Ordeal

I was filled with joy and couldn't keep the smile off my face - I felt so happy to have her back that, even had she managed to stray, it no longer seemed important. Throughout the journey I chattered compulsively with lots of flattery and words of adoration mixed in but as we drew near to home I announced, "Only ten more miles and I'll have you in bed with me again."

"I wouldn't bank on that," Claire said keeping a straight face, "Going without seems to have done you good - I've never known you quite so attentive. I think I might deny you for a few more days, just to keep you like that."

"You're joking," I gasped, almost losing control of the car at the horror of the thought.

My wife laughed. "Of course I'm joking - after being around Rory and Kirk all week; I bet I'm even hornier than you are." I said no more until parking in front of our house when I suggested that we should leave everything and dash straight up to the bedroom. "Think again, I am eager for sex but I'm not screwing you or anyone until I've had a nice cup of tea," Clair informed me, "Tell you what love, to save time, I'll run in and put the kettle on if you bring in all our stuff." So there I was in scene one, smiling wryly at the neat way my wife had conned me into humping both bags.

I carried the holdalls into the hall, dropped them and went into the living room where I found I had walked in a very brief scene two. Claire was standing in the middle of the floor facing me with a terrified look on her face and behind her stood a very large bald headed black man. He had a muscular arm across her chest pinioning both arms and with his other hand he was holding a large black gun to her head - one of those vicious looking machine pistol types. Next moment I felt a terrible pain to the back of my head and as I fell into blackness, as if from a great distance, I heard a hoarse voice say, "You stupid cunt, what the fuck did you do that for?"

When consciousness returned, there was still a severe throbbing pain in my head and I realised that I was still lying on the floor. Gingerly I tried to raise a hand to feel how much damage there was to my cranium but after only a couple of inches my arm was halted. Half opening my eyes to find the reason, I saw that I was wearing padded handcuffs and lower down there were constraints attached to both my ankles with the tethers knotted together. These had all come from the bedroom - two years earlier we experimented with light bondage but found it wasn't our thing. With a feeling of dread I looked towards the settee where Claire sat leaning forward and watching me anxiously. The man I'd seen before stood directly behind her and another younger black male was perched casually on the arm of the furniture. This one was mid twenties or less, also tall but with a slim limbo dancer physique while the larger of the two had to be late thirties, heavily built and at least 6' 4" tall. I couldn't see the gun.

Seeing I was awake Claire jumped up and ran to crouch by me. Pretending to check a dressing on my head, she leaned close and whispered, "You know who they are don't you? Please don't do or say anything - don't even look at them funny. I'll try and get some ice for that swelling." At the banquet hotel we'd seen a newspaper with the headline 'Manhunt continues' and a supporting item that started, 'Police are still seeking the two black males who gunned down a policeman and also killed another black man'.

Returning to the settee, instead of sitting, my wife walked behind, said something to the larger gunman and they both left in the direction of the kitchen. Five minutes later they returned with Claire carrying a tray holding four mugs. Our captors took one each; she put another on the side and then went to the liquor cabinet before bringing the tray to me. On it, as well as the mug she had put two Paracetamol tablets. "I'm afraid its coffee but I've put you some brandy in it," she said. I thought that was it but she went on to say a bit awkwardly, "In a while they're taking me upstairs to show them where we've hidden stuff." My heart sank even further at that news. I had a valuable collection of old gold coins inherited from my father. They were concealed under a loose floor board situated under the middle of the bed. I'd consoled myself that whatever else they stole they'd be unlikely to find the coins.

When they went I think I must have drifted off because, when movement again alerted me, a glance at the clock showed that over an hour had passed. Claire was carrying some pillows and cushions which she dropped near me and then gently placed the promised pack of ice cubes on my head. "You've been a hell of a long time - what happened up there?" I asked.

"They fucked me," my wife said bluntly but then added a bit harshly, "Please don't look like that, what else did you expect - at least we're not dead." There was a long pause during which neither of us moved and then she said in a far softer voice, "Look, I made a bit of a deal with them - I said I wouldn't struggle if they promised to let me make you more comfortable."

