Yukon

Next morning Pierre was sitting waiting for me when I appeared. He explained, "Your wife is going to do breakfast but I kept her busy rather late last night so she's having a lie in. While we're waiting there's work to do. Just because I've relieved you of bedroom duties doesn't mean you get a free ride."

He led me round to the back of the cabin and a great pile of pine log roundels. Rolling one clear he picked up the large axe and swinging it one handed, neatly split the log in two. These he halved again and then repeated the operation with another five logs. Standing back, he said that I now had to split each segment again to reduce the original logs into eighths. I started, needing to use two hands just to lift the exe and still having difficulty. I was hoping he would leave me to it but he settled down to watch.

I was about half way through and already hot and bothered when he said conversationally, "I won that bet by the way."

"What bet?"

"The bet that your wife has opened her legs for at least one other man before me. Does the name Jack Fallon mean anything to you?"

It did mean something because it was the name of a man I hated but that had nothing to do with infidelity. Jack was a colleague, we were once in competition for a major promotion and I was considered the favourite until he pulled an underhand stunt. Speaking loudly in the hearing of an auditor, he remarked that if I got the job I would soon be rich because I was already milking the firm on my expenses. There was no truth in it and the long investigation proved that but it was no surprise when he got the directorship.

"It's a guy I used to work with," I admitted.

Pierre gave a dirty grin and said smugly. "Well he certainly did a job of work on your wife. You should ask her about him."

I was still so distressed that I almost forgot to pack extra items when preparing for the day. I could hardly wait until we were clear of the cabin before asking Helen about her and Jack Fallon. "I'm so sorry," she said. "I had a small affair with him but you've got to believe that it happened before he told that diabolical lie and lost you the job."

"How many times did you see him?"

"Only five but the last three I didn't want to. It started the night of that office party when you got totally inebriated only half way through the evening." (I remembered it well because I always believed that my drink was spiked but could never think of a motive for anybody to do it.) "Jack was very helpful," Helen continued. "He help me get you to his car, drove us home and then helped me put you to bed. Then he started coming on to me. He is an attractive man, I had been drinking as well and I was really pissed off with you so I foolishly let him fuck me."

I had a question but Helen held up a hand to stop me. "Two weeks later when you were in France, he rang me up and asked me round to his place on some pretext. I knew what would happen but I went anyway because I wanted to see if it was as good as I remembered. It wasn't and I decided then that I was stupid to risk a wonderful marriage for tacky mediocre sex on the side."

"I thought you said five times?"

"Next time you were in France Jack rang again but I refused to see him. He claimed to have some CCTV of me with his cock down my throat. He said that I must see it because if I didn't he was sure you would. I had no alternative and the next two occasions that you were in France he blackmailed me again but then I played his own game back at him. The sixth time he tried it I made him repeat all the threats but this time I recorded it all then played it back to him. He didn't bother me again but he still managed to hurt us."

I made no recriminations and in fact felt admiration of my wife's ingenuity but my hatred towards Jack Fallon now nearly equalled the hatred that I felt for Pierre. We walked on several more strides before the thought struck me and I said, "I can see how Jack Fallon was able to take advantage of you but why the hell did you tell Pierre about it?"

"He made me."

"How the fuck could he make you tell him about something he didn't even know about?"

"He suspected that I'd cheated on you before and tormented me until I admitted it. Then of course he kept on until I told him everything he wanted to know."

I guessed the answer and did not want to hear it but still I asked, "How did he torment you?"

Helen had the grace to blush bright red as she confessed, "He kept rubbing the head of his cock up and down the lips of my pussy and refusing to put it in until I answered his questions."

"We've got to escape from him," I told her urgently, "Don't you see, if he has that much control over you already, what is it going to be like at the end of the month?"

My wife nodded. "You're right. I just never dreamed that it was possible to be made to feel so good."

I told her my plan and she was eager to help. "The big problem is the tent and sleeping bags, "I said, "We need them to survive but I can't think how to get them outside without him seeing."

