Thank you to my good friend Helen for reading and commenting on the story. Blackrandl1958, you are wonderful as always.

There is little graphic sex in this story.

What exactly do you propose? ... Why don't we go to your place and fuck our brains out?

Janice was home. I heard her car pull in and the garage door close. When she came in I expected to hear the usual litany of complaints. That had been missing for about six weeks.

"Hey, good day?" I asked.

"Yes, just the usual," she said.

"Dr. Douchebag in a good mood?"

She shot me a look. For a while, I had heard nothing but complaints. According to Janice, he was the biggest tyrant on the planet. She was a dental assistant, and his constant degrading of her and her work was all she had talked about.

"He's changed," she said.

That was odd. In my experience, people seldom change much. I put it out of my mind. I came to regret that.

I am a veterinarian who works mostly with horses. My office is my pick-up truck and trailer that is always attached to it. Bryan Lucas is my name. My wife's name is Janice, and we've been married six years. She is a dental assistant, and to listen to her, her boss is the biggest tyrant on earth. She has worked for him for almost seven months and has had nothing good to say about him.

We are in the middle of Virginia horse country so there is no lack of business for me, and I rarely have to travel outside of a fifty mile radius to service my customers. I've worked with all kinds of horses, from $50 plugs to multimillion dollar champions. I have my favorite breeds and my least favorite. My least favorite is appaloosas. I've always found them to be hardheaded and contrary. There is a joke that says that Indians used to ride appaloosas when they were going to fight a battle because they wanted to be mad as hell when they got there and riding appaloosas accomplished that.

I like paint horses. The terms "paint" and "pinto" are both sometimes used to describe paint horses, but American Paint Horse is actually the breed, and they tend to be gentle and trainable.

My favorite, however, are Arabians. They tend to have a bad reputation among those who don't know them, but I've always found they are loyal and will do anything to try to make you happy.

It doesn't really matter what the breed is; the bottom line is what makes the owner happy. I had a trainer once who told me that the best thing for the inside of a man was the outside of a horse.

So, I loved my job, and for the most part, my owners.

My wife, on the other hand, hated her job and her boss, and for the first couple of weeks came home crying every night. I asked her several times why she stayed, and her answer was always that she couldn't find another job as a dental assistant in our small town, so she stuck it out. After six weeks or so, her complaints stopped, so I figured things had improved.

One of my horse owners had a brother who owned some high dollar horses on his farm about a hundred miles from us. His regular vet was on vacation and his most important horse needed some attention. The horse was the farm stud and his sperm was valuable, so he needed to get well, quickly, and he asked me to come out.

As I was pulling in, a man was getting into his beautiful green Mercedes-Benz. The license plate read SMILE. I shook hands with the horse owner and commented on the Mercedes.

"Yeah, he's from your part of the country, actually. He's a dentist looking to buy his first horse. He has some 'horsey' friends and they're trying to convince him to own one or two. He was out here last weekend with his girlfriend and they actually sat on horses for the first time. Today he looked some more, tried to build up his courage and took a short ride around the show ring. I put him on my most gentle mare and he was okay. He's bringing his girlfriend back next Saturday morning and they're both going to ride."

"Well, good for him, but he doesn't look or act like a horse owner to me. I think I'd feel sorry for the horse."

We both laughed. "You should have seen them last week. They came out really dressed like dudes. New boots, new jeans, fancy new cowboy shirts and brand new great big cowboy hats. They were hysterical. It was so bad my wife sneaked and took their picture."

"Enough about dudes. Where's your horse?" I asked.

He took me to the big, fancy barn and the huge stall his stud was in. It didn't take long to diagnose impaction colic which was remedied in pretty short order with a rubber hose and about a gallon of mineral oil. I was cleaning up after the process when the owner came out.

"How much do I owe you?" he asked.

I told him and he gave me a check. He also showed me the picture his wife took of the dentist the previous week. I looked and laughed until I saw his girlfriend. She was my wife. Janice. She was wearing pink cowgirl boots, a pink cowgirl hat and a shirt with lots of fringe on the sleeves. Two weeks before she told me she was going to the cowboy wedding of one of her college friends. She was gone from Friday afternoon until Sunday evening.

