Under My Thumb




I joined the Navy fresh out of high school.

Good paying jobs were tough to find in Western New York.

The steel mills were shutting down.

Heavy industry was re-locating down south and paying only one third of the previous wages.  


When my tour of duty was over I took the civil service test for Correction Officer and passed.  

My permanent assignment was at a Class-A Max, and eventually, I lucked out and got a wall tower on days.  

This was the perfect assignment to get out of population and to pursue my first love. . . reading.  


By the time that I was 33 years old, I was debt free and I had modest savings and the start of a good portfolio of mutual funds.

My house was paid off in full.  

To my determent, I started to go bald in my twenties and at 33 this was a foregone conclusion.

Nevertheless, I was fairly good looking at the time: 200 lbs/ 6' 2" tall.   

I was also single. .

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  . having yet to find the right girl.


People have always told me that I was such a nice guy and they couldn't believe that I was a Correction Officer.

The public perceives us as uneducated brutes.

This misconception is reinforced by the liberal news media bias and the current pop culture components of our society.

I explained to these people there is a time to be tough and when that time comes you do what has to be done.


In 1985, I first saw my future wife Lisa at my cousin's wedding reception.

I was 33 at the time and Lisa was 22.  

Lisa was wearing an emerald green strapless dress that enhanced her beautiful green eyes.

The dress also complimented her shoulder length red auburn hair.  

She wore her hair layered in those days with long bangs.   

When my cousin Sam introduced us, I shook her hand but didn't let go as was proper.

Instead, I escorted Lisa to the dance floor and bowed with a flourish saying.

"Beautiful angel from heaven would you do me the honor?" 


I spent the entire evening dancing with Lisa.

I was infatuated with her.

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I couldn't keep my eyes off of her.  

I made up my mind that whatever it took I would win her over.


During our engagement, Lisa refused to give me oral sex, although she enjoyed receiving it.  

That didn't change after we were married.

Disappointed, I never pushed the issue.


During our third year together, she decided to grow her hair out to all one length, being tired of the bangs and layers.  

I always preferred this style of long hair on women, especially my woman.

By 1997, she had beautiful and thick waist length red hair.

Her hairdresser, Holley did a marvelous job.

Lisa's hair was precisely cut and styled, to all one length, being cut blunt and straight across the bottom.

It was as soft and smooth as an angel's wings. . . my Angel's wings.  


As we were financially well off, Lisa quit her job as a receptionist to be a stay at home wife.

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She was not the greatest housekeeper and could barley cook.

However, Lisa excelled at spending money.

This meant that I was working plenty of overtime to keep up with her bills.

Clothing, jewelry or things for the house and a new car every three years. . . I drove her old ones.

I didn't care because I only wanted to make her happy.

Lisa was my wife. . . my lover. . . my angel.

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Against my better judgment, Lisa talked me into buying an expensive toupee.  

I took a lot of good-natured teasing, and some not about my rug; I wore it to please my angel.  


In the spring of 1997, Lisa decided to attend the community college.

The reason as she put it,  "I want to broaden my horizons".

In the fall of 1998, an incident occurred that changed our lives in ways that neither of us could have foreseen.


My car broke down on the way to work as the universal joint almost gave way.  

I telephoned the facility from the Goodyear Tractor Supply and advised them of the situation.

I requested to use a PL, which stands for personal leave day.

There was an open slot on the PL Board and I was given the day off.  

I was only 2 miles from home.

After the tow truck left I decided to walk home and surprise my wife.

I had put on 50 pounds over the years.

I told myself because of my height I was able to carry it well.

We all rationalize something.

At my last physical, 6 months prior, my doctor told me that the test results were good.

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Nevertheless, I could stand to lose at least 20 or more pounds and I walked home knowing the exercise would do me good.


Lisa would not start the next semester of college for another week.

Since I was walking, she wouldn't hear me pull up in my car, so I would quietly tip toe in and surprise my beautiful Angel.

We could spend the afternoon making love and then go to see a movie followed by dinner in her favorite Italian restaurant.


When I was in sight of my house, I observed a black corvette convertible parked across the street.

Suspicious, I checked it out.

The top was down and the factory bucket seats were covered with expensive sheepskin seat covers.

The staff-parking sticker from Lisa's college was affixed to the windshield.


Her English Professor owned such a car.

I met the man twice when I attended the college open house.

She thought that Professor Ares was brilliant, worldly and charming, while I found him vain, pompous and condescending.  


Professor Ares was a tall and slim man in his early thirties and I would estimate that he was about 170 lbs. /6' 4" tall.   

He was fastidious about his appearance right down to his manicured nails.

    Luke wore colognes with names I probably couldn't pronounce and wouldn't purchase if I could.

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    Professor Ares favored $ 100. 00 haircuts and expensive silk ties, set off with a 2-carat diamond/ platinum stickpin.

