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I got the call about 5:45 am. It
woke me from a sound sleep. It was the kind of call no husband, ever wants
to get. The kind of call that hurts you, enrages you, makes you more violent,
more helpless than you ever thought possible.
"Mr. Pressman, John Pressman? This is officer Sloptvik with the NYPD Special
Victims Unit. I need you to meet me at Franklin Memorial Hospital. Your wife
has been raped. Her condition is serious, but stable. She's in room 327."
I was in a fog as I dressed and then drove to the hospital. "Serious but
stable", what the fuck is that?
I soon found out.
I entered room 327 and realized I must have had the wrong room. An older
woman was lying in the bed, she had bruises all over her face and a cast on
her arm. Clearly she was in a lot of pain. She looked up when I entered the
room.
"Excuse me ma'am I did not mean to disturb you, they gave me the wrong room
#."
She stared at me and as her eyes came into focus, she began to cry.
"...John..." she groaned in a piteous, cracked voice. How did she know my...
"Oh my god, oh no god--Susan!" I screamed as I rushed to her side. I wanted
to grab her, to hug and kiss and hold her...but she was in so much pain. He
had beat my wife badly. I knew enough about rape to understand that my wife
probably did not want a man touching her right then. It could be awhile
before she could stand that.
"John...I'm so sorry....he got me. He raped me. I was so stupid, he tricked
me," she sobbed.
Instinct took over as I gently held the woman I love and shushed her. "Oh
baby girl, please don't say that, don't ever think it. This is not your
fault, the police will find out who he is from DNA and he will pay."
"John I know who he is, he's a supervisor in my office. His name is Bruce
Kent."
I had a name to focus my hatred on, but I was somewhat controlled because I
knew the police would put him in Jail.
"I have to tell you what he did, I can't keep this a secret. John, please
let me get it out, I have to. "
I crawled into bed with my wife and wrapped her in my arms, as gently as
possible.
"Tell me baby, tell me what he did to you."
"I had noticed him before. We both worked the 8:30 t0 5 am shift--in
different departments. He seemed friendly enough, and we'd chat briefly
sometimes. I told him I was happily married and he seemed to respect that.
I parked my car and was walking in to work early at 8pm, when I saw him. He
had a flat tire on his mini van and was trying to change it. He called me
over and asked to use my cell phone. When I got close he slammed me in the
face and stomach and pushed me into the van. Then he drove to the top level
of the parking garage. At that time of night it was only a skeleton crew,
and they all parked near the door on the first floor. I must have blacked
out, because the next thing I knew I was naked, bound, and blindfolded.
His fucking hands were roaming all over, pinching, slipping inside
me--playing with me. He must have sucked my breasts for 5 minutes, and he
kissed me over and over.
"Mmm, nice and tight slut, I'm gonna fuck every hole you have. You're gonna
be my whore tonight. Suck my cock, lick my balls, lick my ass and toes.
Anything, everything I want. If you don't, if you hesitate...I'm gonna beat
the shit out of you. Get me hard bitch, suck my toes, lick in between them.
Do it...DO IT! Ok you asked for it, " He said with a growl as he began
kicking me, stomping me for my refusal.
"Let's try again. Suck my toes you fucking slut.. Mmm much better. Every one,
use that tongue, lick me good--don't forget the heel...
Outstanding, see that wasn't so bad. I bet your husband loves that tiny, wet
mouth of yours. Oops look at the time, I don't want to be late for work,
gotta go clock in. Don't worry I'll be back soon. I'm fucking your mouth
next." He gagged me, and handcuffed me in place. The van had curtains, and
he put one of hose cardboard sunscreens in the front window. He was gone for
about an hour.
"Hey honey I'm back. I talked to a few people, I assigned lots of work, and
sent several e-mails. I'll go check on everybody soon. But I'm ready for a
hot Susan Pressman blowjob. I'm taking your gag off again. The first time
you scream, or try to bite, I'm knocking your teeth out. Now get to work. "
I sucked him John, I sucked another man's cock....I was so scared."
"You did the right thing baby, as long as you survived, you did the right
thing."
My wife seemed to relax a little at my words and just let me hold her and
kiss her hair for a few minutes.
"It took about 10 minutes. After I swallowed his cum, he said I was a good
girl and deserved a reward. For the next 15 minutes he licked my pussy and
nibbled my clit. I tried not to but, I came for him."
That surprised me at first, I mean, he was raping her! Then I thought about
it. If a woman tied me up and sucked my cock for 15 minutes....yeah, I'd cum.
