The Cuckold's Princess, Part 3. Lori Used By Marcus And Uri free porn video

A Friday morning, six months after our adventure with Marcus. As usual, Lori and I were at the kitchen table having our breakfast, she absently reading the news on her tablet while taking spoonfuls of muesli.

 "Oh. My God!"

"What is it?" The alarm in her voice caused me to look up.

"You won't believe this, Jonathan. You really won't."

"Are we at war?"

"Nothing like that. It's Marcus!"

"Marcus from the hotel?"

"See for yourself. Oh my god!" She continued to stare. It was like she'd seen a ghost. All the blood had drained from her face.

She passed her iPad to me over the table. I read the heading of the article on the screen:

                                 Sebastian Crecy, dead at sixty-five.

                                 Son Marcus inherits multi billionaire's 

                                 media and business empire."

There was a photo of Marcus walking through the lobby of some up-market hotel, his handsome, usually amiable face, grim as death. 

 The caption to the photo said:                            

Marcus Crecy leaving his Hong Kong Hotel and heading for the airport to catch the next flight back to London.

I read the article. It was such a shock to discover that the man I had arranged to make love to my wife was now one of the wealthiest men in the world. The things that had bugged me about him began to make sense. He had an ease that only fabulous wealth brings to a person. Now I understood how he had afforded the penthouse room at the Hilton, and many other small things that had seemed odd to me at the time. 

"So what do you think of our Marcus now?" I asked her.

She was lost in thoughts, answered as if waking from a dream, "Why did he lie to us, Jonathan?" Now she gave me her full attention as she said, "He told me so much about himself that night, the places he had been to, the news stories he had covered. He never mentioned his father, his family's wealth." 

Later she Googled his name. We had only known him as Marcus, and it was strange to learn that it was his actual name.

What he had told Lori was true. He had indeed worked as a journalist for the last ten years. First at the Sun, and later The Guardian. At the time we met him he was freelancing, covering international stories for the BBC's World Service, and also several radio stations in the USA. We learned his writing was highly regarded and that over the years he had been nominated for, and twice won, prestigious journalistic prizes.

A few days later, after reading about him for one last time, she threw down her tablet, saying, "So that was Marcus," 

It was a door closing. Now she knew she would never realise the dreams she harboured about seeing him again. In the weeks immediately after our meeting with him in the hotel, she had withdrawn into herself. Only a little, but enough for me to see that her night with Marcus had affected her profoundly, stirred something deep in her psyche. Had I been cruel to let her believe she might meet him again. I knew he never would; it had been part of our agreement, a condition of him having her. It was to be a one-off, something never to be repeated.

She asked if I had known who he was when I had worked with him. For a moment I was ready to confess all, tell her he was a stranger from the internet and that he and I had set up her up, that her exquisite night of passion was founded on lies. But I decided revealing the deception would be too much. She would see it as a complete betrayal of the trust she believed we shared. So I kept schtum. Instead, I casually told her, "I knew nothing about his private life. He was just Marcus to me, a guy that the company brought in to do the copy."

I followed Marcus's career, scanning the online papers each morning for news of him. The chattering classes had expected him to take over the running of his father's empire, but the world was astounded when he sold all the shares he had inherited and disappeared from public life.

There was not a day went by that I did not think of our night with him. It had been the most erotically intense moment of my life. I had believed that seeing Lori fucked by another man, any man, would kill the demon that tortured me. And it had — for a while. But hell's spawn has no mercy. 

By Christmas the following year, dark thoughts of Lori and other men began to plague me once again, so much so that I became distracted at work, my sleep disturbed and fitful. 

 I advertised online for a lover for Lori, and I was in the process of selecting someone when Marcus's gifts arrived, two small packages delivered by UPS, one addressed to Lori and the other to me.

We opened them together at the breakfast table. A watch for each of us: a Rolex for me; Cartier for Lori. Later, I Googled our gifts. I did not tell Lori what I found. It would have unnerved her to learn how much they cost. She hated to be indebted to anyone. There was a handwritten note with each item addressing each of us by our first name. A neat thank you and his signature. Why had he waited so long to thank us for that night? Nearly three years had passed. 

Two days after the watches were delivered, his email arrived.

