He Wasn T A Cuckold Rescued

This is a version based on what if he acted differently than in the original, what could occur. This is not a RAAC

The original was designed and envisioned as a BTB.

Gillian and I first met about twenty-eight months ago at a business conference. I work for a company A J Roberts and Sons. We don't advertise but are well known. We are business trouble-shooters. If a firm has a problem with employee pilfering, competitor espionage or cyber ransomware, we are often called in to work out the problem and the solutions. Our expertise covers many areas of business and our staff come from many backgrounds. They are the best there are. I was tracking a senior staff member of her company suspected of selling his companies secrets to a competitor.

Our front office staff deal with the mundane everyday stuff like accounts, proof reading, document presentation so many visitors think we are a home spun family business. We don't discourage that view. My business card says Office Administrator/Accountant. She thinks I'm an accountant. I never correct anyone who thinks that. My background is IT and surveillance though I can confuse many with my knowledge of accounting. I just blend in the background.

I am described by my friends as laid back, helpful, good sense of humour, great companion, buddy. They do think I should take a chill out pill more often as according to them, I have very old-fashioned ideas on behaviour. If I'm annoyed I can be quite direct with my words. If I have been provoked I warn and if they don't take any heed, I do what I say.

Gillian and I found we had a lot in common. She was highly intelligent and very humorous. We stayed in touch, met up frequently and eighteen months later we married. She moved to my town.

Gillian is beautiful. She's 5'6", slim with a pair of 38D's which suspend belief. When she is on top (which was often) they could conduct a masterpiece or poke your eyes out. She has a slim waist which leads to a valley of sin. Normally, she kept it trimmed so you knew she was a natural auburn. Recently, she has been keeping it bare. I don't like that as I liked to run my fingers through her pussy hair. Her long legs looked marvellous in stockings. She never wore them as often as she has recently though only at work which pissed me off.

About six months later, she had a job interview with a firm, Ralston Ltd, a business broker, introducing companies together. She was very pleased, she'd been headhunted, vindication for her work ethic. They wanted her. As far as I was concerned, they were dirty. I tried to talk her out of it. There were rumours that they had their female members of staff (it wouldn't surprise me if males were included as well) sleep with perspective clients to seal the deal.

The main boss, Julien Francis as far as I was concerned was a known sexual predator. I had observed him at many functions where I was watching others, be escorted away before he was seriously injured for overstepping the mark.

I laid out my concerns to Gillian but couldn't expose how I knew what he was like. She wouldn't budge. The job was very highly paid. We had many arguments but she still accepted the position.

About six weeks later, we had to attend Francis's deluxe residence for a party. We had an almighty argument before we left our home. She had on, just, a little black dress, emphasis on little. The silk caressed her body like a second skin, revealing her erect nipples. It was short enough you could see her stocking tops as she swayed. She must have known how I would react.

I was furious. She had never dressed like that for me.

She laughed as she said, "Julien likes us to wear stockings."

When she said that, I lost whatever composure I had. "Is this to show me he's fucking you?" I shouted.

She was now annoyed. Her voice showed it, "Mike, I would never cheat on you. It's a foible of his. You have this idea of him and just won't quit with it. You'll like him. He'd probably offer you more money to move to him."

I shook my head. I spoke angrily, "Gillian, you've never dressed like that for me but for him, no problem. Why don't you see that gives me a problem? Why is he more important than me? If this evening is for him to mark you as his, he'll not like the outcome. If you fuck anyone other than me, we're done and I'll make sure they suffer."

The taxi arrived and we spent the journey in silence. I only drank soft drinks from an unopened bottle, I wasn't about to allow anyone drug me. As I suspected, he was all over Gillian as we arrived. He tried to separate us but failed. He tried to appear happy but his eyes couldn't hide it. Many of the others tried to get my attention away from Gillian so Francis could make a run at her. I refused to play their games. I could see my intransigence was creating a few problems.

There was a vibe I was picking up that the evening wasn't going to plan. Francis was mad at me not letting him close to Gillian. I sensed everyone thought I was the problem. I took a perverse pleasure in that. I was polite (just) but I didn't let Gillian out of reach.