    The Professor favored hand sewed monogrammed white shirts with diamond cuff links and $1000. 00 plus/ suits.  

    His black hair was full and thick and he wore it on the long side.

    He was clean-shaven with dark eyes and long eyelashes.  

    I had to admit, he was handsome. . . almost to the point of being pretty.


    When I got to the back porch, I could hear soft music coming from my bedroom.  

    I quietly entered my house, leaving the back door open.

    Once inside, I opened my bedroom door a crack and looked in to see my wife's lover was lying naked in my bed.

    The bastard was on my bed and his eyes were closed, a lascivious smile on his face.  

    Lisa was naked and performing fellatio on him, and her beautiful hair was fixed in a simple ponytail.

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    Luke's foul hands were stroking that ponytail, which angered me all the more.


    Enraged almost beyond reason. . . . I kicked the door, slamming it into the wall and breaking the plaster behind it.

    The loud explosive sound froze them both into inaction and stunned confusion.


    I strode into the room. . .   pulling Lisa away from him and sending her sprawling.


    Mastering my berserker's rage, I threw a sheet at Lisa to cover her shame.


    "Get dressed you son of a bitch!

    I said to Luke.

    "I'm going to give you a chance to defend yourself.

    Then, I'm going to pound the fucking shit out of your sorry ass.

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    We will see then who is the better man. "


    Turning my attention to my cowering wife, I hissed through clenched teeth.   

    "I'll deal with you later. "


    With false bravado the fop professor stood up.

    Luke was laughing and clapping his hands as he walked towards me and that was comical in it's own right.

    The brilliant professor didn't have the brains (good sense) to get dressed.

    In retrospect, perhaps it was is contempt for me, the common man, shared by many of his ilk in the elite liberal academia.


    "I must hand it to you, you ludicrous buffoon. "

    Can you believe it, that's what the naked idiot said to me!

    "That was quite the performance and I thought you lacked the imagination for such theatrics, such. . . comedy.  

    Nevertheless, you bald, fat, old fool, I'm obviously the better man, I possess your beautiful wife, do I not?

    You have been cuckold, not I.

    I am a black belt you cuckold imbecile.

    Nevertheless, I will not soil my hands and lower myself to engage in fisticuffs with an unlettered, unwashed brute such as you.

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    Violence is the opiate of the mindless beast, you clueless oaf.

    If you dare lay a hand on me I'll have you arrested and prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. "


    I reacted immediately to his mocking laughter and my anger was cold, tempered and calculated.

    I smiled at him, and this was not what he expected because Luke to a step backwards, looking unsure.  


    Stepping forward, I slapped Luke with my open palm.   

    I mocked him, calling him a poltroon and a fop.

    My words stinging his ostentatious ego as my hand did his pretty face.  


    "The only black belt I see in this room is the one on your pants, Sensei. " 


    Among inmates in prison, slapping a man in the face is the ultimate expression of contempt and disrespect.

    It is referred to as a bitch slap.

    Failure to immediately retaliate would only lead to more of the same.

    All would extort the punk. . . .

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       and eventually. . . he would be raped.


    I continued slapping him violently now, and alternating between the palm and back of my hand.

    My bitch slaps were jerking his head from side to side.

    I was moving him about the bedroom in a dance of emasculation and humiliation.

    I was easily blocking his ineffectual clumsy punches and kicks.


    I soon left him cowering on the floor.  

    Luke's knees were drawn to his chest and he was sobbing and sniffling like a woman.

    I now turned my attention to my adulterous wife.


    I pointed to the mewling wretch on the floor and said.

    "Look at your young stud now, Lisa, as handsome and trim as I am not.

    I give you Luke, the absolute epitome of manliness in your eyes.

    Luke: the magnificent stallion of your canal-depraved adultery.



    Luke: the mewling inspiration of your deceitful heart in celebration of your adultery.  

    I give you Professor Ares. . . Ares, does the irony escape you, Lisa.  

    The living reincarnation of the ancient Greek God of War, yes, that Ares!"


    Or if you prefer his Roman counterpart, Mars.

    The valiant and brilliant professor, despoiler of cities and conqueror of nations.

    I said, mocking them both and laughing.

    Your lover and protector. . .   your champion!

    The man who would have me arrested and prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law for his sake but not for yours.

    Such an inspiring sight Ares makes. . .

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      . weeping on the floor.  

    Go to him, Pandora.

    Be the proud standard-bearer and shield maiden to this absent manhood professor.


    She remained frozen on the spot.

    I went to my top dresser drawer and removed my US Navy Kabar Fighting Utility Knife from its leather sheath.

    The knife was a gift from my father upon graduating boot camp.

    I kept the blade well oiled and razor sharp.


    I walked over to Lisa and grabbed her long silky ponytail.

