Max Burnage Ep. 02: Ryan and Jessie

The following is the second episode in a new series, "Max Burnage." Each episode can be read as a separate story, but you may want to read the first installment to understand the full context.

The following was inspired by Athena_e19's 2007 story, "Defending His Right." In that story, a wimpy husband sought help after witnessing his wife get raped. Unable to protect her, he went to someone he thought could teach him how to fight. Instead, he became nothing more than a punching bag for the "teacher." Meanwhile, his wife and the teacher belittled and degraded him further, beating and cuckolding him. By the end of the story, the wife was full of ideas on ways to abuse and humiliate her already destroyed husband.

The names have been changed in this story, but the initial premise remains the same. Ralph Wilcox was first featured in my story, "Turning the Tables." Adrestia Rhamnousia is featured in my series, "Cheater's Gallery" and Elijah Jones is featured in "Justice."

As always, constructive comments are always welcome and appreciated. Please refer to my profile for more on my personal policy regarding comments, feedback, follows, etc. (Yes, I do moderate comments.) And remember, this is a work of fiction, meaning that it is not real in any way, shape, matter or form.

...

Introduction, by Max Burnage

My name is Maximilian Burnage, but you can simply call me Max. I was born Maxwell Burns, but changed my name after my wife and her cohorts targeted me in an illegal scheme that included a plot to murder me. With the help of two incredible individuals, namely, a Civil War veteran named Elijah Jones and an immortal goddess named Adrestia Rhamnousia, I was able to reclaim my life and get a measure of justice from those who sought to do me harm.

I spent three months at Camp Rollins, a facility in north Idaho set up to help men in situations like mine. After my return, I was, for all practical purposes, a completely new man. Adrestia bestowed upon me a gift, something she called a "command voice" that allows me to make anyone do anything. With her guidance and Eli's tutelage, I have learned to use that gift for the good of those who seek my help.

After I dealt with my now ex-wife and her accomplices, I started the Burnage Agency to help people deal with cases of extreme marital betrayal and infidelity. Both Eli and Adrestia have lived up to their promises, providing me with the tools and the guidance to do my job. Adrestia even provided me with the software and systems I would need to monitor anyone, anywhere on the planet.

And for those who are wondering, yes, Adrestia and I are in a fully-committed exclusive relationship. It's a bit difficult to explain -- maybe I'll do that in an upcoming episode.

I'm an accountant by trade, and not a writer, so I am grateful that Saddletramp1956 accepted my invitation to shadow me on some of my cases. This is just one of my stories. At my request, the names of those involved have been changed to protect the innocent.

...

Ryan Davis looked at the door simply marked, "Burnage Agency," and wondered if he was doing the right thing. He had seen a pop-up ad on the Internet that said he should immediately visit the agency and was intrigued. The ad said no appointment was necessary and simply gave an address. Surprised that it was located in his home town, he drove to the address and took the elevator to the fifth floor.

He turned the knob and opened the door. When he walked inside, he was greeted by a slim brunette receptionist in business attire. Looking around the office, he felt as though he had stepped back in time.

"Good morning, Mr. Davis," the receptionist said with a smile. "Please come on in. Mr. Burnage has been expecting you," she added, pronouncing the name, "bernahj."

"He has?" Ryan asked, a bit shocked.

"Of course," she said, standing up. "Right this way, please." He followed her to a door marked, "Private." She tapped on it twice before opening it. He walked inside and noticed a smoky haze in the office. A well-built man in a dark business suit sat behind a large wooden desk. He looked up as they walked inside.

"Good to see you, Mr. Davis," he said, extending a hand. "I'm Max Burnage," he added. "Please, have a seat." He looked at the receptionist before speaking again. "Sally, would you please bring us some fresh tea?"

"Of course, Mr. Burnage," she said, walking back into the front office.

"You knew I was coming here to see you?" Ryan asked Max.

"Of course," Max said.

"But how did you know that?" Ryan asked. "I never even called."

"The wonders of targeted Internet marketing," Max said. "My better half is a whiz at that stuff." Ryan noticed a picture of Max and a very lovely blonde on his desk and pointed at it.

"Is that her?" he asked. Max smiled as he looked at the photo of him and Adrestia. He nodded his head.

"Yes," he said. "That's her. I'd be nothing without her."

"You're a very fortunate man to have someone so lovely supporting you," Ryan said.

