29 comments/ 289777 views/ 34 favorites Victims Ch. 01 By: LeoDavis Chapter 1: Gullible Husband Author's Note: This chapter is the first of three of approximately equal length. The ensemble is primarily a tale of revenge. Sexuality is first used to corrupt and destroy a marriage, then is used to corrupt and enslave a group of women, and is finally used as a weapon of vengeance. Clearly it is on the dark side! TINY TITTIES The first time I saw Jeanie she was wearing a one-piece bathing suit, and my first thought was, "Man! Except for those dinky tits, she has an incredible body!" She was pretty, even beautiful by most standards, and the rest of her body was incredibly, seductively, overwhelmingly feminine. But Nature had clearly cheated her in the boob area, and her tiny (although firm and perky) breasts looked like they belonged on a girl just entering puberty. I'm really more of a leg man, so I really didn't mind. But Jeannie did. She was incredibly self-conscious about her breasts, and she wore padded bras to compensate. As our relationship began to evolve, I finally broke through her defenses. One summer night we removed our T-shirts and traded bare-skin back rubs. She, of course, kept her bra on. Before she could stop me, I unsnapped her bra and slid both hands around her chest. I held one of her tiny breasts in each hand, and she was completely mortified. Jeannie tried to yank my hands down, but I pulled her back against my chest and kissed behind her ear. She began to cry. She wailed that I had to be disappointed and I wouldn't want to keep seeing her. She couldn't have been more wrong. I'd never before felt breasts like hers. My hands completely engulfed them. Yes they were small, but they were really firm. I could feel her nipples poking into my palm as I gently held and caressed her little boobs. Jeannie was pressed against me as my erection quickly filled my shorts. I felt her stiffen as she became aware of its pressure against her behind. And then she stopped crying. She began to inhale quickly and exhale with long, slow moans. She rocked her hips forward and back, rubbing her behind up and down against my penis. I could feel the muscles in her behind flexing and relaxing, and I couldn't control my reaction. She reached up and smashed my hands against her breasts as I felt several bursts of cum splashing into my shorts. I squeezed her breasts hard and she suddenly screamed. I thought I'd hurt her, but when her whole body began to tremble I knew she was having an orgasm. I put one hand over her mouth when she started to scream again. After a few seconds her hip thrusts against my sticky crotch became less frequent. Abruptly she went limp. I couldn't hold her up and we fell to the ground together. I continued to caress her breasts with one hand while we kissed. Several minutes later she whispered, "What's that smell?" I was embarrassed, but I pointed to the wet stain spreading across the front of my shorts. She squinted at it for several seconds in the poor light, then she kissed me really hard. "I did that to you? Really?" "I couldn't hold back, Jeannie. You were so . . . excited . . . and . . . " Jeannie kissed me again. "I couldn't hold back, either. I was so afraid that you would be turned off by my little titties, but then I could feel . . . like heat . . . building up until . . . " She was silent for several seconds. "I've used my fingers. You know, down there. To play with myself. But I've never felt ANYTHING like that!" Jeannie lay crosswise on top of me and we kissed again, both of us still topless although her bra was around her neck and still hooked over her arms. I felt her hand pressing against the damp area on my shorts. It was the first time she'd ever touched me below the waist. She almost bit my tongue when she started to giggle. "I didn't know guys could do that with their clothes on! I thought you had to . . . take it out or something." "Well, rubbing your tits turned us both on. When you started to get excited, I lost it. I'll probably never get the stain out of my shorts." Jeannie laughed, then nuzzled against my neck. "Are you sure? My breasts aren't too small? Aren't you disappointed?" I still had a hand on Jeannie's bare chest and I began to pull on her nipples. When she began to make little moans again, I pushed her over on her back and started sucking on one of her breasts. I could pull it completely into my mouth. She suddenly pulled my mouth off her, slipped from underneath me, and put her bra and shirt back on. "No! Not again! It's too soon! I want to remember it. Call me tomorrow!" With that she ran toward her parent's house. I didn't even get a goodnight kiss. This was obviously the first time Jeannie had been with a guy when he ejaculated. How could a college sophomore be so naive, even if she did live at home with her parents? Had she really been so insecure about her breasts that she had never before "gone very far" with a guy? I smiled to myself. As sensitive as her little tits were, I knew I could get into her pants without much trouble. I laughed, thinking about other men who hadn't bothered to try because they thought she was too small upstairs. I was going to score my second virgin. My plans for seducing Jeannie quickly went awry when I fell in love with her. We spent more than two years slowly exploring each other's bodies before we finally made love. One evening when we were alone in her parents' home I deflowered her in the same bed she'd slept in since she was a little girl. Three weeks later we were married. That was just slightly more than seven years ago. We now have two little girls of our own. Not only did Jeannie regain the rest of her figure after each birth, but nursing two babies had permanently added considerable heft to her breasts. Motherhood had finally fixed nature's goof, and her breasts were now correctly proportioned to the rest of her shapely body. I could no longer suck one of her breasts completely into my mouth. Even though I'm still a leg man, I didn't complain! Jeannie's long habit of hiding her breasts in public simply couldn't be changed. On the two occasions I talked her into showing some cleavage when we went out, she was so uncomfortable having men stare at her chest that she made me take her home early. But when we were alone she wasn't shy, and I often enjoyed watching her move around our bedroom while partially clothed - or even better, nude. Even with two small kids in the house, our sex life was more than adequate. What we missed in frequency, we made up for in intensity. Our home was happy, and I often wondered how I had been so lucky. Perhaps I jinxed us by thinking that way. THE DEMISE OF OUR HAPPY HOME Out of the blue a minor argument had escalated into a true confrontation, and each of us stubbornly refused to back down. I don't even remember what started it, but our fighting escalated until both of us were miserable. For the first time during our marriage we had angrily carried our argument into bed. We had been fighting with words alone, but that was soon to end. Jeannie struck first. Before our argument we'd both usually slept in the nude. Particularly on weekends this had made sex a convenient - and relatively frequent - bedroom activity. Now, although we still slept in the same bed, Jeannie wore panties and a T-shirt every night. She had always done this during her periods, and at other times it had become her nonverbal signal that she didn't want to have sex. Almost six months passed since I had seen her undressed, even in bed. "Don't touch me!" her nightclothes proclaimed. It was obvious that Jeannie was denying me access to her body in order to frustrate me into admitting that she was right. Although I continued to sleep naked, I didn't force her to make love. But after six months I retaliated by using her sexuality against her. I had never known a woman who was easier to arouse, and once Jeannie began to climax, it was almost impossible for her to stop. We called her nipples her "sex triggers" because it took so little breast stimulation to get her started. But what really got her motor purring was rubbing my hand - or even better my erection - near her pussy, either from the front or from behind, at the same time I caressed her nipples. Twenty-four weeks without sex was more than enough! Jeannie always slept on her side, facing away from me since we'd argued. One night I woke up around 3:00 and listened to Jeannie's breathing as she slept. It was time to take action. Once I was certain she was completely asleep, I rolled over next to her. I slowly reached over her and began to gently rub her breasts through her T-shirt. With my other hand I rubbed my hand up and down the crease of her buttocks. When I felt her nipples getting hard, I pushed my fingers between her legs until I could slide the blade edge of my hand up and down her slit. By the time the crotch of her panties was starting to feel damp, I was fully erect. Jeannie never liked me to fuck her from behind. Even so she gets quickly aroused when she feels a firm penis pressing between her cheeks. I scooted down the bed, aimed my erection up her body, and carefully slipped it between her legs. I rubbed his head along her pussy through her panties. Soon she started to move her hips so that she was pushing herself harder against my erection. By the time she started to grunt and moan in her sleep, I could feel my erection pushing the crotch of her panties into her vagina. The head of my penis was partway inside her, restrained only by her panties. By this time I could both feel and smell how wet she was, even though she was still asleep. When Jeannie began to actively thrust her hips back and forth against my erection, I knew she was building to an orgasm. I moved my hand from her breasts to the front of her crotch and I rubbed in little circles over and around her clitoris. The sudden increase in sensation jolted her awake, and I immediately rolled away from her. She woke up with her wet panties partly wedged inside her open and wet pussy, with her nipples hard, and with her body preparing for an orgasm. But I had stopped the stimulation and left her hanging. That first time I did this to her I thought she might beg me to fuck her. We had occasionally played a game when we were in public places where we knew we couldn't make love. I would slip my hand under her skirt so that I could surreptitiously fondle and caress her pussy and rub her clitoris. She usually tried to get me to stop, but doing something this daring in public really excited both of us. I found ways to keep her right on the edge without giving her relief. The longest the game had lasted had been a little more than two hours. That was the first time she had ever begged me for sex, and we kept fucking again and again throughout the night as quickly as I could regain erections. Both of us had sore genitals for several days, but in spite of the discomfort we had walked around with huge grins on our faces. Beginning that first night when Jeannie didn't ask me to fuck her after I had gotten her to the brink - and every night thereafter when I played my game, I decided to lie on my back and beat off in front of her - something I'd never done before. I rubbed and stroked myself as I moaned and groaned loudly. I wanted to show her that I didn't need her body to get sexual release. It didn't take me long to climax. Once I had filled my cupped hand with cum, I cleaned up in the bathroom and climbed back into bed. I went back to sleep, but she was too stirred up to relax, so she just tossed and turned. Of course she could have masturbated herself to orgasm with her fingers. I knew she occasionally did so, but she was too shy to do it in front of me. We both knew she would take care of herself after I left for work, but that meant she had to be miserable for several hours. Well, that was the idea, wasn't it? Jeannie didn't break. Two weeks later I was getting tired of beating off, and I wondered what else I could try. Then I walked into our bathroom and saw a realistic, vibrating dildo where she had left it to dry. Clearly she had found another way to get relief. And I felt twinges of inadequacy because the dildo was longer and thicker than my organ was. She had retaliated. Jeannie wouldn't fuck herself with the dildo while I was watching, but each night when I'd beat off after getting her aroused, she would lock herself in the bathroom and use the dildo. It apparently worked because within a couple of minutes I'd hear her cry out several times as she came. When she got back to bed, she would quickly fall asleep, so she had obviously relieved her sexual tensions. My nighttime sex game with her had failed, so after about a week of listening to her get off with the dildo, I gave up. I stopped turning her on as she slept. I was backing down, and I hoped she would recognize my concession and do the same. That hope was quickly dashed. Jeannie perversely continued to use the dildo - both at night when I could hear her in the bathroom and also during the day when I was away. I got the message, loud and clear. She didn't need me for anything, including sex. A big plastic penis was taking care of her needs very well. Since I'd stopped my stimulation game, she didn't even need me for foreplay. Beating off just wasn't satisfying me, and knowing Jeannie was getting off on a plastic penis made me feel worse. She had clearly escalated the conflict to a higher level, and she was winning. I couldn't think of any way to regain the upper hand. I was considering begging her for forgiveness, even though I still didn't know what I'd done wrong - or even if anything that had happened was really my fault. Nothing but pride kept me from doing what I should have done. If I had yielded to her, I know that what happened next would never have happened. I thought I wouldn't have to kiss up to her when she didn't use the dildo for two nights. She was really moody, and she couldn't look me in the eye. That first night she also had a splitting headache, and her breath smelled strange, almost like something from the chemistry set I'd played with as a child. After another night without using the dildo, I hoped that she was going to give in to me. But then she began using it again. During the night I could hear her fucking herself with it in the bathroom, but not the same way as before. Now she seemed almost frantic, even desperate, to climax. I knew that something had happened to her, but I never suspected that she might have been unfaithful. That simply wasn't possible! About two weeks later I was only a couple of days away from admitting defeat and giving in when things changed with shocking suddenness. Jeannie came home late for dinner, complained that she didn't feel well, and went directly to bed. I could see her legs trembling, and she had trouble walking. During the night I heard her whimpering, and I tried to comfort her. When I put my arms around her, she pushed me away and ran into the bathroom. I thought she was going to use the dildo, but she didn't. A few minutes later she came back to bed. She continued to whimper for the rest of the night. Neither of us got any sleep. If something upsetting had happened to her two weeks earlier, what in the world had just happened? Jeannie never used the dildo again, and that really caught me off-guard. She wrapped it up and hid it in a box in her closet. I snooped and found it, and I frequently checked to be certain she hadn't used it again. It remained hidden in her closet. I assumed she had stopped using it because she had incorrectly decided that fucking herself with the dildo wasn't going to get me to surrender. Or perhaps it really wasn't all that satisfying after all. I thought her bouts of crying every couple of weeks reflected the deteriorating condition of our marriage. I even wondered if she had found out she had cancer or something. In retrospect it's obvious that I should have known what was going on. But the abrupt loss of affection in our marriage six month earlier had affected my judgement, and I couldn't manage to figure out the puzzle that our lives had become. I kept trying to fit the pieces together in a way that meant everything between us would be the way it had been before. Yes, that was really dumb. I returned to masturbation as my only sexual release. I really missed the overpoweringly erotic sensations in my penis as Jeannie's vagina squeezed and trembled during her climaxes. Since we had become parents, I almost always had to cover her mouth to suppress her loud screams as orgasms rippled violently through her body. What man wouldn't miss hearing his wife scream because of the sexual excitement he had helped her to achieve? I missed it a lot, and beating off just didn't do much for me at all. Finally, when a clear pattern emerged, I became suspicious. At two-week intervals, Jeannie had been going out and coming back very late. This had happened at least a dozen times. She was always upset she returned, and she would never tell me where she had gone. Often she was really miserable, and a couple of times I heard her crying. I hoped that she had just been getting away from me so that she could think things out, but I was starting to worry that she was having an affair. Doing so would have been completely out of character for her, but I began to wonder what she was doing every two weeks. But why would having an affair make her so unhappy? And if it did, why was she still doing it? I stubbornly didn't bring that issue up, and I deliberately avoided looking for any evidence that Jeannie was having sex with someone else. Call me a fool. As suspicious as I was that she might be going out to get laid, I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to control myself if I actually found out that she was cheating on me. I also assumed that we would eventually work out our problem - whatever it was - and if she had been unfaithful and I didn't know about it, then I wouldn't have to deal with it. And what would happen to our two little girls if we broke up? I kept my head in the sand and my hands on my penis. Neither helped. We scarcely talked to each other, except when our girls were around. We continued our silent argument even though I don't think either of us could remember what it was about. Even more than our regular, exciting sex. I missed having Jeannie as a friend and companion. Being at home around Jeannie was a cold and depressing experience, and for the first time I looked forward to leaving the house and going to my demanding job. I even agreed to extra out-of-town business travel so that I wouldn't have to face the frigid atmosphere at home. A CHANCE TO SAVE OUR MARRIAGE When our problem continued to drag on and on, it's not surprising that I seized an opportunity to repair our friendship and our marriage. I had completed some important out-of-town business several days earlier than anyone could have anticipated, and I decided to surprise Jeannie by arriving home unannounced early one Saturday evening, rather than on the following Monday morning as had been scheduled. I decided that I would hire a babysitter and take Jeannie dancing. My plan was for us to talk out our problem while enjoying the romantic atmosphere at one of the clubs we hadn't visited since our disagreement began. I got hard just thinking about making love to her again. I was so happy anticipating our romantic evening - and the end to our problems - that I actually whistled as I drove. I should have known better. Who hasn't heard the stories about the husband arriving home and finding his wife in bed with another man? I was confident that Jeannie couldn't do that - to me, or to our marriage. Well, I tried to be confident. At least I was thinking positively. This evening alone together would enable us to repair our marriage. Of course it would. Sure. Victims Ch. 01 I pulled in and parked my car beside Jeannie's, and I was completely optimistic as I opened the front door and carried in my two bags. If her car was still here, then so was she! Wouldn't she be surprised when I told her my plans for the evening! FALSE HOPE IS EXTINGUISHED My stomach turned to ice when I saw Katie, our regular babysitter, sitting in our family room and watching a movie with our two girls. Jeannie was either going out somewhere or she had already left. If the latter, since her car was still parked outside, who had driven her? My happy mood immediately soured. Katie sprang to her feet. She looked really surprised to see me. "I didn't know . . . Your wife didn't say you would be here tonight! Do you . . . Is everything okay?" She asked. "Katie, I'm sorry. I wasn't due back for a couple of . . . until next week. Is Jeannie going out somewhere?" I didn't stop to think how this would sound to Katie, and her surprised look turned to one of apprehension. "She left a little while ago. Sh-She left a number. In case I had to call. She s-s- said she'd be out pretty late," Katie stammered. She was staring at me and was obviously upset by the confused look on my face. I forced a smile. "Katie, it's fine! I'll clean up and join her. I just didn't know she was going out so early," I lied. I panicked. I felt confused and dizzy, and more than a little frightened. Had Jeannie really hired Katie so that she could cheat on me? I carried my bags back to the master bedroom and unpacked. There was moisture from the shower in the air, and I could smell the scent of Jeannie's favorite perfume. Where the hell was she? With whom had she gone out? And where? I vowed to get answers - no matter what the cost. My happy homecoming had turned into a nightmare. I told myself to stay calm and THINK. SCHEMING AND SEEKING THE TRUTH I walked out to the kitchen and checked the bulletin board next to the telephone. I grabbed a piece of paper and copied the number Jeannie had written down for Katie, then I returned to the bedroom. Katie's eyes were wide open, and she looked really jumpy both times I passed the family room. I tried to look casual, but I obviously didn't succeed. I hadn't recognized the telephone number, and my body was so tense I had trouble walking normally. Even though I was trying to hide it, Katie could probably sense how confused and upset I was. I sat on the bed and inhaled the heady, cloying scent of Jeannie's perfume. My head started spinning again. I realized I was clenching and unclenching my hands. I unfolded the crushed piece of paper on which I had written the telephone number, and I stared at it. Whose number was it? Was it a hotel? Was Jeannie with a lover? It took me several minutes to calm down enough to think things out before I made the call. If Jeannie was at a hotel, I planned to go over, find out what room she was in, and confront her. I opened a drawer next to the bed and looked at the handgun we kept there. I had a frighteningly vivid vision of killing Jeannie in the arms of her lover. I knew I could shoot her if I found her having sex with someone else. Even though I didn't know what was going on, I was working myself into a jealous rage. The gun felt comforting in my hand, but I knew I was starting to flip out. I placed the gun back into the drawer, but l left the drawer open so that I could still see it. If Jeannie was at someone's apartment or home, I needed another plan before I placed the call. I decided I'd lie and say I was still out-of-town. I'd say that Katie had given me the number when I'd called home. I would ask whoever answered to call Jeannie to the phone. We had a problem with a leaky pipe in the powder room, and I would ask her if she had gotten in touch with a plumber. My story seemed really lame, but it was the best I could come up with. I didn't know