Cucking the Captive Campers Ch. 01

*** Disclaimer ***

The following story is a work of fiction. It contains themes of cheating, cuckoldry, humiliation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, NTR and possibly even a little incest. If this isn't the fetish for you, I urge you to reconsider how much time and energy you devote to this.

This is a work of fiction. All characters depicted are at least 18 years of age. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

***

CUCKING THE CAPTIVE CAMPERS chapter 01

***

Leanne emerged from the door of the camper wearing a slight frown. She was holding her cell phone up like a talisman... as though keeping it at head height would magically bring it to life. But the signal strength was non-existent, and had been ever since the turnpike exit. The search icon spun and spun without end.

Defeated, she sighed, and tucked it back into her jeans. "You'd think," she began, failing to keep the annoyance from her voice, "That with a big cell tower by the exit ramp, there'd be a better signal out here."

Brian glanced at his wife. "That was ten miles ago, baby." Although he didn't say it, he was grateful for the lack of service out here. He wasn't sure what had gotten into Leanne, but over the past few years, she seemed to have withdrawn quite a bit. Her demeanor growing icier, and her enthusiasm for spending time together turning tepid. She'd begun to spend more and more time on her phone-- social media, silly word games, gossip. Vanity. It was all vanity-- distractions and procrastination. But it seemed to be her center of focus more and more.

Benefit of the doubt... Brian attributed that to the inevitable empty nest syndrome and midlife crisis that was only a few short weeks away.

"Exactly, ten miles is not very far," Leanne folded her arms. "This is America. We have first world technology. You'd think they'd have it all figured out."

Beside him, his son Bradley gave a final push, and the canvas tent sprang up, popping to life, full and proud. Like his father, his chubby face was flushed. Beads of sweat stood out, and he swiped his arm across his brow.

"Mom, have you ever looked at those pictures of the Earth from space at night?" Bradley asked. "Sure, there's a lot of areas that are lit up around the cities, but in between them, there's a *lot* of areas that are pitch black. That's all wilderness. If there's no lights on, what are the chances there'll be cell phone service?"

Leanne regarded her son, and although she wasn't pleased by this response, she couldn't help the daring smirk that lifted the corners over her mouth-- proud and amused, although she didn't want to be. "Oh yeah? Did you come to that conclusion all on your own? Or is that a line from a movie?"

Bradley shrugged, nonchalantly. "I read it in some book about Big Foot."

"Big Foot?" Leanne shook her head and gave her son a playful shove. "Your professors are going to have a field day with you, big guy."

Although Bradley would be going off to community college for the first time at the end of the summer, he still hadn't outgrown his boyish fixation on monster movies, slashers, and spooky lore. That was something he'd never outgrow, and Leanne sort of hoped that he never would.

In a lot of ways, Bradley looked a lot like his father (at least the way that his father had looked at age 18). They were both solid, stocky men with chubby cheeks, dark eyes, and jet-black hair. Although Bradley had inherited his mother's height, thankfully, and stood a good four inches over his father's meager 5'7" frame.

Brian had never been a tall man, but that had been okay when Leanne had first met him. When they had started dating in their senior year, Brian had much more going for him than height. He was the only kid in their graduating class who had facial hair, tattoos, and a motorcycle. His features were dark, and his manner was quiet. He was the bad-boy, and Leanne found that thrilling. More so than height, or his thick frame that could almost be mistaken for muscles. There was a danger about him. Who could possibly know what this vo-tech boy was capable of?

Turns out... not a lot. Brian was actually a gentle teddy bear. And his strong silent personality type wasn't cultivated from confidence, experience, or danger, but rather social awkwardness, and shyness. And frankly, the most exciting parts of Brian were what was on the outside... and that was only skin-deep.

She'd been hopeful that Brian would be the type of man to throw her on the back of his bike, take her wherever he wanted to go, and take *her* in any manner he wanted. She craved the thrill of being powerless to a dangerous man, who could make snap decisions on a whim.

But instead what she got was a man who was content. And that meant, she was the one to initiate excitement. She had to be the one suggesting rides to trashy biker bars, or questionable tattoo shops. She had assumed the role of the reluctant leader in this relationship, and it was not at all what she'd expected or wanted. But once she discovered that she was pregnant, it was really a moot point.

