, still silent but now realising that the game was up and I now knew the truth, even before I saw it and perhaps had all along at some deeper conceptual level!.

On the stair landing after I quietly ascended, I stopped to listen and distantly heard human voices deeper within the house, so I then stealthily beelined toward the main bedroom, my bedroom which I suspected was the logical source of the sounds.

Only a few lights were on as the corridors were dim and silent which aided my near silent progress as I glided forward, my feet seemingly knowing where to tread carefully.

I struggled mightily to control my emotions as I crept along the corridor, trying to keep that rising anger bottled up as I knew now was the time for real intelligence and courage rather than a rash move before I determined the strength of my enemies.

Nearing the main bedroom, the voices became louder and more clear as the incoherent din now was more discernible as an unknown man’s voice and of course the slag Holgate’s voice that I immediately recognised; shrill, cruel and dripping with malice.

Sophie’s voice was there too, but more subdued.

Steeling myself, I stopped silently outside the bedroom door which was open, feeling the warm air within flowing outward onto my face, the smell was there too, that of female arousal and that of a man!.

My nose twitched in revulsion as I also smelt female perfume and their combined excitement which forced me to suppress the desire to loudly sneeze, such was the irritating aroma!.

So what now I pondered as I stood poised ready to do what?.

My heart was now beating loudly, I could hear it in my ears as I tried to breath shallowly, lest my respiration betray my presence here.

Gently, daring a quick look around the door, I saw the lamp dimly lighting the bedroom well enough to see a scene of utter horror to my eyes!.

A naked man was on my bed his bare back facing me and there lying under him was Sophie naked and cooing in the throes of sexual excitement with her legs spread so widely she resembled an inverted letter “Y”.

Beside them on the bed and looking on was the slag Holgate who was also naked.

Her attention though was focussed on the pair, her face radiant with satisfaction at the scene beside her as she muttered noises of approval.

I continued to silently look on as the man thrusted repeatedly into Sophie, her legs still spread wide but her feet was now wrapped around his lower torso as they grunted together as she pulled him deeper into her dilated vagina.

I took in the scene for just a few seconds before ducking away and pinching my side, just to confirm I wasn’t dreaming some upsetting nightmare.

Oh no this was very real but at some level I sensed that what I did next would subsequently shape my life well into the future from this point.

I mustn’t let myself down from the man I am now, the boy I once was and the man I would be in the future!

I sensed all aspects of myself now looking at me across time and space to here at this location and situation.

I mustn’t let myself down, not now, not ever!.

I considered what I felt.

Nothing but great anger, incredible murderous rage which again came to the fore as my earlier fears were now finally realised via the evidence of my own eyes.

Strangely, I also felt a curious but perverse self-satisfaction that my intuition was absolutely right earlier in the evening at my campsite.

That strange feeling that something wasn’t right and which ultimately lead to my presence here right now to witness the end of my marriage, indeed a marriage I now thought had been over for a long time as the sordidly ugly scene in front of me fully confirmed.

In my mind the thought ‘I told you so’ flitted into my awareness as the only positive from this absolutely rotten fucking day, but at least I now knew the truth, but it was of no real comfort being right again!.

Who says women alone have “intuition”?.

Fortunately, they all had their backs to me and the door was cast in deep black shadows so my presence was undetected by the trio, whom I now saw as my enemies to be completely destroyed.

‘Just don’t fuck things up Andrew my son’, I thought to myself!.

I carefully considered my options despite my barely held in check rage, forcing myself to think and think carefully.

Do I rush in and attack the naked man, I of course was clothed and had the element of surprise, so I had no doubt that a naked man no matter how strong would be at a real disadvantage in a fight if I chose that path.

He was large though, muscular too so I’d have to make sure I was fast and never allow him any prospect to recover.

Just deliver a swift killing series of blows and make sure the opponent never gets back up, as I remembered that good advice on how to fight that every man should know if a physical conflict becomes necessary!.

Yes I could do that, but what of the two slags?.

They would be easier and I could more easily knock the shit out of them as they too were naked, but could I defeat all three adversaries in rapid succession?.

Could I kill or knock out the man fast enough before the two slags fought back was the key question?.

I could now see that the risks were high with all three in the room and all it would take for things to go badly for me was for someone to press an emergency button on a phone and I’d be finished as the ‘rozzers’ would undoubtedly reply and then after showing up to find a dead man and injured wife in my house, it would be hard for me to avoid prosecution and gaol!.

Moreover, they were all clearly in league, so what if the two slags defended “him” and attacked me?.

I realised a woman could hinder me simply by randomly tripping me up or hitting me on the head with an object which would undoubtedly slow me down or worse actually giving “him” help to overpower or even kill me!.

Risky or worse I concluded as I carefully considered my prospects.

So although it was tempting, I reluctantly decided to await for a better opportunity as I really didn’t know anything about who that man was, indeed he bloody well could be anything from an off duty “Rozzer” to an drug addled violent bikie gang member, plus the fact that the numbers were against me with two women there?.

I knew I made the right decision then to try something else, a way where I could prevail with minimal risk to myself.