Jonathan. I hoped you and Lori liked your gifts. I saw your new ad and decided I must intervene. It appears that seeing Lori and me together has not purged you of your soul's sickness. But perhaps the failure was not mine; maybe your malaise is more unusual than I first thought. I have other medicines we could try. But for them to truly take effect, you will have to trust me, trust me like you would your surgeon. If you agree to put yourself in my hands unconditionally, I will do what I can to release you from your suffering. All you have to do is reply to this email with a simple, YES! If you agree to surrender yourself and Lori to my care, I will take you to places you have never even imagined could exist. I will see to it that you will be able to forget about the irritating details, the logistics of finding men for Lori. I will take care of everything. You will regret nothing.

His message terrified me. Its tone, the talk of new possibilities opening up for Lori and I made me feel as if I were teetering on the edge of an abyss.

Oh, God! The thought of him introducing her to other men. They would be men from a world unknown to us; the world of the uber-rich, men with power and influence. I read his message over and over looking for clues, incessantly wrestling with myself whether to trash or reply. I was Jesus in the wilderness; he, Satan whispering over my shoulder.

Unable to sleep. I would rise in the night and slip away to read his message yet again. And then I would masturbate, imagining the men who might fuck my wife. When I was through, left full of self-loathing, I would sneak back into bed and lie on my side watching Lori sleeping, feeling guilty that she was unaware Marcus had contacted me. I speculated, imagined the implications of surrendering her to one of the wealthiest men in the world. His resources would be infinite. He could make almost any whim that might cross his mind a reality. We would be playing with the big boys and I didn't know if I measured up.

Again, I recalled our first meeting. I had liked the bloke. In fact, I had liked him a lot. When I had watched him talking to Lori in the hotel bar, I had thought how under different circumstance we could have become friends.  

The next day I turned on the computer intending to finally consign his message to the trash bin without even a thank you for the offer. But after reading his words one last time, something came over me. My old itch flared up. He was offering me a chance to fulfill my fantasies in a way I could never have previously dreamed possible. For one last moment, I allowed myself the memory of Marcus and Lori together, recalling how I had placed my hand in the small of his back as he fucked her, how I had palmed his buttocks and cupped his testicles. 

And so with my cock hard in my pants, I sat down and typed out four characters: YES!

When the email vanished, a wave of terror washed over me. Oh, Fuck!

It was a week before he replied. During that time, I feared I had left it too late in responding, that I had let a life-changing opportunity slip through my hands. Then on Friday, he phoned Lori at work and invited her to a housewarming party being held that following weekend at his new London penthouse. He told her there was someone he wanted to meet, and that I was to come too. A car would be sent to our home on Saturday evening to take us the seventy miles to London. 

In the days that followed, Lori mooned about the house like a lovesick girl. She was off her food, distracted, lost in her inner world, hardly aware of me. When she did speak, it would be to mention Marcus. 

"What do you think Marcus's apartment will be like?" she asked as we lay in bed the night before we were due to visit him. "Do you think he will have changed? Have I changed, Jonathan? Do you think he will still find me attractive? It's been three years."

Had I done the right thing allowing him into our lives again? I began to wonder with what kind of people we would be getting involved. The uber-rich are a different species. As the hours until our meeting inched closer, I grew increasingly apprehensive. And to top it all, Lori did not know anything about Marcus's email to me, had no idea to what I had agreed.

It was Saturday morning, the day of Marcus's party. I had taken Lori her breakfast in bed. When I brought the tray into the room, I found her up and towelling herself dry by the window after her shower. Delighted by my thoughtfulness, she kissed me before she slipped on her kimono. We ate together side by side on the bed, propped up by pillows.

Afterwards, I cleared away the trays, and when I slipped back into bed beside her, I asked, "Have you sucked his cock?" I watched her shocked reaction. It was as if she had lost the power of speech. I pressed her for an answer, "That night at the Hilton, did you suck his cock? You never said if you sucked his cock or not."

She just stared back at me. I had taken her completely by surprise. 

Eventually, she asked: "Why are you asking me this now, after all this time?" She was outraged.

"Because if you did suck his cock, he might want you to do it again — tonight." Even as the words left my lips, I regretted them and wondered why I was acting like a jealous teenager.