"Of course you did baby, anybody would. It's not your fault." My wife turned
her bruised head and gave a small wet peck on the mouth before saying, "I
love you."
"He left me again this time for about 2 hours." "You know your dept is
pretty pissed at you. You really should call if you are not coming in. They
are buried in your work. Really Susan it's just good manners. I'm rested up,
and just took a Viagra. It's time I got that tight pussy and hot little ass."
It was a nightmare. He fucked me over and over. He kept switching holes. He
fucked my ass for awhile, and then pulled out and made me suck him clean,
before he began pounding my pussy. Cruel, vicious rips--he wanted to hurt me,
to destroy me. The only thing that saved me is your cock is so much larger
than his. Still I wasn't lubed, so it was incredibly painful. He came inside
my pussy twice in that hour.
" So good sweetheart, I knew you'd be tasty. We're pretty much done. I still
need my ass licked, and I want to take some pictures. Of course we need to
clean you up too. We'll do that when I come back." Again he was gone for
about an hour. This time he laid me on my back and made me eat his ass out.
He straddled my face and began to drill me deep.
"I've got 45 minutes before I have to clock out. You have a decision to make.
I want you to make love to me, suck, kiss, lick, fuck, willingly, wantonly.
If you do when the shift is over, I will let you go. If you don't, I'll keep
you for the whole weekend, maybe let my friends fuck you too."
I let him have me, I did my best to please him. Every sex trick I knew, I
did for him. He fucked my pussy, and ass, and I begged him for more like a
cheap whore. Then he started spitting on me, and I opened my mouth. He
spanked my asss, and then started smacking me hard in the face and I kissed
him, I asked him to rape me harder. I told him he was the only man I had
ever loved and gave him my wedding ring. He had a digital camera and I let
him spread me, film me, any way he wanted. Oh John he took so many pictures.
I was terrified, I thought he would kill me. I betrayed you, I betrayed our
marriage. You'll never see ME again, just a stupid, sick bitch who made love
to her rapist," she cried and whimpered hopelessley.
I was crying too. Something precious had been taken from us. Maybe after
that asshole was sent to jail for 30 years...maybe.
"It's not your fault baby, he'll pay for this I swear he'll pay."
Bruce Kent was a very smart guy. He had given himself the perfect alibi.
Over a dozen people had seen him throughout the night. He had sent e-mails
all shift long. He clocked in and out on time. He rinsed out Susan's pussy,
hair, and spit covered face with 2 soapy squeeze bottles, and made her drink
half a bottle of tequilla and 2 valliums when he was done. Then he set her
free, completely naked in an alley several blocks away just after 5am.
Best of all he did not own, or rent a minivan. Between his alibi, and
Susan's drugged/drunk state, and no forensic evidence-- the DA decided not
to prosecute. You might fool a lawyer, but the cops know the smell of shit,
they knew he was guilty. Detective Bullock kept saying "What about her car,
why would she leave her car at work if she was out popping pills and
chugging tequilla?"
Every day I looked at my wife and knew she would never get over this. She
jumped at every unexpected sound or touch. She looked like a broken creature
with no self esteem.
I began to feel like she expected me to do SOMEthing, to come to her rescue.
I tried. I talked to the police, the DA. I even tried to sue Kent in Civil
court. No luck. My wife could see how helpless, how impotent I really was.
It shamed me.
I decide to do something about it. After all, I knew his name, and where he
worked.
I guess before I explain this, I better explain about me. And Batman.
Now I'm not talking about that Adam West crap, or the Scooby Doo guest star.
I'm talking about, for lack of a better word--is the real Batman. The boy
whose parent's brains and blood splattered all over him, when some piece of
shit murdered them for no reason. He grew into a man who sneered at scum,
who liked to hurt them, scare them, invoke pure terror in them. Call him by
his true name the "Dark Knight". If you've never met this version of Batman,
try reading Frank Miller's graphic novel "The Dark Knight Returns".
I grew up on it as a, I soaked it in as a teenager. I still remember. No
he did not kill--he made crooks wish they were dead. He made them pay. He
was all about vengance and justice. It was almost...biblical.
My wife deserved justice, and I would give it to her.
I went to her job and watched her go in early, just like always. She had
refused to quit, she just carried mace and a security whistle. A few minutes
later asshole showed up. I had taken the bus, from where I had left my car.
I never let him get out. I just hit him 3 times with my stun gun through his
rolled down window. I pushed him to the passanger's side and drove his fancy,
loser sports car out of there. Glad he sprung for the tinted windows.
