Power Corrupts Absolutely

My name is Derek. My wife Sheila and I have been married for four years. She is beautiful. She's about 5'6 with long blond hair which comes to mid-back. Her green eyes are what attracted me as they are so full of energy. She feels that her modest 34B's are too small but for me they are simply perfect. As a caring husband, I do check them for lumps at every opportunity. They are topped with some very lively nipples which love being caressed and nibbled. Her long legs lead to a round, firm bum. She's a very caring person who would help anyone.

If I had to find fault, I'd say she doesn't wear stockings and suspenders often enough and could be more daring when we are out. Not to involve others just to titillate ourselves. Our sex life has slowed down to two or three times a week. We still use the weekends to have fun, roleplays and such like. During the week, it tends to be more basic, cuddle, make out and finally fuck.

Now, I suppose for those from the other side of the pond, I'm from the wrong side of the tracks. I come from a working-class background. My father works on the railways and my mum at the local hospital. They stay in a council house in an estate built in the sixties. The area is okay but does have its moments. I learned early that sometimes you have to fight to defend yourself and for what you want.

I'm no adonis. At 5'10, 175lbs. I'm okay looking. No beer belly. I'll never have women throw their knickers at me. I think (well I'm told) it's my personality and humour which they like more.

Sheila and I met at university. Education was important to my parents. Both had had to leave school at the earliest opportunity to help their families survive. I was the first in our family to go.

I didn't impress her father when we were first introduced and I'm sure he loathes me even more now. I didn't back down to him and his demands over his daughter. He is a multi-millionaire with his own businesses. He, I'm sure reluctantly, offered me a job working for him but I turned him down. Another firm had helped me through university with work experience, summer placements and had offered me a job. I took them up on that. He decried that loyalty.

When I asked him for his daughter's hand in marriage, I thought he would have a heart attack. He made sure I knew that I wasn't worthy of his daughter. It took Sheila and her mum Samantha days to persuade him to give his, very grudging, permission. I suppose I didn't help by saying we could just walk into the Registrar's and do the necessary forms and be married with just our witnesses within five weeks.

The night I was summoned to his house (everything is his, nothing includes his wife or family) I was met by an extremely nervous Sheila and, if possible, an even more nervous mother. I soon learned why. He had had his solicitors draw up a prenuptial agreement which he took great delight in telling me that if I strayed not only would I not get a penny, but I wouldn't even get my dirty laundry.

My reaction almost caused him to have a stroke, "I'll take this away and read it. If it's acceptable, I'll sign it. If there are any areas which need amending, I'll highlight those." What did he expect? I'm an engineer and we look at everything twice.

I read it and didn't like it. I had a friend, Rachel, who is a solicitor, have a look. She didn't like it either. Everything was fairly normal for a prenuptial apart from two facts. One, it only covered one person -- me. Two, it demanded everything I brought into the marriage. Normally what you bring in, you can take (as well as any inheritance). When I told her about the dirty laundry remark, she laughed.

"If you are stupid enough to sign this, she could do that to you. With him being such a bully, she would do as he says."

We sat and worked through an amended one which included Sheila straying, what we each bring we can take away, items such as clothing, jewellery etc were not to be included.

When I presented the revised version, I thought he had worked at the docks, he was so foul mouthed. I was really hoping he would have a stroke!

In his grandest, dictatorial voice, he spewed, "Just sign the fucking thing. You'll get nothing!"

I was calm, relaxed (I had practiced for several days), "If any prenuptial agreement is to be signed, it will cover both of us, not just me." Sheila gasped. She hadn't realised her dad had sought to totally fuck me over.

Eventually over a week later the agreement was done. He would not allow the nuclear, everything, to be removed but it covered both of us. I knew I wouldn't stray. I was confident that Sheila wouldn't either.

I won't bore you about the wedding but he was mightily pissed I insisted on a small one without all his business friends, though I may have called them arseholes, like him, to his face.

As you have probably surmised I have as little as possible to do with the insufferable arsehole.