"Don't be stupid, Jonathan. It's a party to celebrate his new penthouse flat." When she saw I was not convinced, she added, "Other people will be there. Important people."

"How do you know who will be there?"

"There is someone he wants me to meet. He says it's important to him, financially. Something to do with a big deal he's planning with another wealthy businessman."

"I don't understand this, Lori. Are you saying he wants you to help him clinch some business deal?"

"He said Uri would find me charming."

"God, Lori, who the fuck is Uri? You said his name as if he is an old friend!" 

"I know loads about Uri . . . Marcus says he is dying to meet me."

"You realise he doesn't want you there for small talk, that he's pimping you out."

"Fuck you, Jonathan! Marcus would never ask me to do anything like that. He's a proper gentleman. What the hell is the matter with you? Scared you won't scrub up well enough for his celebrity friends?"

"Why, who else will be going?"

She reeled off a list of names. They belonged to people you would know: B-list celebrities, some politicians, a famous artist, rock musicians.

"I don't think this is a good idea," I said.

"Why isn't it?"

"They're not our kind of people."

"Will you just listen to yourself! You're pathetic. I'm going to go no matter what — With or without you!"

"You didn't answer my question."

"What?"

"Did you suck his cock?"

"Of course I sucked his cock; what woman wouldn't have? You saw how big it was! You're only jealous he didn't ask you to suck it too." 

The look she gave me was full of dirty satisfaction, the cat remembering just who it was that got the cream. It hurt to see her face so alive because of a memory.

"And if he wants you to do it again?"

She did not answer, just slipped from beneath the duvet and began to dress.

"I had no idea you were such a slut, Lori — I really didn't."

"You do now."

She left the room, abandoning me to be wracked on the bed of my own ambivalence. My ego throbbed like a hammered thumb, yet I was ecstatic knowing that she had. I lay on the bed revelling in the memory of him above her, his hips thrusting. The thought of what he might have in store for us tonight tied my guts in knots, every nerve in my body raging with the electric thrill of apprehension. My cock swelled beneath the duvet, and I took it in my hand and masturbated while yet again imagining Marcus fucking Lori. This time he took her from behind, treating her with contempt, gathering her hair into a ponytail and pulling as he pummelled her buttocks with testosterone-fuelled hips.

++++++++++++

The concierge took our names in the lobby of Marcus's building and then rang his apartment to let him know we had arrived. The lift rocketed us to the top floor as my mind ran through the possibilities the coming night might offer up. Even if he didn't coax Lori into his bed tonight, it would excite me to see her talking to him again in the way she had on their first meeting. Knowing she ached for him was the hairshirt I now wore every day.

He was waiting for us at the door of his apartment flanked by two burly security people. He stretched out his right hand in welcome, warmly taking the hand I offered. 

Him turning to Lori. They were like old lovers meeting after years apart, pleased to see each other but sort of shy from neither knowing how the other felt about a shared past. I held down my rising jealousy as he leisurely kissed her on each cheek in turn. Then, taking her hand, he led her inside. Neither turned to see if I had followed.

He paraded Lori around the room as if she were indeed a royal guest, introducing her to his friends with warmth and gusto. I was an afterthought, trailing behind them self-consciously like an abandoned puppy. I had no status here, no achievements that would impress these people. 

But after a couple of drinks, I began to unwind, actually enjoy myself. I had thought I would be intimidated by the chic elegance of the other guests, but they began to seem strangely ordinary. 

Later, Lori slipped away while I was talking to Sabre, the guitarist from the metal band, Strangelydead. Never a rock chick, Lori had become bored by Sabre's interminable music business anecdotes. She caught my eyes and mouthed "I'm going to get a top-up," her eyes indicating an empty glass. I smiled and nodded and returned to my conversation with Sabre. 

His band had been heroes of mine when I was younger. I found myself reverting to the lad I was at seventeen, asking him about the band's demise, what was he doing now, all the usual stuff. And he was only too happy to talk — and talk some more. But after fifteen minutes, I was beginning to lose interest in his stories about groupies and wrecked hotel rooms, and equally wrecked band members.

I excused myself and went to look for Lori, also keeping my out for more beer. I couldn't find beer but helped myself to a flute of champagne from the tray of a passing waitress. I sipped at it while looking around the room, anxiously trying to spot my wife.