what I would do once I got her on the phone. I was more worried about other things. What if her lover answered? Could I follow through with my plan? Or would I lose control and become too furious to talk rationally? If that happened, how would I find out where she was? I picked up the handgun again, and as I bounced its weight in my hand I thought of a solution. There was a police officer in our church, and I knew he had access to a reverse directory. If I had to, I'd ask him for the address corresponding to the telephone number in my hand. Then I'd go over with the gun and . . . I was shaking so hard I couldn't read the numbers on the telephone. I took several deep breaths and gathered my thoughts. First things first. Before I did anything else, I had to make the call. I replaced the handgun in the drawer and I dialed the number. It rang three times. "Hi, I'm Eric!" said a masculine voice. "And I'm Viv-ee- un!" said a throaty, sultry woman's voice. Eric? Vivian? Who the fuck were Eric and Vivian? Thereafter the two voices alternated sentences. I'd obviously reached an answering machine. I was completely unprepared to hear two voices, but I recovered in time to listen to their recorded message. "If you need directions to the party, stay on the line! If you want to talk to one of us, touch the number one for Eric and the number two for Vivian and leave a message. We'll be busy having LOTS of fun at the party - Hah! Hah! - so we won't be listening for the phone. But we'll eventually check our messages and call you back. But don't be impatient! You know how our parties are! Now, if it's your first time, here's how to get to our place! First, head north on . . ." I copied down the detailed directions which followed. Although I had never been to their home, now that I knew where it was, I figured out who Eric and Vivian were. I had read in the society pages of our local newspaper that they had recently purchased and renovated a home several miles from town. I wondered how Jeannie had gotten invited to their party since we weren't in their economic or social circles. Then I understood. Her lover had taken her as his date! I decided if Jeannie was invited, then fuck them, so was I. I checked Jeannie's side of the closet, but I couldn't figure out what she was wearing. I gathered myself together and walked back to the family room to talk to Katie. It didn't take long to get the basic facts out of her. Katie said Jeannie was wearing a white Spanish-style blouse that left her shoulders bare. I nodded, realizing that I had not seen it in her closet. She had to wear her special strapless bra with it. I knew the dark skirt that went with it. It flowed sensually as she moved. It was one of her sexiest outfits. I felt my fingernails digging into my palms as I talked to Katie. Jeannie was wearing it for somebody else! "How was John dressed when he picked her up?" I asked. Since Jeannie's car was still here, I knew somebody had come for her. I just made up his name. For all I knew it could have been one of her girlfriends, but I doubted it. I was hoping that's what Katie would say, but her reply meant it was time to abandon that hope. "She . . . She called him something else, not John!" Katie replied. Her eyes were huge as she stared at me. This time my phoney smile managed to calm Katie down a little. "That's okay! It was one of the other guys I guess. But how was he dressed?" Katie nervously described a casual, open-collared shirt with no coat. "How late are you planning to stay tonight?" I asked as I forced another smile onto my face. Katie swallowed hard. "Your wife said . . . well, really late. Maybe until 3:00 or 4:00. But that's okay with my folks. Do you . . . Do you still want me to stay?" I managed to laugh. "Sure! It's a big party! I didn't think I'd be back in time for it, so I didn't pay attention to the details. Like what I was supposed to wear!" I said, and I could see Katie beginning to relax. As stupid as my story must have sounded, she wanted to believe it. "Heck, I'll just get ready and go! If Jeannie calls, don't spoil the surprise for me, okay?" Katie nodded and giggled nervously. She clearly had no idea what was really going on. Well, she was only sixteen, and she had a lot to learn. As it turned out, so did I. I checked Jeannie's underwear drawer and verified that her best strapless bra was missing. I stared at the handgun in the open drawer. Should I take it with me? I decided I couldn't take it to a party where a lot of people might see it, and I slammed the drawer closed. Besides, how likely was it that she would sneak out and have sex during a party? As much she enjoyed sex, she was much to shy for that! She was even embarrassed when I kissed her in public. I shaved and took a quick shower. Twenty minutes after I had made the decision to leave the gun in the drawer, I said goodbye to Katie and kissed my daughters goodnight. As I got into the car I had second thoughts about taking the gun, but again I decided I wouldn't need it. I was going to a party, not to a hotel or to some asshole's apartment. It seemed like the correct decision at the time, although now . . . LOOKING FOR JEANNIE AT THE PARTY The directions were excellent, and about a half-hour later I headed down a mile- long gravel driveway toward a distant glow which I assumed was their house. There were no other lights within miles. Eric and Vivian clearly liked privacy. To describe Eric and Vivian's home as huge is truly an understatement. They had purchased a large old farmhouse, situated on at least ten acres of land. As I approached it, I could see that they had added several large and ugly ground-floor additions to the original structure. Clearly they had more money than taste! I wondered what the inside looked like. There were at least fifty cars parked in an open field near the house, and I pulled in and killed the engine. Most of the yard, including this field, was illuminated by spotlights which had produced the glow I'd seen from a long distance away. My shoulders were tight and I was once again clenching and unclenching my hands. It took me several minutes to calm down. I finally got out of my car and walked toward the gigantic house. I was surprised to see that most of the cars had out-of-state tags. What kind of party attracts people for several other states? Nobody payed any attention to me as I walked in. I was surprised how dark it was, and I couldn't see very well at first. All of the light inside the house was coming through the windows from outside, and all of the windows were curtained. I looked around, but I didn't see anybody I knew. I could hear the relentless murmur of dozens of conversations, and somewhere there was music playing. But the damned house was so dark it was hard to see people clearly! As my eyes adjusted and I began prowling around, I spotted Vivian. I'd never met her, but she looked exactly like her photograph in the local paper. She was showing two couples around the house, and I followed them at a discrete distance. As I walked, I looked around, but I still didn't see Jeannie anywhere. At least I'd know where everything was if I followed my unwitting hostess and got a tour. I followed them into a large, carpeted living room that featured a huge glass- fronted fireplace at one end. As I approached the fireplace, I saw that it was a freestanding, gas unit, with a clever mechanism which Vivian proudly demonstrated. A grill, which was positioned near the chimney vent, could be lowered closer to the flames, and with access provided by glass doors on the sides, used for cooking. "We had this custom-designed in France!" Vivian proudly announced. "We like to sit naked in here and drink wine while we grill steaks! Then we make love on the floor after we eat!" That was more than I needed to know about their sex life, but Vivian was certainly a sexy and attractive woman. In the somewhat brighter light from the fireplace I could easily see her areolae and the shadow of her pubic hair. This woman had a ripe, sexy body, and she was naked beneath her clinging, nearly transparent dress. And she knew that everyone else knew it. I felt a quick chill run down my spine, but I didn't understand why. The fireplace was actually in a sort of foyer which connected several different sections of the house, and the fire was visible through glass from all four sides. What I had been unable to see from the entrance to the living room was the twenty-foot by forty-foot party room, directly opposite the living room, which shared the fireplace. Tonight the only illumination for the party room was provided by the fireplace flames, and it looked like several dozen couples were dancing in the dark, romantic atmosphere. I could see them moving in the dim light, but the relatively bright light from the fireplace effectively blinded me and hid them from my view. I followed as Vivian showed her guests the rest of the house. Eric and Vivian had also added a bedroom wing on a long hallway which began at the same foyer with their fancy, French fireplace. The hall was almost completely dark. It too lighted only by the flickering flames from the fireplace. At the end nearest the fireplace there were two half-baths, one on each side. The master suite was at the far end of the hall, and there were two additional bedrooms on each side. "Each bedroom has its own full bath." Vivian announced. "There are plenty of towels and things, so if you start feeling frisky, just slip into one of the rooms and lock the door! Or leave it unlocked if you want company! That's always more fun, isn't it?" Vivian licked her lips and leered at the two couples, and they laughed. Vivian excused herself, the two couples headed back into the room where the dance music was playing, and I was suddenly alone. I looked around, thinking I would just find Jeannie and get the hell out of here. Everything about this party felt really wrong to me, but I was still too angry to sort things out. I walked down the bedroom hallway to the end. I started opening doors, looking for my wife. The fact that I started with the bedrooms shows that I wasn't entirely unaware of what was going on. But that decision had been subconscious, and at the time I was unaware of it. The master suite was overwhelmingly opulent, but it was completely empty. I peeked into three of the four "side" bedrooms, and they were all generously-sized with large, full bathrooms. Nobody was in them, either. The fourth door was locked. "Somebody's feeling frisky! How nice!" I thought. I was feeling anything but frisky as I continued to search for Jeannie. The possibility that she might be in the locked bedroom clawed at my consciousness, but I pushed it away. Perhaps a half-hour later I still hadn't found Jeannie, even though I'd carefully checked every room except the one with the music and dancing. I'd even returned to the locked bedroom and found it unlocked and empty. I returned to the fireplace and walked part way around it. I found myself in the hardwood-floored party room. The music was romantic, even sexy. I watched people dance for a couple of minutes, but Jeannie wasn't anywhere in sight. I was becoming frantic. THE NATURE OF THE PARTY BECOMES CLEAR I moved along one wall and away from the fireplace, and once I was a few feet from the fire I was able to see more clearly. The scene rocked me to my core. Many of the dancers were only partially dressed. I saw a completely naked woman moving from couple to couple, kissing both the men and the women. Jeannie and I had never attended a party like this! How could she possibly be here? I continued moving along the wall and looked at every couple in the room. I couldn't find Jeannie, and I was certain that I had made some kind of mistake. I had either miscopied the number she had left for Katie, or perhaps I had dialed the wrong number. I knew Jeannie, and she couldn't possibly participate in something like this! Now I'd have to go back home, check the number again, and do something else to find her. I slipped back along the wall until I reached the foyer with its huge fireplace. I stopped and stared into the flames as I thought about what I would say to Katie when I got home. She already suspected that something was wrong. How would she react when I came back after going to the wrong party? Somebody took hold of my arm, and when I turned my head, I recognized my unofficial - and obviously accidental - host, Eric. His picture had also frequently appeared in the local newspaper, and I'd seen him featured on television. He said something to me, but the music was too loud for me to hear. Eric gestured for me to follow him, and we walked halfway down the dimly-illuminated bedroom hallway. The sound of the music faded somewhat, and he moved closer to me. I thought he knew that I had crashed his party, and I expected him to order me to leave. Well, since I was in the wrong place, that was exactly what I planned to do, anyway. Instead he truly shocked me. "Viv's in the master suite. She wants to see if she can do more men than she did at our last party. Why don't you give her a try?" Eric walked away from me, and I heard him say the same thing to two guys talking together near the fireplace. They laughed, then immediately walked down the hallway past me and approached the master bedroom. Although I wanted to get out of his house so that I could locate Jeannie, my curiously got the better of my common sense. I'd never seen other people have sex, and the open, public sexuality already on display had begun to arouse me. I had no intention of being unfaithful to Jeannie, but it wouldn't hurt if I just watched, would it? It would only take a couple of minutes, and then I could go home and resume my search for Jeannie. The master suite door opened as I reached it, and a guy came out. He had a smug smile on his face as he adjusted his clothing. "Go for it, man! She's hot and ready! She's keeping a tally! I was number three in her ass! God, she's a great, tight ass-fuck! I'm comin' back in a few minutes to do her cunt!" He gave me a firm punch on the biceps and grinned at me. I stumbled into the room in somewhat of a daze and closed the door behind me. I'd never even considered having anal sex, and I was both repulsed and curious. There was a shaded lamp lit in one corner of the room, and I could see everything clearly. Vivian was naked, lying on her back on the bed, with her legs hanging over the end and spread impossibly far apart in an athletic split. There was a fat, naked man whom I didn't recognize standing between her legs and enthusiastically fucking her as he leaned over her, supporting his weight on his arms. She was holding another man's balls as she sucked loudly on his penis. The two men I had followed down the hall quickly got undressed. Another man came in behind me and closed the door. It was my first time watching anyone have sex, and here I was watching a woman service two men at once. I couldn't tear my eyes away. I momentarily forgot about finding Jeannie. The guy at her mouth groaned and ejaculated several times. Vivian tried to swallow everything, but cum leaked out of her mouth and dripped down her cheek. I moved closer and saw that Vivian's face, hair, and large breasts were streaked with more cum. As another man stepped forward for a blow job, Vivian made a quick note on a pad of paper next to her, and then she noticed me. "I can blow you, or you can fuck me in the cunt or in the ass! Or all three! Just use the ointment if you do my ass, okay?" She pointed to a large tube on the bed. "But for fuck's sake, get undressed! I like to look at naked men's cocks before they fuck me!" Everything felt completely unreal. I heard the wet slurping sound of the guy fucking Vivian as he suddenly picked up his tempo. "Yeah, fuck me hard, baby! Ooh! I'm almost there! Harder! Oh! Yes! Go for it, stud! Make my pussy scream!" The wet sound stopped as the guy fucking Vivian grunted and jerked several times as he ejaculated. He stepped back, dragging a rope of cum with his half-erect penis. There was a huge, dark, wet spot running down the end of the bed and forming a puddle on the rug. It sparkled in the light from the lamp. It was obviously at least a pint of cum. Victims Ch. 01 Another naked man quickly slipped his short, thick penis into Vivian and began to fuck her as she picked up her pad again. She wrote something and put it down. "Go for it number ten! Take me over the top! Fuck me hard! I'm almost there!" She grunted in time with his thrusts. The wet slap, slap, slap as "number ten" slammed into her was the loudest sound in the room. She turned her head and began to suck on the new penis near her head. The smell of pussy and cum was so strong I felt nauseous. I was fully erect, but I decided I was more worried about what Jeannie was doing than I was interested in fucking Vivian. I left the room, following closely behind "number nine" who had cleaned up and gotten dressed. ONE LAST SEARCH FOR JEANNIE When I reached the fireplace, I decided it wouldn't hurt to go into the party room and take one more look for Jeannie. Frankly I also wanted to see more people having sex, but I was unaware of that motive at the time. I slipped along the wall opposite to the one I'd followed earlier, and I scanned the faces of the dancers. The sexual activity had noticeably increased In the few minutes I'd been away from the room. I saw two more naked women, and several others were dancing topless. I stepped around one couple where were fucking standing up against the wall. I came within a couple of feet of them, and my erection became stiff and uncomfortable in my pants. Once again I decided that Jeannie was not in the room, and I began to retrace my steps toward the fireplace. Then I thought I saw her dancing with a man who looked vaguely familiar. Jeannie was facing away from me, and if she had not been wearing her special outfit, I would have overlooked her. She was fully dressed, but she was wrapped so tightly around the guy that her face was concealed. One of his hands was stroking her behind, pressing and rubbing her hips firmly against him. I knew from experience that this really turned her on, particularly if I was pressing my erection against her. She made no attempt to get away from him as his hand continued to roam freely over her behind. I felt an abrupt, cold, blinding fury well up in me as he pulled the back of her skirt up until it bunched around her waist, exposing the skin above the top of her white bikini panties. He reached down between her cheeks and began to slide his fingers between her legs. She didn't resist as he pushed the material into her crease. At first I felt frozen in place by my anger, but then I decided I was going to kill him if she really was Jeannie. In order to reach them I had to move around several dancing couples. As I did so the two of them began to move away from me, toward the fireplace. They paused to kiss, and I could see that her skirt was now completely bunched at her waist. He reached down and rubbed the front of her crotch through her panties. Was this really my shy Jeannie? How could she allow herself to be undressed and groped in a room filled with people? I moved to my left so that I could get a better look at the woman. I still hadn't gotten a clear view of her face, but could somebody else have the same, distinctive outfit that Jeannie had? Even in my fury I had to be absolutely certain before I attacked that bastard. All at once they moved quickly toward the bedrooms. I lost time dodging around several half-naked couples, and the two of them were already partway down the hallway as I reached the fireplace. I saw the woman - Jeannie? - with her skirt still bunched around her waist, going into one of the side bedrooms with the guy she'd been dancing with. His pants were bulging from his erection. I felt dizzy again, and I wondered if I were losing my mind. Was that woman really Jeannie? I hadn't seen her face, only her outfit and her bare legs. I thought she was Jeannie, but I couldn't really believe it. Could Jeannie really be having an affair in such an open, public way? At a sex party like this? Even as dark as it was, anyone could have seen her getting half-undressed and going into that room! I had to swallow the bile that burned in my throat as my stomach heaved. I don't recall walking down the hall, but I found myself trying to open the door into the room they had entered. The doorknob barely turned as I twisted it left and right. It was firmly locked. I almost banged on the door and demanded they let me in. But was I truly certain it was really Jeannie? What if I were mistaken? Before I made a complete ass of myself, I had to be sure. The wet, slurping sound as Vivian had gotten fucked still echoed in my mind. Was I hallucinating about Jeannie going into this room? Was she going to be making the same sounds with her lover in a matter of moments? The world seemed to be tilted, off center, confusing, and unreal. Once again I frantically searched the rest of the house for my wife. The people dancing were almost all disrobing, and most of the women were already naked. But Jeannie wasn't there. I saw at least a dozen couples openly fucking. Thankfully Jeannie was not among them. But I was becoming so frantic I was losing control. I raced from couple to couple, taking a hard look at each woman. It must have been obvious that I was out of my element as I looked for my wife, and several people laughed at me. The sight and sounds of sexual activities going on around me, coupled with my anxiety and anger, made me begin to hallucinate. I saw a couple fucking, and I was shocked when I recognized them as two people from my office. Then I blinked hard, and they were complete strangers. I saw a naked women holding her partner's penis as they danced, and I realized that she was my daughter's first-grade teacher! Once again I squeezed my eyes shut, and when I looked again, I knew I'd never seen her before. I looked around the room, and the walls weren't quite straight. The floor was tilted. I shook my head and the images cleared. It was just like being in a dream. I knew I was seeing things that weren't real, but somehow I couldn't stop seeing them. But the sexual activity all around me was real. At least I thought so. As I moved past the fireplace and entered the bedroom hall, I stepped over my brother who was fucking a skinny black woman. Of course, he too was a stranger. As I reached the locked bedroom door, I froze when I heard Jeannie's passionate scream, clearly audible though slightly muffled, coming through the door. She screamed again and again for the next thirty seconds or so. Impossible! I couldn't trust my senses! I'd only imagined I'd heard her cry out during a long orgasm! I hadn't heard that particular scream for several months, and I knew she only did it with me. It wasn't real! My fears had produced it! I had to stop imagining things! But I had to be certain. I tried to turn the knob, but the door was still locked. I waited for a couple of minutes until I was alone in the hall. It seemed like an eternity. Thankfully I didn't imagine I heard other sounds of passion from inside the room. TRUTHS ARE REVEALED I always carry a small penknife, and I took it out of my pocket. I inserted the small blade into the keyhole and I twisted the handle of the knife. The simple lock clicked open with a soft snap. I turned the knob, opened the door, slipped into the room, and closed the door behind me. I was in near darkness but a glow was coming from around the almost-closed bathroom door. I leaned against the wall beside the door to the hall. I stared at the bed, and the breath came out of me as my