I then noticed how my hand had unconsciously lowered to feel the hard outline of my red ‘Victorinox’ Swiss army pocketknife within my trouser pocket.

I always carried my pocketknife on my person, as truly I believe that every man should have one, even in this “information age” full of weak, piss drinking men!

The sudden image of that 8 centimetre blade stabbing and slashing the trio’s throats briefly flashed into my mind as another possibility, but I quickly dismissed that option, as well as the prospect of using a much larger kitchen knife from downstairs or even the iron fireplace poker that I could smash down onto their heads in three swift killing blows, turning their skulls into shattered broken pisspots!.

Too much blood and too much evidence for the ‘rozzers’ if I made a mistake and too risky if I was somehow overpowered and the alert raised.

‘No, just stay calm Andrew’ I thought.

Then I made the right decision by slowly and silently removing my ‘Leica’ camera from my jacket pocket to record this scene for later evidence in case I needed it.

This was definitely the correct choice as my presence here now was still undetected and that advantage would allow me to better plan and execute a devastating and terminal attack on my three enemies at a time and place of my choosing with minimal prospect of detection or apprehension.

Yes this was best, so I then silently breathed through my nose and told myself to stay calm and concentrate!.

My ‘Leica 720S’ was a sleek black coloured multifunction digital camera and would help me now in this situation record the evidence for later use.

It actually used holographic imaging and with the attached bubble memory module for greater storage capacity, made for a larger and more precise projected image!.

However, in this case my camera would be used as a basic audio-video recorder.

Ducking into the hall I quickly activated the camera, taking advantage of the faint light emanating from the open door to operate the controls.

With my upper body obscured any light from the activation sequence, I quickly set up the audio/video mode with no external lights and operating just as a passive recording unit.

My timing was on the mark as I swung around and returned to my shadowed position just behind the door to remain undetected.

Activating the camera A-V recorder I pointed it toward the fornicating trio to then listen and capture the worst and appalling exchange that I’d ever heard in my life, one that I’d never forge;

“Ooooooohhhhhhhhh don’t stop, just keep filling me up you fucker, I should have done this a long time ago”, Sophie said lustily with pleasure oozing in every syllable that she moaned.

“I told you he was better than your little pathetic hubby didn’t I, eh”, the slag Holgate replied, her words heavy with sarcasm and repugnant spite as she looked on beside them, cupping her breast and tiddling her clitoris with a wet finger.

“Ohhhh yes, this feels wonderful” Sophie replied in agreement.

Then the man suddenly bellowed;

“Ha ha, I’m loving this, I’m just fucking loving this!.

I’m rooting another man’s wife in his own bed, in his own big house and really absolutely nothing is fucking better than this!.

I love dominating little tiny men with puny cocks, taking their wives from them and endlessly humiliating them, so I think that I’m going to be staying here all the time, so from now on this house is mine right”!.

He continued to plough into Sophie’s sopping dilated vagina.

My camera captured his size, his unshaven swarthy face and dark slicked back hair.

“Ohhhh yes, move in and replace that little ‘cucky’ prick with a real man”!. Holgate replied with an enthusiastic squeal, “I’ve wanted to put him in his place for a long time now and you big man are just the one to do it”!.

He continued;

“Yeah why not, I’m the dominant alpha male here so from now on I own all of his cars, his money and his woman, we’ll put the little ‘cucky’ in a cock cage, dress him in frilly knickers, teach him to suck me off and enjoy being fucked in the arse before he guides my ten inches into his wife’s cunt and sucks out my spunk, every day for the rest of his life!.

I’ll totally break him and own his body, mind and soul and make him my personal slave, sleeping in a dog kennel with a collar around his neck!.

We’ll call him ‘cucky’ and make him change his name by deed poll to ‘cucky’ for all time”, he obnoxiously crowed to hysterical laughter from the two women.

“Yes, yes Scott, we could brand him with your name on his back and remove his balls too, just like they do with bulls to make steers”, Holgate laughed maniacally like a demented crone.

“I’m the bull here and you’re all my cows on this farm” he bellowed dementedly, “So if he resists, we’ll grab his ‘cucky’ mother and I’ll rape her in front of him, fuck her arse and then force him to fuck his own mother with his little dicky and then tongue my spunk out of his mother’s cunt and arse as I make her my cow as well”, he sickeningly replied with a crazed smirk.

“We could start this in a few days you know, I’ve got the cock cage, handcuffs and sleeping tablets to knock him out all hidden at my place.

Once we ambush him, we could start to work on him and mentally condition the cuck once he gets home from work to what he thinks is still his house”, Holgate said with an evil grin.

“Yep, get Soph here to drug him for his last meal, so the last thing he’ll ever see of his old life is his drugged dinner and his loving wife smiling at him as he’ll wake up to the new reality that I’ve taken his entire life from him and right under his little nose so everything he holds dear is now mine, only the stupid little cuck doesn’t know it yet”, the man plotted aloud with crazed glee as the two slags continued to chuckle along with him!.

