Don't Mess with George

MF George is an ex soldier who took drastic action when he found a man beating his wife. While the man went to hospital, George took responsibility for his battered wife and restored her to health, mentally and physically, before finally becoming her lover. Then his father took over, leaving George to seek consolation with a blonde policewoman.

"I'm not going near that house, I'm scared of the dog and I'm scared of the man. I've been there once and that dog is about the size of a wolf, with teeth to match, except that he is a damn side uglier. As for the man, he'd kick you in the balls as soon as look at you."

The words came from a small man standing at the counter of the village shop. He had a parcel in his hand and it was apparent that he was a courier on a delivery round. He was talking with the proprietor, and was clearly upset. George listened to the ensuing conversation, and it was quite clear that no one in the shop was prepared to deliver the parcel, and he wasn't too surprised. The man and his hound had an evil reputation in the village and most people gave the house a wide berth. George, however enjoyed a challenge.

"Give it to me, I'll take it."

"Are you sure? Jack Briggs really is an unpleasant bastard and he'll set the dog on you first and then ask you what you want afterwards if that's how he happens to be feeling."

"Not to worry. It's been a boring week, and a bit of excitement will cheer me up no end."

"On your own head be it, don't say you weren't warned."

George took the parcel and drove through the village out into the country till he arrived at the dilapidated farmhouse where Briggs lived. It would be wrong to describe the buildings surrounding the house as a farm. Not one building was in decent condition, some had fallen down completely, others were patched up with pieces of corrugated iron and the whole establishment appeared to be derelict. Old pieces of machinery, more suitable for museums than for a modern farm, littered the area, mostly overgrown with weeds and brambles. A few sorry looking cows stood miserably in an enclosure made of broken down hurdles and strands of barbed wire. In any other farm one of the animal protection societies would doubtless have condemned the stock for the state they were in, but these societies seem to be more interested in prosecuting high-profile cases involving people in red coats chasing brown furry vermin, rather than investigating cases of genuine animal abuse.

The house was surrounded by a fence in reasonable condition, and as George opened the gate, the dog which had so frightened the courier appeared from behind the building and ran at George snarling and with teeth bared. It really was an ugly brute whose antecedents were very dubious but obviously included quite a large range of the more aggressive varieties of the species. There was little doubt that its intentions towards George were far from friendly, and common sense would have suggested that he should beat a hasty retreat, but he did just the opposite, walking briskly towards it. As he did so, he spoke to the animal quite quietly, but in a voice with an authority that the animal obviously recognised, as it immediately stopped, and stood looking at him with a questioning expression, if dogs can be said to have such an expression. He walked up to the animal, and held out his hand. The dog sniffed it, and then licked it, and his tail began to wag. George caressed the animal briefly,then told it to lie down which it did immediately, and stayed there as George walked towards the house.

As he approached the front door, he heard a woman screaming. The door was open, and on the far side of the room in the corner he saw a man hitting a woman with a strap. The man was Jack Briggs, and the woman was his wife, Alice, who was cowering as the man beat her mercilessly.

"Stop that, now"

George didn't shout, but the authority in his voice was apparent and Briggs stopped his actions and turned towards him. He straightened, and turned towards George.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, coming in here and telling me what to do. You can fuck off out of here you little cunt, before I break your arm or your neck."

"A lot of better men than you have tried that but none has succeeded up to now, and I very much doubt you will, you big-mouthed slob. You might be good at beating helpless women but I rather doubt you'd put up much of a fight with a real man."

This was like a red rag to a bull. Briggs was a big man, well over 6 feet tall and was extremely strong, whereas George was not particularly tall and apparently not particularly well build, though when you looked at him closely you realised that he was pretty solid. Briggs threw down the strap, clenched his fists and rushed across the room at George. What happened then was a bit of a blur, and to understand why things were the way they were it would help to know a little about George's background.