Sheila and I were happy and had been discussing having a family. She works for her father (which annoys me) and is paid very well. I have developed a lot of skills which are in high demand and have been promoted several times. Every time I get a rise, her dad tops it so she is the "main bread winner." As far as he is concerned, "I'm a loser and always will be."

My boss Malcolm is a great guy with a sense of humour. We get on very well and are the best of friends. He is just a few years older than me. I wouldn't like to be on the wrong side of him though as he has a backbone of steel when required. He doesn't mince his words. The firm is doing very well, very well indeed.

He asked if I wanted a letter with details of a new position and a salary of £50,000 which I could let Sheila inadvertently see. I had it the week before I had to visit Sheila's parents' home for her mum's 50^th birthday celebration. (No, my parents were never invited. If he could have; he wouldn't have invited them to the wedding).

At the party, he announced a promotion for Sheila with a big rise as he sneered at me. I just congratulated Sheila. Malcolm and I had a laugh about it on the Monday. With bonuses I was already earning far more. I paid the bonuses into a company fund which Sheila would not be able to get her hands onto if things did go wrong. Malcolm had helped me with a few patent applications which had attracted interest by many companies in acquiring licences.

About three months ago, a major problem came up between Sheila and me. I blame her fucking father.

Sheila's mum and dad (okay dad mostly) like to be seen in the posh circles. There was to be a benefit evening in support of something or other but they were on a cruise. He instructed Sheila to attend as a representative of his firm. Reluctantly (on both sides) I was to attend. If she went on her own, rumours would start and that could hurt business.

The evening came and I have to say Sheila looked gorgeous. She was wearing a lovely deep green dress which matched her eyes. It revealed a lot more than her normal amount of cleavage and stopped just short of her knees. In fact, I was surprised her breasts didn't fall out. I could detect her suspender bumps. I'm sure my face was a picture; my thoughts were going everywhere. I didn't know whether to be pleased or worried.

Before I could speak, she said softly, with a smile, "I know you're hating this evening already. I'm trying to make it up to you. Wait till we get home!"

Despite the night before I was randy. We had made love for hours in several rooms and multiple positions. I tried to kiss her but she wouldn't allow me to mess with her makeup.

The evening was every bit as boring as I thought it would be. I drank soft drinks as I didn't want to say something to offend anyone, which was a possibility if I had been drinking. I mean there is only so much gossip about vacuous people you don't know and never want to know you can stomach.

Sheila and I had a quite a few dances which were a highlight for me. I never realised she was braless until we danced a slow dance. This was a first. She was smiling at my facial expression. I wanted to just go home, maybe play in the car before heading off. But she had to circulate, business, so I walked to our table and chilled. I saw her watching me a few times. I smiled. I couldn't make anything of what her facial expression was. Annoyed I was watching her, worried or disinterested.

Late on in the evening, I had to go to the toilet. I heard two loudmouths asking which married woman Iverson was going to pick to take home to fuck. From what they said, it was apparent the highlight of their evening was how he would humiliate the husband in front of everyone. They laughed at that. They described who they would take -Sheila! They were delighted that who they thought was the husband looked like he would object so Iversen's two security guys would beat the shit out of him. They laughed again.

I wasn't happy to say the least!

They left and I came out of the stall. I went to the cloakroom and took my phone out. I deal with problems all the time but for this one I needed help. I called some friends who would come and back me up. Fifteen minutes later, my friends arrived with some equipment which would aid me, two knuckledusters and an alarm. If anything started, I would press the alarm and they would come in and help me deal with the thugs.

When I returned to the dancehall Sheila was talking with a middle-aged man who had his hand on her bum and looking solely at her breasts. Earlier, I had seen them dancing several times and wasn't happy. He seemed all over her, far too friendly! I presumed he was Iversen.

I walked up from behind and removed his hand, snapping his fingers back as I locked his wrist.

"Arsehole, this may be acceptable in your fucking world but not in mine. If I catch your hands anywhere near my wife, I will remove your little dick and both balls without the aid of any anaesthetic. Do you understand?"