“C’mon Soph, are you up for it, I’ve been telling you for 18 months now how useless and weak Andy the cuck is, you could do so much better than him you know!.

He just doesn’t deserve a house like this or all that money that people like us by rights should have instead of him, I mean just compare him physically to our big bull Scott here, his cock size is double that little ‘cucky’ prick Andy’s, he’s much bigger, stronger and look at those muscles”!.

C’mon Soph this is a real man, an alpha male, not that weak little cocksucking cuck whose real function in life is to serve beautiful and strong people like us, don’t you think”, Holgate schemed with that mad tone in her voice now all too apparent to even the casual observer!.

“Oh yes” Sophie laughed to my disgust, “I can just see him on all fours licking my feet with a dog collar on, that would be funny”, she giggled between pleasurable moans as the man continued to thrust into her distorted vagina.

“So you’re up for it then as we’ve talked before, I mean look at this place it really could and should be all yours, you could be Queen of the castle here and your little ‘cucky’ hubby could serve you for all of his days, what do you think”?, the slag Holgate sneered, contempt in every syllable she spoke!.

“Yeah, why not, count me in as it sounds like fun”, Sophie replied traitorously, “lots of fun but don’t hurt him”!.

The man and Holgate just looked at each other with smirks on their faces and muttered;

“Naaah, we wouldn’t do that”!.

Sophie then just laughed and said nothing further as she continued to lay on her back, her legs widely splayed as the man rhythmically pumped her squishing vagina.

“Right then”, the man arrogantly said, “I’m nearly done but first I’m going to mark you as mine and then I’m going home to prepare for the ambush in a few days, pack all my stuff and move into MY new home here, so its time to fill your cunt with my spunk and you can give it to your ‘cucky’ hubby tomorrow when he gets home eh”.

“Yes, give it to me my big, long dicked bull”, Sophie enthused with a giggle.

I then filmed him lean down with his face on her breast.

“There, you’re now mine with your tits marked with my sharp piranha teeth” he smirked aloud.

Sophie and Holgate just laughed, cackling like witches.

I simply couldn’t take any more of this disgusting scene and quickly, silently spun around and exited the entrance to the room undetected before making my way down the hall and finally downstairs as fast as I could without being heard.

I turned off the camera as my last action before I left the bedroom entrance of course, but once back downstairs in the main living room I looked down at the camera to confirm it recorded everything then looked around the living room and considered my position and next move.

My mind was now focused on one thing only; black bloody murder after what I’d just seen and heard being done and plotted by my enemies upstairs.

Yes, I included my so called “wife” as my enemy as well, where she and her associates I swore would pay a very heavy price indeed!.

But how do I do it, the fireplace iron poker or one of the large knives in the kitchen as I considered before?.

My “Gunn and Moore” cricket bat then entered my mind as an option too!.

Good old “Gunn and Moore” would bludgeon them to death that’s for sure as I was a good right-handed batsman in my student days, but then I reflected just how would I dispose of their bodies and make sure no-one ever found out or asked difficult questions, especially the accursed ‘rozzers’ as here in Tasmania they had a reputation for stupidity and incompetence, but also corruption on a gross scale, which followed wherever the ‘rozzers’ went here in “Tassie”!.

Still, Holgate and that man named “Scott” had no real links to me, so I was sure that I could make their carcasses disappear with proper planning, but I needed time and had to think fast plus make no mistakes in order to make them “disappear” with no questions coming my way.

The slag Sophie was another matter though, moreover I liked her family and they utterly adored me as I’d done a lot to help their family financially over time.

I’d also given their family a lot of assistance by gaining employment for her sisters, which I saw as my role in being a good son/brother in law to them.

Indeed, her Mum and Dad treated me as the son they never had, plus her two sisters also liked me a lot too, always fussing over me and teasing me with all that girlish enthusiasm over time, ever since we’ve known each other actually.

So eliminating the wifey slag would have to done carefully, but I knew I had to act now for two reasons; firstly to protect myself from my enemies plans but also protect my dear Mum as well, based on what I had heard upstairs!.

I was absolutely furious at their threats toward my dear mum as she’d not had an easy life with my useless drunkard father cheating on her, then we’d subsequently lost our farm because of his utter incompetence before he finally abandoned us and vanished when I was a lad.

Mum subsequently struggled to support me over the years, working hard and encouraging me to study, which I did to great effect!.

So when the big money through my business arrived in earnest, I made sure I first bought Mum her own nice home and a new car, plus regular top ups of extra cash to ensure she lived well and was fully provided for!.

That’s what a man and a son does, help and support his mother as a duty of honour.

Thus, I now was utterly determined to protect my mum from those three monsters, even at the expense of my own life, now that I was aware of the clear threat they posed to my family and I!.

But the slag Sophie would require careful elimination, unless I could devise a way where all three died at once?.

Could it be done?.

I now knew exactly who my enemies were, but I didn’t get to achieve my success in life by being some fucking nutmeg scented, piss drinking weakling, I reflected as my anger grew more and more!.

Certainly not!.

Now that I had the recording of their plans, it occurred to me to go straight to the ‘rozzers’ and have them charged with any number of crimes?.