My trip home surreal. I have no idea how I kept from killing myself or someone else. It was late when I got there and she was watching TV in the den. She stood when I walked in and came to hug and kiss me which was our normal routine. That time, I walked around her and upstairs to the shower. After my shower, I went right to bed.

She came in. "Are you all right? Aren't you hungry?"

"I'm tired."

She took the hint and left. I didn't sleep that night or the next. She tried to talk, but everytime she started, I would either leave or blatantly ignore her, which pissed her off. It was Wednesday when she told me she would be gone for the weekend. Her excuse that time was the girls from the office were having a "get away from the boss" weekend.

"When do you leave and when do you get back?" I asked.

"We leave Friday and back Sunday?"

"How many are going?"

"Four."

"Where are you going?"

She stared at me. "Why all the questions?"

"Is your boss going?"

"That's an absurd question. I just told you it's a 'get away from the boss' weekend."

"And your husband as well." I paused. "I don't want you to go?"

"Why?"

"Because I don't. You were gone two weekends ago, and I want you to stay home."

"Well, I'm not. I promised the girls and I'm going."

"Janice, I've never flat out told you not to do something, but I am this time. You're not going."

Her face turned bright red.

"I'm what? Not going? You're forbidding me from going?"

"I am."

"Oh, no you're not Mr. Dictator. I'm going and you can't stop me." She went to the bedroom and slammed the door hard enough to shake the whole house. I tried the doorknob, but it was locked so I slept in the guestroom. The next morning she was gone, as was her makeup case, travel case, and, I assume some of her clothes. I went to her computer and looked at her contacts. Under John C. Stennis was listed three phone numbers and an address. Stennis was her boss. I recognized the first number as her office number.

I drove to their office and both his and her cars were there. I decided to go to his house later in the day.

I was at his house at three just as they were getting out of their cars and taking her overnight case in. They stopped at the top of the steps and he opened the door for her. They kissed just as she entered, and he followed. I hoped my photos turned out okay.

I wasn't a mile away when I dialed his second number.

"Hello?"

"Mrs. Stennis?"

"Who are you and why do you want to know?"

"My name is Bryan Lucas. My wife is one of your husband's assistants. I believe they are having an affair."

"Mr. Lucas, I have no idea who you are, but I assure you I don't believe you."

"He spent two weekends ago looking for a horse. He did the same thing this past Saturday, and he's doing it again this weekend."

"That doesn't mean he's having an affair."

"My wife spent the first weekend with him and I've seen a picture to prove it. It doesn't show them having sex, but it shows them together. She will be with him this weekend as well."

"That's pretty weak, Mr. Lucas."

"I agree. So are the photos I just took of them going into your house together and kissing at the door. I was surprised he took her in your house."

"I'm not at my house."

"Well maybe you should go there."

"I can't. I'm with my parents and won't be home until tomorrow evening."

"I can almost guarantee you they will be together on Saturday and I will confront them."

"Wait a minute. Let's talk."

Our conversation lasted about five more minutes. On Saturday morning, Mrs. Stennis and I watched the green Mercedes drive up to the barn it had been to twice before. Both Dr. Stennis and Janice got out and were met by the horse owner. He had two horses saddled and ready in the show ring. The three of them walked to the horses, petted and stroked them before stepping on the small ladder the owner provided for them to climb up into their saddles.

They were astride their horses standing side by side. Janice took her phone, handed it to the owner. "Would you take our picture, please?"

"Of course."

He snapped three or four of them leaning into each other and kissing. Mrs. Stennis and I snapped the same photos.

"Could you do that one more time, please, Janice? The last one I took is a little blurry." I said.

The two of them almost fell off their horses.

"Bryan? Wha ...? Wha ...? What are you doing here?"

"Mrs. Stennis and I were just passing by and happened to see you." I turned to Mrs. Stennis. "Have you seen enough?"

"I have. Shall we go?"

About four hours later, I was sitting in our den at home going through some papers. Janice came in and sat. "I'm moving out," she declared.

"Where're you going?"

"He has a small cottage on a lake. I'm moving there."

"When?"

"I'm starting now. I just thought you should know."

"You thought I should know about you moving out, but not about you fucking him?" She stood. "Before you go, why don't you tell me how your affair started? I thought you hated him."