On leaving school at the age of 16, George had joined the Army as a boy soldier. He was a natural soldier, and as soon as he was old enough he was offered the opportunity to trial for the special air services, the SAS, renowned around the world for the hardness of its members and the success they had had in a number of commando operations in various parts of the world. The training was famous, or even infamous, for the physical difficulties that the candidates had to overcome, and the failure rate was extremely high. The men who came through, were hard physically and mentally, capable of a whole variety of extremely unpleasant combat techniques, and there were few military units in the world who would like to take them on, and quite a few terrorist organisations lived -- or sometimes didn't live -- to regret having encountered this particular mob. Among a group of hard men, George was outstanding, so much so that in his last years in the SAS he became an instructor in every sort of unpleasant warfare that you could think of. In his mid-30s he decided that he had enough of the Army, and left to take up a career as a security adviser, and had bought himself a country cottage where he lived quietly, doing a lot of work via the Internet, and writing textbooks on security procedures. So this was the man that Jack Briggs have unwisely decided to tangle with.

If a slow motion camera had been set up to observe the scene it would have recorded that, as Briggs rushed across the room, George's foot shot out and his toe landed firmly in Briggs' groin. As he doubled up in pain, George's knee hit him in the chin, and as he doubled further, two hands crashed down onto the back of his neck. Thus, in a few milliseconds, a large violent man had been reduced to an unconscious wreck on the floor, with a jaw hanging at a very peculiar angle, blood pouring from his several lost teeth, and with testicles that would be useless for any practical purpose in the future. As for the damage to the back of his neck, he could count himself lucky that George was in complete control of his actions, because otherwise he would have been dead, as had been at least one other person who had picked a fight with George in the wrong place.

George looked at Alice, who was still cowering in the corner of the room.

"I think I better get an ambulance and the police, don't you? Your husband appears to be in a bit of a rough state."

"No, don't get the police. He'll kill me once he comes round if he thinks I've been near the law. But it does look as though he needs an ambulance, what on earth did you do to him?"

"I just gave him a little tap -- he's a bit sensitive isn't he? I'm afraid I'll have to contact the plod, to explain how he came by his little damages."

George took out his mobile phone, and dialled 999. When he got a reply, he explained that there had been a bit of a fight and a man had been injured and required attention. He suddenly remembered that he had left the dog in the down position, and not tied up. He wasn't at all certain that the emergency services would try and get past it, so we went out and chained it up to its kennel.

While they waited for the ambulance, George went across to Alice and drew her to her feet. It was obvious that the poor woman was accustomed to being beaten by this brute, and she was in a very poor state. She was so thin that she looked as though she had anorexia, and her shabby clothes hung from her like a scarecrow. She was actually shivering with fright, and was clearly terrified of what the consequences might be when her husband recovered from his injuries. George realised that he would be wasting his time trying to convince her that there would be no harm coming to her. Instead he persuaded her to make them both a cup of tea, which they drank while waiting for the ambulance to arrive, also keeping an eye on Briggs, who showed little signs of recovering although he did moan occasionally to convince them that he was still alive.

The police and the ambulance arrived practically simultaneously. The police took the form of a very attractive blonde female sergeant, who took one look at Briggs.

"He seems to have had a nasty accident. Whatever happened?"

"Well sergeant, he decided to hit my knee with his chin, which was a bit of a mistake, because I had a reflex reaction and my foot rather caught him in the groin. After that I fell over and my fists sort of landed on the back of his neck. It was all a little unfortunate and am terribly sorry to have hurt the nice man. After all, he was only playing a game with his wife involving a rather heavy strap."

The police sergeant tried hard not to smile. This was not the first time that she had heard of Briggs' brutality, and she was clearly not too concerned by what had happened, although she had to take a professional attitude and treat the matter seriously. She was more concerned with the state of his wife, who was gently whimpering with fear. However, her first action was to tell the ambulance paramedics to take Briggs to hospital, and she used her mobile phone to arrange for a constable to be stationed in the hospital to affect an arrest as soon as Briggs was in a fit state. After that, she contacted the social services and requested help to look after Mrs Briggs. She quickly turned off the phone and turned to George.

