Like most men, I liked my cars. I had bought this rear-engined sports car that went like stink. Perhaps the Police would have to use their helicopters to catch me, as their patrol cars were definitely way too slow ?
This car did nought to 60 mph in three seconds, and had a top speed over 200 mph.
It was definitely a boy-racer car for grown up adults, perhaps going through a second childhood. Only when I was a boy racer, I could never afford this car ! So I did what most middle-aged chaps do, when they spend a bit of money on themselves, they give themselves a prezzie !
I viewed it that I had waited long enough, so why not ?
The wife thought otherwise. She verbally wrenched both my ears right off. She told me fairly and squarely: I would kill myself driving at those speeds. We could not afford it. You will get in trouble with the Law. Take the damn thing back NOW !
Yeap, that went better than I expected !!
Each time a drove it, I lovingly washed it all over, polished it, and waxed it. It was an investment, I was going to look after it. Naturally.
But the hours I spent caring for her [the car], meant the 'other her' only got jealous.
"You spend more hours attending to that bloody car's needs, than mine!" she said.
Readers can see where this story is going, but I continued on the same old course oblivious to the consequences.
Then she snapped.
One night she drugged my food. Nothing too serious, just enough to make it easier to handle me.
The drug made me think of what was happening as a sort of game.
She stripped me naked, and led me outside. It was cold, but in my drugged state, it seemed like fun.
She commanded me to lay on the bonnet of my beloved car.
Part of my brain told me I might dent the bonnet with my weight, but she seemed insistent, so I complied.
There was I spread-eagled on the bonnet.
So I asked her what kinky game was she up to.
"You'll see," was her reply.
She got some plastic cable ties, and forced by arms up over my head and she secured them. Then she did the same to my feet.
I was now immobilised, but I could still talk.
But she had thought of that too.
She put a ball gag in my mouth and secured it in place.
Now, I could not talk either.
Here I was laying on my back, stark naked, on the front bonnet of my sports car.
She started the ignition.
I did not normally let her drive it, and I tried to tell her to stop, but the gag kept me silent.
Luckily, as the engine was at the rear, the front bonnet never got hot to the touch of my bare skin, as I laid across its shiny metal curves.
It was 3am in the morning, so luckily what happened next was not viewed by passers-by. Or so I thought.
She drove the car out of the garage, and down the street we headed.
The wind whistled passed my naked form.
But still in my drugged state, it seemed more like a dream or a nightmare, perhaps.
Passed the houses we went, under the cover of darkness.
Then she drove into an all night petrol station, and parked the car round the back, next to the car washer.
She calmly walked into the shop, and purchased a card for the car washer. A full service wash, dry and wax !
Then she returned, and got in the car.
By now the drug had worn off, so I was fully conscious for what I was about to experience next.
She drove the car forward into the automated car washing machine.
I tried to scream and/or escape, and I found I could do neither.
Instead my naked body was sprayed with soapy water, and the brushes started to rotate at speed.
"Help" I wanted to scream. But there was just near silence against the louder background noise of the car washer.
Then I felt the brushes whip against my feet. The hundreds of strands of string like material on the rotating brushes, acted like fast moving whips that spun against my skin and their abrasive action was indeed quite painful.
Then the brushes moved up my legs, and the pain continued.
I was helpless, as my manhood would be next.
For reasons I could not fathom, my predicament caused an erection.
"Oh No, what a time to get an erection!" I thought.
As it 'stood to attention' it gave the bushes something easier to clean.
The violent action of the rotating brushes almost ripped it off !
The pain was immense.
The brushes continued on their path, passed my waist, stomach, chest, neck and head; as I was slapped in the face by the machine.
Meanwhile, my wide just sat in the car, watching my torture.
Her hands inside her knickers as she got aroused at what she saw.
The brushes continued past my out-stretched arms, and over the roof on the car.
But the process was far from over.
The rotating brushes returned three more times, for the rinse and wax cycles.
The heat from the driers, blasted roasting hot air, on my naked body, and I was burned as well.
"I thought you might want me to give your beloved car the top of the range service, it is not my fault it prolonged your plight" she said without a heart.
I was driven home, and my red and sore body was untied.
But my wife had forgotten the cameras at the petrol station.
All the staff on duty had watched me be washed along with my sports car. Most of them knew me, so I was not going to live this down any time soon in the millennium.
Then they sold the recording to a local television show, and I was humiliated publically on national television.
My only consolation, was my wife was arrested for assault and other charges relating to driving around with a naked husband on the front bonnet of the car.
But I had learned my lesson.
It was either sell the car or divorce the wife.
So we got a divorce and I moved to a new town where hopefully I would not be recognised.
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22.04.15