    "Perhaps your champion the black belt would like a decoration for his war helmet.

    Traditionally in ancient times, dyed horses tails were used, but this will have to do.


    I severed her ponytail from her head just above the elastic tie to keep the ponytail in place.

    Her remaining hair fell forward, covering her shamed face.

    Her once waist length hair was now barley touching the nape of her long neck.


    I wasn't through with the miserable offal.

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    I picked Luke up by the hair and made him stand on his feet.

    Open your mouth, punk, or I will cut your testicles off!"

    I was bluffing, however the poltroon did not know that.


    I shoved Lisa's severed ponytail into his mouth so it hung down evenly from either side of Luke's face.

    I then ordered him to bite down, telling him to keep it there or else and cut the elastic hair tie.


    I then threw the knife at his feet, the point burying itself in the floor.

    He flinched, but didn't dare move or meet my eyes, his perfect white teeth clamped down on Lisa's ponytail.

    "Your sword, War God!'


    I stepped back and folded my arms, waiting. . . . . . . . .

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    "I thought as much.

    I believe we have established who is a man and who isn't, you foul, mewling wretch.

    In your case, having a functioning penis doesn't necessarily make you one. "

    I calmly, espoused.


    "We need to explore your assessment of me.

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    Specifically, and I quote you in part;  "unlettered and unwashed brute. "

    Unwashed brute as I just demonstrated, perhaps?

    However, you lecherous poltroon, I must take exception to unlettered.

    This mistaken notion needs to be dispelled and shown the light of day. "


    I explained calmly and reasonably.

    "Let us go outside and discuss it . . . bitch!"

    I grabbed his testicles, squeezing with my implied threat, and led him like a tamed gelding to his parked muscle car.  

    The knife remained stuck fast to the floor.

      Following close behind, and wrapped in the sheet, Lisa stood in the driveway and watched, making no attempt to stop me.


      I threw her emasculated lover over the hood of his black Corvette muscle car.

      I then gave Luke a spanking on his bare buttocks with my open hand.


      While spanking him, I quoted John Dryden, from Alexander's Feast (1697), "None but the brave deserves the fair. "

      I quoted from J. M.

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         Barrie in his Rhetorical Address at St. Andrews in May of 1922.

      "Courage is the thing.

      All goes if courage goes!'

      As I slapped his shamed red buttocks.

      Luke's teeth were still firmly clamped on the ponytail.


      I included Ernest Hemingway, in Men at War (1942).  

      "Cowardice as distinguished from panic is almost always simply a lack of ability to suspend the functioning of the imagination".   


      As the police arrived and got out of their patrol cars, standing to watch, I finished with Charles Churchill's "Night" (1761)

      "Keep up appearances, there lies the test.

      The world will give you credit for the rest.

      Outward be fair, however foul within.

      Sin if thou wilt, but then in secret sin".


      I stepped away from the Corvette, putting up my hands and displaying my palms to assure them that I wasn't armed.


      The effete professor retreated to the drivers side seat, covering himself with sheepskin seat covers, wet from his urine.  

      Lisa's ponytail, my thoughtful gift to him was thrown carelessly to the ground.

      Snot and tears were running down Luke's face.

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      His eyes were red and swollen from crying, and his buttocks red and purple with bruises.

      I am pleased to say not to be undone by his sore testicles.


      One of my neighbors, Patty Green, telephoned the police.  

      Patty explained the situation and was laughing while giving the blow-by-blow details and requested that they take their time.  

      Patty's husband Bill, a retired city fireman and now Town Justice of the Peace, captured the entire episode with his camcorder.

      Ironically, this actually saved me from going to jail or being sued.


      Fortunately, I knew both the responding officers.

      While initially laughing, but trying to maintain their composure, they took my statement and statements from the mentioned witnesses.

      When they tried to interview the punk for a statement, Luke refused to get out of his car or give them one.

      Surprisingly, Lisa refused to cooperate as well.  


      Although, I strongly objected, the officers allowed the absent manhood professor to return to the house and get dressed.

      I was very agitated at the thought of him in my home again and as a result, I started to have chest pains and was rushed to the hospital by ambulance.


      After a two-day stay in the hospital, and extensive testing, I was diagnosed with stable angina.

      This time, John, my doctor, ordered me to loose 60 lbs or it could worsen and I would be on medication for life.

      I left my toupee in the wastebasket of my hospital room.

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      My neighbors and connections kept me from prosecution and I was given an appearance ticket for disorderly conduct and I plead guilty to a violation and paid a fifty-dollar fine.


      As I said, the copy of the tape prevented me from being sued, why risk further public humiliation.

      I wasn't the only one with connections.  

      I was brought up on departmental charges for conduct unbecoming an Officer.

      I could either resign, retiring at half-pay or be fired.  