More and more people were arriving by the minute. The apartment was near full to bursting. Then I saw Lori, just her head moving among others as she wound her way across the room, gliding between the chattering cliques. I saw her pause for a moment behind a group of elegant women who were laughing shrilly at some quip that a tall, mid-twenties media type had made. Lori stood still for a moment distracted, her eyes scanning the room as if eager to see someone. I lifted my hand to attract her attention, but she did not notice me. It was then I realised I was not the person she was searching for.

Seeing her stood there next to the three other gorgeous women did not diminish Lori's beauty. Instead, it made her own all the more blatant. I now saw how she fitted in seamlessly with the rich and celebrated, more than a match for any other woman in the room. She might not be famous or have political ambitions or artistic talent, but I knew if she chose to, her poise and elegance, her profound sexual allure, could gain her whatever she desired. 

She moved off again, searching for Marcus I surmised, as silent and graceful as a yacht on a calm sea at sunset, soon lost to view, as if rounding a headland, when she moved behind a group of tall men talking loudly. I hurried after her, but she had disappeared again.

The apartment with its sparse furnishing had earlier appeared spacious; now, with so many people crushed inside, it seemed inadequate, crass. One wall was constructed entirely of glass, just like the one at the Hilton, and I wondered how much this feature had contributed to Marcus's decision to purchase this place. Did it remind him of his night with Lori? 

I spotted Lori with Marcus among a group of people at the far end of the room. I was about to go and join her when something about how one of the men greeted her made me hold back. I stood as if looking out of the window, trying not to be noticed yet close enough hear what was said. 

Although immaculately turned out, the man's face had an air of brutality. He eyed Lori intently before taking her hand and kissing it with gallant ostentation. He was a broad-shouldered slab of a man, about forty-five years old. He kept her hand for a moment while he turned to Marcus and said something in what sounded like Russian. Then he laughed a booming Brian Blessed guffaw. Marcus laughed too, though only out of politeness I thought. This man was making Lori uncomfortable. I could tell by the way her eyes kept trying to catch Marcus's, pleading to be rescued. But the man kept hold of her hand while speaking to Marcus, alternatively turning and looking at her with disturbing intensity.

I couldn't watch, turned towards the window and stared out at the lights of the city stretching away to the horizon. Below the building, the Thames curled away to the sea, a ribbon of silver in the moonlight. I turned back to the room again, expecting to see Lori still talking to the other guests, but she was gone. So had Marcus and the Russian.

A desperate fear clutched my heart as I began moving through the room, pressing past people in half-panic.

I was growing more frantic every second when suddenly I was pulled to a halt from behind by an insistent hand. I turned around expecting to see Lori but instead saw a cute Asian girl, a pretty doll of a thing, wearing a short cocktail dress. 

"Mr Jonathan, I am Kikuko. Mr Marcus says you are to come with me." 

She spoke in a tone that suggested I had no choice in the matter. She took my hand and led me through the apartment, now so crowded with guests that we had to squeeze in single file among the pack of bodies. Out in the hall, we made our way quickly along a short passage to another door, which she opened with a card-key. We both went through. 

An improbably long passage stretched away before us. I wondered where the girl was leading me and how extensive this apartment might be. Had Marcus sent Kikuko to me to appease me while he made love to my wife? Was this pretty creature going to take me to a room and distract me with sex while god knows what was happening to Lori? She certainly was a cute looking bundle, but her appeal was not enough to make me stop wondering where Lori was. I would not be able to settle until I knew she was okay. My mind raced, imagining all the things that might be happening to her without me there to see it.

A few steps down the passageway, we stopped outside another door situated on the right. The girl used the card to unlock it and went inside. I stood stupidly alone in the corridor until her arm reached out and pulled me in after her.

It was a small room, no bigger than a large cupboard. Kikuko closed the door behind us. I was about to protest, but she placed a finger on my lips and shushed me. 

"Look," she hissed, pointing to my left. 

As I turned around, a window to my left suddenly lit up to give a clear view of another room beyond the glass, where I could see Marcus and the Russian talking. Judging by their expressions, the conversation was heated. I heard no words, just the muffled drone of male voices through the dense pane. 