At least on that they were good to their word. The handcuffs were reattached so that I was only held by my right wrist with the other cuff fixed to the input pipe of the radiator and although the constraints were left on my ankles, the tethers were untied allowing me far greater leg movement. My head had begun to ease, the pillows were certainly softer than the pine floorboards and all that was left to eat at me was the knowledge of what had occurred upstairs.

Suddenly the large man (who I had gathered was called 'Gangsta') spoke to both of us saying, "I didn't want you here - we need to lay low and hoped the house would stay empty for a while. But you are here and you're a danger to us. We can't keep an eye on you 24/7 and I don't want you signalling out of the window or using a mobile we don't know about. You won't be hurt if you behave yourselves but the moment police arrive outside in force I'll top you both - we've nothing left to lose".

Two hours passed with nothing much happening. They had the TV on and kept flicking from channel to channel looking for news bulletins. Claire just sat at one end of the settee, occasionally throwing me an encouraging smile but making no attempt to come near. Something was said and she went to the kitchen to prepare some food with the two intruders taking it in turns to wander in and watch her. Fortunately we always kept the deep freeze well stocked. It seemed that the two had made some inroads when they had the house to themselves but there was plenty left. After eating, some more or less static time passed. I'd become hot and very thirsty but Claire was allowed to keep me supplied with glasses of water. Around 9 p.m. after a visit to the kitchen, she came and crouched by me to say softly, "They want me to sleep upstairs. I've brought you a big bottle of water to see you through the night - please try not to worry." With that she was gone with the two black men rising to follow her.

Anxiously I listened for sounds of activity but the house has good sound insulation and I heard nothing.

I must have had a very restless night but have no memory of it except that I do remember waking with a bursting bladder and needed to urinate into the almost empty water bottle. I woke about six, again with a desperate need to piss but the bottle was already full and I suffered for three hours before Claire came into the room alone. She walked across to crouch by me. Close up I thought she looked tired rather than rested but "Don't ask," she said on seeing my searching glance. Choking back the intended question, I instead enquired what exactly had happened to me the day before.

"Otis hit you with one of my heavy saucepans," Claire told me, "I was so worried - I thought he'd killed you. You were unconscious for ages. I cleaned up the blood and put a dressing on the cut but that was all they'd allow me to do. Are you all right now - is there anything you need."

Feeling deeply ashamed at the nature of the task I was requesting, I mentioned that my piss bottle urgently needed emptying. Claire grinned but said nothing. Returning she said, "I'll go and put the kettle on to give you a bit of privacy - it should be two or three minutes before they come down."

I was just finishing when the younger male wandered in bare footed, wearing a pair of my boxer shorts and nothing else. Now my erect penis is six inches (on one occasion I convinced myself I had measured just over six and a half), when flaccid it's two inches but in water and at times of stress it shrinks even smaller. This was one of those times. Otis took one look and let out a big laugh shouting, "Hey Gangsta - come and look at this guy's tiny dick - hell some of the bitches I've fucked had a button that's bigger. No wonder his wife's so happy with what we've got." Not satisfied with just verbally humiliating me the black youth moved forward, pushed the boxers down to his knees and mere inches in front of my face a seven inch column of flaccid flesh dangled obscenely between his thighs. Using his hand to encourage stiffness (and a further two inches in length) he bragged, "Don't you wish you'd got something like this? Ask your wife - she'll tell you it's already been places that you've never reached."

At that moment Claire reappeared again carrying a tray holding four mugs. Gangsta was handed one as he came through the door but then she set the tray down and approached with one mug in each hand. Deliberately she offered one to Otis in such a way that he had to take it with his penis fondling hand, leaving him no option but to return to the settee with it. Crouching to place my mug on the floor, she quietly advised, "Just try to ignore him." We exchanged further words as she checked my head wound but then, preparing to rise, she squeezed my arm and impetuously leaned forward to plant a quick peck on my forehead.