But then I reflected that the legal system in Australia and especially in my state, Tasmania is as fucked up as everywhere else around the world, with any number of “trendy” internationalist apologists amongst the judiciary willing to support and forgive any number of psychopaths and abominations for their many crimes against innocent people.

There was no such thing as “justice” amongst these “would-be-commissars”!.

Fucking PC, political correctness they call it, Bah more like “public censorship” or “public control” as I see it and that’s what I now call it too!.

So nowadays, I use these terms that I invented whenever and to whomever I wanted and when the stupid “trendy” term came up in conversation too!.

No, the ‘rozzers’ and any of their “PC” solicitors defending them would just pretend that their plotting was a joke or some such, so even if I tipped my hand now and confronted them, they’d likely wiggle out of it on technicalities if I did prosecute them!.

Then I’d have to likely deal with the fact that I and my dear Mum would be vulnerable to extortion, kidnapping or worse from these three abominations upstairs once the law let them off, as in truth they’d never give up trying to attack and steal from me and would likely, eventually eliminate Mum and I at their leisure, once they thought they’d get away with it and it would happen that way too I was sure of that!.

Most people here and indeed worldwide know that the fucked up legal system is designed to protect wrongdoers and not innocent people, especially in a backward place like Tasmania which is run by decadent, out of touch elites and their sycophantic acolytes!.

That’s the truth that dare not be spoken here, but it is the truth!.

No, if you want the job done properly then you have to do it yourself and I knew with my wealth, intelligence and determination I had the resources if necessary to make it happen and exact my own justice on those monsters upstairs in MY house!.

But what to do now was my immediate problem, which admittedly gave me a huge advantage in one sense as I had the element of total surprise and that’s really half the battle in truth!.

I briefly recalled the stories of the old fighter pilot axioms, knowing that most pilots who were shot down had absolutely no idea they were actually under attack until their aircraft started to disintegrate around them or bullets began ripping through the fuselage!.

I smiled grimly at the old axiom; ‘Beware of the hun in the sun’, I thought!.

Well, I wonder if I can now be “The Red Baron” and shoot down my three enemies without them knowing?.

Looking again around the main living room, I noticed the clothing strewn about and then made my decision!.

Firstly, I needed information about my enemies so I began to rummage through the pockets the man’s trousers where I found and took his wallet and then his phone which was active.

Smiling wryly, I then opened his wallet and immediately saw his driver’s licence, identifying him as a certain Scott McCulloch with an address on the outskirts of Launceston and his occupation of course was a fucking solicitor!.

‘Kill all lawyers and all who give birth to them’ I thought with malice.

In another pocket I then found the keys to his house which I also took and pocketed as they could be useful perhaps?.

Turning to the slag Holgate’s clothes, I took her activated phone and her house keys which also could be handy as a basic plan to ambush them began to form in my mind.

An ambush, yes that could work, make it look like a robbery, yes I could do that!.

I recalled hearing both Holgate and McCulloch say that they’d be leaving here tonight as I was expected back home tomorrow and they said that they had to prepare for their ambush of me in a few days time, so I realised that they had to leave fairly soon and then alone and isolated, I’d follow them and strike in my own time, I thought as my plan began to evolve!.

I looked around one more time to see if there was anything else I could do but realised that my time was limited and now was the moment to leave and then follow McCulloch and exacting some retribution before moving onto Holgate!.

Quietly moving back toward the side door, I looked about and paused to listen for any sound in the darkened corridor before proceeding down to the doorway.

Arriving in tense silence, I unlocked it and then still unseen, exited the house before gently relocking the door with my breathing still far too loud for my liking in these circumstances such that I felt sure that my own body would give me away at any moment, such as crunching on a pebble underfoot or tripping and falling in the dark to then be discovered!.

Listening for anything, I heard only the sounds of a chilly night before carefully walking away, making my way back to the main garage as I needed transport to follow McCulloch and I wanted to be ready as soon as possible!.

It was much colder outside now but I felt hot, my face flushed with anger and the strain of my covert activities as I inhaled deeper breaths as I quickly stalked to the main garage door and once there again opened it quietly to reveal a yawing blackness within.

At this distance from the house, even though it was relatively close, I nonetheless felt quite confident that I was completely undetected, as my enemies would likely be in the bedroom still, taking their showers or plotting.

But now, I was making my plans against them!.

Looking inside the garage I mentally considered my options as I now had no current use for the little electric Renault ‘Zoe’, as for starters its performance was too limited, even though it looked unobtrusive to the casual eye and thus more “invisible” when following my target.

Crucially, its batteries were close to exhaustion and would still take many hours to fully recharge as I glanced at the power cable attached to the car via my small red light torch.

No, it was now time for something more suitable for this aspect of my plans, something that better reflected my core character and personality as well as my current frame of mind and needs!.

The higher performance Italian, German and British cars were mostly located toward the back of the garage, plus my fantastic Lexus LFA sports car as well.

Anyway. I’d have to do some manoeuvring to extract them and that would take time, which I simply didn’t have now!.