He was almost falling over and we had gathered a crowd. They were more interested than they had been all evening. I saw two burly guys heading towards me. I pressed the button. I told them if they came any closer, I would snap his arm before dealing with them. They were smiling. I laughed as my friends came in. This caused those waiting in anticipation to clear the floor leaving arsehole, and me, his two guys and my four.

I leaned more heavily on his wrist joint and he squealed like a little girl. I made a bar against his elbow joint and tweaked it. He screamed in pain. I whispered in his ear, "They come closer your arm snaps!" He looked at me and realised I was looking forward to it. He knew he wasn't going to win so reluctantly signalled his two guys to leave. When they turned and saw my four, I think they realised they had been lucky.

Iversen needed a lesson he would always remember. I used his arm to haul him to the floor and rolled him about just using one hand. I used the whole dancefloor so everyone would see him crying like a little girl. I made sure everyone there knew that if he came near my wife again, he would be in little pieces. I would take pictures of his exceedingly small dick and put it on the internet with his contact number. He was in tears by the time I finished. He liked humiliating the husband, I just showed him how it feels.

I felt I had behaved rationally and proportionately. I so wanted to boot his balls into his throat but reason prevailed, just.

Sheila was not amused. She was angry at me! I took her home. The car ride was quiet, deadly quiet! The door wasn't fully closed when she started.

She screamed, "Why the fuck did you do that? He wasn't doing anything."

I really pissed her off by being reasonable, "Sheila, he had picked you to fuck, he wanted to humiliate me. It's his thing. He has so much money his only way to get satisfaction is to destroy a marriage. He's fucking sick!

"You weren't dressed for me, were you? You were dressed to snag him. WHY!"

Her façade dropped for a moment before she got it back but it confirmed to me my suspicions were right.

She screamed, "I was dressed for you!"

A penny dropped, "Your fucking father set this up, didn't he? He wanted to humiliate me and do a bit of business with Iverson. He thinks of you as a corporate whore!"

Sheila was shocked. I don't know if she wondered how I worked that out but her face said it was the truth.

Sheila denied it, "That's not true. Iverson was nice to me, complimented me."

She screamed out she was doing nothing wrong; I'd misinterpreted everything. I replied calmly for about fifteen minutes, knocking back all her stupid reasons, repeatedly.

I determinedly said, "Sheila, had you gone with him you would be looking at a divorce. The worst mistake you'll ever make."

Sheila screamed, her face, her eyes, her body all involved, "Wouldn't be bigger than marrying you!"

I lost my composure. The venom in her voice. My façade broke and she must have seen the hurt in my eyes. I felt like she had gutted me with a knife. I couldn't speak.

Her face never changed, she meant it. I was her worst mistake!

It was too late to get a hotel room so I walked away. I went to our bedroom and collected enough things to do me tomorrow. I went to the guest bedroom.

The next day, we couldn't speak to each other. I thought about everything which had been going on. What I had learned. I wasn't happy, I wanted revenge. I went out for my customary run. On it I called an old friend, William who grew up with me. He works for a Sunday tabloid renowned for exposing stupid peoples sexual indiscretions, especially rich ones.

I told him about Iverson and his games. He said he would get back to me. Twenty minutes later he called. He had a colleague with him.

"Derek, Iverson is known to us. We would love to burn him but the bosses don't want to pay for anyone to head so far north from London. If it was a London based person, it wouldn't be a problem."

His colleague, Emma, butted in, "Derek, we know of four men he did this too. There are reports that there are others. What we need to ramp it up are full statements from the husbands with as much detail as they can give us. Their answers will probably give us clues as to what else is needed. We certainly don't have enough to run this at the moment. Everything is basically hearsay."

I thought for a minute, "What do you need? If I can help nail him I will." How difficult can this be? I chase solutions every day. Bloody difficult, I found out.

William said, "I could email you the details of the four men we know about and the questions to ask, what is needed etc. I'll explain to them you're helping us get him and to expect two or three visits, calls."

I agreed and gave him my work email. Nothing would be done on anything Sheila had access to.