"I don't know why I bothered to phone that useless lot. They said they can't get anybody to help for at least three days, as most of their staff are away on a management course. If you want my opinion -- which you probably don't -- they couldn't manage a piss-up in a brewery. Sorry, not very professional, but I've had so much trouble and so little help from that lot."

"Don't worry, you aren't the only person with an opinion. But you don't need to worry about it, I'll look after her. I've got plenty of room at my house"

"Since when have you been a social worker? Do you really think you're the right person to be looking after someone in that state? I'm not sure I should let you, as I do have a responsibility for her as a crime victim."

"Well there's an easy solution" replied George "ask her if she's happy to go with me, and if she agrees then the responsibility is passed to me."

"Sounds a bit dodgy to me, but I'm always looking for the easy way out" and with that she turned to Alice Briggs "How do you feel about going with him? It's up to you, but I can't do anything else except leave you here on your own, and I really think you could do with some company right now. One thing, there's no way your husband will be anywhere except in hospital for a while, and after that I'm planning to get him locked up for quite some time."

"He might not be back but one of his mates might be, and they are as bad as he is."

"All right, we'll get Mr -- hell, I don't even know his name!"

" George Lewis" he said.

"OK, so Mr Lewis will look after you. I'll come and talk to you in the morning, so try and get a good night's sleep. Mr Lewis, I'd be glad if you contact us in the morning and I'll come out and talk to this lady. In the meantime, I'm sure you'll look after her."

"Right, I'll be in touch, Sergeant. By the way, it would help if I knew your name. I can't just ring up and asked to speak to the blonde totty, can I?"

"You'd better not! It may not be an offence to take the piss out of the police, but I'd find something to nail you with if you get my office sniggering at me. Anyway, I'm Jane Peel, and since you asked, no relation to John. I'll see you in the morning."

While these exchanges had been going on, Alice was still standing in the corner of the room, looking completely dazed and frightened. George crossed the room, and gently took her by the elbow and led her out of the house and across to his Land Rover. It suddenly occurred to him that she might want to bring something with her, so he asked her and she just shook her head. Then he realised that the dog which he had chained up was going to be left or abandoned unless he did something about it. He went and released the beast, and when he returned to the Land Rover the dog followed him and leapt into the back on his command.

"Do you keep any food for this hound?" he asked Alice.

"Yes there are some bags of food in the outhouse. That bloody dog got more food than I ever did."

George went and picked up some food and the dog's bowl, and put them in the back of the Land Rover. Alice was standing timidly by the door of the vehicle, and he told her to get in. After showing her how to put on the safety belt, something which she had never used in her life, he drove the short distance to his house.

George lived in an old farmhouse that had been sold off when the farm had been joined together with a neighbouring estate. It wasn't a luxurious dwelling, just three bedrooms and all the normal conveniences which had been modernised to make a very comfortable home. He let the dog out of the car, then helped Alice out, having noticed that she wasn't moving very easily. They went indoors, she stood uneasily looking round at the pleasant kitchen-cum-dining room which they had entered. The dog had followed them, and was waiting patiently, its tail wagging slightly dubiously.

"Has this hound got a name?"

"Not really. Jack just called him dog, and I never had anything to do with him, except giving him food occasionally. How on earth did you persuade him to behave in a civilised manner? He always snarled if I went near him."

"Just my natural charm" he replied. "I like dogs and he appears to like me. It must have been a novel sensation for him to have been treated properly. Come and stroke him, he's really as soft as butter."

Alice timidly approached the dog, and held her hand out towards it, and was rewarded by a lick from a big sloppy tongue.

"There I told you, he's just a big softy. Let's call him Fido, sounds a sensible name to me. Now, take a seat while I make a cup of tea."

He noticed that, as she sat down, she winced. He realised that she was in pain and guessed that it was where she had been beaten.

"Let me look at your back, please. I want to see what that bastard has done to you."