My torch picked out a few options closer by;

My luxurious Bentley Bentayga V8 diesel was fast at 270 km/h and had long range, but was unsuitable for the present situation I felt, due to its large size and shape.

Same with my diesel Range Rover L405 4×4 off-roader, but my little Fiat 124 Spider Abarth sports car was tempting, however it seemed a little too small and underpowered for my purposes now!.

My eyes then lingered on my BMW M5 Competition which was ideal and seriously tempted me with its sheer speed and acceleration, but it was awkwardly wedged between my fast modernised Jensen Interceptor R and the beautiful red Alfa Romeo 8C which was also quick, but sadly all of these cars were positioned in an awkward section of the garage corner that was harder to access.

Damn, all three cars are just what I need now!.

Various luxury sedans and fun hot hatchbacks were all quickly ruled out too.

This analysis took less than a minute as each cars performance specifications immediately flashed through my mind as I saw them, such was my familiarity with my many options I had available.

But then right at the front and off to the side, from the corner of my eye I saw just the car to suit me now!.

Using my torch as I now strode forward, the dim light eagerly sought out the deeply shadowed shape and then bounced off the dull white exterior of the car that loomed into view as I moved closer.

I could feel a thrill of excitement erupt up my spine as I edged closer, with the car seeming to welcome my advance as I neared it.

Standing close now, it fully emerged into the torchlight, my newest acquisition, the sleek, even sinuous and very fast McLaren 570 GT-S supercar!.

Briefly, I paused to drink in its mechanical and aerodynamic beauty as I again felt a charge surge up my spine as my body and soul reached out and connected with the inherent power and latent menace inherent to the great car!.

Built in Woking, England, it was a two seat aft mid-engined twin turbocharged supercar with a 7 speed gearbox and a V8 engine capable of 8500 rpm at maximum performance!.

Top speed was a dangerous 328 kilometres per hour with an acceleration from a standing start of naught to 100 km/h in barely 3.2 seconds, as I’d already demonstrated on a high speed run at a secluded rural straight road nearby!.

Ostensibly a “GT” car that was comfortable and designed for long distance travel at high speed, this particular model of the McLaren 570 was a bit of a hybrid in that it combined the better comfort and aesthetic exterior looks of the 570GT with it’s equally fast but dynamically more agile twin sister, the 570S in one combined design, hence 570GT-S, where ‘S’ stood for “Sports pack”!.

In short, all the beauty and comfort of the McLaren 570GT with the agility and performance of its sister the McLaren 570S!.

That said, there was nothing “hybrid” in its V8 twin turbo charged petrol engine and when combined with the better suspension, steering dynamics and dampening software of the 570S plus the Pirelli P Zero Corsa tyres, subsequently made the 570GT-S a truly staggering car, a real “supercar” in fact and just the kind of car a man drives!

Everything about the car was designed to cut through the air and keep the great machine firmly grounded with as much downforce as possible to allow it to manoeuvre or speed as efficiently as possible; from the front splitter to the rear diffuser and it was all mine!.

I was utterly determined, as I gazed appreciatively at the McLaren, that the worthless, sub-human abominations currently in my house would never have it nor anything else I valued, especially my soon to be ex-wife, whom I no longer cared about after what she had done and had planned to do to me with her

co-conspirators!.

She was now expendable, just like the rest of them in fact, so they could have her and good riddance to them all!.

I then thought about what tools, weapons or supplies I needed to take with me, so moving to the adjoining workshop I looked around for anything useful I could use against my enemies or assist me in some manner.

I didn’t own a gun, but I certainly needed something I thought as that man McCulloch was much bigger then me and he looked to be the sort who was used to using violence if his words could be believed, so what could I find here that would give me an advantage if matters got physical?.

Even though I had no fear of him and knew how to handle myself in a fight, I recalled reading the aphorism that if you can avoid a fight then do so, but if you must then make sure it’s over quickly and you have the advantage, so once your adversary is down, he stays down, sage words indeed!.

My red light torch scanned the workbench and the tools on the wall, my eyes fully alert for anything of use.

Of course the claw hammer would be useful and in the corner of the workshop that heavy sledgehammer could be handy in breaking bones as well!.

Yes of course, both hammers would be useful I thought, as visions of my heavy blows breaking their bodies were conjured up in my mind!.

Then I spotted the spare “jerry cans” of petrol I used for emergency fuel when travelling.

Always topped up after every long trip, I knew the McLaren had a full fuel tank but the “jerry cans” would be useful in case of emergencies and even to burn his house down if I could get away with it!.

Why not, as he’s trespassed into mine home, so why shouldn’t I destroy him and what he owns, the same for that slag Holgate too, destroy them both and what they valued, yes why not?.

I then pocketed some “Redhead” safety matches from the workshop cabinet shelf before dashing back to the McLaren with my stores, as time was truly of the essence now!.

Activating the driver’s door opening switch saw the door suddenly veer up toward the garage ceiling as it was a dihedral mechanism that automatically swung upwards leaving a clear entry into and out of the car.

Instinctively I reached inside for the boot release switch, which resulted in a whirrr at the front of the car.

