Saturday

I pause the movie in my head. The action from this point on is too fast to follow in real time. I'll have to hit pause every now and then.

It was only because I averted my eyes away from the horrendous scene in the lounge that I saw the evil looks on first Chrissy's and then Anna's faces. This was killing me and they loved it. They watched as I hopelessly strained on my arms until the pain from the handcuffs put a stop to that. I felt blood trickling from at least one wrist. Anna paused in her gloating to move the video camera from a side view of me to one from the front. I stared directly into the lens as it extended towards me for a close-up. I have no idea how long we stayed like this while I tried to blot out the grunts and moans from the lounge. Outrage was in full swing now but still not enough to overcome steel, wood and tape. It probably never would have been, except the girls made their last mistake.

Anna complained that she hadn't come yet. Chrissy invited her to use their toy. What their toy was, wasn't apparent until they walked around the table, grabbed a shoulder each and laid my chair on its back. Anna stripped off the rest of her clothes, then lowered her groin against my face. Obviously, in a hurry, she immediately began grinding her clitoral area into the gag and my nose. As she increased the pressure and tempo, my last remaining source of air was cut off. One thing I haven't said yet was that I have a pathological fear of suffocation. I'd been crushed in the same accident that killed my parents. I'd spent a petrified hour, struggling to breathe until rescue arrived. That triggered a burst of adrenaline that no mere outrage could elicit, only primal fear. I tried turning my face but Anna's clamping thighs stopped that. My whole body flexed as it screamed for air. Adrenaline causes the blood to take on more Oxygen, which consumes more air. My left leg flexed back on the chair leg. The right leg, taped looser, flexed to the side. The tape on that leg pulled away. My hands were sore from the pressure of two bodies on them. My face sawed up and down on the slippery groin above it.

For three weeks, I had taken solace in the slow motion replay of events in the next 128 seconds. In the sawing of my face, the ball gag caught on Anna's pubic bone. The ball was rolled out of my mouth. Without even taking a breath, I used the only weapon I had free to defend myself. My mouth opened wide, then jaw clenched with adrenaline-fueled strength. Teeth met, despite the resistance of flesh. Thighs clenched tighter on my head in Anna's fight or flight moment. Blood spurted onto my face. Anna's reflexes to get away from the danger saw her straightening her legs and backing away. Her hands were still locked on the top of the back of the chair. Adrenaline fuelled her strength as well, so that as she rose, the chair rose upright as well. By the size of the intake of breath she took, this was going to be one hell of a scream. More freedom of movement allowed my left leg to join the right in freedom. My chair and I were now mobile.

I knew I had mere seconds to protect myself from the biggest dangers I faced, the bigger Bill, followed by Todd. If my upbringing had taught me one thing, it was that attack is the best means of defense. In fact, it was the only option when you're heavily outnumbered and flight is impossible. My chair and I ran as fast as we could around the table. Chuck Yaeger's record was in no danger as I hobbled around. Just as I got to the archway into the lounge, three significant things happened simultaneously. First, and most satisfying, Anna began screaming. The harmonics were almost stunning, even in the large dining room. Second, Chrissy caught me up and grabbed my chair buddy, or, as I like to think of it now, my on board weapons system. Third, our commotion finally broke the concentration of the three fuckers in the lounge. All three faces turned towards us. Jane had cum drooling out of her mouth.

Years of training and conditioning took over. I may only have a green belt in Judo, but I'm a third Dan black belt streetfighter. Judo trains one to not overcome other's strength and momentum, but to use it. Rather than trying to wrench the chair away from Chrissy's grasp by main force, I used her forwards momentum to turn us around. Once she had her back to the direction I WAS going to travel, I began running backwards. To avoid the chair, she had no choice but to follow. We were moving quite fast when we hit Jane, still prone on the floor. Bill must have thrown himself backwards, off and out of Jane. Todd, either in mid-orgasm or very shortly afterwards, could only summon the wherewithal to half roll away from her. I'm tall and bulky, so that by the time the right rear chair leg hit Chrissy's chest, milliseconds after she hit an immovable object, the floor, it had about half a ton of momentum behind it, all concentrated at a point less than an inch square. Being closer, the oomph of breath being expelled from her body temporarily drowned out Anna's screams.