chest tightened. I could see a naked man lying between the legs of a naked woman in the classic missionary position. The smell of sex was so thick it was hard to breathe normally. She was making little post-orgasmic sounds the same way I knew Jeannie did. They had obviously just finished. Was this Jeannie? Had I really heard her scream as she climaxed? I was having trouble deciding what was real and what was part of an increasingly impossible nightmare. The man spoke over his shoulder. "Hey! You're early! And I musta forgot to lock the friggin' door. I've only fucked her once. Guess you came early so you could watch me in action, huh? Show you how to fuck this hot cunt until she screams again, right? And begs for more, right?" I didn't know whom he was expecting, but I managed to remain silent as he returned to his "hot cunt." Was she my wife? Was I losing my mind? He lowered his head and began to suck noisily on her breasts. He reached down with one hand and began to rub the inside of her thigh. I heard the woman grunt with pleasure. Again she sounded a lot like Jeannie. But was she my wife? I still couldn't see her face clearly. The guy's body and head were in the way. "Baby, we got an audience. Show him how much you wanna fuck me again!" She spread her legs wider apart, then wrapped them around the guy, above his waist, pulling him firmly against her pussy. She rocked her hips forward and back and let out a contented moan. Jeannie rubbed her pussy against me like that, but only after she'd had a particularly long, intense, screaming, toe-curling orgasm. It was a special, loving post-coital intimacy we shared. Had I just imagined what I had seen? Did other women do this, too? Somehow I managed to pull my eyes away from the aroused couple on the bed, and I looked around the room. I saw clothing scattered on the floor, obviously removed in their desperate passion. I moved away from the wall and to my left so that I could see better. After a couple of steps I saw Jeannie's skirt and distinctive blouse on the rug. I picked the blouse up to be certain, then I dropped it again when I smelled her perfume on it. My fury disappeared as the reality of my wife's total betrayal exploded in my brain, and I felt as if I had been slugged in the stomach. I doubled over and I couldn't breathe. I looked up and stared at my wife's widely spread-open legs as she prepared to fuck another man - for the second time this evening, this time in front of me. I heard Jeannie moan, then I saw her pull his hand from between their bodies. "NNN! No, not yet! Wait! I'm still too . . . sensitive. Let me come back down before . . . we do it again. Oh! That feels so . . . Aaaah!" The guy was sucking loudly on one of her nipples. The sensitive nipples that could get her so aroused she couldn't stop. The nipples that I had first fondled when she had tiny, tiny little breasts. Her sex triggers that I'd thought were mine alone to enjoy. Jeannie had completely betrayed our marriage - and me! Her lover had just brought her to a climax, and they were preparing to do it again - in front of me! I felt completely emasculated. After several seconds of listening to more excited moans from Jeannie, I managed to suck in a shuddering breath. Tears were stinging my eyes. I straightened up, but I was unsteady on my feet, and I fell heavily against the wall. My elbow made a loud thump, and it disturbed the guy on top of her. The guy muttered something, then turned his head far enough to see that I wasn't the person he had thought had entered the room. "Who the fuck are you? Go find your own piece of ass! I don't care if you stand in the hall and listen to her screams when I get her off. But get the fuck out! NOW! And lock the fucking door behind you!" Frustration, fury, and betrayal overwhelmed me. I wanted to kill them both. I groped around behind my back, found the switch, and turned on the overhead light. The room exploded into brightness. The guy rolled angrily off of Jeannie. The three of us squinted and blinked at each other. I could see moisture glistening on his half-erect penis. Before Jeannie closed her legs, I could see wetness sparkling on the insides of her thighs and on her pubic hair. Any lingering doubts I might have had were completely dispelled. Yes, my wife had definitely fucked this guy. My worst nightmare had been realized. This wasn't another hallucination. The proof was spread out on the bed in front of me. Jeannie recognized me, and the look of sexual arousal on her face melted into dismay. "Jim! Oh God! No! No!" She rolled over and began to cry, face-down on the bed. THE CUCKOLD TAKES ACTION I was still holding my penknife. I slowly reached down, closed the little blade, and pulled the large blade out. The naked guy on the bed was about my size and build. He made no attempt to cover himself. He stared at the knife in my hand. His penis was now completely flaccid and I could barely see it between his legs. I held the knife at his crotch level, and I took a couple of steps toward him. "Hey, now! Don't blame me! She came on to me! All she is to me is an easy lay! Don't do something stupid here!" He moved himself up the bed and away from me. He covered his groin with one of his hands. His eyes were locked on my knife. If I'd been carrying the handgun, I'd have shot him. And Jeannie too. I wasn't certain I could kill him with the penknife, but I considered that possibility, among others. Perhaps I could overpower him and slit his throat. I knew I had to do something. Thoughts tumbled and raced through my head. Two ideas - cutting off his penis or stabbing him to death - predominated. I knew if I kept looking at him I would do at least one of these things, probably both. Was I ready to become a killer? That possibility seemed more likely each second I stood there. I took another step toward him, and I could see the fear on his face. Something inside my head was screaming at me that it wasn't worth killing anybody - even him - over a cheating slut of a wife. I had to get him out of the room before I snapped. But I really wanted to hurt him, too. I managed to buy some time so that I would be able to think everything through. I stopped moving and stared at him. "Go . . . into . . . the . . . bathroom." I said slowly. "If . . . you . . . come . . . out . . . before . . . we . . . leave . . . I'll . . . kill . . . you . . . after . . . I . . . cut . . . off . . . your . . . prick . . . and . . . balls." I began to tremble and I could feel my lips twitching and jerking. I was shaking so badly I was afraid I'd fall down. The knife was waving up and down as my arm trembled. He probably sensed how close I was to killing him, and he didn't hesitate. He sprang from the bed, ran past me into the bathroom, and locked the door behind himself. I turned back toward Jeannie. She was still lying face-down on the bed, holding her hands over her face, sobbing loudly. I stared at her naked body and waited for my hands to stop shaking. As I looked at her bare bottom my thoughts flashed back to watching that guy dancing with his hand about there, pulling her dress up, reaching between her cheeks so that he could get her excited so he could . . . I finally decided what I had to do next. "Get dressed." I said. "We're leaving. Now." I leaned down and picked up her panties from the floor. I threw them at her as she rolled over and sat up, her hands still in front of her face. I picked up her bra, blouse, and skirt and threw them at her, too. They fell onto the bed, but she made no move to dress herself. "I . . . have to use the bathroom first." She mumbled. "Tough shit, you cheating bitch!" I screamed. "The man you just fucked is in there and I'll be damned if I'll let you get near him again! " "But I need to clean . . ." "Yeah, I can see it smeared all around your hairy twat. So what? I don't know how many people know you came in here to fuck him. You didn't care if they saw you, so who cares if they smell you, too? Get your fucking clothes on! NOW!" Tears streamed down Jeannie's face. She turned away from me and quickly started getting dressed. Her blouse and skirt had landed in the wet spot on the bed. Jeannie picked them up and wiped something wet and sticky off the skirt with her hand. I could hear her whimpering. Perversely I enjoyed knowing she was miserable. I found her shoes and threw them as hard as I could. She cried out when they struck her back before they bounced back onto the floor. I began picking up the guy's clothes. Frustration and fury swept over me, and I slashed and ripped each piece of clothing with my knife, again and again. Finding Jeannie's pantyhose intertwined with his undershorts made me even more angry. She turned to ask me to give them to her just as I stabbed them with my knife and ripped a huge hole in them. I heard myself screaming obscenities as the knife stabbed them again and again, almost of its own volition. Jeannie's face displayed her shock and fear as I stared at her. I turned away from her and picked up all of the guy's slashed clothes. I even picked up his shoes and socks. I found his watch and glasses on a bedside table, so I picked them up, too. I wrapped everything into a bundle and put her pantyhose on top. In the midst of my emotional storm I felt a strange calm as I anticipated what I was going to do next. I carefully put my knife away. I gestured with my thumb, and Jeannie got to her feet and moved to the door. She was so afraid that she was visibly trembling. I liked that. Author's Note: Jim and Jeannie's tale continues in "Victims, Ch 2. Remorseful Wife: Cheating wife is humiliated," and concludes in "Victims, Ch 3. The Unforgiving: Wife & cuckold seek revenge." Victims Ch. 02 Author's Note: This story is a continuation of "Victims, Ch. 1. Gullible Husband: A cuckold learns the truth," and concludes in "Victims, Ch 3. The Unforgiving: Wife & cuckold seek revenge." It was not written as a stand-alone story. PURIFICATION BY FIRE Jeannie must have taken her purse into the bedroom because she was clutching it against her breasts. I pushed her into the hall and grabbed her elbow so firmly she cried out. Her face was white and she was shaking so hard she almost couldn't walk. I dragged her down the hall toward the flickering glow of the flames in the fireplace. I carried the ripped clothing in a bundle in my other hand. Several partially-dressed couples moved quickly out of our way when they saw my face. When we reached the fireplace, I stopped. "Just stand right there, you cheap, lying, adulterous slut!" Several people heard me, and Jeannie turned scarlet as they stared at her. I could smell pussy and cum on her from ten feet away, and I'm sure others could as well. Tears continued to stream down her face. I lowered the cooking grate, turned the flames up as high as they would go, opened one of the glass doors, and tossed Jeannie's pantyhose into the fireplace. They twisted on the grill for an instant, then burst into flames. In seconds they were gone. I opened the glass door again and threw in the guy's shirt. It too flashed brightly and disappeared. His glasses were next. They were plastic, and I could smell them burning as they almost exploded before they were quickly gone. I burned everything he had been wearing, including his expensive Italian shoes. As they slowly disappeared into ashes, I watched the remains of his wallet rapidly turning to charcoal. I watched one of his keys melt onto the metal grate until it was a shapeless black mass. His watch took a little longer, but it too finally melted into a charred blob and fell off the grate. I listened to Jeannie's sobs as I stared at the flames for several minutes after everything had been burned. I could smell the sex on her even though I was standing close to the remains of the clothing I'd burned. I was trying to decide what I would do next, and I was starting to lose control. Thoughts of killing both her and her lover pulled appealingly at me. I thought of stripping her naked and offering her to all of the men in the room. She could be another Vivian. I could burn her clothes and let her figure out how to get home naked. The sounds from a couple fucking somewhere behind me interrupted my perverse ideas for humiliating my unfaithful wife. Once again I finally regained a modicum of self-control. I turned back to Jeannie. "It's time to take your sloppy, dripping, fucked cunt back to our happy home, you cheating bitch." Several people thought this was funny, and they laughed. Jeannie sobbed. I took her by the elbow again and walked her quickly through the house. We exited through the front door into the harsh glare of the outdoor lighting. The temperature was noticeably cooler than it had been a couple of hours before. I unlocked the car and got into the driver's seat. I started the engine. "If you want to ever go home again, get in." She was terrified of me, and I waited. She was crying so hard her nose was running, but she finally opened her door and got in. "I want . . . I want to see my babies!" she whined. "Tough shit, you cheating bitch. That's more than you deserve." THE NOT SO HAPPY HOME I drove us home in total, angry silence. When Jeannie tried to say something, I threatened to kill her if she didn't shut up. Her crying tapered off to sniffling about halfway there. She reeked of sex. In such an enclosed space I could hardly endure the stench, so I made her open her window. The outside air blowing over her damp clothes and wet body was cold enough to make her shiver. "Get used to feeling cold. You haven't begun to feel how icy things are going to get. I was ready to share your cunt with every man there before I slit your throat. You're lucky to be alive. Well, maybe not so lucky." She began to cry again, this time really sobbing. Her entire body was shaking. From fear? From the cold? From shame? I really didn't care. I parked in our driveway and turned off the engine. I squeezed my hands around the wheel and listened to the clicking sounds from the engine. I took a couple of deep breaths before I decided what I could manage to endure. Yes, I could let her go into our home without killing her. But it would be difficult, particularly in our bedroom. "Do something with your face. You really look like shit. And wipe that snot off your nose. Then you pay Katie and send her home. She'll see the stains all over your clothes. She'll gag on the fuck-stench than envelops you. She may be young and inexperienced, but she'll understand that you're just a cheap slut." Jeannie had the decency to blush and look embarrassed. "Jim, NO! Don't drag Katie into this! It's unfair! I don't want to have her know that . . . " "Fuck you! Unfair? That's not a word you understand! Katie earned her money, but I'm not paying for your fuck time with your lover. You pay her. And show her what an adulterous bitch you really are!" I left Jeannie sobbing in the car and I went into the house alone. I told Katie that Jeannie would pay her when she came in, and I stomped angrily toward the bedroom. Katie could certainly tell that I was dangerously enraged, but she ran down the hall after me anyway. In a nervous voice she said, "There's some man who's been c-c-calling every few minutes. He keeps a-a-asking for you. He wouldn't give me his n-name." I told her I'd pick up the phone in the bedroom if it rang again. She ran quickly back to the living room, obviously trying to get as far from me as she possibly could. She had been suspicious of my behavior earlier, but now she knew she was in the middle of something terrible. She just didn't know how terrible it really was. I wondered if I did, either. Perhaps ten minutes later I heard the thud of the front door as Katie left. Jeannie came into the bedroom. Her face still looked terrible. We stood facing each other. The look on my face made her start to cry again. I stared at her, wondering how the hell we had reached this point in our lives. I turned on every light in the room. The cum and pussy-juice stains on her clothes were now completely visible. Knowing what caused the acrid stench almost made me gag. "Take off your clothes. I want to see my freshly-fucked, cheating whore-slut of a wife's body. I want . . . " The ringing telephone interrupted the rest of the tirade I planned to deliver. I picked the phone up after the second ring as Jeannie stared open- mouthed at me. A look of fear and shame covered her face. Good. I grunted, "Yeah?" into the mouthpiece. "Jim? Look, man, I'm sorry about your wife! But what the hell did you do with my clothes? And glasses? I'm calling from the bedroom and . . . " "I burned them. Everything. Even your silk boxers. All ashes." There was silence for a moment. "What about my wallet? I had over two grand in it! Did you take it? And my Rolex! And my keys? What . . ." "Gone, asshole. Burned to a crisp. All of it." "Look, Jim! This isn't funny! Jeannie started this! I just went along 'cause she wanted to get laid! Hey, man, you know how it is, right? An eager cunt's an available cunt! So what was I supposed to do when she . . ." "I don't even know your name. But Jeannie's cunt isn't 'available' to you anymore. Ever. Got that?" "Jim, be reasonable! I don't have any clothes and . . ." "I'm hanging up. If you EVER call this number again, I'll find you and kill you! So why don't you call me right back. I'd like that. Then you won't have to worry about being naked. Or anything else. Ever." I slammed the phone down. Jeannie was staring at me. "Was that . . ." I took in a long breath and released it slowly. "Yeah. Him. The guy you cheated with. The buy who gave you that screaming orgasm I could hear from the hall! The guy you rubbed your . . . wet and slimy trench so lovingly against. He called you an 'eager cunt.' So show it to me. Strip!" Jeannie hesitated, then bent down to take off her shoes. She stopped when she saw me taking out my penknife. "Jim, what are you going to . . ." "Shut the fuck up, you cheating tramp!" I said in a loud whisper. "You're never going to wear any of these clothes again. I don't want to see them and be reminded of what I learned about you tonight! And saw! And heard! And smelled!" Jeannie handed me her shoes, and I slashed them with my knife. When I looked up, Jeannie was staring at me with real terror in her eyes. She obviously thought I was going to kill her. That was still a possibility, and I didn't try to make her think differently. I glared at her but she just stared at me and didn't take off the rest of her clothes. I stepped forward, grabbed her blouse, and slashed it from her neck to her waist. I spun her around and jerked the remains of the blouse off her arms. "Jim, that really hurt! You don't have . . ." "I told you to get undressed, you cheating whore! Now DO IT!" Jeannie was shaking and tears were once again rolling down her cheeks. She quickly unfastened her skirt, stepped out of it, and handed it to me. She gasped as I slashed it again and again. I dropped the pieces onto the floor. Jeannie handed me her bra. Her hand was shaking so hard she could barely keep from dropping it. I looked at her as I cut it up. "I see he left suck marks on your neck and tits. I'm glad you had such a good time. How much did he pay you? I hope you got at least a quarter. Hell, at two-bits a trick, I'll bet you can earn enough in a couple of days to pay our mortgage! Maybe I'll put up a sign at work with our home number. 'Eager cunt. Cheap. Suck my tits and fuck me. Listen to me scream.' Do you also charge to suck cocks? Or do you do that for free?" Jeannie's face turned crimson. "Jim, I'm really sorry and ashamed! But this isn't the time or . . ." I stepped forward, still holding my knife. Jeannie quickly pulled her panties down, handed them to me, and raced naked into our bathroom. As the door closed, I looked at her panties. I knew they would be damp, but what I saw hit me like a physical blow. I dropped the knife, then collapsed onto the bed. For the second time that evening I almost threw up. The crotch of Jeannie's panties was wet and stained with her vaginal fluid. That I had expected. But there was also a large streak of cum in the middle. She had fucked that guy and he hadn't even used a condom! I'd seen his wet penis when he'd rolled over, but the absence of a condom simply hadn't registered in my brain. And it was about two weeks since her last period, so Jeannie was in a fertile time of the month. I don't know how long I sat on the bed, staring at the cum in Jeannie's panties. I heard the toilet flush, and a few seconds later I heard the shower as she turned it on. I could feel the intensity of my anger filling me, like a volcano preparing to erupt. Once again I had to struggle to regain control. I got up and put her panties in a plastic bag. I hid the bag with the proof of her infidelity in a drawer of my dresser. I knew I was going to need it. Then I stripped off my clothing and stormed into the bathroom. Jeannie was still in the shower. She cried out and backed away from me when I climbed in with her. I smashed her against the wall with my body. I wanted to strangle her. She saw the look on my face and she knew what I was thinking of doing. "No! No! No! Jim, Please! No! Think about the girls! No!" In spite of what she had done and in spite of my anger, I began to get aroused. Perhaps it was the sight and touch of her wet, naked body that triggered my libido. Perhaps it was something else, something hidden in my psyche, something dark and frightening. In any case we both stared at my penis as it slowly became fully erect against her thigh. She looked at me and realized that my murderous rage had changed to something else. She shook her head. "No, Jim! I can't! Not after . . . " "Down on your hands and knees! I'm going to doggy-fuck you like the cheating bitch you are!" "No, Jim! You know I don't like doing it that way, and I don't want to get my hair wet. We've got to talk! Let me get cleaned up and we . . . " I reached out and grabbed Jeannie by the hair and pulled her head back. She screamed. "Shut up, bitch! You'll wake your children! I really don't give a fuck what you want or don't want!" I thrust her head under the shower head, ending her concerns about getting her hair wet. I held her face under the shower until she choked on the water. Then I forced her down into the bottom of the tub, onto her hands and knees. She coughed and gagged for several seconds until she managed to breathe again. I tried to get between Jeannie's legs, but she clenched her thighs together. "Jim, I'm not ready! You can't just . . ." She gasped in pain as I forced her legs apart with my knees. I pushed my penis against her vaginal opening, and she was still wet enough that I could get the head in, but that was all. She groaned. It clearly wasn't because she was aroused. She really wasn't ready. Not like she had been earlier with that guy. I truly didn't care. I pushed, but I only shoved Jeannie forward without penetrating deeper. When her head banged into the fixtures at the end of the tub, I pushed harder. She cried out again as I forced my penis all the way inside her. I pulled completely out, then pushed myself into her again. I did this over and over. Each time I could feel her uterus being forced aside as I slammed into her cervix. I knew this was really painful for her. She began to whimper and sob, groaning and crying out each time I entered her. Water from the shower was striking her head, plastering her hair to her scalp. I continued to fuck her. Dominating her so completely was incredibly satisfying, and it helped me to build to a climax. Just as she began to produce vaginal lubrication, I ejaculated into her. I pushed myself into her as hard as I could