Sheila never made any attempt to discuss that evening and her response to it, so I moved all my things into the guest room. We had never had a twenty-four-hour total blackout of the other. I was raging.

On the Monday I spoke with Rachel. We had lunch at her request. We discussed my marriage and its impending destruction. I couldn't see any hope for us. She came up with a few very helpful suggestions especially about nailing Iverson.

At work Malcolm told me to take whatever time I needed to sort things. I told him some things which Rachel had suggested. He said leave that with him. Three days later I had an assortment of electronic gizmos.

I bugged my house, my car, Sheila's car and handbag, a bloody expensive piece of shit. She loved it but the lining was torn. I knew a man who repaired those but she didn't trust anyone. I hid the bug under the lining so she would never know. The bugs never picked up anything useful.

Over three weeks I met the four men Derek and Emma had information about. I shared with them what had happened and that I suspected he would try again. Those interviews were harrowing. The life had been drained from them. I had to see them all a total of four times as when I reported what they said, that brought up more questions. A proper journalist would have known the questions to ask.

What really resonated with me was not knowing why! None knew why their wives had allowed it, despite being asked repeatedly. They questioned themselves, what had they done wrong. What was even worse Iversen still calls and the wives go to him.

It took little detection to find Iversen's home. It was just beyond the city's outskirts. Remote but close to all amenities the sales prospectus would say. Google maps gave an overview. Malcolm and I used a company van to check it out. The fact an engineering firm had people up trees and lampposts didn't attract any attention. We placed small remote wireless video cameras which covered his home. We placed them so you couldn't distinguish them from the posts. We soon learnt that Iverson had a female at least once a week, more often twice and occasionally three. He never closed his curtains so we had our own porn shows. (We gave those a miss). For the best aesthetics Iversen's home security code box was higher than normal. We could read the code he used.

The two thugs stayed in an apartment above the garage. We had video of them. William was delighted to receive it. He had asked specifically but said he would tell me why later. The big question remained, "How did Iversen manage to seduce the women who until then had been in rock solid marriages?"

All this took about nine weeks to put together the men's side. I never attended any Sunday lunch at Sheila's parents. We were not intimate. We seldom talked. We communicated by note. I left one asking for us to talk that evening.

To be honest, I was surprised when she sat down and said to speak.

I began quietly, "Sheila, I don't know your feelings but I presume you are as unhappy as I am about how we are. I can't live like this. Do you want a divorce to rid you of your biggest mistake?"

Sheila looked surprised. She stammered, "I thought you were finally going to apologise for the embarrassment you caused me."

I raised my eyebrows, "If any apology is owed it is you to me for behaving like a common whore on behalf of your dad. I am never going to be part of any marriage where there are "personal" and "business" liaisons. It might be done in your father's social circles but not in mine.

"Either you are my wife, exclusively or you're not. I won't battle a simple divorce. I won't ask for alimony as you earn more than me. We split what we have acquired during our marriage.

"What do you want?"

Sheila looked at me. I looked back, determined. I wanted an answer.

She looked down, not a good sign, "I want an evening with Iversen. After that I will be the wife you want me to be. It's just business."

I was dumbfounded. I had just said exclusively and she wanted to fuck the arsehole. I stared at her.

The anger was clear in my voice, "Sheila, you'd better get the divorce done quickly. If we're still married when you fuck Iversen for your dad, I'll enforce the prenuptial agreement, in full!"

She stormed out. I thought things through. She had never once denied that her dad was her pimp. I hated that man.

I went for a run. I called Malcolm. I never used the house for anything as they could have their own bugs. He agreed things didn't look good.

The next day I updated Rachel. I shouldn't leave the house and neither should I ask Sheila to do so. It would look better suing Iversen if we were still technically together. I wanted Sheila to demand a divorce so I could sue Iversen and her dad. If she didn't in the next few weeks I would do so and make arrangements for Iversen's gelding.

I was going away for a couple of nights on business. Before going, I left Sheila a note asking if she had started divorce proceedings. I would be back around 7pm on the Thursday evening so anything she needed signed have ready by then.