With any luck, Bradley would inherit her mother's backbone, sense of adventure, and fitness goals. While Leanne had feverishly worked to burn off her pregnancy weight, Brian had been practically sprinting in the opposite direction. His belly bulged, and his arms sagged until he'd evolved into a halfway deflated pool toy of a man.

That had been the first time Leanne started to notice what an odd couple they truly made. Both in their late thirties, Leanne was a tall girl, standing at about 5'9". Her voluminous auburn hair gave her more height-- wild and untamable, like the mane of a lioness. Her arms were dressed in tattoos (her idea in high school to emphasize that she was 'Biker Brian's bitch'). And her legs were long and smooth. Brian often joked that she was like a model in an 80's beer commercial-- complete with narrow face, strong cheekbones, and tentative smile.

Right now that small mouth was held in a tight but teasing smile. "You know we have an entire camper, right?" She mused as she watched her son put the finishing touches on his tent.

"What, and listen to you and dad hump all night? No thanks," Bradley grinned.

Brian burst out laughing. "Be realistic, we're married."

Leanne smacked her son again. "Fat chance that's happening."

"Never get married," Brian reiterated with a jovial laugh.

"Even still," Bradley replied, "College is starting soon, and I figure I better get used to having my own space."

Leanne shrugged. "If you want to sleep outside like a hobo, it's your funeral. But the woods get pretty dark at night. I better not hear 'Mom! I'm scared! There's monsters out here.'"

Bradley was momentarily confused, looking his mother up and down. And there was that cocky smirk to match hers. Cocky and confident, the way that Brian used to look in high school. "How young do you think I am? I'm taller than you, toothpick," he ruffled Leanne's hair, making her already messy style even messier.

"Toothpick?" She planted her hands on her hips. "That's it. I'm soooo messing with you tonight. You better bunker in tight, big guy, because I'm going to scare the ever-loving-shit out of you when you least expect it."

"Oh c'mon," Bradley groaned as he tossed his sleeping bag and his mp3 player into the tent. "Can't have any privacy, can I?"

Brian rolled his eyes. "Don't sneak up on the kid while he's alone, unless you want to see what he does with his socks."

"Jesus Christ, dad!" Bradley burst out laughing.

Leanne took it and ran with it. "In your socks??? Bradley! That's disgusting. Use tissues. Or, better yet, get a girlfriend."

"Oh fuck off, both of you people," Bradley gave them the finger as he retreated into his tent. This only earned harder laughter from his parents.

***

"Shut up! Shut up, you ugly bitch!" He was snarling over his shoulder as he drove. "Shut your fuckin' mouth!"

She continued to wail incoherently. A never-ending whining that reminded him of a European police siren. Little by little, he felt his nerves fraying.

When Leo McDowell had first grabbed her and (more importantly) her unremarkable sedan from the Burger King parking lot just off the turnpike, he had every intention of dumping her off the moment they'd left civilization behind, and only taking her car up into the mountains.

But bound with stolen police handcuffs in the back seat, she'd done nothing but shriek and shriek and shriek. The sound was utterly infuriating-- it needled into his brain like cracking glass. Any moment now, he would fracture.

"That's it!" He bellowed, as the trees raced by on either side. "I was going to let you go. But fuck it. You made this too easy!" He spun in his seat and aimed the pistol at the helpless woman in the back.

Her eyes widened at the sight of the gun, and she instantly ceased her insufferable screaming.

"Too late," he growled. "I'm not going to feel the least bit bad about this." And he meant it, as he glared into his hostage's eyes.

Suddenly the car bounced on uneven ground, as McDowell's momentary distraction had veered them.

He swore and faced front in time to see the trees that were rushing up at them. He spun the wheel, but the car was reluctant-- having dipped into a small rut. He yanked the wheel harder, and hit the brakes. The car overcorrected, the tires squealed, and suddenly the car lost control, lurched across the two lanes, and straight into a grove of saplings.

The woman screamed again from the back seat, but this time it went unnoticed. McDowell was also screaming. The car plunged through the thicket, and then there was a bone-jarring smash as it slammed against the base of a towering pine. The car came to an instant stop, with the shower of safety glass, and a flock of chirping birds taking sudden flight. Then the forest was silent, save for the soft hiss of a dying engine.