For some reason this show of affection seemed to infuriate Otis. "Hey Claire", he called, "Come over here and suck my cock again like you did last night." He was sprawled back on the settee with his legs splayed and the discarded shorts in a small pile by his feet - almost objectively I noted that although long, his prick lacked any real thickness. Claire obeyed immediately, walking without hesitation to kneel between his spread thighs. She grabbed his stiff cock, gave it a few sloppy licks then took the head deep in her mouth and started wanking the shaft with her hand. I should have looked away or shut my eyes but throughout I found my gaze compulsively fixed with dread fascination on my wife's bobbing head. Only when it was over did I realise that the sight had induced a state of stiffness in my own groin.

Towards the end Otis leaned forward and whispered something to her. His words became obvious the moment he ejaculated because Claire stood and turned to face me, opening her mouth to show it full of white cum. "Now stick out your tongue and wiggle it at him," he instructed and when she again complied he laughed triumphantly saying, "You can go and kiss your husband again now - if he still wants to."

My wife walked proudly to me, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Reaching down she took a gulp from my mug, swilled her mouth round and swallowed then knelt to place her lips firmly on mine. I know I should have joined her in this defiance by opening my mouth and kissing her properly but I just couldn't do it. Having made her gesture Claire embraced me tightly cheek to cheek. I knew she was trying to help me so I think it had to be shame at my reaction to the blow-job that caused me to say nastily, "You didn't need to suck him off quite so enthusiastically?"

I felt Claire stiffen. "I knew it was something you wouldn't like to see so I just tried to get it over with as fast as possible," she whispered back in a hurt voice.

From there the day fell into what was becoming the pattern with TV dominating until after lunch when they all filed upstairs for a long siesta leaving me to my own devices. This time I did hear some sound but convinced myself it was the squeal of some child in the street - and when the same noise occurred even louder several times during the night, I found that 'a screeching cat' made a palatable alternative explanation.

Next morning Claire appeared wearing a skirt instead of her usual jeans. The reason became apparent after about an hour when, having seated himself at on end of the settee, Otis ordered Claire to stand just the other side of the arm. From my position I clearly saw him reach under the skirt and run his hand up her leg but I tried to keep my face impassive as she stood there stoically letting him molest her. After a minute or two he grew impatient and, looking straight at me with a smirk on his face, he instructed, "Open your legs a bit more darling and lift the front of your dress so your hubby can see how much you like it." She wasn't wearing underwear and I had to watch his fingers probing inside her and also the slight rhythmic movement of her hips as she involuntarily reacted to his touch.

Despite the knowledge that it was futile I felt the anger boiling inside me but then Gangsta suddenly appeared, waving Otis away and saying it was his turn. He told Claire to pull up her skirt and bend over the arm of the settee but instead of obeying she looked up at him and pleaded, "Please can we do it upstairs."

"Sorry," he said. "Your husband needs to see how it is and accept the situation - I don't want him having a sudden attack of heroics thinking he needs to rescue you from us." While speaking the big man had dropped his pants round his ankles and I couldn't believe the size of the already rigid cock now exposed because although possibly only a little longer than that of the other man, it had to be at least twice as thick. Also, where Otis's weapon had been brown with a pinkish head, this magnificent appendage was completely jet black with the skin showing a kind of polished sheen.

My first thought was that it couldn't possibly fit inside her. It actually slid in quite easily but he took it very slowly at first and she needed to wiggle to accommodate him. I was aware of a painful constriction in my chest and suspect that I probably held my breath until the initial penetration was complete. My mind was in turmoil. I felt resentment even hatred but this was mixed with a combination of envy and reluctant admiration. He was still thrusting smooth and easy and, with my eyes riveted to the spot, I couldn't help seeing the way how on each retraction, the stretched lips of her vagina clung to his shaft as if reluctant to release their grip.

After a few minutes it turned into an exhibition fuck with him powering in hard with fast short sharp strokes and, coated with my wife's vaginal secretions, his thrusting penis shaft strongly resembled the well oiled piston of an efficient machine. Claire began to emit a deep seated moan and this drew my attention to the fact that her jaw was tightly clenched and her knuckles shone white as she fiercely gripped the settee arm. At the time I took this as evidence of the pain she must be suffering.

