He would get quite inventive... hiding bottles in the pool house, in the tree house he built for Carla, in the trunk of his car. I even found a couple...of bottles in the pockets of his golf bag — he hadn't been golfing for years.I pleaded with him to get help. I cried; I cajoled — even threatened. He was never mean or anything. Sometimes I wished he were so I could just throw him out. This dragged on for a long time... until that night about a year ago. He'd been gone for several days but by. He quickly slaps my face twice and watches as the hand prints appear there. 'Now you may open your mouth.' He stuffs most of the scarf in, not bothering to tie it, knowing that I would no more spit it out than untie my legs. I am utterly his now. I feel only anticipation, thinking not even the simplest of thoughts and wait for him. I am gagged and only know that I will be whipped severely. He does like to hear me whimper and scream but would rather let my body tell him how much he has hurt me.. More

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