That’s the thing about most European supercars, the engine is mounted right behind the driver, so the boot is thusly relocated to the front, I half smiled to myself.

I then strode to the front of the car and stood in front of the gaping air inlets before opening the surprisingly voluminous front boot and placed the hammers and fuel cans inside before closing the boot door in a rapid fluid motion.

Time was still of the essence!.

Then, moving back to the low drivers side of the car I reached in and released the electronic handbrake and staying a quiet as possible, leaned into the side of the car with my shoulder and began to slowly push the car outside into the night, keeping my movements as straight as possible and only occasionally needing the steering wheel as I pushed hard to slowly move the car forward.

Fortunately, the McLaren was located on the front row of cars facing the main doors, so it was easy to reverse into the garage when returning home and reciprocally quicker to exit too!.

Moving slowly and once clear of the garage door arc, I then stopped and locked up the garage before I resumed my hard pushing with the inactive McLaren, but now turning the low slung car around 180 degrees via the steering wheel onto the smooth driveway and using the wheel to make the necessary course corrections only where necessary!.

I dared not start up the engine this close to the house as the powerful V8 would immediately betray my presence here, instead I continued to push hard, the strain etched on my face as I put my back into the effort.

Nevertheless I couldn’t help but feel increasingly anxious as I edged nearer to the side and then front of the house as I knew that all it would take for my presence here to be realised would be for someone to look out of a window or exiting the front door to finally see me and I didn’t want McCulloch or anyone else know I was really here, not yet anyway!.

Nervously, I felt at any moment that I’d be discovered, even though the darkness largely hid me from view and only occasionally did a pebble crunch underneath the tyres of a car which left me wondering if I’d be caught “in the act” so to speak?.

It was hard work, but I really put my back into it and eventually picked up a bit of momentum, as despite being below average height, I was fit thanks to my regular running.

Indeed, despite the chill, I actually began to perspire, but the cooling night air quickly helped make the effort tolerable despite the physical and emotional strain of my covert exit.

The light was low but my eyes were rapidly night adapting and anyway I was used to going about in the dark, as that’s what one must get used to when one lives in the country!.

At the front of the house I looked about, seeing no sign of movement or any extra lights on.

‘Good’ I thought, ‘they’re still upstairs’!.

I then pushed the silent, sleek McLaren slowly past their cars, from that ugly shit brown PT Cruiser and then the slags abominable Nissan Juke, with the wifey slag’s admittedly better looking and performing Renault Clio RS 200 offset to these appalling cars.

Fuck the Juke and PT Cruiser must be the most despicable cars around!

I didn’t know much about yank cars as they are seldom seen here, but I dimly recalled that the PT Cruiser was effectively limited to a paltry 200 km/h at best, indeed in reality it struggled to exceed 180 km/h in the real world, due to its poor aerodynamics that were equivalent to a turd on wheels!.

Besides, it really did have a very fat ugly arse for a car!.

Holgate’s Juke was equally ghastly and both cars really were shitboxes on wheels and undoubtedly had “slushmatic” gearboxes as well I surmised!.

By contrast my Mclaren 570GT-S that I now pushed past these two piles of automotive excrement was simply “otherworldly” compared to those “loser-mobiles”!.

I again wryly smiled at my own joke where at a time when things really couldn’t be worse, it’s funny how the mind works when under stress.

Now past the cars, I felt the resisting inertia from the silent McLaren lessen somewhat as I realised that the driveway was beginning to decline slightly.

Despite the struggle, I still felt good as it almost felt as if I was absorbing the latent power that seemed to radiate from within the McLaren.

I then pushed even harder and as the car now accelerated slightly, I quickly jumped in and steered the silent car down the driveway at a quick walking pace.

Feeling satisfied that I was now moving further away from the house and completely undetected as the gloom of the night fully swallowed myself and the car into near invisibility, I continued down the slight gradient, resting briefly.

Admittedly the white paint on the car’s exterior didn’t obscure us as well as other colours, indeed this McLaren’s paintwork actually had a second colour embedded within the exterior paint, comprising of a faint, very subtle pale blue colour which only was visible when viewed for certain angles and lighting conditions.

The paintwork was called “muriwai white” after the lovely old house in Surrey, England where Bruce McLaren and his family lived decades ago that was actually painted white and had blue window shutters.

I liked the colour mixture for my 570GT-S, which was named “muriwai” after the town where McLaren won his first race back in New Zealand.

Still no matter how lightly painted, the darkness increasingly obscured my departure with every second of elapsed time as I and the car gradually trundled stealthily down the lengthy, mostly level driveway toward the public road.

Nearing the main gate now the darkened car was still moving down the slight gradient, but gradually I sensed the deceleration as the driveway levelled out as the black shadows of the main gate entrance loomed ahead.

My breathing rate had decreased now, but I still felt hot even though the cold night air swept into the cockpit around the near vertical dihedral door towering above me and the rest of the car as I prepared to exit the car and push again.