Helen grinned. "That's easy. The bedroom window slides open and I can push them out that way then one of us can pretend to go to the loo and hide them in the bushes behind the latrine. We can even get extra food out the same way."

Everything went like clockwork and two days later I decided we had a sufficient stash of food to survive. It might have been advisable to wait until we had accumulated slightly more but listening to my wife being fucked to delirium every night was too painful to bear now that it was about to end. Usually our treks were done in a leisurely manner but now, once clear of the cabin, we struck out briskly and apart from a couple of refreshment halts, maintained that pace for six hours. Even after stopping to eat something more substantial we carried on for another two hours before making camp.

When we were both in the tent I asked the vital question, "Do you think you might be pregnant yet?"

Helen shook her head. "Up to last night should have been safe. Today would have been more dodgy."

"Then I want to make love to you."

My wife gave me a sad but loving look. "I'm very very tired."

"I'm tired too but it's something I need to do," I said desperately. "Even if it's only symbolic, I need to reclaim you as my wife."

Helen immediately understood and moved to give me access to her body but that was not enough. "You need to be naked, the same as you were with him."

With slightly more reluctance she began to undress and on seeing her breasts I understood the hesitancy for her breasts were almost totally covered in hickeys. "He's an animal," Helen said, seeing the look on my face.

That was not going to stop me so I got on top as she opened her legs for me. Taking a deep breath I plunged home – and felt absolutely nothing. There was no sensation of contact at all. Maybe it was that fact alone or perhaps just the build up of sexual deprivation and provocation. All I know is that I immediately ejaculated in copious amounts, so much so that the sensation was not unlike urinating."

Helen said, "Wow!", and clutched me tight but I was distraught. "I'm so sorry," I told her from the depths of despair.

"Please don't be sorry," Helen begged embracing me in her love. "That was lovely; it was perfect, it couldn't possibly have been better. You have just given me all the love I've been missing."

We fell asleep soon after, still held tight in each others arms.

I again woke to the sound of whistling and for a moment thought I was back in the cabin but then the dire implication of the sound hit me. With a feeling of dread I unzipped the tent flap and peered out to see Pierre sitting on a boulder, patiently using his knife to remove the branches from a small sapling. On seeing me he shook his head and said quite pleasantly, "Didn't you even think about trying to cover your tracks?"

Encouraged by his tone of voice I crawled out of the tent only to be filled with fear as he said coldly, "You know what I warned you would happen if you ever tried something like this."

I mumbled some regretful words at which he laughed and said, "Don't worry, I haven't come to kill you, in fact I'm actually saving your lives. I doubt if you have more than seven days supplies and it would take me two weeks to get anywhere. You were in serious trouble even if the weather wasn't about to turn." I began to relax until he went on, "But I do intend to make you suffer for this little stunt."

By this time Helen had exited the tent and to her he said, "I'm disappointed with you. I could expect him to run away but I thought you enjoyed me fucking you."

"Maybe that's what I wanted you to think," Helen told him calmly.

Pierre considered her words and then said, "You can't be saying that to upset me so it's got to for your husband's benefit. Do you think I can't tell? Do you think I don't know that I make you cum more than any other man you've ever been with?"

Automatically my head turned to hear my wife's response but she said nothing and this encouraged him to continue bragging, "I doubt you'll ever find another man to fill you the way I do. Your husband's useless. After only a few days of having my cock up you I doubt if you can even feel him inside you anymore. Can you?"

"No," Helen admitted very quietly.

"Why do you think I encouraged you to keep opening your legs for him?" Pierre asked triumphantly. "It wasn't kindness; I wanted to keep you aware of the contrast between him and me."

With my mental anguish taken care of, Pierre set about ensuring extreme physical discomfort. He made me lie face down on the floor with arms out at either side then created a yoke by tightly tying my outstretched wrists to the denuded sapling. Finally grabbing me by the scruff of the neck, almost without effort, he hoisted me to my feet. Pierre then efficiently collapsed and packed the tent, placed both back packs on his own shoulders and we began the long trek back to the cabin.

