Yukon - She Never Knew The Real Me

This was the first time we had been alone in the cabin since the freak of nature first appeared, but I had an urgent task that took priority over talking about us. First, I had to find out if Helen wanted this horror story to end, and second, if she did, there might still be hope for our marriage. Moving quickly, I went over to Helen, speaking quietly, "I have a plan. I have some sleeping pills I brought that I can put in his evening beer, and when he passes out, I'll kill him with his knife. Then we can resume our marriage. Don't say anything to him about this"

Pierre came in, and I shushed Helen. He was barefooted and completely naked, revealing that he was deeply tanned with his skin having a look of leather. He bore the scars of multiple injuries, and other damage may have been hidden beneath the masses of shaggy black hair that hung in clumps from his torso and belly. I could now see the reason for his wide-legged stance. His thighs were unusually thick and gnarled like tree trunks, and hanging between was the most obscenely large uncut penis it is possible to imagine. I remembered seeing a similar image in a fantasy bestiary when the illustration was captioned 'Troll.'

He glared at me as he walked into the bedroom to get dressed, so I helped Helen bring breakfast to the table, after which I ate quickly.

I could now easily understand the reason for all the orgasms I had overheard, but this increased my sense of hurt rather than lessened it. I said accusingly, "I heard you last night."

I saw my wife tense defensively. "He made me cum," she said simply without elaboration.

"A whole load of times."

"So!!! As you can see, he's got a huge penis, and something that size is bound to create sensations whether a woman wants them or not. Was I meant to resist them? Is there any rule that says I can't allow myself to enjoy it? If I struggled, so he had to rape me every time, would that make you feel any better? Sweetheart, we agreed that we had to make the best of things, and that is all I'm doing."

I felt angered at her answer but at the same time resolved that I would wait for tonight to see whose side she was on. We had to escape the clutches of the monster before my wife fell much further under his spell. But if she betrayed me, all bets were off.

That night I grabbed two beers from the beer cooler and hesitated before carrying them into the kitchen, where I opened them. I took a drink out of mine and handed Pierre the other one. He looked at me and snatched my beer out of my hand, and shoved his bottle in my face. "DRINK," he screamed at me.

I started to protest, but he had his hand on his knife, so I pretended to give in. I took three swallows, and it was empty. I sat down, and after about ten minutes, I got up and walked out to the outhouse. Ten minutes later, I walked back in and informed Pierre I was going to bed. He gave me a strange look and glared at Helen, sitting in his lap.

"If you make too much noise, I'll wake up and maybe I'll try and sneak into the bedroom and cut your throat." Then I locked eyes with Helen making her aware that I knew she betrayed me.

As he snorted and tried to untangle himself from my soon-to-be ex-wife, I entered my bedroom and blocked the door closed. I lay down, laughing to myself, and now knew that I could expect no help from Helen.

The door shook, and I heard cursing as Pierre was knocked back when he tried to burst through the doorway. "Why is the door blocked? Open it now; I want to talk."

"I blocked it so I can sleep without being afraid. Go fuck your slut and leave me alone."

"Why are you being rude, mon Amie."

"I ain't your friend."

"Darling, why are you acting this way?" She was with him.

"Do you mean why do I hate Pierre, and why do I hate you? If you can't figure that out, the baby that the two of you create will be the dumbest child on the planet."

She sobbed, and curses and angry words were hurled at me by both of them. Finally, after a minute, they stopped screaming, and I tried to go to sleep.

The passionate sounds from next door made that night another noisy one, and again I found myself getting painfully aroused. The temptation was there to jerk off, but I resolved not to masturbate; instead, in my mind, I pulled a picture of Helen on her back holding her legs up high for Pierre, and my problem was solved.

The next morning I ate and looked at the woman I married but never really knew and shook my head. As I left the cabin and Helen came running after me trying to catch up. "Where are you going?"

"For a long walk so I can deal with the humiliation of my wife betraying me for a big dick." I stopped and looked back at what used to be my loving wife.

"Please, I had no choice; I was afraid." She stopped, realizing how stupid she sounded.

"Nice try." And I took off again, leaving her standing with her mouth open. I walked with minimal rest stops, only stopping for water or an energy bar. I doubled back several times, making sure I wasn't being followed. I had hiked about four hours when the trail split; the left branch followed the river, and the right branch headed toward two tall, vertical rock formations. This area had been formed thousands of years ago when the Yukon had heavy volcanic activity.

I decided to follow the path, branching to the right. Up to this point, the trail was primarily smooth granite with pockets of mud and water. Now, as I veered to the right, the path became more uneven as the granite was cracked and broken up, and pine needles and small branches began covering everything to a depth of 3 inches.

After hiking another hour, the rough path approached a ten-yard opening between the two rock formations. The tree cover here was total, no rays of the sun were breaking through the foliage, and it was dark as dusk. So I slowed down and began probing the blanket of needles and sticks for holes I could step in. Using my walking stick to locate depressions, I avoided injuring myself by walking around a dozen potholes in the trail.