I rapidly climbed out as I passed through the gates and then resumed my exertions, maintaining the momentum before giving the steering wheel a sharp pull to the right as the driveway transitioned onto the dark country road.

No passing cars were present with only the sounds of the night animals and insects faintly audible on this increasingly now foggy night.

Thankfully no car had come up behind me as I made my way down my driveway as that would be a real disaster, but I felt alright now and safer too as I breathed easier and continued to push the car hard along the road, carefully keeping to the side as well as frequently glancing over my shoulder towards the house where the lights could now be dimly seen in the distance amongst the trees and hedgerows.

Finally after pushing the car a distance of perhaps 50 metres down from my front gate, I thankfully bought the inert car to a halt opposite a paddock gate that belonged to a neighbouring farmer, Harry Bribe-Easy.

Good old Bribe-Easy grew commercial poppies that ended up as medical pain killers ostensibly, but oddly, some people actually blamed him and those like him for the “opioid crisis” in places like America somehow!.

Oh well, rather him than me, the wily profiteering bugger, anyhow his paddock gateway was now an ideal place to rest and wait in the dark for my enemies!.

Weary, I finally climbed into the McLaren, closed the door, strapped myself in and waited as calm begin to return to my body and mind.

So far tonight my covert movements had succeeded, despite the at times nerve wracking feelings coming to the fore, I’d nonetheless brazened it out and was confident I had escaped detection from all and sundry!.

I was pleased too that I could move about in the dark with ease, but in truth it was no accident as, for example, with every new car I bought I always made it a point to familiarise myself completely with the controls so I could function instinctively if necessary during a crisis, such as avoiding an accident or driving at maximum speed.

Did I mention that one of my hobbies was driving?.

When I was a lad, I once read how back in the dark days of the Vietnam war, a yank fighter “ace” named Randy Cunningham became effective in the old F-4 Phantom fighter jet by endlessly practicing what he called “switchology” on the many controls inside the Phantom cockpit, which was an apparent ergonomic nightmare in complexity in that era.

That “instinctive” practicing gave him an advantage if he was ever “bounced” by the lighter and simpler North Vietnamese MIG fighters and then engaging in aerial combat.

Sadly, I read much later that Cunningham eventually went into politics and actually ended up in prison on corruption charges, but that’s neither here nor there!.

Anyway, it was a practical lesson that I never forgot, so now sitting in my McLaren 570GT-S even though it was my newest car, I nonetheless felt comfortable and very confident that I would acquit myself well tonight as I had practiced my “switchology” with the McLaren until it became completely instinctive!.

I even gave the car a pet name, privately calling her, ‘Imogen’!.

Very English name of course, redolent of a sophisticated, well spoken and elegant woman, sinuous, sensuous and of course if you treat her properly then she’ll never let you down!.

What kind of man gives his car a pet name?.

A man just like me who likes cars a lot and thinks many cars are more than just the sum of their parts, where some even have a certain “spirit” within them that can’t be defined, but one can certainly feel and this McLaren 570 GT-S I called ‘Imogen’ had it in spades, that’s for sure!.

Yes “she” was female, as her sinuous curves clearly attested to that and she was definitely on my side too as I felt that there was definitely a bond between us!.

Pity Sophie ended up so badly though, I could now see that my concerns about her and the slag Holgate were on the mark, indeed I was now sure she’d been systematically brainwashing Sophie against me from the time she appeared some 18 months ago to the present day I now concluded!

I suppose I’ll never know the truth, I reflected with sadness as I continued my silent vigil in the darkness, watchful for any movement from my house.

But concentrate Andrew my son I then told myself as remember, ‘boys don’t cry’ and I’d never been one to shed tears no matter how bad I felt, so I certainly wasn’t going to start now like some limp wristed homosexualist I told myself and ultimately ending up as some nutmeg-scented piss drinker or worse!.

Absolutely not Andrew my son, absolutely not, I reflected with a wry smile to myself at my own “gallows humour” and Arthur Daley impersonation.

The dark humour cheered me a little during my wait as they say some self-deprecation is healthy, don’t they?.

Yes ‘Imogen’ would see me right as she was just the car for the job tonight now that the electric ‘Zoe’ was back in the darkened garage, with her depleted batteries now slowly recharging.

By contrast, ‘Imogen’ had 562 brake horsepower or 419 kilowatts of power within a twin turbocharged M838TE V8 petrol engine capable of 8500 RPM at maximum performance!.

‘Imogen’ was just the sort of car to best suit my current frame of mind; dangerous, ruthless, powerful and an implacable killing machine when used properly!.

I’d easily be able to follow any of my enemies in this car and when the time was right unleash hell itself onto them all, of that there was no doubt!.

Satisfied and now feeling in greater control, I continued to wait patiently in the darkness, vigilant and alert, still I yearned for a chance to exact some retribution on my enemies as I was tired of sneaking about and second guessing others as I’m not a coward by nature and I clearly had been wronged and demanded vengeance as my right!.

Then I remembered the two phones I “borrowed” from Holgate and McCulloch, perhaps they may reveal some useful intelligence?.