In slow time, as I rolled, I'd realized that my first reflex had been the wrong one. Here I was between my two biggest threats, with unusable arms. I'd used the roll's momentum to regain my feet, then lit off at breakneck speed, as long as the neck was on a snail, back through the arch to the dining room. I bunny hopped from the floor to a chair, to the tabletop. Without pause, I threw myself to the floor, twisting in mid-air. This was a huge gamble and I knew it. If I damaged my arms at this point, I was finished.

It hurt. A lot. Success was announced when I had no trouble rising to my feet again. The weight behind me suggested the heavy chair base was gone. A glance behind me; there was the chair base, legs broken. That meant only the back was pinned to me. I stained to the pain barrier again. Still no good. I then tried raising my arms over my head to bring them to the front before remembering that arms don't work that way. Fuck, I wish that woman would stop screaming. The last of the drugs must have burned away at that moment, because I remembered what I'd done the last time the police had my arms handcuffed behind my back. I sat again and with supreme effort, backed first one, then the second leg, through the circle my arms made. This time when I stood, my hands and the chair back were in front of me. I made it to the arch into the lounge just before Todd, coming from the opposite direction. Just past him, I could see Bill crouched over Chrissy. As I watched, she convulsed and vomited blood and bile over his knees. Jane was backed into a corner, looking at me with an expression of horror. I realized later that I must have had blood dripping from my mouth and chin, as well as my wrists. God knows what my face showed above the blood. Todd was frozen, looking over my shoulder. His reflexes told him to get to his screaming wife. Trouble was, I was in the way. He stepped forwards, arms raised. My reflexes told me to stiff-arm him in the face with the chair remnants. That stunned him enough that I was able to swat the side of his face with it. I watched the valiant piece of furniture finally break apart, leaving me only holding an upright back strut. Amazingly, he didn't go down, just stood there, feet splayed, dazed. That allowed me to use a move that I'd never learned in Judo. I kicked him fair in the naked dangling scrotum. He went up on his toes, then went over.

As the last man standing, Bill had three choices. He could have fled. He could have made it known he was no threat, which may or may not have saved him from my wrath. He chose option three. The tall naked pissed off man attacked. Half-turning, he grabbed a heavy standing lamp and took two paces towards me and raised the lamp to swing. Half way through the swing, it came to the extent of its electrical cord, travelling at a sharp angle around a couch leg. The lamp, and Bill, hesitated. I didn't. I stepped half a pace past him and drove the piece of wood in my hands, towards the back of his head. He ducked reflexively and I missed. Instead of the blunt part hitting his head, the sharp end plunged into the side of his neck. He dropped the lamp and fell to his knees. At that point, I collapsed on my ass on the couch, no longer able to stand now that the adrenalin was leaving my body, leaving it quivering. Apart from the shrieks of pain from the kitchen, the groans from the prone Todd, the retching sounds from Chrissy and the frantic sounds of Bill trying to grab the wood impaling his throat, all was silent.

When had Jane stood up? We stared at each other across the room for who knows how long. Certainly long enough for a thump following the cessation of Anna's screams to indicate she'd finally passed out. Was that before Bill finally toppled forwards or not? It's probably not important. Still, we stared without a word. I wondered what was going through her mind. Chrissy and Anna's motives were clear, the destruction of a husband. Bill and Todd were the shallow types that were probably just motivated by lust and fresh pussy. How did that work out for you guys? Jane's progress to disaster wasn't that hard to guess I suppose. The sudden interest in group sex, probably after Chrissy and Anna filled her head with stories of how fantastic it was. The subtle pressure to conform with her new pushy friends. Maybe a little two-way lesbian action, followed by a three-way, as a gentle introduction to infidelity. Then the 'accidental' discovery by one or more husband and the slide into full on cheating. The conscience tweaked and the options becoming, find some way of including hubby, or give up this new, immensely pleasurable lifestyle. I guessed that Miss Gullible 2015 had been conned by four predators into thinking I would happily go along with their group sex once I saw how much fun it was. I've always hated jumping to conclusions, but I don't think she believed that anymore.