"I wholeheartedly agree," Max said. By then, Sally returned with two large cups of hot tea. She set one down in front of Ryan and handed the other to Max, who took a sip. "Perfect, Sally, thank you." He looked at Ryan as Sally left the office, closing the door behind her. "Go ahead, take a sip."

"This is delicious," Ryan said after taking a sip. "I've never tasted anything like it."

"It's my wife's personal blend," Max said. "I find it to be... most invigorating. In many ways."

"Yes, I agree," Ryan said. Max picked up a pack of cigarettes and pulled one out.

"Mind if I... smoke?" Max asked. Ryan shook his head.

"No, go ahead," he said. "It's your office." Max lit the cigarette and Ryan was surprised it gave off almost no odor whatsoever. He was equally surprised when Max offered him one.

"Go ahead," Max said. "One won't hurt you." Ryan had never smoked, and considered declining, but something in Max's voice compelled him to take one. He put it in his mouth and inhaled when Max lit it for him. He halfway expected to choke on the smoke, and was surprised when he didn't. Between the tea and the cigarette, he found himself feeling strangely relaxed.

"May I call you Ryan?" Max asked.

"Please do," Ryan said.

"Thank you," Max said. "Tell me about your situation."

"Well, it all began about a year or so ago," Ryan said. "My wife, Jessie, and I had just got back from a night out with friends. That's when we were accosted by two big guys who raped her. I wasn't able to help her at all and I ended up simply watching as they took her over and over again."

"Did you ever report the rape to the police?" Max asked. Ryan shook his head.

"No," he said. "That was at her insistence."

"When you say you weren't able to help her, do you mean that you were held down at gunpoint or forced to watch by the rapists?" Max asked. Ryan shook his head again, looking down. He was clearly embarrassed.

"No," he said quietly. "I, uh, wimped out. I simply laid there and whimpered like a baby. It's like I had no fight in me whatsoever. I can't explain it." He began to cry.

"It's okay, Ryan," Max said calmly. "People react to situations like that in very different ways. It's like a soldier who experiences combat for the very first time. Some people run, others fight, and then there are some who, like you, simply freeze up. I take it you're one of those who prefer not to fight. Am I right?"

"Yes, you're right," Ryan said. "I've never been much of a fighter. And no one's ever taught me how to fight."

"So, after the rape, what happened?" Max asked.

"Well, things between my wife and I got strained," Ryan said. "It's like she was ashamed to even be around me. I decided to do something about it after a couple weeks. I swore that I would learn how to fight so I could protect my wife if anything like that happened again."

"Sounds reasonable," Max said. "Go on."

"I found a place that said they taught mixed martial arts, so I went there," Ryan said. "I had hoped I could learn something."

"Let me guess," Max said. "The instructor didn't teach you anything, did he?" Ryan shook his head. "He just beat you up and sent you home with a black eye, didn't he?"

"Yes," Ryan said. "Then Jessie got upset that I went without telling her. She thought it was funny that I would even try to learn how to fight. Then she started going with me. And that's when the really bad stuff started happening."

"You mean, between the instructor and your wife?" Max asked.

"Yes," Ryan said. "The teacher, Jim is his name, would simply have me attack him. Then after he beat me, he would work with Jessie. He actually taught her some moves and then the two of them would gang up and take turns beating me."

"Did this 'Jim' even teach you anything?" Max asked.

"No," Ryan said. "All he did was beat me and berate me."

"So he took your money but taught you nothing, is that right?" Max asked.

"That's right," Ryan said. "And after they were finished beating me, they would have sex, right there in the ring, in front of me. The whole time they would berate me and humiliate me even further."

"How long have you been married, Ryan?" Max asked.

"Two years when this all started," Ryan said. "Three years now."

"Have you considered divorce?" Max asked. "Or going to the police? It sounds to me like you would have grounds to have your wife charged with spousal abuse and assault."

"I've considered divorce," Ryan said. "I even talked to a couple of attorneys, but they told me I'd basically be screwed. I never thought about going to the police. Truth is, I'd be too embarrassed. I've been laughed at enough. I just want it to end."

"You know, there is a facility that helps men in your situation," Max said. "It's a three-month program, but I think you would benefit from it. I know I have."

"You mean Camp Rollins?" Ryan asked.

"Yes, Camp Rollins," Max said. "You've heard of it, then."

"I have," he said. "I saw their ad on the Internet and checked them out. Problem is, I can't afford it, and my insurance wouldn't cover it. Otherwise, I'd go in a heartbeat."