and held my penis inside her as deeply as I could go. Her face was smashed against the shower controls as I sprayed my seed again and again into her cheating cunt. I held her that way until I was completely soft. I pulled out of Jeannie and she collapsed onto the bottom of the tub, ending up lying on her right side. Her eyes were closed and she was sobbing. I could see red marks and a small cut on her forehead where I had forced her against the fixtures. I soaped myself and rinsed off. I spent a lot of time cleaning my penis. Who knows what I could catch from this bitch? I urinated into the tub, letting it run down the length of her body. She lay in it but didn't get up. I climbed out of the tub and turned off the hot water. As the cold water struck her, Jeannie yelped and sat up. She quickly turned off the water and climbed out of the tub. I stared at the suck and bite marks that were vivid all over her breasts. "I know I really hurt you, but was it really necessary to rape me? What makes you think . . . Why did you . . .?" "You cheap, cheating, bitch-slut! You had unprotected sex with that asshole! Now at least there's a chance that I'll be the father if you get pregnant!" Jeannie turned red, then looked down at the floor. She began to cry again. "How about those girls down the hall? Are they mine? Or someone else's?" Jeannie looked up, anger on her face. "How dare you suggest? . . ." I reached out and slapped her breasts with the back of my hand. They immediately turned red and Jeannie gasped in pain. "Because, you cheap whore, you proved tonight that you don't give a damn who makes you pregnant. Damn you! When that asshole told you that you had an audience, you got all excited and started to perform. Just how many guys did you fuck tonight, anyway? Were you going to take on as many as you could, like Vivian? Shit, I saw you dancing with that prick and I thought you were going to do him right there after he pulled your skirt up above your ass." Jeannie stared at me both in anger and shock. "You saw? Yes, I was unfaithful tonight, but only with . . . him! How could you think? . . ." "How? You've got to be kidding! You know, it's ironic. If I had fucked Vivian like she offered, I probably wouldn't have seen you going into that bedroom. Since I haven't been fucking you, and since I didn't know you were getting porked by him, I would never have figured out what was going on unless your belly started swelling up. Hell, maybe it still will." I dried myself off and left Jeannie crying in the bathroom. With her wet hair she looked like a drowned rat. I got into bed, naked as was my custom. I heard Jeannie using her hair dryer for an extremely long time. The adrenalin wore off, and I was suddenly dead tired and slightly nauseous. In spite of the terrible events of the evening, I was almost asleep when I felt her climbing into her side of the bed. The room was completely dark, and I reached out and felt that she was wearing panties and a shirt. "Take them off. Bitches like you don't wear clothes in bed. And from now on whenever I want to fuck you I'm going to. Your eager cunt belongs to me. What you want doesn't matter. If you ever say no, I'll rape you again. If you ever fuck someone else, I'll kill you. And him." Jeannie got up and I heard her removing her clothes. She climbed back into bed without touching me. I heard her crying into her pillow as I fell asleep. How the hell did our marriage get this messed up? Could it be saved? Who gave a shit, anyway? Jeannie obviously didn't, did she? I fell asleep remembering how she had looked when I went into that room and found that guy between her legs as she moaned and rolled back and rubbed her pussy against him and got ready to fuck him again and . . . NEW HOUSEHOLD RULES Light was shining in the window when I woke up. I had an intense headache and my usual morning erection. I shook Jeannie awake. When she opened her eyes, I pointed to my penis. "Suck it. I want to cum in your mouth before I take a piss." Jeannie shook her head. "Jim, this isn't right! You're treating me like . . . like a prostitute! I can't just . . ." "Yes you can. As far as I'm concerned you ARE just a cheap whore, and I want a blowjob. It's what I feel like right now. Maybe later I'll want to fuck you. But get busy and suck me. And swallow, even though you don't like to. I don't want a mess. If it helps, you can pretend you're sucking your lover's cock. I obviously can't read your mind. Hell, I can't figure out anything you've been thinking about lately." Jeannie started to cry. When she didn't move I pushed her head down to my crotch and rubbed the head of my penis against her lips. After a few seconds she began to suck and lick my penis. It took a long time. Neither of us was aroused, and what I really needed to do was urinate. My headache didn't help, either. It also didn't help that her tears were dripping onto my groin. But she finally managed to get me turned on, and I ejaculated a couple of times into her mouth. She swallowed and cleaned me up with her mouth. She was still crying. I almost felt sorry for her, but I quickly suppressed that emotion. In this room she was just a whore. My whore. My eager cunt. Shit! I took a shower while Jeannie lay curled up in bed. She was still whimpering when I came out. "The girls and I expect breakfast. Better clean yourself up. If they see you like this, they'll think you're some hooker I picked up in a bar. Hell, for all I know that's what you've been doing in your spare time." She began to sob, loudly. I left the room. Lizzie, our three-year-old, didn't notice that something was wrong at our later- than-usual Sunday-morning family breakfast. But her six-year-old sister, Jennifer, did. She asked, "What's wrong with Mommy, Daddy?" I explained that Mommy had not slept very well and that this was kind of like a bad dream. Jennifer nodded very wisely, but she didn't look convinced. Victims Ch. 02 About an hour after breakfast the phone rang and Jeannie answered it. I saw her turn pale. She covered the mouthpiece and said, "It's for you, Jim. Better take it in the bedroom." The look on Jeannie's face look told me that the call made her afraid, not upset the way it would have if someone had just given her bad news. "If it's who I think it is, listen in. After all, you got us into this mess." I whispered. She nodded and broke into tears. As soon as I picked up the phone in the bedroom, I heard a sharp click as Jeannie hung up. I cleared my throat, and coughed a couple of times, giving her plenty of time to remove the mouthpiece from the phone and sneak back onto the line without being heard. We had used this trick several times so that one of us could anonymously listen in on a call. "Who's this? And whadyawant?" I said. The caller identified himself as Paul Keener's personal attorney. So that's who Jeannie's lover was! Keener was the real estate agent who had sold us our home right after we were married. The lawyer, in his most intimidating voice, told me that I had caused his client serious personal loss and even more public embarrassment, and unless I agreed to pay him the sum of $20,000 he would file suit. Then he started more lawyer talk, and I cut him off. "If you client's with you, put him on. Otherwise I'm hanging up and you can go fuck yourself." There was a delay of about ten seconds, and then Paul came on the line. "I'm serious about this! My shoes alone cost over $700, and my watch was a custom Rolex and . . . " I cut him off, too. "Do what you have to do, asshole. But listen carefully. As soon as your jerk-off lawyer sues me and this goes public, I'm filing for divorce, naming you as the one I caught fucking her. I saw a wedding ring on your finger. Does your wife know that you've been fucking mine?" He laughed. "You can't prove I ever had sex with her! It'll be my word against yours! If you file for divorce, who will believe her if she testifies against me? I want you to pay up! You cost me a bundle last night, not to mention the trouble I had getting home without my clothes. And keys. I'm pissed, so you better . . ." "How does a pair of her panties with her pussy juice and your cum in them sound to you? Like to explain that in open court? I'll bet your wife and kids will love it! How about when you explain about the sex party you took my wife to last night? Did your wife give you her blessing to fuck mine? Was she even there?" There was silence on the other end of the phone. I could hear a muffled conversation in the background as Paul talked to his attorney. "Yo! Paul, you asshole! You there?" "What?" He replied as I finally regained his attention. "It's up to you, Paul. Please take me to court. I'll sue you, too. I'll bet a jury will give me a medal for what I did to you last night. And it'll certainly help your business when the news jackals get hold of it. It's such a great story. You took a client's wife to a sex party and fucked her!" I listened to several seconds of silence. I lowered my voice to a loud whisper. "I told you last night what I'd do if I ever saw you near Jeannie again. Believe it!" I hung up. He didn't call back. A very pale-faced Jeannie came into the bedroom a few seconds later. "Are you going to divorce me, Jim?" She asked in a quiet voice. "Probably. And if we can't work this out pretty fucking fast, absolutely. What I didn't mention to that prick Paul was that he'll end up in court, anyway, when I file. I'll ask for custody of the girls. I've certainly got enough evidence on you that you won't get them. I really don't have a wife, do I? I'm just providing a home for another man's fucking slut. That's not a marriage. And that means you're not fit to be their mother." Jeannie lowered her head and began to cry. She half-raised her arms and turned toward me. She obviously wanted me to hold her. Instead I brushed past and left her standing there. I went to play with my children. I hoped they really were mine. At that point I wasn't sure about much of anything. That night after the girls were in bed, I made Jeannie lie naked and spread- eagled on our bed. "How's your fucking twat?" Her face flushed. "That's such a crude way to say it, Jim! I'm sore, but I don't seem to have any injury or infection. Why? Are you going to . . . rape me again?" "Yeah, if I feel like it. Maybe in your ass. Just like with a cheap whore," I muttered. Jeannie turned her face away from me. I had already decided I wasn't going to fuck her except in her mouth, but I didn't care what she thought. "We're going to bed, so clean up and let's get to it. Remember, stay naked. At the very least you're going to suck my cock every night and morning from now on until we figure out what we're going to do. I may even stop by during the day for more." I saw a flash of anger on Jeannie's face. "Why don't you just . . . fuck me? That way I might enjoy sex, too! Do you hate me that much?" I glared at her. "Until we know whether or not you're pregnant, I'm not screwing you again. I might screw Vivian, since she's obviously available, but certainly not you. The paternity of your baby could be a big issue in our divorce." I had no intention of having sex with Vivian, but I could see that my words hurt Jeannie, deeply. Well, that was the idea. "And I'm not going to put my cock in your open-for-business, easy-access cunt until I see a note, signed by your doctor, that you didn't catch anything from your fuck- mate. Or mates. How many were there, anyway?" "Two. Just Paul and . . . a guy he . . . he gave me to last week." She answered quietly. Oddly enough, I believed her. But why had Paul shared her? I still didn't understand what was really going on. Monday morning I set the alarm a half-hour earlier than usual, and I made Jeannie give me another blowjob. She seemed resigned to doing this, and she had always done it exceptionally well. I decided to stop by at lunchtime and have her do it again. Jennifer was in school, and Monday was Lizzie's day to play at a neighbor's home. Jeannie and another mother took turns with their two young daughters, giving each of the mothers some time alone. I made this a regular practice. Each day when Jeannie was home alone, I would stop by for a blowjob. Jeannie was sucking my cock at a rate of sixteen or seventeen times a week. A little more than a week later she had a note from her doctor saying she didn't have any sexually transmitted diseases. We were both relieved, but I didn't want to fuck her until I could really degrade her. A week after that her period came, right on schedule. We had been extremely lucky. We had never had sex during her periods before, but I told her she didn't have a choice. We did it in the tub, doggy-style, since Jeannie didn't like that position. She had always been exceptional sensitive during her periods, and as I rubbed her period- swollen breasts, I felt her vagina begin to spasm around my penis. She had a short orgasm, the first we'd had together in more than six months. I continued fucking Jeannie, and I found an angle that caused her the most arousal, and she had another, much more intense orgasm, accompanied by loud screams as I ejaculated into her. The blood and stuff made a real mess, and it smelled terrible. But at least it was easy for her to clean up in the tub. I forced her to lie in it while I stood over her and cleaned myself off. She was still lying in the bottom of the tub and crying when I left the room. I had fucked her, she had climaxed a couple of times, and I had managed to turn it into a completely degrading experience for her. What could be better? As soon as Jeannie's period was done, I ordered her to wear loose skirts with no panties during the days when Lizzy was at the neighbors. I would come home at lunchtime, lift Jeannie's skirt, and fuck her from behind in whatever room I happened to find her. She complained that she found it to be degrading, particularly since I didn't do any foreplay and I made her grease my erection with lubricating lotion before I shoved myself into her. I told her I meant it to be. But at least we had resumed some semblance of marital relations. She had always been extremely easy to arouse, and in spite of my rough treatment and in spite of having me fuck her from behind, she sometimes climaxed. Previously I had always held back so that she could climax first. Now I didn't bother. Getting herself off was her problem, not mine. Immediately after sex I lost some of the anger I felt, and I remembered the feelings we shared when we'd made love before our argument. We found we could talk for a few minutes as I lay on top of her with my penis slowly softening inside her. Right after one of our midday doggy-fucks, I asked Jeannie why she had started an affair with Paul. She claimed that Paul had blackmailed her with some pictures he had of her. She collapsed into tears after telling me just that much, so I let it go. But how had he gotten pictures that were so bad that he could control her? Did she have a secret past or something? TESTOSTERONE BATTLES WITH PAUL Not knowing what was in the pictures began to bug me until my curiosity became an obsession. About a week later I had a break at midmorning, and I was feeling macho. I told the secretaries that I had personal business to do, and that I was taking the rest of the day off. Then I walked about four blocks to Keener Reality. I brushed past the young, blonde, buxom receptionist and headed back to Paul's private office. He was alone, so I walked in and firmly closed the door. I tried to slam it, but there was some kind of closing mechanism on it, and I couldn't. Childish, but that's how I felt. Paul stayed seated behind his desk and reached for the phone. "I'm calling the police if you don't get out of here! You threatened to kill me. I can have you arrested. So get the fuck out of my office! NOW!" "Go ahead. Call them. Let's talk about you and my wife. Fucking." I said. "For God's sake, keep your damned voice down!" Paul replied, his hand still on the phone. He glanced guiltily toward the front, and I knew he was probably also having an affair with the receptionist. "Call the cops! When they get here, I'll tell them I caught you fucking my wife! Call them, shithead!" I said louder. Paul lifted his hand off the phone and glared at me. It was a cheap victory, but it still felt good. "Are you looking for a fight? Just because I fucked your stupid wife and she enjoyed it? More than she ever did with you? What the hell to you want, anyway?" I swallowed hard. The fact that Jeannie had actually had great sex with this prick really hurt. I had heard her screams when Paul had fucked her, but somehow I had managed to suppress that memory most of the time. Score one for Paul. "I want the pictures." I finally said. First Paul tried to keep his face expressionless, then he tried to act surprised. It didn't fool me. "What pictures?" He asked, innocently. "The ones you used to blackmail Jeannie," I replied calmly. "If you don't give them to me right now - and all of them, including any duplicates and the negatives - I'm going to get Jeannie to file a criminal complaint against you. Them I'm going to file for divorce. Your whole fucking life will come undone. Just like mine has. Thanks to you." Paul squirmed in his chair. "They aren't here," he finally said. "Do you really think I'd be dumb enough to keep something like that in the office?" "Then get up and let's go get them. Right now. Otherwise I'm taking Jeannie to the cops." Paul clenched and unclenched his jaw several times as he considered the options. He finally stood up. "I'll go get them. You wait here." "If you're leaving, I'm going with you, shithead! If you get out of my sight before I have the pictures, I'm going straight to the cops. And to a divorce attorney." Paul glared at me again. His nostrils flared and I wondered if I could take him in a fair fight. It didn't matter. If it came to that, I didn't plan to fight fair. I glared back at him, hoping he would take a swing at me. He finally lowered his eyes. Another little victory for me. He got up and I followed him out the front door of his business. I felt better than I had for several days. I should have known better. We got into Paul's car. We were both extremely tense. On the one hand I wanted to get the pictures so that I could find out what Jeannie had done to get herself blackmailed. On the other hand I didn't know if I really wanted to find out what they would reveal about her. This conflict made it hard for me to concentrate on things around me, but somehow I managed to keep track of where we were. Fortunately he didn't say anything to me. I would have had trouble expressing logical thoughts. Everything I was doing came from my gut, not my head. Paul drove for about ten minutes and parked in front of an apartment building. I noted the address. He opened the outside door with a key. There was a security desk in the lobby, but there was nobody sitting behind it. There was a sign saying something about the hours the desk was manned, but I didn't pay attention to it. We rode to the eighth floor in the elevator, and he stopped in front of #802. "You wait here. I'll go in and get the pictures." Paul unlocked the apartment door, and I pushed in behind him as he tried to close the door. When he protested, I again told him that I wasn't letting him out of my sight until I had the pictures. He moved quickly across the room, opened a drawer in a small cabinet, and pulled out a handgun. He pointed it at my chest. "I've had enough of your giving me orders!" He muttered. "Go wait in the hall!" "Go ahead. Shoot me. You completely fucked up my life. If you kill me, it'll fuck up yours. Go ahead. People know I'm with you. Jeannie knows this address. Your whole blackmail scheme will bust wide open. So shoot me if you're going to! My life is over anyway. Is yours?" I was strangely calm. I meant every word, and he probably knew it. I stared at Paul until he lowered his eyes. "Her cunt's not worth all this," he muttered under his breath as he replaced the gun in the drawer. I was relieved that his only interest in Jeannie was sex. He led me down a short hall to a tiny bedroom. There was a waist-high safe on the floor in a corner. Paul stood in front of it so that I couldn't see the combination, and he quickly unlocked it and opened the door. Inside was a pile of manilla envelopes, probably about three dozen in all. He poked around, then pulled one out and handed it to me. The number three was circled at the top. Also on it was written in five lines, "Jeannie Great body Eager fuck Screamer OK to party?" I incorrectly thought the last comment, which was in a different color of ink, meant he'd decided that she had been ready for the sex party where I'd seen him fucking her. He quickly closed and locked the safe as I opened the envelope with my wife's name on it. The large envelope was filled with smaller letter-sized envelopes, each of which contained a set of several incredibly graphic photos. I glanced through pictures in several sets to get an idea of what they were. They were typical porn poses and several of them showed Paul fucking Jeannie. I had to fight the almost overwhelming urge to kill him. My hands were shaking as I slipped everything back into the big envelope. All of the photos were Polaroids. Unless he'd scanned them, I didn't have to worry about copies or seeing them on the internet. I closed the envelope and took several deep breaths to calm myself. I knew that Jeannie and I could never have a life together if I killed Paul, but I could taste bile in my throat. The urge to throw up had returned, as had the urge to choke the life out of Paul. I finally regained control of myself. I seemed to be having to do that a lot lately. Paul wanted me to get out of the apartment, but I poked around, anyway. From the look on his face, I was certain he knew what I was thinking about doing to him. He clearly wished he'd kept the gun in his hand, but he didn't want to leave me alone so that he could go get it. In one room I found a bed with several Polaroid cameras set up around it. They had cables attached for remote operation. In the largest bedroom, I found an unmade bed. I sniffed the sheets, and they smelled of recent sex. Obviously Paul had other sex partners. Jeannie and I had been damned lucky. We all could have gotten any number of venereal diseases, passed back and forth through Paul. The final room had a vinyl floor and had probably once been a kitchenette. At first I couldn't figure out the purpose for the waist-high machine bolted to the floor in the middle of the room. Then I saw the dildos and I knew. "I thought you could get it up, Paul. What's the fuck-machine for?" Paul smirked at me. "Ask Jeannie. This thing could get her off better than any man ever could. Even better than with me. She had so many orgasms on it that she pissed and crapped herself." He pointed to faint stains on the seat and on the floor. The way Paul said this had the ring of truth. But I almost hit him when he smirked and added, "Maybe you should buy one for your bedroom. That way she might stay home and not go out looking for guys like me who can give her better sex than you can." Another solid score for Paul. Paul drove me back to his real estate office. Before I got out of the car, I threatened him again. "If I find out you kept any pictures of Jeannie - or if I ever see you near Jeannie again - I'll castrate you and cut off your dork. And I'll use a dull knife. Then I'll let you bleed to death. Got anything to say?" "Yeah. She liked fucking me. A lot. Too bad you can't give her what she needs. She'll never stay home. Not now. Not after getting fucked out of her mind by me. She'll leave you