McDowell lifted his head from the wheel, and felt the trickle of blood. He ran his hand over his scalp, hearing the rasp of his shaved head against his calloused palm. Some glass had gashed his head, but it wasn't too bad.

He glanced over his shoulder at the woman in the back. She was shaken, and had clearly peed herself, but she was unharmed... and mercifully silent. McDowell scowled at her. "See what you made me do? Look at that. Dumb bitch," he swore as he kicked his way out of the wreck.

The car was beyond saving. The hood buckled around the tree trunk like tinfoil. But at least it was far enough off the road and into the vegetation to be hard to spot. And out here, the only thing more rare than passing motorists were police. There was simply too much wilderness to patrol.

McDowell tucked his gun into his waistband and retrieved his duffle bag from the trunk. He paused one final time and regarded the hostage. For a moment, he stood, glancing between her and the road. Finally he undid her handcuffs and nearly yanked her from the car.

He pointed to the road. "Start fuckin' walking. You look like you could use a good walk anyway. And you better forget my face, or so help me god, I'll kill you."

He'd already pilfered her wallet and had noted her home address. The threat might be empty, but she was in no position to take that chance. She merely nodded, and hurried to the road before McDowell had a chance to reconsider.

With his bag slung over his shoulder, McDowell decided to put some distance between himself and road. He fled in the opposite direction-- straight into the trees. Out here, it wouldn't be hard to "disappear".

The only signs he'd seen for miles were for a campground. People, but not many... that was a good thing...

***

Leanne sat uncomfortably slouched at the picnic bench, with her arms wrapped around herself. In truth, she hated camping and the outdoors.

It wasn't so much the bugs, and the mosquitoes, and the dirt. She could handle all of that. But it was the boredom. Brian and Bradley enjoyed fishing, and hunting, and chopping wood. To her, it was all mindless. Sit still for hours and wait for something to happen. Where was the fun in that? It seemed so lazy and unambitious.

Leanne's idea of fun would have been something more wild. A loud bar. A concert. Taking some mushrooms and streaking across a public park. Once, in tenth grade, she and some friends had gotten drunk, hopped the fence into a mini-golf course after hours and absconded with the plaster dolphin statue that guarded the 8th green.

That was her idea of fun. Not standing for hours along a riverbank, waiting for... nothing.

Once camp had been set up, Brian and Bradley had decided to scout out a nearby stream for fishing spots. Bradley didn't seem to enjoy fishing as much as his father-- but he was pretty much down for anything, and he was still young and energetic enough that he didn't want to sit around the camp site all day.

Leanne had naturally opted out. Once the boys had departed, she had taken a short walk around the camp grounds, orienting herself.

It wasn't much of a camp ground-- narrow dirt roads led to flat little clearings "designated" as camp sites. They weren't much-- old picnic benches and corroded metal fire pits were the only features. The grounds had a bathroom, showers and running water, even. But they were a hike, and it was just easier to use their camper. Cleaner too, with the water hooked up.

It came as no surprise when she discovered no other campers in the area. Apparently she wasn't the only sane person in the world who shared in a distain for camping. This place was a ghost town.

She returned to her camp, checked her phone for the billionth time, and sat, listening to the birds and the silence.

It was then that he emerged from the trees-- a bear.

***

Not a bear, although Leo McDowell could easily be mistaken for one. He was a wall of a man. Over six foot five, with broad shoulders, a thick neck, a barrel chest, and brawny arms. His face boasted the two-day's stubble of a red beard, and the shaved stubble of his light colored hair was starting to sprout again. His face was hard and his eyes squinted naturally.

He moved astonishingly fast, as he descended on the lanky tatted-up chick with the wild and teased auburn hair, and the bored expression on her face. She stopped looking quite so bored when she caught the flash of orange prison denim.

Then she was yanked out of her seat and shoved hard against the wall of the camper. Her arms pinned behind her back, her face turned to the side, pressed against the cold aluminum.

She whimpered.

"Don't make a sound," McDowell snarled in her ear, and tapped her lightly on the forehead with the barrel of his pistol. "Are you alone right now? Nod your head if you're alone."

She nodded her head slowly, struggling to reorient herself.