"Tell me honestly, Ryan," Max said. "Do you love your wife?"

"Truthfully, right now, I don't know," Ryan said. "Part of me still does, but a part of me wishes she would just go away and die. She won't even let me touch her, and she brings Jim into our apartment and fucks him in the bed I used to sleep in. Then she expects me to clean her up with my tongue. She's done even worse than that. I can't stand living there anymore. I've even thought about killing myself. I can't take it anymore."

"Has Jim forced himself on you?" Max asked. Ryan looked down, his face red. He slowly nodded his head.

"Yes," he said quietly. "The last time, he shoved his dick in my mouth after fucking Jessie in the ass. He demanded I clean him up. I got sick and threw up on him. Then they both beat me unconscious."

"Did you call the police?" Max asked.

"No," Ryan said. "I was too ashamed." Max considered the man crying uncontrollably and took out a sheet of paper. He handed it to Ryan.

"I'll take your case, Ryan," Max said. "But you have to do exactly as I say. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Ryan said. "But I don't think I can afford you." Max shook his head.

"Don't worry about the cost," Max said. "I'm not in this for the money. I'm taking your case pro bono. Now, here's some things you need to do right away," Max said. "The first thing we need to do is get you out of that apartment and get you someplace safe. Does your wife work?"

"Yes, she works at a convenience store down the street from our apartment," Ryan said.

"Alright," Max said. "Pack up your things and go to the address on this piece of paper. Tell them I sent you. I'll give you a card you can show them. They'll set you up with a room. Do not contact your wife. No one is to know where you are. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," Ryan said. Max handed him a slip of paper. "What is this place?"

"It's a safe house I set up for clients in your situation," Max said. "Do you have vacation time coming?"

"Yes, I do," Ryan said.

"Good," Max said. "Take a week's vacation. If they give you any flak, you contact me immediately and I'll take care of it. You are to stay at the safe house unless I contact you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand," Ryan said.

"Okay. Now, write down your address and the address of this so-called gym," Max said. "I'll be paying him a visit." Ryan wrote the address of Jim's gym and handed it to Max. "I have an attorney and a counselor on retainer. I'll arrange for them to visit you at the safe house. Any questions so far?"

"Not at this time," Ryan said.

"Good," Max said. "Remember, say nothing to your wife and stay away from her and Jim. They've already broken a number of laws and there's no telling what they intend to do next. You let me handle this from now on. Understand?"

"Yes, I understand," Ryan said. Max nodded his head.

"Alright, go get your things and report to the safe house, then call your work and take vacation," Max said. Ryan nodded his head and stood up. Max stood with him.

"Thank you for everything," Ryan said.

"You're welcome," Max said. He knew the pain Ryan was feeling. He had already seen the file Adrestia provided him on the man's marriage and knew all about the abuse he had suffered at his wife's hands. He sat back down and turned on his tablet. He entered the information Adrestia had given him on Jessica Davis and was soon watching her working behind the counter of a Zip store. He activated the thought monitor and waited for it to sync up to her thoughts.

The surveillance software and thought monitor were programs Adrestia had developed herself. As she once told him, she had doctorates in multiple disciplines and was quite good at all of them. She gave him the tablet with the software installed and showed him how to use it. He found it to be quite useful in his work. By now, the monitor had synced to her thought patterns and he could read what she was thinking.

"I can't wait for this shift to end," he read. "Jim said he'd be coming over tonight with a brand new electric cock cage for the wimp. I can't wait to see him writhing on the floor in pain." Max shut the monitor off in disgust and left the office.

"I'll be back in a bit," he told Sally as he donned his fedora and long khaki double-breasted trench coat.

...

Max stood outside the largely nondescript, run down brick building housing Jim Carter's gym. He already knew Carter's history -- Seven time world champion in mixed martial arts. His glory days as a fighter and founder of the art form were behind him and he now languished as a "teacher," training a new generation of fighters. He opened the door and walked inside.

He looked around at the walls, covered with large black-and-white photos of Carter in his prime. Carter taking down an opponent with his fist. Carter throwing a wild kick to an opponent's face. Carter with his hands raised in triumph. Carter accepting a trophy. As he walked around, he took in the trophies that sat in a case along the wall. All of them were inscribed with Carter's name.