Then Lori appeared from the left as she came to stand on the other side of the glass directly opposite me. She had a look of intense wonder in her eyes. I waved to her but she did not respond. It was then I realised I was on the viewing side of a one-way mirror. 

It took me a moment see the dazzling object newly strung around her neck, how it was what compelled her eyes to stare at her reflection, a fabulous necklace of diamonds and precious stones that sparkled and shimmered in the room's ethereal lighting. I had never seen her so enthralled by an item of apparel. Lori was a woman of conservative taste — or so I had always thought — so I was shocked to see her under the spell of what I first took as a gaudy trinket. It was only later that I learned the item's true value. But Lori had known its true worth immediately when Uri presented it to her.

Turns out it was indeed a piece worthy of a princess. It mesmerised Lori, her eyes sparkling as she regarded herself in the mirror. She turned her head this way and that, glancing sideways at her reflected image, tilting her chin to expose the long line of her neck while she sensuously caressed the precious stones. 

But then she was distracted, and her eyes told me she was attending to the conversation going on behind her, Uri's fabulous gift now eclipsed by whatever the two men were saying. And then she relaxed. Whatever it was had been resolved. Again she focused on the necklace, her eyes enamoured as they studied the reflection of the stones that lay cold against her throat. Then a wince of concern crossed her face again. Listening intently, the necklace forgotten. She scowled, turned to face Uri and Marcus, her hackles rising like a she-cat on heat approached by an unwelcome tom. 

Marcus hurried to her, took hold of her and turned her to face the mirror again. I could see his lips moving, talking sweetly I imagined. He stood behind her while he spoke to her reflection over her shoulder. I could not hear, but I saw how she gave him her full attention, listened intently and then turned to look at Uri, who was just then pouring himself a drink. Marcus kissed her cheek, and she returned to the mirror again, the mesmerising pull of her gift irresistibly compelling. Marcus remained behind her talking, his face clearly visible over Lori's shoulder. I attempted to read his lips, but it was hopeless trying to find meaning in their movement. Whatever it was that he was saying, his expression told me it was important to him, and I could see how he tried to impress upon Lori the gravity of his point. 

As Marcus talked, Uri came and stood beside him behind Lori. The look on his face was one of intense lust. It made my stomach churn to see the unabashed way he leered at my wife. And even though she could see his reflection in the glass, she acted as if he were invisible. He came closer and closer, reaching for her and moving her cascading hair to one side so that his lips had access to the nape of her nack. Soon he tasted the exposed soft, fragrant flesh revealed there.

I was astonished to see how nonchalant she remained with such a brute — literally — breathing down her neck. As Uri's lips explored Lori, Marcus continued to speak to her. Whatever it was he said, it caused a hint of a self-satisfied smile to curl the corner of her mouth, and I saw then the scintillating glisten in her eyes, the drawing knowledge of the power she now wielded over these two men.

Her eyes in the mirror now acknowledged Uri for the first time. She half-turned to face him, causing him to falter and draw away. They regarded each other for what seemed like an aeon but must have been mere seconds. She looked up at him, he down at her, until with a look of triumphant self-satisfaction she turned back to face the mirror.

I could not read Uri's coarse features, and I wondered if the self-certainty he had seen in her eyes stalled his plans. He stood behind her, rested his hands on her bare shoulders. I imagined how he would be inhaling her sweetness, savouring the scent she had applied before leaving for the party. I conjured it in my mind, the memory of it urging me to go to her. That scent never failed to make my cock hard. I imagined Uri's would be too.

Then he was kissing her neck again. From time to time, his tongue would lick the jewels, that fabulously expensive gift meant for a princess. Lori closed her eyes and lowered the hand that until then had continued to caress the stones about her throat.

Uri broke from her and turned to his side and said something to Marcus. I heard only a muffled noise, like sounds underwater in a swimming pool. Then his arms encircled Lori, his hands coming to rest on her breasts. I was only a foot away on the other side of the glass, face to face with my beautiful wife and the brute who was soon to be her lover. I had the best seat in the house.

I watched in disbelief as Lori let this monstrous Russian fondle her breasts. I thought of all the effort I had gone through to get her to sleep with Marcus, the pains I had taken in choosing someone she would not reject. And now there she was letting a man like Uri molest her, someone who until I saw it with my own eyes I could never have envisaged Lori even considering as a prospective lover.

