Victims

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.