She sat again. "I did, but things started to change. He constantly ridiculed my work. Nothing I did was good enough, and he did it in front of the patients and other staff. The others told me he was like that, but would get better; and he did.

"After a month or so of criticism, he started complimenting me, Everything I did was perfect and I was happy. Then it was my clothes. He hated everything I wore, even though it was covered with my lab coat. It was either too long, too short, too bright, or just too ugly. This went on for another month and I was in tears all day."

I remembered that period. She seemed to spend a ton of money on clothes and was never happy with what she had. She might wear something one time and return it, and at other times she would return it without wearing it. I never knew you could return something after having used it, but apparently you could.

She continued. "Then he started complimenting them. This was sexy. That was lovely. I looked forward to dressing to make him happy and considered my day a success if he liked what I wore. He even started asking me about my underthings. What color were they? Were they lacy? Things like that.

"Then he wanted to see them. I was thrilled the first time he wanted to see my bra."

"Your tits seem bigger today." He said. "What kind of bra are you wearing?"

I told him, but he wanted to see it. I took a deep breath and opened my blouse. He smiled which caused my knees to go weak. Then he touched the strap and put his fingers under it and moved his hand up and down the few inches he could, but the backs of his fingers touching my skin gave me bumps and my pussy started to throb.

"Very nice," he said, "but it's too big. Wear a smaller one tomorrow. One that has to squeeze your tits into the cups. And wear a blouse where I can see more cleavage."

"The next day I did exactly that. He smiled at me all day and once he actually touched my left breast. It looked like an accident, but I knew it was on purpose. After work he asked me into his office."

"Lock the door," he ordered. I did. He came up to me and announced "I'm going to fuck you."

"My knees almost buckled and I couldn't breathe. I just stood there. Until then I had never even considered cheating on you, but I knew I was going to. I was going to let him do whatever he wanted."

She took a deep breath. "Take off your clothes," he demanded. Off came my blouse and skirt. "On your knees," he demanded again. He lowered his trousers and stroked his dick a couple of times. "Suck it." I opened my mouth and sucked it in. I felt it grow in my mouth. From that soft piece of flesh to the hard tool that my pussy was yearning for, I sucked it moving my head back and forth as if he were fucking my face. Then he started moving as well and he was fucking my mouth. He stuck his hand into my bra and fondled and squeezed my tits. It took just a couple of minutes for him to cum. When he did, I swallowed it. All of it. He pulled his dick out of my mouth and wiped it on my cheek."

"Get dressed," he said.

"I thought you were going to fuck me."

"Maybe after you learn to give a decent blow job. Until then, I will just let you blow me."

My wife stopped for a few minutes as I just looked at her. She looked back at me with never a sign of remorse; she was just answering my question. She went to the kitchen and brought back a glass of water and sat again, in total control.

"When did he fuck you for the first time?" I asked.

"Later that week. It was after work again." She sipped her water. "He told me to get naked and I did. He told me to lie on the sofa he had there and I did.

"Spread your legs," he demanded. I spread them. "Now your pussy lips."

"I reached down with my hands and spread my pussy lips open. I could feel my juices pouring out of me. He pulled down his trousers and shorts leaving on his shirt, tie, shoes, and socks. In my mind's eye I could see how cheap it looked, but I didn't care. He wanted to fuck me and I wanted to be fucked. I came the instant his dick was in me. I shuddered and shook like I was freezing, but the opposite was true. I was on fire. My face was red hot and my pussy felt like it had smoke and flames coming out of it. He pumped no more than a dozen times and he shot. When you come in me, I can feel it actually shooting out of you, but with him, there was nothing. After a few seconds he stood, put on his trousers and left. I lay there wanting, needing more, so I moved my hand to my pussy and started finger fucking myself for release."

"How many times have you fucked him?" I asked.

"That first time, then one weekend, and this last time. Maybe a total of five or six."

"Was it ever any good?"

"No. but I couldn't resist him. Even knowing it wasn't going to be good, I couldn't resist him."

"And still you are leaving me to go live with him?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I can't help myself."

I stood and walked to her. "You need professional help. There's something wrong with you."

"No I don't. I'm fine. You're just jealous." That was the first time I saw any anger from her."