He kissed her neck as his hand slipped into the cups of her bras via the easy access of her low cut dress. She closed her eyes and a look of sweet, almost triumphant, satisfaction soothed her features.

 With a brusque pull to the shoulder, Uri turned her to face him, spun her where she sat on the stool. He looked her in the eyes before he lifted her into his arms, handling her like cargo. He carried her to the king-sized bed on the other side of the room.

I turned and looked at Kikuko, who still had hold of my hand, and I saw she was no longer watching what was happening on the other side of the glass. Instead, she was watching me intently. 

"I must go to her," I said.

"This does not please you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Mr Marcus said it would please you to see this."

And then I understood: this was the medicine Marcus had promised me, now so efficiently administered. What a bitter potion it was. I looked into Kikuko's eyes and saw her confusion.

She stood on tip-toe and kissed me, then dropped to her knees, saying, "Kikuko will please Mr Jonathan."

My medicine was about to be sugared. Kikuko undid the zipper of my pants and extracted my cock, took it into her mouth. Her lips and tongue almost distracted me from what was taking place in the unreal world beyond the glass window. But not entirely. As the girl worked on my cock, I forced my attention to return to Lori.

Marcus joined Uri at the foot of the bed, and now the two men began to undress Lori. They peeled her dress from her, left the top half hanging at her waist, the lower half still tight around her hips and thighs. 

Marcus removed her bra, tossed it aside as he turned her to face him, quickly kissing her lips while Uri's mouth mauled alternate sides of her neck. She tilted her head far back, and her expression became ecstatic as Uri's mouth swept across her throat in a snarling frenzy.

They turned her this way and that, each taking turns to kiss her lips. Then Uri's ferocious mouth moving downwards over the creamy expanse of her back until he was licking and gnawing the dense flesh where her buttocks bloomed. I imagined the sounds he would be making as he covered her spine with kisses: a bestial, deep growl of lust reverberating in his chest. 

His hands tugging at fabric, trying to rid her of the evening gown which still clung to her hips and kept her flesh from him. For a moment, it seemed he would be unable to get it over her flesh-heavy buttocks, and he had to tug hard to free her of its swaddling fabric. He was a man on a mission now, frantic to get to the flesh beneath her dress, the hidden part of her he so urgently wanted to taste. 

Grabbing fistfuls of the clinging material, stretching it cruelly so that surely it would tear, he was an impatient child with gift packaging. Her legs not yet free of her gown, he snapped with bared teeth at her exposed buttocks, his mouth ravenous for the doughy curves. He drooled as he went about her, wetting her flesh as his mouth explored, delving into the fissure still rent by her silken thong. 

His tongue followed the material of her dress as it slid from her upper thighs, his mouth trailing a track of saliva in its wake that glistened in the half-light. In the gloam of the room, her exposed buttocks looked perfect, airbrushed, soft and fully ripe. Her dress fell to the ground, where it lay forgotten, its fabric now no more desirable than rags. I wanted to go and pick it up, keep it safe. Then clumsily she had to adjust her footing to steady herself under the increasing passion of her two lovers, and the heel of her shoe pierced the garment she had chosen with so much care.

Uri began roughly snatching at her thong, jerking it down over her long legs. Hours earlier, I had watched her prepare herself for the evening ahead by massaging fragrant lotion into each leg. 

In the outrageous heels she had chosen to wear for the occasion, she stood over Uri. But what Uri lacked in height, he more than made up for in bulk. He was a bull of a man, and when he removed his shirt I was unnerved by the immensity of his muscled chest, the girth of his biceps. I thought of a half-carcase of beef hanging in an abattoir. His arms appeared too short to bear the bunched muscles they supported. Such a gross man, I thought, so different than Marcus. Knowing this prize bull would imminently violate my precious Lori made me dizzy with anxiety.

They coaxed her to her knees and stood each side. Marcus pushed the hair from her face, stroked her forehead as he talked to her. I could only imagine his encouraging words. She looked up at him with eyes resigned to the task he had set her, with a look that said, Is this really what you want me to do? Is this the person I am to become?