He took note of the boxing ring set in the middle of the gym and walked around, looking at the trophies and commendations. He stopped in front of a table that held three samurai swords, each one a different length. One of them he recognized as a "wakizashi," the sword used in the suicide ritual known as seppuku.

"Impressive, aren't they?" he heard a man ask from behind him. He turned to see a slim, gray-haired man wearing a gi with a black belt around his waist. He recognized him as Jim Carter, one of Ryan's tormentors.

"Are they real?" Max asked, pointing to the sword set.

"Of course," Jim said. "Perhaps you'd like a demonstration."

"Thanks, but I'll pass," Max said.

"So, do you want to learn how to fight?" Jim asked with a sneer on his face. Max shook his head.

"Already know how to fight," Max said. "Personally, I find the spoken word to be more powerful than a fist." Jim laughed.

"Seriously?" he asked. "Maybe you'd like to show me how that's possible." Max smiled, but there was no warmth in his smile. Jim's sneer disappeared.

"Perhaps one day," Max said.

"So, why are you here?" Jim asked.

"I'm curious to know about your training sessions with Ryan Davis," Max asked. Jim snickered as he walked into the center of the ring.

"What's it to you?" Jim asked.

"Have you actually taught him anything, or are you just using him as a punching bag so you can fuck his wife?" Max asked.

"What has he told you?" Jim asked.

"Answer my question," Max said, using his command voice. Jim felt a strange vibration in his head as Max spoke. What was this, he asked himself. He felt compelled to tell this man the truth.

"Of course, he's just a punching bag," Jim said. "And yes, Jessie and I torture him every chance we get."

"Then I'll make you a deal," Max said.

"What's that?" Jim asked.

"I'll bring Ryan here next Friday -- that's one week from today -- at 5:00 pm. You have Jessie here. Ryan will challenge you to combat in this ring -- just you and him," Max said. Jim snickered.

"Seriously?" Jim asked.

"Seriously," Max said. Jim laughed as he nodded his head.

"Okay, sure," he said. "Bring the wimp by here Friday. After I kick his ass, I'll fuck his wife right here in front of him." Max shook his head.

"No, you won't," he said. Again, Jim felt the strange vibration in his head. "You fancy yourself something of a modern-day samurai, don't you?"

"Yes, you could say that," Jim said.

"Good," Max said. "Here's the deal. If he wins, you take this and commit seppuku right there in the middle of the ring," he said, pointing to the short sword. "Got it?" Jim felt the strange vibration and found himself accepting the deal.

"What about Jessie?" he asked.

"She can either join you or turn herself in to the police," Max said. "I really don't care which. If she chooses the latter, she'll accept Ryan's terms of divorce with no questions asked."

"But what if I win?" Jim asked.

"In that case, you can live and keep Jessie, but she'll still accept Ryan's terms for divorce," Max said. "He walks away and the two of you leave him alone, forever. Deal?" Jim felt the strange vibration and wondered who this man was. He found himself nodding his head in agreement.

"You have a deal," he said. "Be here, next Friday at 5:00 pm. We'll be waiting." Max smiled grimly as he regarded Jim.

"See? I told you the spoken word is more powerful than a fist," he said. "We'll be here. In the meantime, you and Jessie are to leave Ryan alone so he can prepare. He's already someplace safe, so don't bother looking for him. And one last thing."

"What's that?" Jim asked.

"No tricks," Max said. "Trust me, it won't go well for either you or Jessie if you try to pull something."

"No tricks," Jim said quietly. Max tipped his fedora and walked out of the gym. Jim eyed him as he left. As the door closed, he wondered who this man was.

...

"You did WHAT?" Ryan asked when Max told him the deal he had made with Jim. "You know I can't beat him. He's stronger and more powerful than me." Max took Jim's head in his hands and looked him in the eye.

"Listen to me, Ryan," he said. "And listen good. It's time for you to man up. You're younger than him, and whether you know it or not, he's already shown you what to do and what not to do. You need to remember that. He's an old washed-up has-been. His glory days are behind him and he gets off on beating people like you."

"Max is right," said a tall, thin man standing behind Max.

"Ryan, this is Ralph Wilcox," Max said. "He was in a situation similar to yours once. He got help and he's going to help you remember everything you need to know. But you need to trust him and listen to him. Understand?" Ryan felt a strange vibration in his head. As the vibration wore off, he felt... different, stronger and somewhat more confident. Where did that come from, he asked himself. Deep down, he knew Max was right. He had to man up for his own good. He nodded his head.