when she can't get what she needs from you. You're just not enough man for a woman like her." I walked away, carrying the envelope with me. I'd gotten the pictures from Paul, but his parting shot almost made me feel as if he'd won. Perhaps he had. Was Paul right about Jeannie? Did I really want to stay married to her? Would she stay with me? Was she worth the risk? Well, maybe the pictures would give me some answers. MORE UNBEARABLE TRUTHS - AND CONSEQUENCES I took the envelope directly home. I sat Jeannie down at the kitchen table. "I got the pictures from Paul. At his love-nest, I want you to tell me if I have all of them." She slowly shook her head back and forth and I could see fear on her face. Tough shit. I showed Jeannie what Paul had written on the envelope, and she blushed, then began to tremble. "I don't want to see them again!" She whispered. "I don't think I can handle . . . " I interrupted her. "Jeannie, if we're going to come out of this with a marriage, we have to face everything. You've got to tell me if I have them all!" "Jim, there are pictures of things . . . things that I don't want you to know about! Please, let's just burn them and go on with our life together!" I stared at Jeannie until she looked away. "You know I've already seen some of the pictures. Of you fucking Paul." I could tell that this wasn't what was worrying Jeannie. "I caught you in bed with cum dripping out of your pussy after you fucked Paul. Will I really see something worse than that?" She began to cry as she nodded. What could be worse? My stomach churned. "Well, let's get to it. I want to you to look at every picture with me. And you're going to tell me everything. Complete truth. If you hold anything back . . . anything at all . . . I'm filing for divorce and taking the girls. Understood?" Jeannie nodded, and I spread out everything on our kitchen table. The inner envelopes were dated, and I put them into order. I opened the earliest one. I examined each photo, then handed it to Jeannie. She handed each one back to me after she took a quick look. Victims Ch. 02 They were classic porn shots, beginning with a naked Jeannie sprawled on a bed with her legs spread wide apart. There were close-ups of her pussy with her pubic hair brushed aside so that her labia were visible. There was a series showing a penis, presumably Paul's, going progressively deeper into her vagina. Another showed the same penis moving ever deeper into her ass. Several showed Jeannie's face with Paul's penis in her mouth. The final picture was a close-up of her open pussy with cum dripping out of it. In every photo her eyes were closed and there was no expression on her face. She looked unconscious, and she was certainly not aroused. Jeannie began to tremble. "Paul only showed me five of the pictures. I had no idea he had so many. I didn't even know he'd . . . put his penis inside my behind that day! I was sore and didn't know why. Oh God!" She clung to me as sobs shook her body. It was the most true intimacy we'd shared in several months. I asked her why she'd said "that day" about the anal sex, and she admitted that he'd made her do it again after that. Not only had Paul fucked my wife, but he had taken her anal virginity! I felt less and less like a husband - and less and less like a man. Jeannie said the pictures Paul had shown here were indeed in the collection we'd just seen. She pointed them out. "Okay. How the hell did he get these pictures in the first place? Why did you start you fucking him?" Jeannie explained how Paul had managed to blackmail her. When she was finished telling me everything, it was all I could do to keep from heading back over to his office and killing him. Paul was a predator. Several months after Jeannie and I had started our silly feud, Paul had talked to her while she was shopping for groceries. "He asked me to meet him for coffee, and I did. It was nice to talk to a man again. "Paul could sense what was wrong, and I admitted that we were having troubles. He was sympathetic, and he told me that he was experiencing the same thing with his wife. He suggested that we go to an apartment that was nearby so that nobody would overhear us talking about the personal details of our lives." "Jeannie, that was just, plain stupid!" Jeannie lowered her eyes. "I know. But I . . . I really felt so much better because I was talking to him. You and I, well we weren't talking at all. "We talked about our marriage problems, and I started to feel better. Paul was the perfect host. Understanding, sympathetic, and supportive. When he offered me a drink of juice, I took it. Almost immediately I felt dizzy, and then I blacked out. I woke up with a terrible headache. Paul was . . . having sex with me. I tried to push him off, but I was still groggy and . . . and he finally finished. Then he took that picture of . . . of my crotch. He told me that the drug would wear off and the headache would go away. "He showed me five of those pictures, and then he hid them somewhere. He told me that he would show them to all my friends and . . . and to you . . . unless I agreed to . . . keep coming back to . . . to fuck him. I didn't want you to find out, so I did. Every two weeks. At the apartment. And he always took more pictures. Ones that were worse than the first ones. I couldn't get free. "There's something terrible that I know you're going to be able to tell from seeing the pictures. He said that my body belonged to him. Not to me or to you." "God, Jeannie! That's the way I've been treating you since the party!" I said. "Just a body! Not even a person!" I felt both a terrible rage and incredible guilt. Jeannie took a couple of deep breaths before continuing. "Jim, it's much worse. He never wore a condom." The thought of Paul ejaculating into Jeannie's womb was beyond pain. Jeannie sobbed against me as I gathered my thoughts. "You must have been having sex with Paul during your most fertile times for several months. I'm just glad he didn't get you pregnant." Jeannie looked me directly in the face. "Jim, he did get me pregnant and I got an abortion. But how could I tell you? We weren't having sex. What could I have said? I killed one of my own babies because of him! Otherwise you would have known I was having an affair!" I held Jeannie for several minutes while she cried. She opposed abortion, but she had felt she had no choice. She had violated yet another of her moral beliefs. I couldn't believe how much damage Paul had done to her - and to us. We still hadn't looked at most of the pictures in the manilla envelope, so things were going to get worse. We both knew it, she more than I. After a few minutes we were both reasonably composed, and I picked up the second set of pictures. Jeannie begged me to wait to look at that set, so I reluctantly agreed. I set them aside, and picked up the third set. We looked at the next several sets, each taken two weeks apart. Jeannie was not drugged and obviously very much awake in every shot. Several showed closeups of her pussy with Paul's shiny penis at various depths inside her. Three showed her licking his penis, a happy smile on her face. One showed Paul's penis in the foreground with her cheeks and tongue covered with cum. Four showed her on hands and knees being fucked doggy-style. Half-a-dozen showed her with his penis in her anus. Several showed her screaming, presumably in climax. One shot was a view between her legs showing her face and breasts, with cum dripping out of her gaping pussy. She had an incredible smile on her face. I couldn't really tell how large his penis was, but it was at least as big as mine. I couldn't help thinking about that as I looked at the pictures. Call me insecure. You're right. One thing was odd. There appeared to be something black wrapped around the base of his penis in some of the pictures. Jeannie was sobbing so hard she was shaking, and I didn't think she should look at any more of the pictures for a few minutes. I had other issues of my own anyway, so I asked her about the party. She said that Paul had given her several drinks while they danced, and that she had gotten really dizzy. She didn't remember either the dancing or going into the bedroom. She remembered having sex, but she was used to having sex with Paul. She was confused and thought they were at the apartment. Paul had used her so many times that he knew exactly how to get her to climax. Afterwards she had still felt really dizzy from all the alcohol. Then I had burst in and her world had collapsed. My ego really couldn't handle the fact that Paul could get Jeannie to climax while he fucked her. "Jeannie, I don't understand how . . . how you could let him . . . God! How you could let him bring you to orgasms! I HEARD your screams, and it was the same as when . . . when we make love." I didn't mention that I'd never heard her scream so many times. That really hurt, and I simply couldn't share that pain with her, even though I was demanding that she share everything with me. Paul's sexual prowess further diminished me as a man and husband. Jeanie started to cry. "Jim, I did resist him. The second week when he blackmailed me into coming back and having sex with him, I just lay there while he . . . he fucked me. He took more pictures. He didn't know how to get me to lose control, and I managed to keep from letting go. He finally finished and left me alone, and I lay there and felt his . . . his semen dripping out of me. I felt so dirty, but I still had part of my dignity intact. I thought . . . I hoped that he wouldn't have sex with me any more if I didn't respond. And then it would be over. And you would never find out." Jeannie paused to gather her thoughts, and I wondered how bad the rest of the story was going to be. "I thought I could go home, but . . . he took me into another room and made me sit on some kind of saddle. There were two . . . greasy dildos sticking up. He made me sit with one in my vagina, and the other one went into my . . . my anus. He strapped my ankles under the saddle so I couldn't get off. Then he put some kind of a ball-thing in my mouth so I couldn't make much noise." Tears were streaming down her cheeks. "Jim, I was really afraid! There were rings on the wall. He tied my arms to them so that they were pulled away from my body. Then he put some kind of cup-things on my breasts. They had wires that he plugged in on the saddle. He even blindfolded me. I was completely helpless. I screamed for him to let me loose and I'd do anything he wanted, but he couldn't understand what I was saying with that ball in my mouth. "Then the saddle started vibrating. The dildos went in and out of me, and they twisted, and they vibrated. There was something rubbing against my clitoris. The cups on my breasts sent electric shocks through my nipples and they sucked and relaxed my breasts over and over. Everything kept changing. I never knew what was coming next. I almost fainted from the pain. I know I screamed. "But my body . . . betrayed me. I couldn't resist all of the stimulation, and I felt myself starting to climax. I thought it would end after that, but it didn't. It just went on and on. It felt like every muscle in my body was pulsing when I . . . I came. Paul said he kept me fastened to the machines for more than three hours. He didn't release me until I was so weak I just hung there without responding. By that time all I felt was pain again, but I couldn't even groan. "I remember hearing Paul laugh when I lost control of my bladder a couple of times when I couldn't control the intensity of my . . . my responses. When he finally pulled me off the saddle, I couldn't keep from . . . emptying my bowels. I just lay on the floor in my mess. I couldn't even get up to crawl. "An hour or so later Paul woke me and made me sit in the shower so that he could clean me up. He had completely destroyed the core of me . . . my sense of who I was. My dignity. My vagina and anus didn't completely close until the next day. I was so afraid you would see me like that and . . . " I held Jeannie as she cried. "I could barely stand, but he made me clean the mess I'd made in the room. And the machine, too. The entire time he gloated about how he had watched as my body had climax after climax, almost without stopping. Even though my jaw hurt because of the ball he'd put in my mouth, he made me give him a blowjob. Then he really threatened me. "He told me the next time he . . . he fucked me that I was going to show him what I liked so he could get me to have orgasms. If I refused, he would put me back on the machine and leave me there twice as long. I had two weeks to think about it. I didn't want you to ever see any of those . . . those pictures, so I went back two weeks later. "Jim, I couldn't endure that machine again! I HAD to show him how to pleasure me. The things you do. Jim, I'm so sorry, but I didn't think I could survive another time on that machine!" I got up and paced back and forth. I'd been playing a silly sex game with Jeannie, trying to get her to beg me to fuck her. In the meantime Paul had been spraying his jism into her twice a month. He even got her pregnant. But he was also giving her the kind of sex she liked! With orgasms! And I was deliberately trying to avoid being suspicious so that I wouldn't have to deal with the knowledge that another man had his prick in my wife! I kept pacing until I began to calm down. "I've got to see for myself what happened that second week, Jeannie. Let's look at those pictures." The first few pictures were like the first set, only Jeannie had her eyes open. Paul was fucking her, but the look on her face was disgust and fear, not passion. Then I got to the first picture of her on the fucking machine. She was difficult to recognize. Her wrists were tied to rings on the wall so that her arms were held straight out from her body. Her fists were clenched. Her eyes were wide open in her terror. In the next one, Jeannie was clenching her eyes tight, either in pain or excitement. One picture showed a closeup of liquid spreading out over the saddle, and I assumed it was urine after she had such an incredible orgasm she lost control. Paul had told me that the machine had really gotten her off, hadn't he? And hadn't she confirmed it? In a later picture, Jeannie was still on the machine, but head was drooping on her chest and her body was only upright because she was hanging by her arms. In the final picture in this set, she was untied and lying on the floor in a pool of liquid, presumably her own urine, with the fucking machine visible behind her. Diarrhea had smeared her thighs and was running under her. She was completely limp. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was hanging slackly open. Her cheek was in her own pool of urine but she was just lying there. It was exactly as she had described it a few minutes earlier. I looked back through the sets from the weeks following her session on the fucking machine. I could clearly see that Jeannie was actively participating as Paul fucked her, and it was plain that she was having orgasms. Lots of them. I no longer felt like her husband, but I knew she needed me to be exactly that. So I held her as she cried. I couldn't put the thought of Paul's giving her great sex out of my mind. That bothered me more than his getting her pregnant, since pregnancies could be terminated. How could she ever forget her sex with Paul? "Jeannie, there is one last set of pictures. From the week before the party. What am I going to see?" "I'm so sorry!" She whispered. "There was when I . . . I had sex with the other man. And Paul took pictures." I felt heat, and I snapped. She hadn't just fucked a stranger, but she'd had an audience! That reminded me of what Paul had said when I caught them, and those memories flooded my brain. I jumped to my feet. So much adrenalin was racing through me that I was shaking. I had to leave the room to keep from hurting her. I suddenly felt like killing her. And Paul. And anybody else who got in my way. "Murderous rage" does not begin to describe what I felt. Jeannie had told me that there had been another man, but I'd been so fixated on Paul that I'd almost forgotten about it, well, completely repressed it to be accurate. I'd seen Paul in bed with her, and I'd seen photos of him fucking her, and I'd barely managed to keep from doing something terrible. I didn't know how I could deal with seeing what was probably going to be worse than anything I'd yet seen. She fucked somebody while somebody else watched and took pictures! I threw up in the powder room toilet, and that finally calmed me down. Perhaps fifteen minutes later I returned to the kitchen. Jeannie and the envelopes were exactly as I had left them. "Okay. Tell me." Jeannie sat at the table and I leaned on the stove, facing away from her. "The last time I went to the apartment - the week before the party when you were out of town - there was a tall man there with Paul. He called him Jack. They said I was going to . . . to fuck Jack while Paul . . . watched and took pictures. He seemed to be some sort of, you know, like his boss or partner or something. He didn't really order Paul around, but Paul was . . . sort of eager to do exactly what he wanted. He said something about Paul making a mistake by keeping me for himself. And he said he'd hurt me if I didn't . . . do the things he told me to do. "His . . . His penis was so big he hurt me anyway. It took a long to time to get used to it. He made me . . . use my mouth to clean him . . . after . . . afterwards. And then the two of them . . . did something . . . I can't tell you! Afterwards I was so ashamed I nearly threw up and I didn't hear everything clearly. But I heard Paul say something to Jack about sending me out of town, and Jack said . . . not . . . not until he broke me in." Now I had an better idea of what was going on. I suspected Jeannie had been on the verge of being forced into prostitution. I wondered how they thought they could do that without me finding out. I felt a sudden chill as I realized that I was expendable. They could have used our girls to maintain their control over Jeannie if they got rid of me. And with me out of the way, Jeannie would become more available as a whore. I didn't share these dark thoughts with her. Instead I reached for the last set of pictures. The first one showed Jeannie on her back with Jack's penis poised to fuck her. I'd never seen one so large. No wonder it had hurt! The next picture showed the penis halfway in. She was screaming. Then there were several as she was fucked by Jack. Near the end in this set was one that showed Jeannie's entire body as viewed from between her legs. Her pussy was still open, and a huge pond of cum had dripped out of her. Her eyes were closed, her mouth was open, and she looked as if she had enjoyed the best orgasm of her life. That one cut deeply into my sense of my masculinity, but the one just before it had been worse. Jack had pulled out of her, and she had arched her back and thrust her hips off the bed so that she could push his big penis completely inside her. Obviously she liked the feeling of having his huge organ all the way inside her body. In all the years she and I had been having sex, I'd never known her to do that with me. She'd never been so desperate to keep my penis inside her. There were several pictures of Jeannie cleaning Jack's penis with her mouth. She hadn't mentioned that she had enjoyed doing it, as the pictures clearly showed. In each succeeding one, Jack's erection got harder and Jeannie's smile got larger. "You liked it, didn't you?" I asked as I handed the pictures to her. "Tasting your cunt on his penis. Making it get big again." She nodded and looked away. The last few pictures showed Jeannie's pussy with Jack's large penis in it, and behind her, Paul's penis halfway into her anus. Both of them had fucked her at the same time! The fury on my face showed as I handed it to her. She blushed and looked down at her lap. "I didn't want to tell you about this, Jim. I COULDN'T! Jack took the picture as soon as Paul . . . As soon as he was in . . . inside me, too. Then they both . . . well, they fucked me . . . for a long time until they came." Jeannie started to shake as she cried. I was afraid I knew why. "Did you . . . enjoy it?" "God, Jim! I couldn't help it! Jack had already . . . you know, gotten me to climax with him. Then with Paul in my behind, I couldn't help . . . what happened." I unclenched my teeth and asked in a throaty whisper through my tight throat. "What happened, Jeannie?" Jeannie looked at me with a pleading look on her face. "I completely lost control, Jim! I couldn't stop the . . . my . . . my orgasms. They just went on and on until finally . . . until I felt both of them . . . I felt the . . . the wet rush of heat as they both . . . came inside me." "But before that. With Jack. How . . . how . . . how could you have sex with somebody you didn't even know? A complete stranger?" "I told them I couldn't, Jim. Not with Paul watching! But Jack said if I didn't have several good orgasms, they would know and put me on the machine. Paul knew exactly how my body responds, and I knew I couldn't fool him. At first I couldn't do it with Paul taking pictures and making comments, but then I managed to relax and I . . . I had a lot of orgasms with a complete stranger . . . ejaculating inside me. "I couldn't help it. If I didn't enjoy it, I knew what they would do. So I . . . I gave him a really good fuck. Just like a whore, only I've heard that whores fake their orgasms. I'm sorry, Jim, but I couldn't do that and fool them - so I didn't try." I didn't have to ask if it had been the best sex she'd ever had. The next picture showed a closeup of her crotch with streams of cum leaking from both openings. The last picture showed a closeup of her face, and it was obvious that she had just experienced something truly wonderful. I handed her the last picture. When she handed it back, she looked at the expression on my face, covered her face with her hands, and began to sob again. I went outside and sat on our patio. My marriage was ruined. My masculinity was completely gone. Paul and Jack had taken it. Victims Ch. 02 CUCKOLD'S DEPARTURE In the mood I was in I was afraid I would kill the mother of my children, and they hadn't done anything to deserve that fate. I was afraid to be around Jeannie because I knew I was right on the edge of becoming homicidal - toward Paul, Jeannie, or even myself. There was only one way to deal with this mess. I walked back into the kitchen. Without speaking to Jeannie I picked up all of the little envelopes and put them back in the big one. I took everything with me to the bedroom. I was packing my clothes when Jeannie walked in. When she saw what I was doing, she began to cry, again. I put the handgun and the envelope with the pictures in one of my suitcases. I loaded everything into my car as Jeannie watched me through the front picture window. Then I went back inside. "Call my office. Tell them I'm taking vacation time. I have six weeks accumulated. Tell them it's a family emergency. It is, isn't it?" "Where are you going, Jim? How long will you be away?" "I have no fucking idea. I don't know where. I don't know how long. But I have to get out of here. Now." "How will I pay for groceries, the mortgage, things like that?" I hadn't thought of that. "I'll stop at the bank on the way out of town. They have late hours today. I'll transfer plenty of money from savings to your personal account. Enough for . . . several weeks. Couple of months maybe." I walked outside and Jeannie followed me. "If I need to get in touch with you, how . . . " I stopped next to the car. "You can't. I'm not taking the cell. If I want to talk to you, I'll call." Jeannie looked terrible. "What do I tell the girls about their daddy? How do I explain that . . . that . . . " "Tell them you weren't getting enough sex from me, and you found a couple of other men with bigger penises who could do it better than I could. Tell them I left so that I wouldn't kill you. Is that good enough?" "Jim, that isn't fair! Can't we go back inside and talk about . . . " "Fuck you. By the way, even if I don't call, I may be watching you. I may hire people to follow you. If you fuck Paul, or Jack or anybody, well, I'll find out and kill you. And anybody you fuck. You can buy a bigger dildo and pretend it's Jack's dick. But if you even go out to dinner with a guy, you're both dead. Take good care of the girls." I left her standing there as I climbed in and drove away. I glanced in the rearview mirror when I was a block away and she was still staring after me. Tough shit, Jeannie. I'm not the one who cheated. I'm not the one who got terrific extramarital sex. Author's Note: Jim and Jeannie's tale concludes in "The Victims, Ch 3. The Unforgiving: Wife & cuckold seek revenge." Victims Ch. 03 Chapter 3: The Unforgiving - Wife & cuckold seek revenge. Author's Note: This story is the conclusion of "Victims, Ch. 1. Gullible Husband: A cuckold learns the truth, " and follows immediately after "Victims, Ch 2. Remorseful Wife: Cheating wife is humiliated." It was not written as a stand- alone story. CUCKOLD'S HOMECOMING It took me twenty-three days to figure out what I wanted to do. After driving for most of three days, I bought camping supplies and hiked to a remote campsite. I spent almost all of my time away from other people. I watched a lot of sunrises and sunsets. I sat up at night and watched the stars. I sat in my tent when it rained. Through it all I thought about what I was feeling. It didn't make me feel proud. Although I had limited sexual experience before I met Jeannie, I was still the one in our relationship who was the expert, the one who knew how it was done and how it was not done. I'd had terrible sex and I'd had hot sex. Jeannie had only had sex with me, and that gave me security. I knew I wasn't the world's greatest cocksman, but she had never had any reason to think otherwise. Until now. Knowing that Jeannie had experienced better sex than I had ever given her sliced the center out of my sense of myself as a man. Knowing she had done things that I had never done made me like the sexual rookie in our relationship. My self- confidence couldn't handle it. I was afraid that she'd never be satisfied with my penis again, and when I didn't give her the satisfaction she had learned she could get during sex, she would get it from somebody else. Like Paul. Or like Jack with his huge dick. Once I realized how pathetic this all seemed, I began to laugh at myself. And then I began to heal. I realized how much I missed the love that Jeannie and I had once shared. That love was more than sex, even though sex was a part of it, too. And I loved my daughters, and I really missed them, too. How could I abandon them? How could I go on living without being a father to them? Then I thought about everything that had happened. Even in my state of mind, I could see that Jeannie really hadn't had a choice, particularly once things reached a certain point. If I had been a supportive husband - even after Paul had drugged her - things would never have gone so far. It wasn't entirely her fault. My ego was damaged because she had learned to enjoy what she had been forced to endure. On night twenty-one, I tested myself. I took out the manilla envelope and I removed the sets of pictures. One by one I threw them into my campfire, face down, without looking at them. Finally I threw the plastic bag with Jeannie's cum-stained panties into the fire. There was no physical evidence for me to use in a divorce case. There was nothing to remind me about our nightmare. All I had to do was learn to cope with being Jeannie's husband, even if I wasn't the only man who had rung her bell. Even if I wasn't the best bell-wringer she had known. Even if she knew more about sex than I did. I remembered burning her pantyhose at the party, and I began to cry. I didn't know if she would allow me back into her life and the lives of our daughters. I had been extremely close to killing her several times. Could she forgive me that, even if I knew I could probably forgive her for fucking Jack and Paul? After driving two twenty-hour days, I pulled into my driveway and parked my car next to Jeannie's car. I left everything in the car in case I wouldn't be welcome, and I walked up and rang the bell. Jeannie opened the door and stared at me with her mouth wide open. I was so overwhelmed with emotions that I couldn't speak. "Thank God you came back! I can't imagine how much I've hurt you, Jim. You can do anything you want to me. Even kill me. But please don't hurt our girls! Not any more! They really missed their father. So did I." Jeannie had misread the expression on my face. I grabbed her and I kissed her, the first real affection I had shown her in several months. Her response was immediate and passionate. I went inside with her and we clung to each other. Both of us were crying. "God, Jeannie! I'm so sorry! I don't even know what we were fighting about! Was it my fault? If I hadn't driven you away, this would never have happened!" "I don't remember what we were fighting about either! But if I had been willing to give a little, I would never have talked to Paul. This isn't your fault, Jim, it was mine!" For another half hour we kissed while each of us tried to take the blame for Jeannie's terrible ordeal. We were staring into each other's eyes when we realized that neither of us was entirely to blame, and we stopped talking. Our kisses evolved into erotic touches, and we made loud, frantic, passionate love on the rug in the living room. My climax was so strong it felt like my penis was burning with each shot of cum. Jeannie's entire body jerked and shook as she came. Yes, she screamed, too. A few minutes later we did it again. We rolled around on the rug until it was almost time for Jennifer to come home on the school bus. Jeannie got dressed and walked over to get Lizzie. The girls didn't recognize me at first. Once I shaved the three weeks of stubble from my face, they accepted me back into their lives. That night at dinner Jeannie and I smiled at each other. I couldn't remember the last time that had happened. The girls kept interrupting each other to tell me all the things I'd missed by being away. I was a father again. And a husband. I thought I'd experienced a nightmare, but what Jeannie had endured was far worse. I told her so and we held each other that night. We didn't make love, but we were intimate in every other way possible. It was strange, but for the first time since the party, we knew there was a real chance that we could save our marriage. At least we would try to put this terrible ordeal behind us, even though we knew it would be the most difficult task we'd ever attempted. We both felt it was worth the effort. Two days later I went back to work, much to the relief of my coworkers who had barely managed to keep up without me. Life quickly returned to normal, and Jeannie and I devoted ourselves to rebuilding the love we had once felt for each other. The embers were there, but the fire had been mostly snuffed out. We didn't know if we could do it, but we tried. There were some incredibly difficult problems for us to solve. Jeannie would remember the way I'd humiliated her by turning her into a twice-a-day cocksucker, and she would be unable to get excited enough to climax. I would remember seeing her lying in bed with Paul between her legs, and I would feel my erection fade away. I tried to go down on her, and I found I couldn't. I kept thinking about Jack's huge penis having ejaculated inside her, and I couldn't put my mouth there. Jeannie felt overwhelming guilt because she had enjoyed having sex with Paul and Jack. She also felt guilt about telling me that she had experienced powerful orgasms with both of them. Then there were Jeannie's nightmares as she remembered Paul raping her - and her experience on the machine. Several times she woke me as she screamed. Neither of us could go back to sleep after these episodes, and I would hold her like a little girl as she sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. We talked about getting professional help, but neither of us trusted marriage counselors. So we struggled on, rarely ever achieving satisfactory sex, but sometimes putting our demons to rest long enough to recapture a few moments of our previous love. I kept wondering what would happen to our marriage if Jeannie realized that she needed the sort of stimulation that only a large penis could give her. Would she seek out other men who were better endowed than I was? We couldn't find any way for me to restore my sexual self-esteem. After eight months of this nightmare, I almost couldn't handle any more, and neither could Jeannie. Our sexual failures were so much more frequent than our successes that we were beginning to avoid sex entirely. We had slowed to having sex about once a month. It was not as good as masturbation for either of us. We were talking about how to divide our property if we got divorced. Then an article appeared on the front page of our local paper and we were galvanized to put our efforts into something else. TIME TO TAKE ACTION The headline announced: "Local Realtor Chosen as Man of the Year." The story went on to describe how Paul Keener had been selected by the local Chamber of Commerce for this special honor. The accompanying photograph showed a smiling Paul with his arm around his beaming wife. They had two children from his wife's previous marriage. Paul was described as a "real family men" and a "man who is fair and honest in his dealings with everyone. A selfless man who makes our town a better place to live in." Jeannie saw the article first, and she immediately handed it to me. "Read this piece of fiction!" She demanded. She sat back and waited for me to finish the article. When I looked up, she said, "We've got to destroy this monster! I can't believe how much hate I feel for him! We've got to find a way to show this town what he really is!" We had always heard - and believed - that people seeking revenge always end up destroying important parts of themselves in the process. It came as a complete surprise to both of us that we were once again able to enjoy sex with each other as soon as we decided to avenge ourselves on Paul. Almost certainly we were trading one set of demons for another. Our new demons allowed us to enjoy our most passionate sex since the unforgettable party. Just thinking about getting even was getting us hot! The night Paul was honored we weren't in the mood. We tossed and turned, each of us lost in our individual thoughts and bad memories of him. We plotted and planned. Our terrible anger fueled our excitement, and two weeks after Paul became "Man of the Year," we were ready to begin. While we waited for out day of revenge to arrive, we made love morning and night. TAKING CONTROL OF PAUL I drove several hundred miles to another state and purchased a stun gun. For less than $30 I bought one that was about six inches high, used two standard nine-volt batteries, and delivered 300,000 from it's two electrodes. It was not one of those that shoots tiny darts. This one had to be placed directly against the skin of the person being shocked. I read the directions, inserted the batteries, and finally talked Jeannie into testing it on me. When she touched my biceps with the electrodes, I felt an abrupt jolt. It only hurt for a moment, but I lost control of all of my muscles. I was completely helpless for about fifteen seconds. The electrodes left two little red burn marks on my arm, but otherwise I was completely normal within five minutes. The way I went limp frightened Jeannie so much that she was afraid to test it on me again. Jeannie's parents were happy to keep our girls for a few days, and we completed our preparations. She put the stun gun and our other supplies in a large purse, and we drove both our cars to the neighborhood where Paul had his apartment. Our vengeance was at hand. I sat in a car across the street from the apartment. I was pretending to sleep, and my eyes were just barely above the level of the bottom of the car window. Jeannie had parked her car around the corner. We kept in touch by talking in code using inexpensive walkie-talkies. She saw Paul's car coming. I heard "Arriving," through the tinny speaker of the radio. Paul didn't even glance around. He parked his car at a vacant space about fifty feet from the front door of the apartment building, hopped out of his car, and walked quickly to the front door. I could hear him whistling, obviously in anticipation of getting some tail. He had his key out, and he unlocked the door and went inside. I said, "Inside." into the radio. I saw a light come on in Paul's apartment thirty seconds after Jeannie acknowledged my transmission with "Okay." Now we had to wait for Paul's victim to arrive. Every time a woman approached the building I said the name of a bird into the radio. Each time Jeannie would slip out of her car, move toward the door, and wait for my signal. I had gone through "Robin," "Wren," and "Sparrow" but they had all been false alarms. Each used a key to get in, so they apparently lived in the building. I had a sudden sickening thought. What if Paul gave each of his woman a key? Maybe he was planning to give one to Jeannie but I had broken things up before he could do so? If that was the case, our plans were completely screwed. I fretted about this possibility for another five minutes. Another woman approached the building and I said, "Dove." Into the radio. I saw Jeannie approaching the door. The woman reached up and pushed a button. I had the binoculars against my eyes, and I could easily see that the button was Paul's. I touched the horn and gave a short beep to signal Jeannie. The woman said something into the little speaker/microphone, and she pushed against the door. I got out of my car and crossed the street. Even from twenty feet away I could hear the buzz as Paul released the lock from his apartment. The woman opened the door and moved inside. Jeannie stepped up and stopped it from closing. "My husband's coming. Would you please hold the elevator? Thanks!" I thought her voice sounded suspiciously tense, but the woman did as she was asked. I closed the door and Jeannie and I crossed the lobby and got into the elevator. The "woman" was a child! I held the elevator door so it wouldn't close. The security desk was empty once again, and there was nobody else around. "How old are you, honey?" Jeannie whispered. The girl looked back and forth between Jeannie and me. She was starting to get scared with the two of us standing there. We were tense, too, and I could smell my own sweat. "Wh . . . Whazit to you?" The girl muttered. Then she tried to lunge past me to and get out of the elevator. I grabbed her arm and threw her back inside. Her face was white with fear, and I knew she was about to scream. Jeannie grabbed her arms and whirled her around. "I asked you a question! Tell us how old you are and we'll let you go!" "Ay . . . Eighteen!" The girl whispered. She was probably still in high school! "There's been a screw-up, okay? I'm doing Paul today. You come back in two weeks. Now beat it!" Jeannie was tense, and her voice sounded really strange. But it worked. The girl slipped past me, almost ran across the lobby, and then she was out of the door and gone. Jeannie let out a loud breath. We slipped thin latex gloves onto our hands. I used my handkerchief to wipe everything we had touched. I released the door and Jeannie pushed the button for the eighth floor. The doors closed, and the old elevator rattled its way upward. A muted ding announced its arrival on the correct floor. Jeannie walked over to Paul's apartment, knocked on the door, then turned around so that Paul would only see her from the back. I was worried because her wig was not the same color as the girl's hair had been. I stood flat against the wall about a yard from the door. Paul cracked open the door, then opened it wider. I could see he was barefoot and wearing a thin robe. "Hey, did you do something to your hair? You look different and . . . " I moved past Jeannie and pushed Paul back inside his apartment. I held my gun against his cheek. "What the fuck? Look, you can't get away with . . ." I pulled the gun away from his face as Jeannie came up behind Paul and pressed the Stun gun against the back of his neck. He jerked a couple of times, and when Jeannie pulled the Stun gun away, he collapsed to the floor. He was breathing, but he couldn't control his arms and legs. He struggled to speak, but he only made inarticulate sounds. Jeannie dumped the contents of her purse onto the floor. I grabbed a handful of self-locking plastic ties and watched a roll of duct tape roll halfway across the room. I rolled Paul onto his face and began putting ties on around his wrists. His arms were soon secured behind him. By the time Paul could speak, we had his hands and feet secured with several plastic ties. He struggled to free himself, so we knew the effects of the Stun gun had worn off. I leaned down and looked into his face. I saw his eyes change as he recognized me. Then he looked at Jeannie and shook his head. "I have no idea what you two are trying to pull off, but it isn't going to work. You might as well cut me loose. The longer you keep me tied up, the worse it's going to go for you. I'm not a forgiving person, and I'm already really pissed. You musta chased Cindy off, so I'll have to fuck you, Jeannie. With your asshole husband watching. So cut me loose and let's get to it and stop this circus. I'll show him how you like to be fucked." I kicked Paul in the side of his chest as hard as I could, He groaned and rolled onto his side. With his hands tied behind him, he really couldn't move very well. He recovered quickly. "Well fuck this shit! I'm gonna get loose and when I do I'll fuck you in the ass while she watches and then . . . " Jeannie cut off Paul's threat by jabbing the Stun gun against his chest. She held it longer than she had before. When she pulled it away, he struggled to get air into his lungs. Obviously he couldn't breathe while it was shocking him. I left Jeannie standing over Paul. I wanted to see if his safe was open. It wasn't. We'd expected this, and I returned to the front room to let her know. She was leaning over him, and it was obvious from his gasping breaths that she'd shocked him again. "He called me . . . something vile. So I gave him another hit." I was afraid that Jeannie was getting a little too eager to hit Paul with the Stun gun. I stared down at Paul as he struggled to breathe. He recovered and took a couple of long, deep breaths. "What's the combination to the safe?" I asked. Paul just laughed. "That's my own little pussy gold mine! Ain't no way you're gonna get inside it." This, too, is what we had expected. I had a little speech prepared. "Here's what we're going to do. I'm going to drag you back to the room with the safe in it. If you try to fight, if you try to kick, if you do anything to make problems for me, Jeannie will jolt you with the Stun gun. One way or the other we're going to get you back there. Hard or easy, it's up to you." Paul glared at me and somehow managed to spit on the floor. "Fuck you! You don't have any idea who you're messing with. You're gonna pay for this shit. But go ahead. Drag me around. I don't want any more of that electric crap." It took me longer than I had expected, and I was hot and sweaty when Paul was finally lying on the floor in front of the safe. The only effective way I found to move him was to grab him under his arms and drag him on his side. I could only move him a couple of feet at a time. He made no effort to resist, but he laughed at the trouble I had. Paul laughed again when I asked him for the combination. I loosened the belt of his robe, and I pulled his silk boxers down to his ankles. "Hey! What the fuck? You gay or something?" He tried to kick me, so I hit him as hard as I could in his groin. He groaned and doubled up as best he could. I left Jeannie kneeling over him with the Stun gun, and I went to the closet. There were only a few things hanging up, and I dumped them onto the floor. I removed the five-foot-long piece of wooden closet rod and used duct tape to fasten Paul's ankles near each end of the rod. I had to cut the ties off his ankles to do this, but Jeannie held the stun gun an inch from his balls, and he didn't struggle as I pulled his shorts off and taped him to the closet rod. His legs were wide apart, and his penis and balls were now completely exposed. Victims Ch. 03 This man had fucked my wife. And she'd enjoyed it. Of course I checked out his equipment. His balls were almost twice the size of mine, which wasn't a particularly good omen as far as my ego was concerned. But his flaccid penis was just that. Flaccid. Paul obviously wasn't impressed that I'd tied him down like this. Jeannie and I had thought that doing this might convince him that we were serious. Once again I asked him for the combination and once again he laughed. He didn't believe that we were really prepared to hurt him. Jeannie got down on her knees and stared at Paul's genitals. We wanted him to be erect, and we knew she could stimulate him. She reached out with one gloved hand and began to fondle his balls. Within seconds he was getting hard. "Can't stay away from it, can you Jeannie? Did you tell him how you yelled and squealed again and again as you rode my stiff pole? Did you tell him how it felt when I shot my wad deeper inside you than he had ever gone? Did you . . ." Paul shut up when Jeannie wrapped one of the plastic ties in a triple loop around the root of his penis and balls, right where his genitals came out of his body. She pulled on the strap through the one-way lock until it was firm but not too tight. She stoked his half-erect penis and it began to stiffen even more. "Paul can't stay erect for very long. He has to use a cock ring. This is a bit lower, but it should work the same. And I'll bet it doesn't feel as good," she said. I had been surprised when she'd told me about the Paul's cock ring, even though I'd seen it in several of the pictures. I simply hadn't known what it was. Jeannie's touch rapidly brought Paul's penis to full erection. Jeannie hadn't quite told me the truth. His penis was an inch longer than mine and a little thicker. She slowly tightened the tie. It bit into his skin and he cursed. She released her hold on the tie, and his penis stayed erect. More blood was flowing into his penis than was flowing out, and the skin on his erection was stretched until it was shiny. The head of his penis was dark red, bulging and swollen. Jeannie spat on Paul's face. "You pig! Yes, I had orgasms and I screamed when you fucked me! You tortured me on that machine and I had no choice. But now I'm going to make YOU scream. Unless you tell us the combination to the safe." "Fuck no, you stupid cunt! As good as you are, Jack and I decided it wasn't worth the trouble to keep you as a fuck toy when limp-dick here took your pictures back. Well, now you're goin' into the stable, bitch! I'm going to . . . " What I did next wasn't part of our plan, but Paul's comments had really triggered angry memories