If I thought this night of horrors was over, I was mistaken. Jane's eyes, flicking to one of the cameras, gave me the first clue. She wasn't dumb. She knew our marriage was over. All of a sudden, I knew that our destinies had diverged to opposite poles and those poles were represented by those cameras. Without those cameras, she'd be a divorcee who was the victim of a husband whose cuckold and humiliation fantasy had gone badly wrong. Any surviving witness would attest to that. With those cameras, she was in prison for unlawful restraint and accessory to sexual assault. Sure, they hadn't been on when I was actually restrained, but there was such a thing as circumstantial evidence. With those cameras, her reputation and dreams were in the gutter. The trouble was that with those cameras, I was a free man. Without, I was in prison for a long, long time.

Her move, when she made it, caught me unawares. She leapt up and headed to the arch, grabbing camera, tripod and all, on the way. I leapt to my feet with the speed of an asthmatic sloth, and tripped straight over the same power cord that had been Bill's undoing. Before I regained my feet, she had the second camera, her purse, and was through the door. By the time I reached it, I was just in time to see her nakedness closing the car door. By the time I was in full sprint, she'd stopped backing to slam the car into drive. Without a plan, I continued running towards her. Straight into the path of an oncoming car. Unable to walk, but unconscious anyway, the police and arrest were soon coming. Considerate man that I am, the police didn't even have to cuff me.

The policeman, left to guard me in the hospital, telling a nurse the story while I was still feigning unconsciousness, confirmed that I'd been right. They'd interviewed enough people to conclude that the willing humiliatee, me, had changed his mind after the start of the show and gone ape shit. There were few details, but enough to know I was well and truly Donald Ducked. Shortly afterwards, I'd awoken insane.

*****

That was three weeks ago, and since then the actor had reigned supreme and the bitch I'd married had barely failed to kill me by hoarding tranquilizers. An overheard whispered conversation, when her father was visiting and I was feigning sleep, let me know that he knew the real story and they were fairly confident her ambitions had only suffered a non-fatal setback, but only if I suffered one. That was a week ago, but in the here and now, my watch alarm was going off. I had places to go and people to see.

Slipping out of bed and into my one set of street clothes, I slipped the lock on the door, which was boringly unchallenging for someone of my heritage. Tonight there was the usual one nurse and one orderly on duty. I knew from experience, that these two covered each other while one slept the night away. The other one usually played games on the computer. Into Dr. Joneses office, source of all my research material, including textbooks and my own files. That's how I'd known he was going to go for broke and attempt to finish my treatment, the day after my poisoning. That's why I'd mumbled a confession in my sleep and prompted Jane to use her stash of tranquilizers earlier than she'd planned. Dr. Jones left his office unlocked, so it wasn't difficult to borrow his white lab coat. He, like almost everyone else here, assumed that all the patients in 5B actually were insane. Past the brightly lit office with its glowing computer screen and engrossed orderly, bypass the lock on the exterior door and out. Slip on Dr. Jones lab coat and walk out into the outside world for the third time in three weeks. Mission, find a couple of cameras.

I knew the cameras still existing was a long shot, but it was all I had. I was insane, so I'd never given my testimony about that Saturday night. I'm sure Jane's father's lawyer had spun a wonderful yarn about how I'd pressured her into participating in my fantasy of being humiliated, then how I'd snapped half way through and gone nuts. I'm sure, for self-preservation, Todd, Anna and Chrissy had told a similar story. They held all the cards. The cameras were my only hope. They didn't show me being tied up, but did show my reaction to it. Most importantly of course, it showed my attacks on Todd, Anna and Bill were self-defense, and Chrissy was an accident. Everyone knew what the cameras represented, and any normal person would make sure they disappeared forever. I knew Jane's father, Matthew, wasn't a normal person.