      I resigned.


      One month later, I was served with divorce papers.

      With the help of her lover, Lisa retained a high priced lawyer.

      We settled out of court.


      I agreed to give her everything except for my book collection.

      I have an extensive collection of Folio Society and Easton Press, to name a few publishers.  

      I kept the contents of my study.

      This included the barrister bookcases, my reading lamps, and leather chair with matching ottoman.

      The agreement also included my antique oak roll top desk and my oak futon.

      She agreed to waive her attorney fees and sign off on my pension.

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      My attorney thought I was crazy, wanting to negotiate a more equitable settlement.

      I refused to listen.

      I was hurt and angry.

      I was cuckold and made the fool.

      I wanted things over and done with.   

      It wasn't about the money. . . . . . . . . .

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        . . . . . . it was never about the money! 

      I could always make more.   

      I dominated and humiliated my hated enemy, Luke.   

      I forced him to crawl at my feet.

      The coward. . . . . .


        . . . . . . . . the hostage of my conquest was paraded on the streets. . . . a testament to my victory over him.   

      It was never about the money. .

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        . . . . . . . . . . . it was about honor.

      He would remain forever the ransom-less hostage. . .

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        redemption denied!


      I moved out and found a small studio apartment.

      I did some major repair work for my landlady, Margie, a mature woman in her seventies.

      This kept my hands and mind busy.

      It did nothing for the tear in my soul.

      In consideration for this, and for maintaining the property, I lived there rent- free and took my meals with her.

      I had a brief affair with Margie's daughter, Mary.

      Mary was a lovely recently divorced woman with her last child now away at college.  

      Her husband, a high school math teacher, was a verbally abusive bastard, calling her fat, stupid and worthless.

      She was a kindergarten teacher and was anything but those things.

      As Mary said, "Enough is enough, so I left the asshole. "


      Our affair lasted for about a year.

      I was upfront with her about being on the rebound and Mary the same, we, two people. . . hurting.

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      The sex was wonderful while it lasted and most importantly, we were a great comfort to one another.


      Meanwhile, Lisa put the house up for sale, including all the appliances and remaining furniture.  

      When all the assets from our divorce settlement were calculated, she walked away with over $ 400,000. 00.

      Lisa and her lover moved to California where Luke found a position, teaching.


      I always wanted to open up a bookstore and be my own boss.

      Twenty-five years plus of punching a clock was enough for me.

      But first I need to do something about my health, so I started walking.

      I walked everywhere possible and in no time lost the sixty pounds.

      Mary started walking with me, although our affair now over, nevertheless we remained good friends.

      She lost about 25lbs, a plus for her as well.


      After 2 years, I had the down payment saved for my bookstore.

      I took out a loan, and bought a large brownstone for taxes.

      I remodeled it, and was soon in business for myself.

      I hired my old landlady, Margie to help out part time.

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      I lived on the third floor in two of eight rooms not counting the bathroom and kitchen.

      The second floor was for storage and overflow from my store.

      My needs were simple, I had my books, but. . . . . . . . . . . . .

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      I mentioned before that I was once self-conscious about my hair loss.  

      I bought top-of-the-line electric hair clippers with all the attachments and guide combs.  

      I kept my hair clipped close to the scalp with those clippers.

      Vanity denied became a strength. . . I was now content with how God made me.


      Three years after my divorce, Lisa walked into my bookstore about an hour before closing.   

      I was putting some books away and my back was to her and I did not see her walk in.

      She politely asked if the owner was available.

      I recognized Lisa's voice right away.

      Although it was obvious that she didn't recognize me.

      Having lost sixty pounds, with a close cropped head, and that ridiculous toupee gone.  


      When I turned around, the surprised look on Lisa's face was most satisfying.

      I too was surprised.

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      She had put on some weight, perhaps as much as twenty pounds.

      While we were married, she was always dieting.

      She spent hours at her heath club exercising.


      I liked Lisa this way, slightly plump and buxom.  

      It had softened her features and rounded her figure.

      Yes, buxom and voluptuous definitely suited her at forty-one. . . going on forty-two.  

      What I didn't like was what she had done to her hair.

      It was no longer her beautiful natural shade of red auburn.  

      It was jet black, the same color as Luke's.  

      It was styled in tight frizzy curls of different lengths.

      Lisa's hair was shorter around her face and longer in the back.

      Even her bangs were curled.

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      At it's longest her hair barley touched her shoulders.

      In fact it looked like an afro-mullet or if you prefer an afro-shag mistake.

      This had to be Lisa's fop lovers doing.

      Either by preference or malicious design, Luke had ruined her beautiful red auburn hair.


      We stood there and looked at one another for a time.

      Finally, she broke the silence.


      "I came here to ask you something, Adam. "


      I just looked at her, not knowing what to say next.

      The last words that I.



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