about what he'd done to Jeannie. I picked up the stun gun and pressed it against the head of his penis. His face turned white and he arched his back. The stun gun made a faint humming sound and an occasional crackle. None of us was breathing, Paul because he couldn't. I was puzzled by his comment about a stable, but I ignored it as I watched his body tremble. I gave him a long jolt. Paul's eyes were bulging when I finally pulled the Stun gun away from his penis. He moaned, then gradually caught his breath. He looked at Jeannie. "I've got . . . one of those toys . . . too. And . . . I'm going to use it . . . on your husband's prick . . . while I fuck you . . . in front of him." Paul took several long, deep breaths. "Jack and I'll fuck you for two or three days to break you in. And we'll use our new equipment to make a video of you screaming your ass off while we fuck you. Then you can join our stable." Stable? Of prostitutes? That made sense. And this was the first I'd heard about videos. I nodded to Jeannie, and she left the room. I couldn't help looking at Paul's erection. I could see two bright red marks that the stun gun had made. He was still defiant. "Take a good look at it. Jeannie loved having me put it in her. She screamed and screamed and begged for more. She couldn't get enough. She would cum and cum until she passed out. I've never had such a hot fuck before. And when I get loose I'm going to make her beg for it again while you watch. You're never going to satisfy her again. Ever." Paul's comments were digging into my psyche, and they hurt. But I kept thinking about what we planned to do to him, and I managed to smile. I could see the confusion on his face when I did so. Jeannie came back in with a gallon jug of water. When Paul refused to drink it, I pinched his nose shut while Jeannie poured water through his lips. He fought us, and Jeannie had to make two more trips for water, but we finally got him to swallow most of a gallon. There was probably twice that much soaking into his robe and making a puddle on the floor. "What the fuck are you two doing? Water isn't going to hurt me! But I think I'll have to piss on you in a couple of minutes. It'll serve you right." THE DESCENT INTO HELL I looked at Jeannie. "It's time. Did you get the gag from the other room?" Jeannie pulled the ball-gag from behind her back. "Remember this, Paul? You stuffed it into my mouth when you forced me to endure that machine. Well, now it's my turn." Paul kept his jaw clenched tightly closed, so I grabbed his balls and gave them a firm squeeze. Jeannie forced the gag into his mouth when he groaned. She fastened the strap behind his head. Paul was really agitated and he was probably trying to curse, but we couldn't understand anything he said. I lifted Paul's balls and got a firm grip on the end of the plastic tie with one hand. With the other I held the one-way locking fixture. I waited until he was looking at what I as doing. When I had his full attention, I pulled on the plastic tie as hard as I could. As I tightened the tie, it almost disappeared into the skin at the root of his genitals. Paul made a high-pitched squeal through the gag. He gasped for breath through his nose. He jerked and pulled at the ties holding his wrists and ankles. I waited for him to calm down. When he did, Jeannie spat on his chest, then left the room. I timed two minutes with my watch before I spoke. "In case you don't understand what I've done, let me explain it to you. If we leave you like this, you're going to die. Slowly and painfully." Sweat had popped out on Paul's forehead, but he still looked angry and defiant. "The cable tie has cut off the blood to your cock and balls. Do you know what 'necrosis' is? It's what happens to an organ when the blood is cut off. It immediately begins to die. Eventually gangrene sets in. Everything that makes you a man has been dying for just over four minutes. "You can even watch yourself become a eunuch, Paul. You'll see the skin turn blue, then get darker. You'll end up with a black dick. And balls." Paul's eyes now looked worried. He was staring at his bulging penis. Jeannie came back into the room and grinned at him. Her look frightened him more than my words. "Once everything dies, the only way to save your life and keep you from getting gangrene - which would certainly kill you - is to cut everything off. Your dead prick and balls. No more fucking. Ever. "But that's not the only problem you have. The cable tie has clamped down on your penis so hard that you can't piss. Your full bladder will swell up. That will really hurt, but that alone won't kill you. But after several hours your kidneys will shut down when they can't get rid of the urine they produce. Then they'll start to die, too. "We don't really know how long it will take, but probably in a few hours you'll be screaming into that gag from unbelievable pain, knowing that your nuts and prick are completely dead, knowing that you are no longer a man. A few hours later kidney failure will slowly poison your body, and other organs will start to die. I doubt a hospital could save you then. The pain will gradually get worse and worse. And you'll know that nobody could save you. I'll be you go completely insane from the pain before you die." "Jim, it's already working! His penis is getting dark and his scrotum is turning blue!" The look in Paul's eyes was pure horror. I reached down and gave Paul's balls a gentle squeeze. He flinched, but that was all. "That should have made you pass out. But you could barely feel it. Jeanie's right. Your nuts are dying. And your prick, too. Jeannie wants to stay here and watch your face until the moment you finally know that the only sex you'll get is when somebody fucks you in the ass. Whadya think, Jeannie? Another half hour? Hour at the most?" Paul flopped around on the floor but he couldn't get loose. I could hear him moaning through the gag. His penis really was getting darker by the minute. "Here's our one-time deal, Paul. If you agree to tell us everything we want to know, starting with the combination to the safe, I'll cut the tie off. Maybe there has only been a little damage, and maybe you can recover fully. But if you don't take the deal, Jeannie and I will just sit here until we know that you will never fuck anyone again. Then we'll leave you here to die, probably after a couple of days when your kidneys fail." Paul was staring at me in obvious pain. "If you agree to talk, nod your head. Otherwise . . . Well, in a few minutes you won't be a man anymore." Paul stared at me and violently nodded his head. "Good choice, Paul. Now be still. It would be a shame to have me cut off your balls while I was saving them, wouldn't it?" I carefully cut through the tie with a razor knife. The cable tie sprang loose. The sudden pain as blood began flowing again must have been unbelievably bad. Paul made a terrible sound into the gag and passed out. A steady flow of piss dribbled out of his penis. His erection began to go down as blood flow resumed. Jeannie removed the gag from Paul's mouth. In a few seconds he groaned, then blinked his eyes. He opened them and looked down at his flaccid penis. The flow of urine stopped. "God! It really hurts! And everything's still blue, you bastard!" "At least you know the nerves aren't completely dead. You'll probably recover, eventually. But that was only a few minutes. Think about what would happen if we left the tie on for, say, a couple of hours. Bye, bye balls. Bye, bye penis. Then a few really painful hours later, bye, bye Paul." Jeannie laughed. Paul's face was deathly pale. I was really enjoying this. I was even getting erect. "Right now I want the combination. If it doesn't work, we're putting another cable tie back on. So? What is it?" Paul slowly spoke a series of numbers which I wrote down. The combination worked, and I opened the safe. I pulled out a pile of envelopes. It was almost time to get out of this place. COMPLETING THE PLAN FOR VENGEANCE We left Paul in the room with the safe, and we made two trips carrying the bulky envelopes into the front room of the apartment. There were thirty-three with first names and a variety of crude comments written on them. They were numbered from one to thirty-four, with Jeannie's number three missing. There were five other envelopes which were much thicker than the others. We saw what was written on them and decided to save them for last. A small ledger fell out of somewhere, and I put it on top of the five thick envelopes. We looked at pictures in each envelope to see which women we recognized. Jeannie gasped, then handed me the one she was holding from envelope Number 2. It showed Jennifer's first-grade teacher fucking Jack. "She has four kids!" Jeannie whispered. Seeing this woman was an interesting coincidence. I'd never told Jeannie that I'd hallucinated and imagined I'd seen Jennifer's teacher at the orgy. I found the pictures of Cindy, the girl we'd encountered in the lobby. She was number twenty-four. Amid the fuck-shots, there were several up-skirt poses of her wearing a cheerleader's uniform from one of the local high schools. Jeannie found pictures of another girl about the same age as Cindy. She was wearing a similar uniform from another school. "This was hard enough for me!" Jeannie wailed. "But these girls are so YOUNG!" She began to cry. We recognized three other women in the group of thirty-three. One was the wife of a local minister. The other two were the wives of men with whom I did business. Jeannie and I had eaten at both of their homes. We separated the women into two groups. Slightly more than half had first been fucked by Paul, the rest by Jack. I felt a terrible, hot rage well up inside me. "I want to kill him!" I whispered. But the worst was yet to come. Two of the women were shown on the fucking machine, just as Jeannie had been. All but the two women numbered thirty-three and thirty-four had been fucked by both Jack and Paul, and in every case both men had also fucked them at the same time. As the numbers went higher, the number of apartment visits and thus the number of sets of pictures diminished. The envelope for Number 34 contained only one set of pictures. But it also contained something new - a video. This woman was young, perhaps twenty. The pictures were clearly the ones taken while the woman was drugged and unconscious. Perhaps she hadn't been back for her second visit yet. But what was on the video? Jeannie and I found a video player and TV in the front room, and we played the tape. It was dated from the previous day, and we saw that yes, Number 34 had definitely had her second visit to the apartment. The tape was graphic, clear, and it had good sound quality. I remarked that the camera must have been on a tripod, and Jeannie said that she had seen it when she had gotten the jugs of water. Obviously that was the new video equipment that Paul had mentioned earlier. The first scene showed Paul and Number 34 lying naked on the bed. He told her that he was going to fuck her until she screamed with pleasure. She told him that nobody else except her boyfriend had ever had sex with her, and she wasn't going to enjoy sex with an old guy like him. When he tried to rub her breasts, she stopped him and said, "Just do it. Get it over with so I can go home." She screamed in obvious pain when he angrily forced his penis inside her. When he finished she lay on the bed, crying. As her tears flowed, Paul loosened his cock ring and wiped his sticky, flaccid penis on her cheek. He told her to suck it. She just lay on her back and didn't respond. Then the camera abruptly moved. Number 34 looked toward it and screamed. Paul took the camera, and he panned until we could see Jack's big penis almost touching her face. She adamantly refused to give him a blowjob, and she said she wasn't going to allow herself to be filmed having sex with anyone else. Paul put the camera back on the tripod. She sat up on the bed and said she was going to go to home and never come back. "If anybody ever sees those pictures, I'll go to the police! You raped me! Twice!" Jack forced the ball-gag into her mouth. Paul pinned her to the bed and held her arms as she kicked and struggled. Jack spread her legs apart and held her feet against the bed. We watched Jack rape her as she shrieked, again and again, the sound muffled by the gag. Jeannie had to look away. "It was painful for me at first, and I've had two babies! I can't imagine how she could relax enough to not feel terrible pain." When Jack pulled out, her vagina squeezed out a bubbly white mess. They rolled her onto her stomach, and Jack held her down while Paul raped her in the anus. Once again we could hear the shrill squeaks as she screamed, over and over. Then Jack said it was time to train her to be good by punishing her with the power-fuck. The scene suddenly changed, and Paul and Jack were forcing Number 34 onto the fucking machine. Her moans through the gag were pitiful, but they just laughed as they tied her hands to the wall. When the machine first began its motions, she was in obvious pain. But after about ten minutes, her eyes closed and her body shook in a powerful orgasm. She had another every few minutes. I used the fast-forward for a couple of minutes, then started to play the tape again when I saw them untying her. The tape ended with a closeup of her lying in a limp mound on the floor as her own urine made a slowly spreading puddle around her legs. In the background Jack could be heard talking. "Next time she'll fuck us and enjoy it. She lasted four hours on the power-fuck." He laughed. "At least this one didn't crap herself! Shit, she enjoyed it so much I'll bet she'll beg us to put her on it to her again!" Jeannie had told me about her experience on the machine, and I had seen photographs of several women on it. But I was still unprepared for the video. My hands were trembling when I looked at the remaining five envelopes. They were labeled "Mare 1" through "Mare 5." I recalled Paul's threat to put Jeannie in his stable, and my hands were sweating inside my vinyl gloves as I opened the first envelope. It took me several seconds to completely understand what we were looking at. A woman we had seen in earlier pictures was apparently being fucked by a group of men, including Paul and Jack. There were eight other men, and the photos chronicled the woman being used as a sex object by them all, repeatedly. In her mouth, in her cunt, and in her anus. In the final pose she was lying naked on her back, legs wide apart, her entire body clearly covered with cum. Jacks's penis looked gigantic as the woman tried to suck it. Her face had almost no expression. Her eyes just stared into space. The other four "Mare" envelopes contained similar photos of four other women being used by multiple men. In one set the naked men were holding up a banner with Greek letters on it, so they were probably members of a college fraternity who had paid for the "Mare" as their entertainment for the evening. There were pictures of Mare Two with three different groups of men. Mare Five had been given to two groups. The other Mares had each only been in one gang fuck, apparently. The small ledger detailed everything about the operation that Paul and Jack were running, including the names, addresses, and telephone numbers of their Mares. Paul and Jack had "rented" them to various groups of men, charging five-hundred dollars per man for a four-hour party. The smallest group was eight men, and the largest was eleven. He and Jack always participated, too. They were collecting about $12,000 each month from their stable. We unfolded three large mailing envelopes we had brought with us in Jeannie's purse. They were covered with plenty of postage and addressed to the Chamber of Commerce, to the police, and to Paul's wife. We put two or three dozen pictures showing both Paul and Jack fucking different women into each one. We planned to mail them after we set Paul free. We knew we had to protect ourselves for several days until the three envelopes were delivered. Our girls were already with Jeannie's parents, and she was going to leave early in the morning to visit them for a week or so. We hoped that Paul and Jack would attempt to break into our home. I was fully prepared to kill them if they did. I'd even purchased an additional handgun. We assumed we wouldn't have to worry about Paul and Jack once the police, the Chamber, and Paul's wife saw the pictures. This was the weakest part of our plan, and I was worried that we might have underestimated either how angry Paul and Jack would be, or their resources. We didn't even know who Jack was. What would he do once Paul's activities were exposed? Would he come after us? We went back to question Paul. He had regained his defiant attitude. "Fuck you! You aren't going to leave me tied up to die. You don't have the guts! In a couple of days you'll get to watch this cunt begging Jack and me to fuck her. Then we'll do her while you watch. We'll tape it and sell the video to . . . " Victims Ch. 03 Paul shut up when I triple-looped another cable tie around his genitals and started to tighten it. "Not you, Paul. We'll just leave this on for a couple of hours. You'll never fuck anybody again. That will be worse than killing you, won't it?" I pulled it tighter. He groaned, then he readily answered all of our questions. The makeshift cock ring caused his penis to slowly become erect as he talked. Jack was Paul's brother and partner in this blackmail operation. Their wives were sisters, the daughters of a wealthy stockbroker. When their parents had died in a plane crash, the women had become rich. They had received good legal and financial advice, and both had wisely demanded prenuptial agreements from their husbands-to-be. Paul and Jack both wanted more sex than their wives were willing to provide, but they knew if they got caught having affairs their wives would divorce them, leaving the men without any money. Paul and Jack had set up the apartment so that they blackmail women into being sex toys. They chose women who had good bodies and were pretty. They also selected women who were most likely monogamous, both to avoid diseases but also because they were more easily blackmailed. What had worked to trap Jeannie had also worked with most of the others. The two highschool girls were babysitters whom Paul had seduced (I presumed raped) while his wife was out of the house. Paul and Jack had shared all of the women except Jeannie. Jack had been really mad when he'd found out that Paul had kept her for himself. I didn't ask him why he hadn't shared her with Jack. I wasn't sure I could handle the answer to that one. Perhaps I already knew. A couple of months earlier they realized that they could also generate a lot of tax-free money if they "rented" their sex-slaves to other men. Apparently some of their women, particularly the "newer" ones, went into hysterics the first few times they were fucked by both Jack and Paul at the same time. So they began their stable with the women who had been having sex with them the longest. Although they all resisted become true whores, only one woman adamantly refused to be sold. She agreed to continue Paul and Jack, but she wouldn't do more than that. They believed her threat that she would reveal having sex with them before she would allow herself to be gang-fucked. I couldn't imagine the sort of reasoning would enable her to draw the line at that point, given that she had already fucked both of them at the same time. Paul and Jack recently realized that they could make even more money by selling videos of the women in action. Paul had planned to tape Cindy fucking him today. Jack wasn't in the apartment because Cindy had never met him, and they wanted to get a really hot tape. They knew that Cindy would eventually have to fuck both of them at the same time, and a tape of her doing that would be worth a lot of money. Cindy, like Jeannie, was a screamer - as a comment on her envelope attested. They planned to put most of their women into the stable. They were even going to make and sell videos of them being gang-fucked. Paul told me what I had already discovered from reading their journal, namely that they had eight more parties already scheduled for their Mares. That was the fate Paul had planned for Jeannie. We left Paul alone again, and returned to the front room. "I don't think our plan is going to work right," I whispered to Jeannie. "Once Paul is free, he'll get Jack and come after us. They won't quit until the stuff we mail gets delivered. That could be too late. They might even come tonight." Jeannie frowned. "And what are we going to do with all these pictures? We can't destroy them here, and I really don't want to take them with us." "I don't think we can kill him, but we need some way to . . . you know, keep him occupied so that . . . so that we aren't his biggest concern. We've got to keep him tied up until then. But we can't hold him for several days! He's already figured out that I can't kill him - even though he had sex with you. So what do we do now?" "As much as I want to kill him, I can't just leave him to die! But I want him to really suffer for what he made me do with him!" It took us most of an hour to figure out a new plan. Jeannie frightened me by the look on her face as she quickly agreed. She even improved it with several suggestions. I was reminded of stories I'd read saying that captured warriors were more afraid of being turned over to their captors' women than anything else. I'm sure Paul would have agreed with that sentiment if we had explained our new plan to him. FINAL ACT OF VENGEANCE Jeannie and I went back through some of the envelopes. We chose some pictures to be left in plain view on the floor after we left. We selected additional ones for the Chamber and for the police. We also put the ledger and the video into the one for the police. We sealed them carefully, using water from the bathroom rather than our own saliva. We would no longer need the envelope addressed to Paul's wife. We gathered up the huge remaining pile of blackmail photographs and carried them to the bedroom where Paul was. He was visibly surprised when we put everything back inside the safe, then locked it. His penis was erect, thought not as fully as it had been the first time we'd put the cable tie around it. When we were almost ready, I went back to Paul. I used more cable ties and duct tape to secure him to a radiator under the window. Paul glared at me. I heard Jeannie leaving the apartment, so it was time to get things going. I tightened the cable tie just enough so that his penis was so erect it probably hurt. "Here's the deal, Paul. You can't move, and I don't think you'll be able to get loose without help. But we're not going to risk leaving you alone and having you die. So I'm going to call your wife and tell her to come over here to set you free." Paul's face turned pale. "She'll kill me, you bastard! She'll fuckin' kill me!" "Maybe not. You're a salesman, so sell her. I'm going to motivate you to really work hard to convince your wife that she should cut you free. As soon as Jeannie sees her arrive, I'll tighten that cable tie like I did before. As tight as I can. I'll leave the knife on top of the safe. You have to get her to cut you free before - well, before you become a man who is only useful as someone to fuck in a gay bar. You'd be neither man nor woman. Think you can sell her that?" Paul called me several names. I managed to laugh. His proud erection looked red and sore as it stuck straight up. "Better save your voice so you can talk your wife into letting you keep it, Paul. Or