I only knew Jane's mother for the first year and a half after meeting her daughter, then she died of liver failure. One night, we were left alone while Jane was helping her father entertain some influential business types. She got maudlin and confessed her life story to me. She'd basically married Jane's father to rescue her family's business. Before and after Jane was born, she was used by her husband to seal business deals. As her husband was very possessive about Jane, she was desperate for another child to call her own and had secretly gone off birth control. Consequently, she'd become pregnant after a gangbang organized by her husband. He was so furious he'd pressured her, not only into an abortion, but a hysterectomy at the same time. She'd never forgiven herself and turned to alcohol. It took 15 years, but it finally gave her the escape she craved. That gave me the insight into Matthew's mind that I was relying on now. Could a deviant like him destroy footage of a lesbian threesome and a one woman, two men threesome, even if one of the participants was his own daughter? I thought not. I knew he wasn't that computer savvy; he had people for that. The odds of him being able to copy the video files to somewhere secret, then destroying the cameras, were slim.

On my first two trips out, I'd searched my own house and Jane's car with no result. Now it was time for Matthew's house. When it became obvious that Dr. Jones really didn't have a clue how I'd been overdosed, I'd been forced to implant the idea that Jane could have been responsible. I knew the police would have told him the details of my arrest and I knew he was smart enough to know there were two possible stories, and that one of them gave Jane a motive. With me out of the way, the case would be dropped and the story suppressed. The widow would marry again with only a minor setback to her career plans. If everything had gone to plan tonight, then Jane and her father were helping the police with their enquiries right now, leaving his house free to search. I stole a car a block away from the hospital and, wearing surgical gloves, headed over there.

I was partly right, in the end. Jane was helping the police, but at Matthew's house. I could see inside the study, two uniformed police, a detective looking guy, Jane, Matthew and someone who had to be a lawyer were in there. It was a huge house and the study was at the front. I quietly smashed an opaque window on the back door and walked straight up the stairs to the bedrooms. First, I checked all the spare bedrooms until I found the one Jane was staying in and searched it. Nothing. Thirty seconds in the master bedroom revealed I'd judged Matthew's character right. Both cameras were in a drawer under the huge wall mounted television. I checked both still had the relevant footage before pocketing them. I considered leaving the drawer open to let him know they were gone, so he would stew, but resisted. The clues left by my break and entry would probably lead to that discovery anyway. Leaving the house, I quickly drove to ours and let myself in with the stashed spare key.

Starting our computer, I copied both cameras to it, then copied to two memory sticks. While one was copying, I fast-forwarded the other. The lounge camera simply showed Bill, Todd and Jane fucking for a few minutes. It then showed me accidentally falling over Jane and injuring Chrissy, Todd stepping towards me menacingly and me defending myself, before showing Bill attacking me. It showed, fairly clearly, that my intention had been to only stun him, but he'd ducked into the blow. Best of all, it showed Jane picking up the camera and running. The other camera was busier. It started with me tied and looking drugged. I mean, if you grabbed an actor and said, "Look drugged," he couldn't have done better. It showed me protesting, being very forcibly gagged, all the action on the table, the focus on my pissed off face and me being sexually assaulted. I'd hadn't seen Anna's facial reaction to my self-defense of her assault last time. I did now, and it gave me no pleasure. Next, it picked up enough of the action of Chrissy grabbing me and my chair, plus me breaking it to give the right impression. Again, it showed Jane grabbing the camera.

I turned off the computer, without deleting the files. If ever seized, it would show a record that Jane not only had watched the footage, but had taken the effort to copy the cameras. So long as they never checked the date stamp and cross-referenced it with where Jane was at the time, it would be very damning. It couldn't be me. I was safely locked in a secure room of ward 5B. I hid one of the sticks in the house and the second in the garden shed. I was back at Matthew's house 35 minutes after leaving. The marked police car was gone, but there were still two strange cars in the driveway, a Lexus and a Ford. Guess which one belonged to a detective. After wiping them of any possible DNA, I dropped the cameras on the passenger seat of the Ford. I looked forward to seeing how they rationalized their sudden appearance. It took me three hours to get back to my room; I had another house to visit. After dropping the car back where I'd found it, I broke back into the hospital, tilting my head down whenever I passed a camera.

The next day, for the second day running, my loving wife didn't visit. I enquired after her, of course. My first confirmation that things weren't right was when my afternoon appointment with Dr. Jones was cancelled. I requested through a nurse that I be excused tranquilizers that day, and the Doctor popped in to ask why. I told him I was trying to process a nightmare I'd had last night and felt it was important to my recovery. He agreed, but I noticed big orderlies kept a good eye on me all day and night.