After I traveled a hundred feet, my walking stick went down about three feet before hitting rock, and I stopped in my tracks. I sat down and probed the area a little farther out and hit nothing. So, I grabbed the end of my stick and took a full swing down, breaking through branches to reveal a crevasse, about ten feet wide and seemingly bottomless with jagged walls on each side. I stood up shaking and hyperventilating, thankful I hadn't rushed down this path without trusting my instinct. At that point, another piece of the puzzle I called a plan popped up in my head. When I turned around and walked back to the cabin, I was filled with deep resolve.

That night it was as if Pierre was demonstrating that my wife was giving him what she had denied me and giving it a prodigious number of times. This night there were cries of "Yesss," mixed in with the Oh's and Oooh's, and at times she sounded almost out of her mind with pleasure.

The next morning Pierre was sitting on the sofa, apparently waiting for me. He explained, "Your wife is doing breakfast, but I keep her busy late last night, so she's having a lie-in. While we wait, there's work to do. Just because I do your bedroom duties doesn't mean you get free ride."

Food, who needs food? You can live a long time on hate for mental strength.

He led me round to the side of the cabin and a great pile of two-foot logs. Rolling one clear and turning it on end atop a flat stone, 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. Then, setting one of the log quarters up, he stuck the ax into the wood and split it by using the ax to hit the wood on the rock, splitting it. I started slowly, needing to use two hands to lift the ax and still having difficulty. I was hoping he would leave me to it, but he settled down to watch. He was sitting too far away for me to bury the ax in that ugly head of his.

I was about halfway through and already quite hot and bothered when he said conversationally, "I was right about your wife."

"About what?"

"That your wife has opened her legs for another man. Does the name Jack Fallon mean anything?"

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, and we were once in competition for a major promotion. I was considered the favorite until he pulled an underhand stunt. Speaking loudly in an auditor's vicinity, Jack remarked that I would soon be rich if I got the job because I was already milking the firm on my expenses. Of course, there was no truth in it, and the lengthy 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 did a job of work on wife. Ask her about him."

We were called to breakfast by Helen, and after eating, I pretended to be upset when I confronted Helen in the kitchen about her and Jack Fallon. But, actually, I no longer cared.

"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 everyone that diabolical lie and cost 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 drunk only halfway 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 accommodating," Helen continued. "He helped 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. Jack said that I must come to see him because if I didn't, he would make sure you saw the video. 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 pretended to care, when in fact, all I felt was disgust with my wife. My hatred towards Jack Fallon now nearly equaled the hate that I felt for Pierre. "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."

What a slut. "How were you tormented?"

Helen pretended to be embarrassed 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."

How often in our marriage had she teased me before dinner only to have a headache at bedtime?

"Let's go for a walk. I want to make love to you."

"Why, Helen? You won't even feel me. Did he tell you to fuck me?"

My wife gave me a sad, tearful look and stuttered, "He said, I mean he told me; I said I didn't want to; he told me I had to; I'm so confused."

"Well, after you've slit his throat while he sleeps, come see me, and I'll fuck you, but only after you get tested for STDs and get an abortion. After that, I'll never make love to you again."

"Abortion, why would you say that?"

"Don't you remember that you stopped taking the pill before we left? Surely, you're pregnant by now, and I won't raise that troll's hideous child. If somehow you were able to ignore my wishes and carry the child to term, I would bash its head in the rock and feed it to a pack of dogs."

Her eye's opened wide, and she ran crying into the bedroom. I shrugged and put my coat on. I walked outside, and it was much colder. So much for an Arctic summer.

I walked away from the cabin, following the trail, and after a brisk pace for fifteen minutes, passed Pierre as he carried two rabbits he must have trapped.

"Be careful, the rain and sleet are going to start soon, and you might get lost."

Sleet at the end of the summer inside the Arctic Circle. Hell, I could be drinking a fine German ale in Berlin, but instead, my wife's fucking an ape, and six weeks of my life has been wasted, and I'll never get them back.

I ignored him and kept walking. When I could no longer see him on the path behind me, I increased my pace. I picked up as much dried wood as I could find and hid it in the cave. I ate a can of pineapple chunks and drank the juice as I sat and thought about the events that transpired so far. I returned to the cabin just as Pierre finished cleaning the two rabbits for dinner.

Then Pierre packed away his carvings and sprawled across the couch. I thought there was something significant in that pose, and I was not mistaken because, after only a few minutes, he called to Helen, "Hey, Hot Lips, come suck my cock." My wife shut her book and stood but then told him, "I will but only in the bedroom."

Pierre laughed, and he followed her out of the room. They might as well have stayed in the living room because I went to my room and let my hatred of them fester and grow over the next hour.