"You called me Mr. Dictator, yet you do everything this man asks you to do and you do it without question. There's something wrong with that."

With that she left to start packing.

I sat there in a daze. My wife just took me through what I thought was a perfect mind control experience. I say that never having had any experience with either mind control or brainwashing, but in my mind, I thought that mind control was beyond the ability of the victim to change because it was gradual and the victim thought they were making their own decisions. Whereas in brainwashing the victim knows the aggressor is an enemy.

It didn't take her long to pack two suitcases and drag them down the hall from the bedroom. We never spoke as she put the suitcases in her car. I went out just as she was backing out of the garage. "Are you sure you want to do this?" I asked. She nodded. "Janice, I'm begging you to get help. Professional help. You won't be able to live like this."

"Yes. I will. I want to. Goodbye Bryan."

That was that. Later that day, I went to her parent's house and told them the story. Her father was on the phone immediately trying to convince her to come to their house to talk. She refused and wouldn't tell them exactly where the cottage was.

I called Mrs. Stennis and asked her where it was and why I wanted to know. She told me and I told Janice's father. I was torn between trying to get her in therapy or divorce court. The latter was a given because she cheated, but to be manipulated by Dr. Stennis was unconscionable, and I felt some obligation to get help for her.

A week went by and I decided to call her. She answered in tears. When I asked why, she said she hadn't seen him at all except at work and he basically stayed as far away from her as he could. She wore her sexiest clothes and worked her hardest, but he ignored her and she really needed to be fucked even if it was as bad as he fucked her.

"Are you ready to get help?"

"I don't need help, Bryan. I need John to come see me and love me."

"Janice, I think he's shown you that he doesn't even care for you, much less love you. He only wants you when he wants some ass or a blow job."

We talked for a few more minutes and she was still crying when we hung up. I decided to see an attorney.

What I learned was that as long as she wasn't a danger to herself or others, there was nothing we could do unless or until she asked for help.

Realizing my hands were tied, I told him to start divorce paperwork.

A week later, my favorite horse owner was having a show. I was his resident vet, and one of my responsibilities was to inspect the horses as they arrived. Each horse had to have a copy of a "Coggins" which showed they had been blood tested for Equine Infectious Anemia (EIA). It is also called swamp fever. The Coggins included a picture of the horse for identification.

I was standing by the show arena when the biggest, baddest horse trailer I'd ever seen pulled through the gate. It stopped beside me and the driver asked where he should park. I directed him to a big field beside the ring. "I'm the vet and will be over later to check Coggins." I told him.

An hour later I was there. There were four beautiful horses staked outside the trailer munching on hay. Some horses have very delicate digestive systems and when they travel, they have their own hay, grain, and even water. I didn't see the driver I talked to at the gate, but I did see a woman about my age grooming one of the horses, so I introduced myself. She, in turn, did likewise. Her name was Sylvia Jacobson. Jacobson Farms was painted on the side of the trailer.

"I'm pleased to meet you Mrs. Jacobson," I said. "I'm the Vet and I spoke to your- ..."

She didn't let me finish. "The Coggins. Let me get them for you."

It only took a few seconds and she handed them to me. I checked each of the four horses against its' photo and Coggins. She and I never spoke while I worked. Afterwards, we chatted for a while, and I went on to check other horses.

Later that evening the field where everybody parked was alive with music, laughter and the smell of cooking food. The camping area atmosphere was part of the magic of horse shows.

I always enjoyed walking among the people and their campsites. That evening was no exception. As I walked past the Jacobson trailer, I heard my name and stopped. It was Sylvia Jacobson, and she invited me for a hamburger and a beer. One of the reasons I enjoyed walking through the campsites was to be invited to eat with one of the exhibitors; it never failed.

I fixed myself a burger and scooped some potato salad on my plate. She handed me a beer as I sat. She was sitting with a young girl; her daughter, I assumed. We chatted and I got the impression the young girl was the primary rider for the upcoming show. Her cousin would also be riding. Before long, some other young people she knew came over and they all left together. Sylvia (Syl) and I were alone sipping our beers. Her husband came over, picked up a beer, and sat next to Syl. He remembered me, but if he told me his name I had forgotten it. The three of us enjoyed talking about horses, horse shows and horsey people.

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