She stood up meekly and turned her back towards him. She was wearing a dress -- well, more of a rag -- with a zip up the back. He pulled the zip down and revealed a very tatty bra and pants, which were originally white but had obviously been washed so often that they were grey. They did not cover the livid red stripes showing where the blows from the belt had fallen. He gently pulled down her knickers a little way to show even more evidence of the assault that she had suffered.

"I think you could do with a soak in a hot bath, and some liniment on those marks. Come on upstairs and I will run the bath for you."

They went upstairs into the bathroom, and he ran a hot bath. Then he turned to her and, without asking permission, he pulled down the dress and made her step out of it. Then he undid her bra and released it, followed by taking down her knickers. She made no effort to stop him doing this, and he realised that she was completely cowed and would take orders from anybody. The sight of her naked body was pathetic. She obviously was partly starved, and her ribs were clearly visible under the sagging breasts, as were her hip and shoulder bones. It was the body of an anorexic woman, but he didn't think that she had starved for any reason except for the lack of available food. He didn't take too long looking at her, but helped her step into the bath. As she sat down she winced with pain, but then laid back into the hot water.

"When did you last have a bath?" he asked her.

"I don't remember. There was never much hot water at the farm, and what there was, he took. I just had to wash myself down in the kitchen with a bowl."

"It doesn't look as though your hair has been washed too often. I'll give it a shampoo for you."

He got a jug and tipped her head back so that he could pour hot water over her, and when her hair was thoroughly wet, he took a bottle of shampoo and gently rubbed it in till he produced a good lather. After that, he rinsed it thoroughly.

"I reckon it could do with a couple more washes, but that can wait till later. Now, you just lie and soak while I go and get us a cup of tea."

He went down to the kitchen and put on the kettle. While it was heating he searched for and found a tube of liniment which he had possessed for many years. It had been given him by his Mother, who swore by it for anything from a wasp bite to a broken leg. He had never used it himself, though he recalled being anointed with it after various childhood minor injuries and thought it might be soothing for the damage caused to Alice's back by her brutal husband. He made two mugs of tea and took them up to the bathroom, along with the liniment.

"Has that made your back feel a bit easier? I've got some liniment with my mother used for everything, it's quite soothing and might help."

"Oh yes, the hot water has certainly eased things a bit. I'd forgotten just how comforting a hot bath can be. You needn't bother about the liniment, I'm sure you've got better things to do."

"Right, let's make one thing clear. I've told the blonde bombshell that I will look after you, and that's what I'm going to do. You're used to doing what you are told, and that's what you can do for a bit longer, only I'll only be doing what I hope will be good for you. When you start answering me back, I'll know you're getting better. How long have you been married to that bastard, by the way?"

"Nearly thirty years. He raped me and got me pregnant when I was fifteen, and my father made him marry me." (She didn't mention the fact that her father had raped her himself when she was twelve and had used her as a sex toy until her little sister got to about the same age, when it became her turn)

George realised that that made her about forty five, though from her appearance he would have thought that she was considerably older, and couldn't imagine what she had gone through.

"What happened to the baby?"

"He punched me in the stomach as a wedding present and I aborted, and couldn't have another one."

"Well, I should let you know that you'll never get hit while I'm around to prevent it. Now, stand up before the water gets cold and let's get you dry."

He produced a big fluffy towel and dried her, then led her into the bedroom and laid her face down on the bed. He slathered his hands with liniment, and applied it to her back and bottom. For a tough man his hands were surprisingly gentle, as he spread the soothing ointment and he was very happy when she just murmured "That's nice." It occurred to him that it was perhaps the first time that she had ever had a caressing hand on her body, so he carried on for some time after the liniment was adequately applied.

He clearly felt the ridges of every rib on her back and her shoulder blades and hips were sharply defined instead of the soft curves he was used to finding when he was touching a woman's body. Her buttocks were scraggy with very little flesh covering her bones, and, as well as the vivid red stripes from her recent beating, there were old scars and bruising to show that this had been a regular occurrence. George was revolted by the treatment that the poor woman had received, and regretted that he hadn't given Briggs a more comprehensive work-over -- though he reflected that it was just as well, otherwise he would certainly have killed him.