The approaching end was signalled when his goose egg sized balls began to tighten and a moment later I could almost sense the jets of hot semen gushing into her. Not until he had ceased movement did I notice that my wife's upper body was shaking uncontrollably and realise that her earlier apparent distress was due not to pain but rather the effort of trying to suppress a massive orgasm. The big man started to pull out and everything seemed to go into extremely slow motion. The moment his shrinking satiated cock lost contact it just flopped clear to hang down, still shining with a mixture of his semen and her juices, leaving her reddened abandoned cunt gaping open and I watched in horror as a great glob of pearly white cum appeared slowly from inside her. In a long moment that seemed to last an eternity I continued to observe as it reached the edge and clung on to stretch into a long thin dangling strand before losing grip and falling to make a messy blob on the carpet.

I was brought back to reality by Otis dashing forward shouting 'Now me', almost barging his companion aside in his eagerness. For a moment Gangsta resisted but then he stepped back saying 'Fair enough - but you can take her upstairs.

My eyes followed Otis bustling Claire out of the room, almost at a run and when I looked back Gangsta was reclining on the settee looking at me. Until that moment I didn't know he smoked but he got out a cigarette lit it and then, tucked the lighter into the packet and tossed it over to me. Gratefully I helped myself but when I proffered the packet back he shook his head. For some moments we studied each other in silence and then speaking softly he advised, "You mustn't let Otis goad you, the kid's a total psycho."

Another even longer silence followed but then he continued - usually he was a man of few words but now he seemed to want to talk. "It's his stupid fault that I'm in this shit. I can't deny that I killed but it was a legitimate hit - the guy had been shouting off his mouth and dissing a lot of people. Anyway, I did the business and got away clean. Otis was waiting in a lifted car two streets away and I got there as planned through an underground car-park and some restaurant kitchens. He'd switched over so I got behind the wheel and stuffed the gun down between the seats - I wish to hell I'd kept it in my pocket."

Gangsta shook his head ruefully at the memory before explaining, "There were cop cars all over so I waited and as we were parked close to a bookies I pretended to be looking at a racing paper. After a few minutes a beat copper suddenly peered in the window on the passenger side. He was only telling us we couldn't wait there but before he'd even finished speaking, Otis had grabbed the gun and blasted him point blank in the face - it almost took the poor sod's head right off. I got out of town fast, dumped the car. We were crossing a bridge when a goods train went slowly underneath and we managed drop into an open railway wagon. Sometime in the middle of the night the train stopped at signals so we jumped off and came through the woods. By now we were both soaked to the skin so when we saw your house in darkness it was more than we could've hoped for."

I felt unable to comment and after a further long pause he stood and said almost apologetically, "We'll be here for several more days but I don't think the food will last much longer than that. If nothing goes wrong before we leave you'll both be OK."

I think at times I must have felt pretty fretful during my long hours left alone but during the day I could generally let events wash over me. After that day, Otis was far more restrained although he still tried to provoke me. For instance he liked to get behind Claire, stick his hand down her blouse and blatantly maul her tits, all the time watching for my reaction. While not seeming averse to his touch my wife always seemed very uncomfortable when this happened. After a while the pair got to trust Claire enough to allow her to work in the kitchen unsupervised. Well one day, Gangsta had found a book to read and unusually the TV was off. Otis was wandering about complaining of being bored when he suddenly said to me, "I think I'll go and stick my cock up your lovely wife again."

So saying he left for the kitchen and a few moments later I heard Claire's irate voice complaining loudly, "I can fuck or I can cook but not both - it's your choice." Otis soon reappeared with a face like thunder to put on the TV at full volume and fling himself petulantly on the settee. I derived rather a lot of satisfaction from that.

I think it was two days later, about an hour after they had retired for the night that I was surprised by Otis standing in front of me and saying it was stupid for me to make do on a hard floor when there was a spare soft bed upstairs. This apparent concern was so out of character that, even though I followed him upstairs after he released the radiator fastening, I was very suspicious. In the spare bedroom he cuffed the other end of my leg tether to a leg of the bed, saying that should allow me to get on the bed, but then stretched himself out where I had expected to lie. "Gangsta says it's too hot for three in a bed so he's kicked me out but it's just an excuse to get her alone," Otis announced. "Trouble is that you're wife was just going to suck me off - so you'll have to do it instead."