Mom Fucked in a Farmhouse Ch. 05

"What's going on?" he asked, confused.

Mom turned to me and said, "You wanted to look at the paperwork in detail?" in the same tone that she used when I was a kid to tell me to go out and play when she wanted to be left alone.

After landing a punch on Chandra's face I went to the paperwork room and started to look through it to see if there was anything else I could find.

As I was going through the papers, I was startled by an unearthly scream.

It wasn't mom.

Another scream.

I had no idea that a man could make such a sound.

Tuning out the noise, I continued trying to make sense of all the papers. Time flew by as I sorted the papers that documented his dealings with the two mafia bosses and filed them separately. Looking at some other papers I realized that Chandra had targeted dad's business for the past one and a half years so he would suffer losses and then Chandra came in with a lot of business like a heaven-sent. He had planned for a long time to get my mother, like I had planned for a long time to take him down.

I suddenly realized that Chandra had become quiet. I went to the room and looked at Chandra. I realized why some primitive cultures handed over their prisoners of war to their women.

Chandra was still hanging from the ceiling, in the harness. He was unconscious. But he probably wished he was dying as he had faded into unconsciousness.

To say that he had been badly messed up would be a gross understatement.

My mother, who just a few hours ago looked like a sex goddess, now seemed to have been transformed into a goddess of rage and vengeance.

Considering the numbers of lives he had destroyed and what he was doing to my mother, I didn't feel any pity for him.

"I think I'm done for now." mom said blithely and went to her room to take a bath.

Dad called around 12:30 a.m.

Mom told him, "COME BACK IMMEDIATELY!

... I'LL TELL YOU WHEN YOU GET HERE ... YES HE'S AWAKE ... HERE..." she handed me the phone.

"What's going on?" dad asked me, his voice sounded faint and far away.

"CAN'T TELL YOU ON THE PHONE" I shouted into the phone.

"Okay, I'll leave immediately, should be there by evening tomorrow."

After the phone call, we went back to the room where Chandra was. He was awake again but was in no condition to do anything, let alone move. We cut Chandra down onto the plastic sheet and dragged him outside to the hole and dumped him in. He realized what was happening and started squirming and yelling over the cactus in his mouth, terrified.

"Bye, bye bitch!" mom said to him as we covered the hole with the two metal sheets and covered them up with soil.

The next day, we spent the day talking about what to do with the money we were taking from Chandra; we mused that the hit orders on the two mafia bosses must be being put into action.

Dad reached there by around 4 p.m. He listened in silence with mounting anger as we brought him up to speed.

"Show me where he is." dad said.

We went out and dad uncovered the 'grave'. Chandra was still alive and had managed to chew and spit out or swallow the cactus in his mouth. And inspite of his fractured joints, somehow managed to stand up, shuddering with agony and abject terror. He looked up at us and croaked out, "Peeee geph me ouph oph here, ey're aww aouufff me!"

"Who's all around you, you stinking sleazebag?" dad asked him.

"Ba womem ... ba womem ..." he replied without a tongue in his mouth.

"Women...?" dad spat at him and taking a shovel hit him with it on the side of his head. Chandra screamed helplessly and collapsed, groaning.

I clicked his picture on his own camera.

He started screaming again when covered him back up and dad made a small cement and stone cover over it with cement he had found in the garage. The winter showers brought by the north-east monsoon winds would harden the cement sufficiently.

We quickly left the place, helping ourselves to Chandra's gold and cash. Dad wasn't happy about it but mom convinced him to take it as compensation for all the trouble Chandra had put us through.

My plan to take Chandra out and have his two patrons killed so that their gangs would spend time decimating each other, worked like a charm. Within a month both gangs were all but finished. All dirty cops on their payroll stayed out of the fight. The gang-war ended after dad posted the two files I had prepared to the two gangs, who naturally thought that Chandra had played them both. They joined forces to look for him and only gave up after dad sent one of them the film with Chandra's photo that I had clicked.

In the ensuing years, I went to the US for further studies, sponsored by the late Bheem Chandra Singh. I decided to stay on and started the process to become a US citizen.

Dad tried to build up his business in India but gave up thanks to the increasingly socialist policies of the government leading to rampant corruption that stifled any honest small businesses. So my parents decided to emigrate to the US as well.

I had not expected to get married but then I met a wonderful woman who saw past my disability and instead of pitying me, admired how I carried myself. We got married and have had wonderful life together; raised three great kids. Our eldest son is now a Lieutenant Colonel in the USMC. Our daughter is a microbiologist with a research lab and the youngest son, a professor at MIT.

India broke free from the shackles of socialist policies in the nineteen nineties but didn't go full free-market. As a result, great health care is way cheaper there than in the US. So my wife and I started making a trip once or twice a year to India for our medical needs.

Mom and dad had a good life together and passed away a month apart in 2017.

The whole experience with Chandra affected me in a strange way. When I had looked at his battered body in his grave, I had thought that I would see it in my nightmares for the rest of my life. But that did not happen. I guess my conscience is clear that he had it coming to him.

But I would occasionally have nightmares of him raping my mother. I never did forgive myself for failing to protect her. We got revenge, yes but it would have been better to protect her.

I developed a habit of visiting Chandra's grave and pissing on it whenever I visited India. I realized that the nightmares would stop for a few months every time I did that. It was as if his tormented spirit did not want to be forgotten and called to me to visit his grave even if it was to desecrate it. Nobody else knew or cared where he was but me. And like a victim of abuse he longed for a connection, any connection.

Or maybe it was all in my head.

The city near the old farmhouse expanded right across the woods surrounding it. But the farmhouse itself was left alone. It had gained quite the reputation for being a haunted place.

My wife once asked me where I kept sneaking off to whenever we visited India. I told her that I went to piss on the grave of my mom's rapist and gave her a heavily sanitized version of the events of so long ago.

She visited the farmhouse with me once but was instantly creeped out.

I don't feel scared though. As I walk through the gates I can feel the presence of all the women who had disappeared, all of Chandra's victims reaching out to me, to thank me. "Thank you .... we torment him the way he tormented us. Thank you!" I hear them whisper to me in the breeze.

And that is why I'm standing here behind this decrepit old farmhouse.

Excuse me, but I really do need to pee.