"She loved the words. She was no good, she thought, and deserved all that he was saying. There had been many lovers before Martin, and scores since they had been married. But one thing kept them together. No man could please her as he did. No man was cruel enough, hard enough or could give her what she needed.Most of her lovers were only preludes to what would come to her at home. A single climax with any of them was not what she needed. They were her tools to excite her before she knew she would be taken by Martin when she finally got home. He would torment her and curse her, but then when he finished with the insults, he would screw her like no man would ever dare.She shuddered with delight. "Whore," he said again, this time louder. "You'd take any man any time. How can you live with yourself!" His voice was stern, but she could detect the note of pain in it, the pain of a man who had been wronged. They were both good actors for this scene that took place at least three times a week. Then, his head hit a rock, and Dave’s world turned to blackness. Waking was a screaming headache that forced his eyelids to clench shut. He felt sick at his stomach. After what seemed like an hour of mind-searing pain, Dave forced his eyes open. Things were blurry, as if he looked through the thick bottom of a cheap whiskey glass, and the surroundings were dark. After only a moment, he fell back into unconsciousness. He woke again, how long after the accident he could not tell. Beneath him was something soft, the grass-carpeted floor of the canyon, he assumed, but the smell was wrong. Dave was certain he could detect the odor of wood smoke. The blow to his head must have affected his sense of smell. He tried to remember the symptoms of concussion, but found it difficult to focus on any one thought for long. The blinding pain in his head caused flashes of bright, white light in his eyes,. Closing his eyelids only changed the white light to red interspersed with black. Finally, he.
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