We did have brief rests during which he allowed Helen to feed me food and water but there was no respite from the pain in my shoulders. Back at the cabin I was released while we ate a scratch meal and I thought his retribution was over but, after an hour, Pierre ordered me to kneel on the floor in front of him. While leaning forward on his instructions, he pinioned my arms with the rope then pushed me down to do the same with my ankles and as a final indignity tied ankles and wrists together in what I think is called a hog-tie.

Looping his arm through the juncture of limbs he carried me, on his arm like a basket, through into the bedroom, shepherding Helen in front. Once there he ordered her, "Strip."

"I damn well won't. I'm not doing anything you say while you're like this," she told him defiantly.

"Either take off your clothes or I'll do it for you."

My wife's rebellion was short lived because she meekly undressed, draping the discarded garments over the bottom of the bed. Standing naked in front of him she asked, "Why are you doing this?"

"Your husband thinks you need rescuing but he has to realise that you want me to fuck you, so he's going to see how I send you crazy with pleasure when I put my cock inside you," Pierre explained.

"It's for his own good. After this he should accept how things are."

"I'm not having sex with you while the man I love is lying helpless and in pain by the side of the bed. You can't expect me to," Helen told him with a look of determination on her face.

"I can force you."

"Yes you can but that doesn't really give the impression that you're hoping for, does it?"

Pierre considered this for several seconds and then conceded, "He remains in the room all night and he stays tied up but I will let him straighten out and make him more comfortable. Only on condition that first, you suck my cock the way you know I like and explain to your husband why you like having it in your mouth so much."

Helen nodded her agreement upon which Pierre let his shorts drop to the floor and stepped out of them to place himself lightly perched on the edge of the bed. My wife squatted in front of him and I managed to roll on my side, the better to watch what I did not really want to see. She grasped his thick shaft in one hand and placed the other under his scrotum before turning to me and saying, "Do I really need to explain? One look at this magnificent organ gives the answer, I doubt if there is a woman in the world who wouldn't go crazy for the chance to suck a cock like this."

Her next act was to bend his cock down to quickly lick the tip that was just emerging from his foreskin, before nuzzling her face into his general genital area. Pulling back she bounced his testicles on her hand, informing me, "They're as big as oranges and I like to suck them as well. I just love the sweaty masculine taste."

I lay and watched her do the whole routine, licking up and down the shaft with obvious pleasure and then stretching her lips to the maximum extent to allow an impossible length of cock deep into her mouth. After a time Pierre stopped her with the cue 'Time to fuck' upon which she leaped onto the bed with unconcealed eagerness to lie with legs expectantly spread. I was shocked how much he had conditioned her in so relatively few days, for the look I saw on my wife's face was one of craving.

Before giving her what she wanted he honoured the bargain cutting the rope joining wrists and ankles, then threw a pillow down and lifted me until I was seated on the pillow and leaning against the wall.

By the time he had rejoined her on the bed Helen had bent herself double, with ankles alongside her ears, held in place by her hands and without hesitation Pierre plunged his rigid pole into the proffered orifice. I was amazed at how far her cunt lips had to stretch to encompass his huge girth and the sheer volume of hot flesh that she could accommodate within her.

There was no mistaking the pleasure she felt just having his cock inside her even before he began to fuck with rapid rhythmic strokes. In addition to the same cries of passion that I had overheard from the adjoining room, Helen kept up a stream of verbal encouragement, "Fuck me, fuck me you bastard, do it to me, make me cum." Make her cum he did, a countless number of times and every orgasm of greater magnitude than any I could hope to achieve. This 'viewing' could leave me demoralised for the rest of my life for if this was real fucking then it was beyond my ability. For the first time I could answer the question 'What's the difference between a poke and a fuck', I poked, he fucked.