McDowell looked around, assessing the camp site. Secluded, surrounded by trees. Nothing visible, unless someone should walk up from the single path wide enough to allow a vehicle. Unless some ranger happened by, he wouldn't be discovered. Although that was possible. Rangers were pains in the asses-- the nags of the law enforcement world.

Aside from the camper RV, there was a tent set up, and three folding chairs. He believed this woman, that she was alone... but only for the time-being. She was breathing hard, yet McDowell was surprised to find her not trembling.

He swept her hair back from her face and assessed her features. Her face was set in a look of annoyance, rather than fear. Her jaw was set, and her eyes resentful. She was decidedly better looking than the last woman he'd strong-armed kidnapped-- the shrieker. Narrow, but attractive face, good cheek bones, pink lips. Even a cute splash of freckles on her up-turned nose. She reminded McDowell of some hottie from an 80's movie. Molly Ringwald's bad-news sister, or something.

Her hair was wild and full, and her arms boasted tattoos. He gave her a little curious glance. Tall sleek body, like a cheetah. Long legs underneath those denim jeans, a narrow, but perky butt. And what were the twins beneath that tank top? They looked like a pair of C's to him.

She caught him inspecting her. She let out a derisive snort, her mouth in a sarcastic smirk. "See something you like?"

For once, McDowell was surprised. A bad bitch. He could work with that. More than a screaming imbecile.

"How many are you here with?" He asked.

"Two others," she said, her voice had a bit of an edge, but she wasn't be combative. "My son and my husband."

"Husband, huh?" He asked. "Where are they now?"

"Fishing."

"When will they be back?"

She couldn't shake her head, with her body pinned to the trailer wall. She merely gave a little shrug to her shoulders. "Whenever."

"What's your name?" He asked.

"Leanne. But everyone calls me Lee."

McDowell couldn't help but bark a laugh. "Well Lee. My name's Leo. Quite the coincidence. Here's how this is going to go: I'm going to let go of you. If you run, I'll catch you. If you fight, I'll hurt you. Don't do either, and we won't have a fuckin' problem. Understand?"

There was that strong set to her jaw again, but finally she nodded.

He let her go and took a step back. She turned, rubbing her arms where he'd grabbed her. Then she took a moment to appraise this man who'd taken her by force. First impression-- he was big. An enormous gruff bear of a man, who was bulging in his jumpsuit. His face was hard, and his eyes were dark, gleaming with the capability to use violence-- and do so very easily. Interestingly enough, Leanne's expression showed little fear, and McDowell wasn't used to that. Maybe he'd underestimated her a little. Her tits were bigger than he guessed on that sleek body. She was hot.

"First thing's first. Did your husband bring any guns on this trip?"

Leanne didn't break eye contact, still breathing hard, but not trembling. She shook her head.

"You're not lying to me are you?" He brandished his own pilfered handgun. "If you lie to me, someone could get hurt."

"I'm not lying," she said firmly. "He doesn't have any guns."

"You have a cell phone? Give it to me," he held out his hand.

She surrendered it. "They don't work out here anyway," she said, rather bitterly.

"Life must really be hard for you," he was unsympathetic. He dropped it into his duffle bag, and Leanne had the briefest glimpse of a pile of loose cash stuffed within.

He caught her eye, and smirked. "Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to." Then he waved her to the trailer with his gun. "Let's go. Inside."

As she led the way, McDowell took a moment to admire her ass in those jeans. Definitely a show-piece. Something he hadn't seen in a long while. Maybe a little past her prime, but barely. In her twenties, she could have been a model, now in her late thirties... definitely fuckable.

The inside of the RV was quiet and cool.

She regarded him with that same slightly defiant look to her expression. That jutting set to her jaw that told the story of a woman being inconvenienced.

Bitch needed to be humbled. "Sit down!" he ordered. His roar like a gunshot in the confined space.

She jumped, but folded her arms. "What if I don't?" She asked, but there was the slightest raise to the corner of her mouth, as though her challenge was meant to be playful and teasing.

McDowell fished out a pair of handcuffs. "Unless you like wearing these, baby, I suggest you do as I say."

She dropped into one of the bench seats by the kitchenette.

"Good girl," he said.

For the next several minutes, Leanne watched in silence as McDowell went around the trailer. He took the keys, any phones or anything that could reach the outside world. Kitchen knives, and fire skewers were confiscated-- anything that could be used as a weapon.