I reached into my pocket and began to check the phones in turn, noting that each was at least over three quarters full of charge, so that meant that I could safely leave them on and not have to worry about secret passwords if I was ever forced to deactivate them to conserve power.

That would work in my favour I reflected with this stroke of luck perhaps a sign that things were now clearly turning my way!.

I decided though to make sure these phones stayed switched on and that meant finding a way to recharge them as soon as possible.

A problem for later though……

I began by reading the text messages from the slag Holgate to Sophie, where for the first time, I could now begin to see the depth of deceitful planning done by these ghastly witches over time!.

“Whist ye”, I muttered as I scrolled through the messages, finally seeing that the evil slag was attacking me from day one, just as I suspected!.

Bad mouthing me behind my back to Sophie, but tellingly, all I read in reply was trite, giggly comments from my so-called wife and not even defending me once!.

My anger rose again as I continued to read, now better understanding just what had been happening behind my back over the past 18 months!.

Scanning forward, it seems that McCulloch came on the scene only in the past month and from there I could read the planning between he and Holgate to attack, rape and humiliate me as well as steal my home and money!.

The monsters even mentioned attacking my mum as well!.

My God, what kind of abominations were they I asked myself?.

Holgate I read, also boasted to McCulloch saying how she’d broken down Sophie’s defences to a point where Holgate was now in effect doing Sophie’s thinking for her regarding her marriage, indeed for over a year now she knew more about the state of Sophie and my marriage than I actually did, due to her constant meddling!.

A few comments revealingly mentioned their real motivation; to break my will and humiliate me before taking all that I had as Holgate apparently got her biggest sick thrills from destroying the spirit of a man and “owning” him completely as a slave, with my wealth and assets the cream on the top as she saw it!.

Also because I was below average height, she thought I was less of a man and thus inferior to larger men, so I should be nothing more than a slave according to her twisted thinking!.

That was her “natural order” as she called it!.

One telling comment less than three weeks ago explained her mindset and rationale in precise detail.

Where because I saw through her from the very beginning, she felt exposed that she couldn’t fool or manipulate me, so the slag set about to attack me from behind my back, undermining my marriage and seeking to take my life from me, just because I left her feeling vulnerable under my gaze with her fragile ego upset by my scrutiny and of course Sophie was just a foolish, naïve, manipulated accomplice, she gloated to McCulloch!.

By now I was shaking my head in utter disgust and disbelief, reflecting what a pathetic, little sick loser she really is, I now concluded with outrage!.

Indeed, I now saw with more clarity what had been really happening behind my back over the past 18 months, with Sophie equally culpable, as she knew the difference between right and wrong and frankly it’s her duty as a wife to defend and protect her husband from his enemies who sought to attack me from behind my back!.

Worse, Sophie had joined in with the plot with nary any rebuke to the constant insults and disrespect Holgate had spouted against me.

She would pay, they would all pay, of that there was no doubt!.

McCulloch’s phone also revealed similar twisted tirades, including the desire to “cuckold” me, which was a term that kept being repeated, but again one which didn’t mean much to me.

Of course my assets and cars interested him greatly as well as him looking forward to raping my mother in front of me and then making her his sex slave!.

I had to pause in reading this sheer evil to breathe deeply in order to control my steadily increasing anger.

He boasted of “cuckolding” other men before, but I was a huge prize due to my status and wealth which he now clearly desired as his next target!.

Well I thought, he was only a worthless lawyer and absolutely nothing of any consequence, so although he didn’t know it yet, he was in for a very nasty shock soon when I enacted my vengeance against him and indeed all of them!.

That twisted abomination McCulloch would pay for what he’d said and done to harm me I decided.

I then averred that I’d find a way to hurt him, perhaps even kill him at some point in the future, such was the disgust I had for his lifestyle and the vile plans he plotted for my family and I, as clearly, I would never be safe with him alive!.

Then I began to read Sophie’s messages;

They seemed at first glance to be the replies akin to that of a hormone addled teenage schoolgirl in response to what Holgate and later McCulloch’s were saying and planning!.

Little direct abuse of me from her though, instead just agreeing with her “friends” and stupid inane comments.

Revealingly however, she said nothing to dissuade or rebuke them, which cemented in my own mind her total betrayal of myself with her entirely vapid character clear to see!.

So be it, she too would pay for her wrongs against me I vowed then, including joining the fate of her fellow plotters!.

Now utterly fed up with this tripe, I looked reflectively at the phones and realised that this “electronic war” I was fighting tonight would now have to take into account the stolen phones.

I knew I was going to follow McCulloch shortly, but I realised that too much movement outside of the local phone relay tower would be registered if anyone cared to look, this may then potentially betray my movements too which would help McCulloch and Holgate if time and positional phone signals didn’t correlate and so possibly implicate me once I eliminated those two!.

I thought hard.

Currently any signals would use the local relay tower, so logically it would be prudent to leave the phones just here for later retrieval, so I decided that’s just what I’d do and not give curious minds any chance to see large movement of the reception signals.

Quickly I made a decision and exited the car, where despite the foggy darkness, made out a bush located a few metres to the side of the farm gate nearby.