In the midst of my misery, I found some consolation in the thought that only deep love could have made her run away from this to be with me. It was a valid thought but soon submerged in the evidence of how much he had made my wife his creature. An insidious idea took hold that perhaps this was the natural order, that Helen belonged with a man like this rather than me but I fought it by concentrating on small inconsequential detail, such as the way her internal juices built up on his gleaming shaft.

At one point I must have pushed myself up, the better to see, until I was almost vertical, propped against the wall. I know I was standing when they switch position, he on his back and Helen on top, impaled on his cock. This was the hardest part to watch. Before, with his powerful piston like strokes he had been doing it to her but now she was pleasuring herself on him, sensuously, almost in slow motion. She would raise herself then let herself slide back down, wriggling and squirming until every available inch of flesh was inside her.

Was she pleasuring herself or trying to give him pleasure, it was hard to tell. At times she rubbed her tits sexually against his barrel chest seemingly for his benefit but at others, with the almost same motion, she seemed more intent on keeping her clitoris in contact with his shaft. He had given her innumerable orgasms but with this lewd use of her body Helen returned the favour by tempting him until he ejaculated. As his cum pump into her Pierre gave a great bull like roar and I saw a smile of satisfaction on my wife's face as she received the reward for her effort. Unable to take anymore, I slid back down to the pillow and let my mind switch off. Maybe they fucked again but I doubt it for after the day's efforts, both must have been as close to exhaustion as I.

I woke with my upper body still propped against the wall although I had slumped down slightly while asleep. Pierre was on his back, lying motionless down the centre of the bed. Helen lay face down horizontally across it, her head resting on his lower torso near his groin and with a hand still wrapped round his huge phallus, which was standing up like a flag-pole. The greater part of her legs protruded beyond the edge of the bed and, in plain view, her cunt still gaped open with much evidence remaining of the semen that had oozed from it. I spent over twenty minutes contemplating that grossly enlarged and defiled orifice that had once been my private territory.

Pierre woke first and was instantly alert. After gently extracting himself from under my wife's sleeping face he padded round the bed to cut me free from my bonds. "No hard feelings I hope – it was only to prevent future problems," he said. I made no reply but could claim a bursting bladder as reason for a rapid exit from that room of humiliation.

The period of eating and getting ready for the day that followed is a complete blur. I cannot remember a single sentence that was spoken except that as Helen and I walked away for another day on our own, Pierre called after her, "You ought to give your hubby some of that special sexing. I know you probably want to keep it all for me but if you give him a taste now and then it might keep him more contented."

When we were hardly out of sight of the cabin I had to ask, "Why did you put on such an exhibition with him last night?"

Helen halted to face me. "Because everything that Pierre said was true and I also agree with his reasoning," she said sincerely. "If I hated doing it with him, was suffering every day and prying for it all to end, then there would be a reason for you to risk your life trying to save me but it's actually the exact opposite. The only sensible thing for you to do is just sit tight until the end of the month."

"Are you saying you would rather be with him than me?"

"Don't be silly. I love you and I detest him as a man. What I want is for us to be back at home, just like we used to be."

"How can we possibly be the same especially with his cock being so big, it can't ever be the same as it was?" I asked rather petulantly.

"I'll have shrunk back to my old size before we've been home a week. Just wait and see."

"But after the effect that Pierre has on you won't you always hanker to be made to feel that way again?" In my mind this was the killer.

"If we had gone on the historical holiday instead of coming here, "Helen began thoughtfully, "You would have had a fantastic time, you would have loved the experience and want it to keep on, you would have made the most of it but at the same time accepted that it would never ever happen again. That is exactly how I feel right now."

I grudgingly accepted the comparison and we passed a reasonably pleasant day without mentioning the subject again but I don't think either of us had the previous evening out of our minds. On the return journey we had to hurry because we saw the clouds building and had just nicely reached the shelter of the cabin when the rain started. It was the beginning of a four day storm that kept us confined and introduced a new element to my ordeal.

That night I was allowed to sleep in the bunk room but with the usual pornographic sound track. Fortunately I found that my 'in the same room' experience had somewhat inured me to the sounds.