One of the more senior managers John Dewar, asked me outright, "What's your problem?"

I laughed, as I replied, stone faced and deliberate, "I've heard all about Francis and your office practices. If he tries to involve Gillian or if anyone tries to or fucks my wife, I'll take you all down. A clue, you'll never fuck anyone again. If your investigators know their job, they'll tell you what I do. It's no idle threat.

"Don't -- touch -- Gillian! You won't like the outcome."

He was angry and although he was six inches taller than me, I would have been happy to beat him to fuck. He probably saw that in my eyes and tone so went and spoke with Francis who was furious.

During the rest of the evening, I watched Francis and the others carefully. To them, it would look like casual interest but it's my field, my rules. The others kept trying to engage in conversations which would take me away from Gillian's side. They failed. The mood wasn't good. I didn't care. I was mad at Gillian and extremely pissed off with them.

I saw Francis had a routine so I checked it out. From his behaviour I thought his visits to the bathroom were too frequent. I suspected he used cocaine which he topped up regularly. As he came out of the bathroom, I collared him. I made it clear to him - my opinion. One hand held his throat, the other his balls. "Francis, you or any of the others try anything with Gillian, I'll cut your balls, dick off and feed them to you. It's your one and only warning!"

I walked away. He should have used the toilet when he was in there.

The party broke up shortly after. I appeared to get the blame if the looks I got meant anything. I suspect the party was supposed to be an orgy but I never attend those.

Gillian was not happy with me and we argued the rest of the weekend.

I'm not stupid. I thought this was a game for Julien. I had a far bigger stake in it than he realised. I began to make plans to gather the evidence I would need. I learned I was far from correct in my assumptions.

First item, after Gillian went to work on the Monday, I swept our house for any bugs. I'd gone to my work on the Sunday and picked up some equipment. There were none. I installed cameras and sound detectors to capture any conversations. I already had a special anti-spyware on my home computer as I couldn't be too careful. I checked it and installed an improved version. I installed a personal VPN and created a new cloud depository with thirty-three-digit coding. Everything pertaining to Julien and Gillian would go directly there.

My own mobile was tracker free. I would place a hidden tracker which most companies' software engineers would never find on Gillian's mobile.

I checked my car and it was clear.

How to get the evidence otherwise? Gillian had a foible of her own. She owned many broaches and wore them daily. I spent the morning taking eight apart and replacing the fake gemstones with miniscule cameras of the same shade. There wasn't much range but anything they recorded would download to a secure file on my computer when she came home. Not ideal but I couldn't do anything else at the moment. I had no access to her office.

It was three weeks before another opportunity arose. Gillian's multi-charger in her office was playing up. For once, she was polite when she asked me, "Can you pick a new one up for me, please? The store is across from your office."

We had been dancing on ice since that party. I had been annoyed at her attitude and mentioned my observations, Julien trying to get her away from me. She had denied it was to be an orgy but her face said she suspected that was the plan. She told me I was overreacting.

I agreed. I didn't get one from there. I got one from our store. It recorded video and audio and had a range of five hundred metres. I hid the receiver in Gillian's car. Unless she had a blowout, she'd never lift the spare wheel cover. Even then, I had it well concealed. I linked it to my account so anything would record when she returned home or if I was close, I could observe in real time.

I hated being after the event but it was all I could do. I'd warned them so they had no comeback.

Nothing was normal especially our love life which was poor. Neither of us made much of an attempt. You could call it deluxe masturbation at best. We couldn't speak without arguing whenever that firm came up in conversation.

Gillian had been working there for about three months when a security guy Arthur, came up to me and said, "Someone looked to be at your car. When I got there, he was gone. I'd check it if I were you."

I deliberately park next to Smith's accountants, to put people of track. I did and saw a low-quality tracker poorly hidden behind my catalytic converter. I laughed. The stakes were rising.

If I needed to go somewhere I didn't want them to know, I'd use a pool car.

