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.