Helen emerged first, just steps in front of him. She walked back to her chair and picked up her book, but he felt obliged to speak loudly, "After swallowing all that, do you got room left for the evening meal?"

After hearing that, I waited until I could smell food cooking before coming out of my room.

Each afternoon for the next four days, while the rain and sleet pelted the ground, Pierre pulled Helen into the bedroom for sex. When emerging from the bedroom, he always made some comments about what they had been doing. Helen kept her face impassive, but I could tell from the pleasured glow that she had not found the interlude too unpleasant. The unfortunate fallout from those trysts was that Pierre had acquired a taste for noisy afternoon sex.

As I set out walking on the first day that the rain stopped, allowing my excursions to resume, Pierre ordered me, "Make sure you get back early because I want you to watch a real man knock up your wife."

I answered back, "I haven't seen any other men around beside me, and I have no desire to touch that putrid hole a troll has been living in." He seemed pretty angry when I left.

After seeing I wasn't being followed, I doubled back and grabbed the ax. I spent most of the day chopping up dead trees into logs and stacking the pieces in my cave. As the sun started to drop, I hurried back and returned the ax to the log I took it from. As I headed toward the outhouse and was opening the door, I heard Pierre yelling, "What are you doing?"

I looked back at him with an expression that said he was a dumb shit, which he was, and I closed the door and did my business. When I entered the cabin, he looked at me, and I shook my head and smirked.

The next day marked the end of the second week, and Helen told me that she thought Pierre intended to start goading me and warned me not to react. I asked what she meant by 'goad?' "I think he's going to start rubbing your nose in the fact that he has made you into a cuckold."

"That doesn't mean that he's going to start on me."

"I think it does," my wife insisted. "Up to now, he's been satisfied with getting sex from me any time he wants it, but the novelty is wearing off. He told me it would be more fun if you seemed to mind him fucking me."

"Whatever."

While deep in thought, I decided to find out more about the walking horse dick, so while Helen was in the bedroom washing her body with hot water in a bucket, I asked Pierre about the murder.

"I did not plan for it to happen," he said, apparently quite relaxed to talk about it. "They convicted me for murder, but it was an accident. I only got ten years in jail, so I think the judge saw it my way, and if I did not poke guy's wife, I would get less."

"So, how did it happen," I wanted to know.

"He was a big guy, but when I say how it will be, he gives in easier than you. Two weeks later, he seems happy I am pleasing his wife, so was she, but then wives always are. I got careless. He makes himself a club and hits me by surprise. It hurt me, but he waits too long to finish me. That gave me a chance to fight back, but I'd lost my temper and didn't stop."

Picking up on his use of 'wives' in the plural, I asked, "How many times have you done this?"

"You are the fourth couple. It started when I was hunting and surprised the first couple in the cabin. It was already halfway through their month. They never reported anything."

"Next time, I was ready and even picked target, but that was the year it went wrong. I think wife only wants his money, so she sells me out."

"After jail, I did not risk again, but then I find young couple camping. The tent was too small, so we do it outside. The boyfriend had the chance to walk away, but he stays and watches. I think he like my cock better than her. They never reported what happened, and I try my luck with you two."

I thought Pierre had finished talking, but then he volunteered, "Your wife is best of all. She could make a lot of money as 'Dame de la Nuit.' She loves big dick and is the biggest whore I've fucked. Such a needy slut. You must keep her on short rations, ha-ha, so she likes what you have to offer. Hell, I get all the fucking I want cuz she's so eager."

"Will you do this again, you know, to another couple staying in this cabin?"

"But of course, all women come here are whores waiting to escape from boring life and fuck Pierre. Why would I stop?"

At that moment, the bedroom door opened, and, her cleaning completed, Helen started to come out. Pierre winked at me and said, "Watch this," then gave her the instruction, "Go back in there if you want me to make you dirty again." Without a word, my wife turned around and did as he said. Then, throwing a triumphant look to me, he said expansively, "Come in and watch, and if you want, I let you fuck her ass while I fuck her pussy." It was an offer I had to decline.

I had suffered two weeks of humiliation at the hands of this troll and Helen, and it was time to leave the cabin before they discovered how many cans of food were missing. After dinner, I wandered into the kitchen and looked around for anything I could use. The tent was in the bedroom, but I had the cave for shelter and my sleeping bag, and I would snag some more cans of food before I left. Finding nothing, I left the kitchen and went to my room. "Goodnight," I told them while they swapped spit on the couch. I closed and locked the door, stripped down, and crawled in my sleeping bag. I turned down the lamp and closed my eyes.

I fell asleep, and my internal alarm woke me up at 12:30 AM. I dressed, filled both packs with all my clothes and a few cans of food, then tied the sleeping bag to one of my backpacks. Lastly, I took two flashlights, a battery-powered lamp, and our two canteens and walked out into the dark, leaving the front door open as I left. Using the flashlight, which led me to his kayak, I poked two small holes in the stern with my walking stick.