maybe you should just tell it goodbye?" I walked out to the front room and made the call. A maid answered, and I couldn't get Paul's wife on the phone for several minutes. Finally she came on the line when I told the maid that it was a matter of life and death. I told Paul's wife that he was in serious trouble, and for her family's sake she wouldn't want the police to find out what he'd been doing. But he needed her immediate help or everything would come out. I wouldn't give her any details. She was hard to convince. She wanted to know who I was and I wouldn't tell her. Twice she said she wasn't going to fall for something like this, so I told her it was about sex. She cursed several times. Paul was going to have a hell of a hard time saving his genitals. But she finally did agree to come to the apartment. I turned on the walkie-talkie and called Jeannie. She answered on hers. We kept them on while we waited. It took longer than I thought it would. Paul had told us the plate number, color, and type of car she would be driving. I was listening to the hiss on the radio when I heard Jeannie's worried voice. We hadn't had time to prepare any new codes. "She's here. But there's someone with her. Another woman." "How long do I have?" "Maybe a minute or so. They had to park down the block, and they're still sitting in the car, talking. I don't think they like the neighborhood. Wait! They're getting out now. Hurry!" I ran back to Paul and told him not to scream. I pulled the cable tie as tight as I could. He groaned and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. "Shit! That hurts even more than before!" As I got to my feet, he opened his eyes and stared at his slowly dying manhood. It wasn't blue yet, but it would be in a few minutes. Saving it was up to him - and to his wife. I ran back to the front room and I only had to wait for a few seconds before I heard the buzz of the intercom. "Yeah?" "I came like you said. I brought my sister, too. Buzz us in. This better not be a trap. We're armed." "Take the elevator. I'll leave the door ajar." I pushed the button to release the downstairs lock. Jack's wife was with her! This was going to work better than we'd planned! I used a photo to keep the door latch from catching. With both sisters here, it was particularly appropriate. It showed several naked men around Paul and Jack as the two of them did a double-penetration on one of their Mares. She was screaming and the guys were all grinning. I avoided the women by walking down the stairs to the first floor. I doubted they would have shot me, but I didn't see any reason they should see me, either. I left the building, crossed the street, and got into my car. I called Jeannie on the radio, then turned it off after she answered. Jeannie and I had left a trail of photographs, showing both men fucking different women, leading back to the room where Jack was tied up. We'd decided to include pictures of Jack because we wanted Paul's wife to realize exactly what Paul had been up to. It hadn't occurred to us that Jack's wife would also arrive at the apartment, but now both women would find out the truth about their husbands. We knew that Paul and Jack would be so busy dealing with their angry wives that they wouldn't have time to come after us. Once the Chamber of Commerce and police received what we'd mailed to them, Paul and Jack would have even more problems. Jeannie and I would be the least of their worries. Now it was up to Paul to talk his wife into saving his manhood. The real wildcard was having Jack's wife, her sister, also in the room. I doubted either woman would be understanding or sympathetic, and we expected them to let Jack suffer. We thought it likely that he would suffer considerable damage before they got him to a hospital. That thought caused my penis to stiffen. I didn't have to figure out why. I wasn't proud of the answer. Jeannie joined me in my car. I left her there while I took the two envelopes to a mailbox about a block away. The envelopes were so thick I had to be careful pushing them through the slot. I went back to my car. We sat together and watched the front door of the apartment building. How long would it take until they came out? "It's been over ten minutes already. If that tie is still on, his dork and balls are already turning blue. I'll bet it really hurts! I wonder how long his wife will wait before she saves him? Think she'll do it before he's permanently damaged?" "Can't you imagine the scene?" Jeannie giggled. "He's tied up and helpless. His organ is sticking straight out and slowly getting darker and darker. His wife is looking at it after just finding that collection of pictures of him using it on all those different women. And he's begging her to cut him loose so that he won't lose it! I wish I could be a fly on the wall in that room!" I laughed, too. "C'mon, Honey! Cut me loose so I can share this big, hard stiff one with you. You KNOW how popular it is! I mean, ALL of my women really like me to fuck them with it! Don't you want it, too?" "You're terrible, Jim!" Jeannie giggled again. Several more minutes passed as we stared at the door. Jeannie voiced what we were thinking. "I think she'll cut more than the plastic tie. Maybe that's what she did and they're cleaning up the mess. It's been a long time, hasn't it?" An hour later a man in a security guard's uniform let himself into the building. Jeannie and I were getting worried. Events were not following our plan. We stopped talking and just stared at the building, hoping to see all of them come out. Three more hours dragged by. "What's taking them so long?" Jeannie asked. "Beats the hell out of me! We didn't plan on this. I figured their biggest problem would be getting Paul out if he couldn't walk because of the pain. What are they waiting for?" "I'll bet they're waiting until they're sure he'll lose his penis and testicles. Then they'll take him to a hospital." "I hope you're right, Jeannie! I'm getting really worried. Why are you moving around so much?" "I've really gotta pee!" Jeannie moaned. "Maybe you could just squat in the street. It's pitch black out here. Nobody would see you." Jeannie hit me on the arm and muttered something about guys not understanding women. I began to squirm on the seat, too. What if he still had the tie around his genitals? This thing could be going too far! It was about fifteen minutes later when both women came out together without Paul. They were having an animated conversation as they walked to their car. I quickly rolled down the window so I could hear. " . . . really give a shit! Let his nuts fall off before he croaks! Somebody did us a favor!" "God I'm pissed at Jack! Drive me back to my car. I'll go home and take care of that cheat by myself." ABRUPT CHANGE IN THE PLAN They pulled out, drove away, and disappeared down the street. "Jim, they're going to let Paul die! If we don't cut him free, we'll be guilty of murder!" "Dammit Jeannie! We didn't plan this out right! I left his key inside the apartment. There's no way we can get back inside!" "There's a pay phone over there. I'll call 911." Jeannie made the call, then returned to the car. "I'll stay here, Jeannie, just to make certain they come. I'll call 911 again if they don't. You take your car and get the hell out of here." Jeannie nodded, then crossed the street. A couple of minutes later I saw her driving away, so I knew she was safely gone. I looked at my watch. Shit! That cable tie had been around Paul's genitals for much too long! Almost five hours! It was several more minutes before I heard a siren and the paramedics finally arrived. The security guard let them into the building, and I could see everyone running toward the elevators. Paul was in serious trouble, even if the paramedics immediately cut the tie. And if they did so, would blood suddenly flowing into his dead organs poison him? I was worrying and sweating really hard when the paramedics came out with Paul on a stretcher. I heard them say "critical" and "unconscious" before I pulled away from the curb and drove home. Jeannie and I were worried about getting caught, and since we didn't know what had happened to Paul, we were worried about that, too. We held each other and hugged all night long. It was later the next day before a newscast told us more of what had happened. "This from the Channel 6 newsroom. Local Realtor Paul Keener, shown here a few weeks ago receiving the Man of the Year Award from the Chamber of Commerce, was rushed to Memorial Hospital early this morning after paramedics found him unconscious. The hospital would only confirm that Keener had required emergency surgery after he was admitted. He remains in critical condition. "In a possibly related story, Jack Brewer, Keener's brother, was admitted to the same hospital a few hours later. His wife has been charged with attempted murder and was released after posting bond. Channel 6 obtained a copy of the police report which alleges that Mrs. Brewer used a kitchen knife to sever a portion of his penis which she then destroyed in the garbage disposal. Hospital authorities would only confirm that Jack Brewer received surgery this morning. "We'll keep you updated as these stories develop. Now the national news. Congress began debating . . . " Had Paul passed out when they cut the tie? If so, why hadn't they called for help? How did his wife's comment about his balls falling off fit in? What had the women done to him? A few minutes later I answered the phone. "Just listen. No matter what, you don't know who this is. I'm calling from a pay phone. You can say it was a wrong number." I immediately recognized the distinctive sound of the police officer I knew from church. The one I had planned to ask to use his reverse directory to find out where Jeannie was. "Okay. Sure." "You stupid ass! There were video cameras - no sound - in the lobby and elevator. You're on tape. Better get a story together before you have to tell it to the police. They'll figure out who you are in an hour or so." He hung up. The police didn't actually call until the following day, and it was late afternoon before they talked to me - after first interviewing Jeannie. We had taken plenty of time to review everything that could have been videotaped, and we concocted a mixture of truth and believable (we hoped) fiction. We told them that we'd gone to Paul's apartment because he'd been blackmailing her into having sex with him. We'd seen a young woman in the elevator, and we'd scared her off since she was going the same place we were. When Paul had seen me with Jeannie, he'd argued with us but had finally given us her pictures. We didn't know what had happened to him. He was fine when we left. We described the robe he was wearing. Under questioning I admitted I'd threatened Paul with my handgun. I denied hitting him or hurting him. I claimed that he had said Jeannie wasn't worth keeping since I knew about it, so he gave me the pictures. Where were the pictures now? I'd burned them and flushed the ashes down the toilet. How come I wasn't carrying them when I came out of the apartment? I'd hidden them inside my pants. Where was my gun? At home. Could they have it? Certainly. (It hadn't been fired in months.) They didn't believe either of us, but they couldn't find any reason to detain us. We were surprised when they never called us back for more questions. They never even bothered to come get my gun. I knew that the envelopes I'd mailed had arrived. Four days later it was the hottest story on the news. The Chamber rescinded its award to Paul, stating that they had incontrovertible evidence that he was a sex criminal. A reporter knew a cop who filled in most of the details. For several weeks the news was full of stories about blackmail, pornographic pictures of local women, housewives participating in organized prostitution, and the pornographic video business. Although partly based upon truth, most of the stories were pure speculation. Jack's wife had indeed severed his penis. The news media went into a frenzy when all charges against her were dropped. At least a dozen theories were proposed to explain this obvious travesty of justice. After all, could women be allowed to take such action against unfaithful husbands - and then suffer no penalty? Paul's wife actually appeared on television after she filed for divorce. Her comments were inappropriate for the early news, but she was interviewed for the local 11:00 o'clock news. She said that Paul always needed a mechanical device to maintain his erection. "He must have been experimenting with a new one in his secret sex apartment. When the hospital called me, they said he had necro-something. They had to operate to save him. They cut everything off. My soon-to-be ex-husband is no longer a man. In any sense at all." For several weeks Jeannie and I worried about the police figuring out that we had tortured Paul, but we tried to act as normally as possible in public. We managed to make love once, but it was so frantic and hurried that neither of us enjoyed it. Waiting to be arrested for torture and attempted murder - murder if Paul died - is hardly an aphrodisiac. Victims Ch. 03 However our worry and guilt did encourage us to become regular members of our church. Lizzie and Jennifer had fun in Sunday school, and our Sunday morning family breakfasts evolved into post-church-service family brunches. We'd experienced the Devil, and now it was time to get to know God. Sure. THE GOOD/BAD NEWS It was after church a month later when I finally found out enough to realize that Jeannie and I were in the clear. Remember the cop I mentioned? The one who tipped us off? There was a church picnic one Sunday afternoon, and I innocently asked him about the Keener-Brewer sex scandal. He looked around to be certain nobody was listening to us, and told me what he knew. "We don't know a lot of the story. The doctors thought there were marks from a stun gun on Paul, but they couldn't be certain and he denied it. The paramedics had found Paul unconscious in a back bedroom. There were red marks on his wrists and ankles, and there was tape-glue on his feet, but there was no trace of anything in the apartment that could have been used to tie him up. Paul had a plastic tie around his genitals, but his wife stated that Paul used a cock ring, and she said she thought he'd been trying some new way to keep his erection, and he had probably pulled it too tight. That's crap. But we can't prove otherwise. "His wife claims she knew nothing about the apartment, the bedroom with sex- soiled sheets, or the sex machine we found. But we know she went bonkers when she found out, so we believe her about that. "There was semen from both Jack and Paul on that bed. Plus vaginal secretions from half-a-dozen women. Their wives have them for adultery. Cold. No way for the guys to fight it. "In the room where Paul was found, there was a safe full of photographs. The only ones missing were Jeannie's. Hard to believe he gave them to you without one hell of a fight. "Paul has tried to kill himself twice. He's under twenty-four-hour watch. Everyone at the jail knows he's got no nuts or prick, and several guards, including two women, had been disciplined for teasing and mocking him. "Jack has a quarter-inch stump where his organ used to be. We found traces of his penis in the garbage disposal. We charged his wife with several crimes, but her high-priced attorney persuaded the district attorney to drop everything. She claimed that somebody had slipped a pile of photographs under her door in the middle of the night. When she found them, she suffered "temporary insanity" and doesn't remember anything after that. Everyone knows she's lying through her teeth, but she kept the pics, and the D.A. knows that once a jury saw them, they couldn't possibly convict her of anything. "Jack's agreed to testify against Paul in return for a reduced sentence. The District Attorney agreed to that before we located most of the women in the pictures. It's too bad. We don't need him to make the case." Several people came within earshot, and he stopped talking. "Let's go for a walk, Jim," my friendly cop said to me. When we were well away from everyone, he turned to me, a frown on his face. "Funny thing. At first Paul claimed his wife is mistaken. He said that you and Jeannie tied him up and put that plastic tie on him. Then called his wife." He stared at me. I was too surprised to say anything. He nodded. "I thought so." I couldn't look him in the eye. He stood in front of me and let me suffer for a couple of minutes. "It's about over, Jim. If Paul did what he first claimed he did to Jeannie, you had a right to do what you did. Not a legal right, maybe not even a moral right. But I'd have killed him if I'd been in your place." "Will they - you - arrest Jeannie and me?" He smiled. "It sure sounded a lot like Jeannie on that 911 tape. You know, the call that saved Paul's life. Funny thing. Nobody can find it, and there aren't any copies. So we'll never know for sure who made the call. Whoever it was had to know what was going on. I'm glad we can't prove it was your wife, aren't you?" I looked him in the eye. "Thank you." "What makes you think I had anything to do with the tape getting lost? I don't want to know anything else, so don't tell me anything. But one more thing I think you'll find interesting. The detectives found a witness who says two women came out of the building just before the 911 call. They were talking about a couple of guys who were cheating, and he remembers something about a guy losing his nuts. The women he described could easily be the two sisters, the guys' wives. But it was dark and he couldn't make a positive ID. Besides he was pretty dammed drunk at the time. So nobody's going to try to build a case against those two rich broads. Besides, the word at the department is that Jack and Paul got off easy. From what we can figure out, they got justice. Maybe not legal justice, but justice all the same. So forget about it, Jim. It really is over. Well, almost." I wondered what was coming next. He obviously had most of the story figured out. What more was there to say? "Paul's wife had a talk with him in jail, and after that he just sat in his cell and stared at the walls for a couple of hours. And ever since that visit he denies you and Jeannie had anything to do with what happened to him. You know what I think? Paul's wife is involved in this, but probably you are, too. Anyway, revenge is funny. If she got even with Paul, she probably couldn't resist telling him all about it. You know, to rub it in. "Then Jack's wife talked to him a couple of days later, and he's not talking about Jeannie, now, either. Before that visit he claimed he'd had sex with her. Now he's changed his story. I think his wife told him exactly how she caught on to his cheating. "I believe those sisters - those rich bitch wives - found out about their husbands foolin' around and got vengeance the old fashioned way. If they did tell their husbands what they know, Jack and Paul may be able to put everything together. So if you and Jeannie were involved in any way, you better watch your back. Paul's goin' away for a long, long time. He'll be some tough guy's bitch within a week, and he probably won't survive. Even if he does, he'll probably be harmless if he ever gets out. But Jack's another story. "Jack's saving his ass by testifying against Paul. Not that it really makes any difference since the case against Paul is rock-solid tight even without Jack. We keep identifying more women all the time. Paul acts like he's mad at Jack, but maybe that's so the two of them can get revenge on you and Jeannie. They even had a face-to-face, and Paul didn't act angry until after Jack left. Strange, huh? I'm not saying you were involved, but it sure is funny that they stopped talking about you and Jeannie all of a sudden. "Anyway Jack cut a deal, and he'll be out in two or three years. He's a mean son-of-a-bitch, and now he can't fuck anymore. But his balls are still pumping out the testosterone, making him want to. He's going to be frustrated and dangerous. The rich-bitch sisters have plenty of security. But if somebody else is involved, and if Jack and Paul compare stories with what their wives told them, well you get the idea. "You've got your wife back. Your two little girls need both of you. Take care of them, okay?" With that he wished me well and sauntered back to the rest of the picnic. I just stood there, staring into the nearby woods, wondering what would happen when Jack got out. Jeannie and I could be in real trouble. GOING FORWARD When we promised "for better or worse," we never anticipated anything like what happened. We also have our children to think about, and we are making slow progress as we try to put our marriage back together. We remain unable to take our problems to a professional therapist, partly because we don't trust them, but mostly because they might feel compelled to turn us in. We found several fairly good marriage books, and we're working through them together. The passing of time seems to help - a little. We've had infrequent, though passionate, sex several times lately, although not nearly as often as before. Because our living nightmare was about sex, we can't completely forget what happened when we become aroused. My feelings of inadequacy are probably most of our problem. Jeannie knew that I had screwed other women before we got serious about each other, but that was all in the past and had nothing to do with her. But she fucked two men after we were married. One even got her pregnant, an incredibly intimate and important event in every woman's life. Even though she had been blackmailed into committing adultery, she had really enjoyed having sex with them. And they both had bigger dicks than I have. The same opportunity isn't available to me, so I can't get even with her. I could probably seduce a couple of women, but that would be deliberate cheating. Jeannie didn't choose to cheat; she was blackmailed into adultery. If I fucked someone else, I would really be betraying Jeannie. Can I really say that she betrayed me? Even if a women maneuvered me into a situation where I could get away with fucking her, I would almost certainly still have the choice of saying no. Jeannie didn't have a choice. Yesterday I spent several hours seducing Jeannie, and it appeared to help. At breakfast I slipped up behind her and rubbed her breasts through her robe. "Jim! What if the girls see us!" She muttered as her nipples became stiff. I slid one hand down her front and rubbed between her legs as I kissed the back of her neck. She moaned as she pulled away from me. In bed last night we had good, although not great, sex. It's a start. I managed to forget, for a short time, that Jeannie had experienced exciting extramarital sex with two men. I'm trying to live with it - and the fact that both of them were better endowed than I am. I don't always succeed. Jack may get out on parole in about eighteen months. I had a security system installed, and we now own three handguns. Our fear of what Jack may do haunts our lives. And I really can't forget that Jack and Paul could once give Jeannie better sex than I can. Jeannie and I got revenge. So did Paul's and Jack's wives. Now we're waiting for Jack and Paul to try to get theirs. Thinking about that doesn't help us to get past what happened. Sometimes I think it would have been better if I'd just killed Paul the night I caught him with Jeannie. Sometimes I think it would have been better if I'd never found out the truth. Sometime the truth hurts too dammed much. Jeannie and I are still Paul's victims.