It was dark when I pulled into my garage. I unloaded the trash, handcuffed
him , zapped him again and maced him just for fun. Then I put my gloves back
on and drove to a seedy area, and left the keys in the ignition. Then I
walked 4 blocks uptown to the parking lot I had left my car in, and drove
home.
It was 9:45.
"Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey, I said as I kicked Bruce awake.
We were in my sound proof basement now, and he was tied naked on the
carpeted floor.
"Huh, where am I what did you do? HELP!!"
"SSSSh Brucie, be a good girl for me now. Do you know who I am? I'm Susan
Pressman's husband."
"Nooo! No please I did not do it, I'm so sorry!" he wailed in contradiction
as he pissed himself.
"I've done some research Brucie-girl. The most expensive call girl I could
find was $3,000 per night. You could do anything you wanted to her but you
had to wear a condom, and if she was injured there was a $2,000 penalty. So
lets do a little math Brucie. I've decided my wife is worth 10 times any
call girl. You did injure her so that's $5,000 X 10. You owe her $50,000.
You did not use a condom, and let's face it she is not a call girl--you
raped her. I'm going to charge you $25,000 for that. Her ER, Hospital, and
Physical Therapy came to 28,000--yes insurance paid most of that, but I am
collecting for them too. Finally, you just ruined my carpet by pissing on it.
I'm going to charge 5,000 to replace all the carpeting down here. So....you
owe $108,000. A top of the line call girl gets $5000 to be abused, but you
are not top of the line. I will give you half, $2,500 a session. You can
stay right here until you pay us back, then I will let you go. I'm gonna
enjoy your sweet little faggot mouth. I don't know if I can stand fucking
you--we will see. Don't worry though Susan's brother Ron, is gay. I'm sure
he will help out once I explain what you did to his baby sister."
"Please god, please no don't do this to me!!" he shrieked like a little
girl.
"You got a purty mouth Brucie, and I'm gonna fuck it...but I think I want my
toes sucked first. Lick between them and don't forget the heel."
Epilogue
Susan got home around 5:30 and I was just plum tuckered out.
"C'mere baby we need to talk. I did something tonight and you need to decide
if you want to be part of it. Go downstairs and look in the basement."
"Ok John, but why are you being so mysterious..."
"John what have you done, Bruce Kent is in our basement?! Oh my god are you
going to kill him? I know what he did but murder is wrong."
"Such a sweet baby. No I will not kill him unless you want me to. He raped
you, an I will rape him. Susan he took something precious from you. I want
you to take it back. Rape that piece of shit Susan. Make him scream, beg,
cry for YOU. Shove a dildo up his ass, put his balls in a vise, slap him
kick him pisss on him, shit on him--until you feel justice has been done.
Remember how he made you feel, what he did to you fo no reason, and then be
fair to him."
My wife tucked her head and cried for a long time. Then she looked at me and
said, "I love you, I can't believe you did this for me. How long can we keep
him?"
The police are not dumb. It was a week before they began to look for him.
The Doorbell rang, It was Detective Bullock.
"Good Morning Mr. Pressman, do you remember me? I wanted to alert you that
Bruce Kent has gone missing. Now missing persons cases are no big deal. But
murder investigations are. Do you have an opinion on whether we will see Mr.
Kent again?"
I looked into the cold eyes of the cop before me. He knew! He knew, and as
long as we did not kill him, did not care.
"Oh his kind are like rats and roaches they always turn up. I wouldn't be
surprised if you found him wandering the strets naked in a week or so. I
would not be surprised at all."
DET Bullock stared at me for 30 seconds and then a wicked grin flashed.
"And Justice for All," he said as he turned and walked away.
Author's Note
I was thinking about comics the other day. SpiderMan, X-men, Daredevil,
Hulk, and Punisher. I grew up with them. They even made comics out of Star
Trek and Star Wars-- all have made mega million as movies, books, DVDs and
video Games.
But when I was a the only hero for me was "The Batman" -- that's the
correct way to say it, like a tittle, wth respect. You never said "The
Superman". Whenever the question came up of "Who would win in a fight
between Batman and Superman (As it always, always did Ad infinitum, Ad
naseaum). I always knew somehow, some way, The Batman would come through,
find a way to win.
So what would The Dark Knight do if you raped his wife? Fight you, arrest
you? No, he would crush you, he would find a way to break you--but he would
not kill you.
He'd make sure that justice was done.
There, now I can rest easy.