Gillian "had to borrow" my phone that night. My software caught the tracker. For the next few days, I did everything "an accountant" would do. I stayed in the office and worked at my desk.

Well, my car and phone never moved. Gillian did call to say she may be late. I replied, "What hotel are you using?" That didn't go down well. How did she not twig I knew where she was?

I had been watching the exchanges between Julien and Gillian for the last few weeks, heating up. His staff obviously weren't up to much, as most, in the admittedly small field we work in, knew me and my reputation. Julien wouldn't bring what was about to come down on his head had he known.

He did have an altercation one night as he went to his car. He wouldn't be snogging anyone for days. His cock would be non-functioning for a while.

I'd been conducting my due diligence on Ralston and Francis. I managed to get into his home working with a catering supply company dropping off food for one of his parties. His home security sucks. I had a video camera in every room, transmitting to a base unit which relayed to my cloud.

The party was a revelation. Two of my company's board were there, Bernie and Ted. Bernie was asking Francis when Gillian was going to make an appearance. Francis had to conclude it was taking longer than he wished. Bernie said, "Her husband's a bloody accountant, don't know what she sees in him. I've wanted to fuck her since the summer dance that's why I told you to hire her."

At work, Francis had been playing her, telling her how beautiful she was and how I was a loser. At first, she fought for me but over weeks, he wore her down. It was almost hypnotic the way he spoke to her. There was never any sign of drugs being used on her. My anger grew, she should have left when he began grooming her.

Our conversations went downhill fast when I brought up questions based on what I was seeing and hearing. Several times, she was flustered and ashamed looking but she still denied anything untoward was happening.

It was two weeks after the tracker incident when they began kissing in the office. Her broach and the charge unit caught it. He had tried to get her and her alone to go to a party the previous weekend but she wouldn't go without me. If she did, her marriage would be over.

He was telling her how the party went. It was an orgy for his friends. He told her how I would have loved to watch him fuck her. As he kissed her, his hand was up her skirt and she never tried to stop him. Each day, he repeated it. He told her he would be fucking her soon.

At night, she watched me carefully. I never attempted to have any sexual relations with her. I gave her opportunities to tell me what was wrong but she never did.

Over the weekend, Gillian was even more distracted.

I tried to be the supportive husband, "What's up? Something has really upset you. Let me help you."

She wasn't for speaking but said, "I know we've been rowing but I do love you."

I smiled, "Gillian, I have a really hard time believing you."

Her eyes lit up, there was fear in them.

"You dress for the office like a slut. Hell, you won't dress in the house like that for me. This isn't Francis's foible, it's a concerted plan to reduce your feelings of self-worth, to make you putty in his arms.

"He probably spins you a line about me being a loser, a cuckold. I'll enjoy watching you fuck him and others, even like it. I'm not and never will be. Any who touches you will have serious hospital stays. He will learn exactly who I am if he fucks you. He'll never fuck anyone ever again as he'll have no dick. He's a weak, preying bastard. I told him what I'd do to him and he pissed himself. If he didn't have his position of power, he'd be nothing.

"You have to decide what you want. If you want out of our marriage to be his whore, say so. I'll let you go. If you stay in our marriage and fuck him, it will be over and everyone will regret getting me angry.

"Just leave Ralston's, they're rotten. They're not worth destroying our marriage for. Once he's had his fun, he'll use you like the other women, as a prostitute for the company. You deserve so much more. How will you live with yourself then?"

She got up, stormed to our room and slammed the door. She called one of the other girls. She told her to ignore me, I wouldn't learn anything and she'd make a lot of money.

As I listened to that call, I made a change in what I was going to do. I had thought, record them fucking, fuck with him, give the evidence to the regulator for that industry. From what the girl implied, he was running a prostitution ring for his clients.

As Gillian sobbed in the bedroom, I checked her trackers and video more carefully. There were two hotels which she was often at but only to the foyer, so far. Francis and some girls headed upstairs. He was definitely grooming her.

I knew staff at both hotels having worked for them. I headed off to see if I could make arrangements to cover the room activities.

Francis isn't liked by many. Both hotel staffs were very happy to help when I explained I wanted to fuck him over big time. I have found honesty about your purpose when asking for help works most of the time, especially when it involves an arsehole! He maintained a suite at each hotel and I was allowed access. He's a cheapskate. He recorded the activities but the system was power activated so when he went in, he had to turn it on. I saw later how he threatened the girls and his clients with revealing everything if they didn't do as he said.

I put in my own system, wireless, powerful and hidden in the fittings. The batteries had a life span of three months at the use he was making of the suites.

On my return, I spent the rest of that Saturday and Sunday, trying to get Gillian to tell me what was going on. She was shocked I knew how he worked the girls into becoming whores. I told her we were at the precipice in our marriage. If she didn't realise what he was up to and what it would cost her, us, then we would be over. Did she love me? My pleas fell on deaf ears.

For three weeks we danced around this. Each day, Francis worked on her some more. She even brought up attending another party there. I agreed but warned her, if he tried anything, I'd fuck him so badly, he would spend months in traction. We didn't go.

It was obvious Francis was about ready to go in for the kill.

On the Monday morning, I tried talking to Gillian, one last time. I was deliberate and sincere. "Gillian, Francis is working on you. I know that. Your body language tells me so much. You're scared. If you leave, I'll have been proved right. I'll never say I told you so. If you stay, you know he'll involve you.

"What is more important? Your pride or our marriage! If you allow him to seduce you, I'll walk away. You'll be on your own. I'll deal with him and he won't like it.

"If you're so unhappy now, how will you be then? You'll get another job easily.

"Is this job worth so much more than us? We can be loving again.

"Do you want to be his slut? This is the week he's not going to take no for an answer.

"Leave, please!"

Gillian looked at me, shocked I knew so much. I could see her fear. She couldn't make a choice. She spoke with a snarky tone, "Julien thinks you'll make a good cuckold. Your pleading sounds like he's right. Just like an accountant."

As she walked to the door, I said firmly, "Would the man you married be a cuckold? Remember him. The one who flattened the monster who tried to grab you on the dancefloor. The one who caused Francis to piss himself. Is he a cuckold?

"I've tried speaking rationally and reasonably to you to try and find the woman I married. The woman I loved. I'm sorry you see it that as being weak. If you only want action man, I can come to your office and beat him to a pulp, will that work? Will that be the manly thing to do!"

She looked shocked.

"Does the woman I married exist? Be aware. You are playing with fire. I'll burn everyone involved.

"Your final choice. Our marriage or burn with them in a hell of your own making!"

I stormed out.

You may wonder why I didn't show Gillian my evidence over the weekend or before she left for her work. I'd asked myself that a lot in the weeks before. The same reason kept coming up. She made the choice to work there, she had to make the choice, our marriage was worth fighting for. She didn't. If I had, what would prevent it happening again? It had to be her choice!

As I drove towards my office, I was mad. My mind was everywhere. My subconscious finally opened my conscious mind to what had been puzzling me. It finally came to me. There was something in her eyes, a fear, a feeling of being condemned. I never saw drugs being used on her but that didn't mean there weren't any, just prepared out of my surveillance.

I headed to her office. As I pulled up, my phone pinged. I saw Francis, another man and a female in Gillian's office. As soon as the other female began blowing the guy, I was out of my car and on my way. I was in my battle zone.

I walked into their office and ran up the stairs ignoring the security trying to stop me. As I went towards Gillian's office, two men tried to stop me. It took ten seconds to disable them. Others backed away.

Francis heard the commotion and opened the door. I caught his face in my hand and put it through the door. The glass shattered. The woman had mounted the guy. He couldn't move as I flattened him.

"Gillian," I screamed, "You leave here now with me or we're finished. Is this what you envision yourself to be, a Corporate Whore?"

She looked down. "Grab your belongings," I shouted.

I turned back to Francis. I screamed, "I told you what would happen."

I stamped on his elbows and forearms. Something broke. I booted his balls so badly, I doubt his cock would be operable for months.

Dewar and the security appeared, "The Police have been called. You'll get locked up."