I watched her steel herself, draw a long deep breath before she set about undoing Uri's zip. Marcus did not take his eyes from her as she brought out Uri's horse-cock, exposing it to the cooling night air. Then her mouth opening wide to accommodate the girth of it as Marcus unleashed his own cock.

I watched spellbound as she pleasured them both, her head moving from one cock to the other generously doling out her tongue's attention, back and forth. And while I watched the spectacle, Kikuko sucked my cock with exquisite, oriental skill. It was like some crazy nightmare in which time slowed, became meaningless. When I ejaculated into Kikuko's mouth, the erotic tableau beyond the glass became seared onto my brain. I never wanted to forget what I saw: my sweet Lori ravished by two men, now loving every second of it.

Kikuko did not stop sucking until she had swallowed all I gave her. I felt utterly drained: sexually, emotionally, physically. 

I steeled myself to continue watching. My sexual demon now appeased, what I saw did not arouse me, only filled me with rage and jealousy.

They shared her on the bed. Uri, with his pants around his ankles was fucking her with violent, bestial lunges, while Marcus — all tenderness and concern — stroked her forehead, kissing her from time to time, whispering, encouraging her. This I only imagined as I could not hear. The sight of a strange and monstrous Russian fucking my wife was more than I could bear, and I pummelled the glass with my fists. But it did not distract Uri from his rutting. It was Marcus who heard me, got up and came over to the mirror. When he looked into the glass, it was as if our eyes were meeting, 

Then he cast his gaze back at Lori and Uri, who were still fucking with primal abandon. Now Lori was looking up into Uri's eyes, her arms stretching up so that her palms cupped his skull from both sides. She was commanding him with insistent eyes to look at her, to acknowledge her personhood. And oh my god! I saw it then, saw how she was actually enjoying him, savouring his mass and energy. Her knees came right back, and she slung her calves over his torso, made it so that her heels pressed into the small of his back. 

 Marcus turned away from the mirror to look back at the couple so that he was side-on to me, and then he extended his arm as if asking an audience to give it up one more time for the main act. Then he turned back to the mirror, to me, and bowed extravagantly. How proud he was of the performance he had laid on for me. Finally, he winked and then turned and walked back, resumed his part in the spectacle only I would ever see.

He lay back down beside them, watched calmly until Uri's body was jerking with grand mal spasms. When Uri eased himself from her, stood in full view, I could not tell if he had cum or not. His cock appeared as turgid as ever as he stood aside for Marcus, slapping his shoulder like a comrade in arms, moving aside and allowing him to take his place. 

Marcus whispered in her ear, then physically encouraged her to turn over onto her front, placing a pillow beneath her belly. He spread her legs and I saw her shaved pinkness, Uri's cum seeping from her to glisten between her puffy cunt-lips. But then all was soon lost to sight as Marcus entered her. Again I was mesmerised by the rise and fall of his buttocks; slowly at first but gathering pace as he found his rhythm. I imagined the softness of her buttocks against his pubic bone and lower abdomen. I heard the squelch of his penis in my mind as it slipped through the unctuousness Uri had deposited to grease his way.

Suddenly Uri was in my face, directly opposite me through the glass. I was so engrossed in Marcus and Lori that I had not noticed him moving towards me. Now he was banging on the glass and holding up a fist, his mouth wide in a grin, then his lips forming words: unmistakably, "GOOD! GOOD! GOOD!". Then his laughter, which I could hear because he was so loud and so close. It was a hearty, mocking laugh; the laughter of an ancient, conquering god-king. 

He turned and walked back to join Lori and Marcus, his cock already hard again. How long would they use her? My head spun. I had to get out and go to my wife and stop the ordeal she was enduring. I had seen enough. At least, that is what I thought then.

I took hold of Kikuko by the shoulders. "Take me to that room."

She looked perplexed, "You are displeased with what you see?"

"Fuck it! Just do as I say."

"This is not possible. Mr Marcus will punish me."

I was going to get to that room with or without her help. Quickly I was out in the corridor looking for the door to the room beyond the glass. At first, I was shocked to see there was no door next to the one I had just left. Then I remembered the layout of the room where Lori was and realised access to it must be further in the building. I ran down the passage, Kikuko close behind shouting my name, telling me to stop. I turned a corner and saw what I assumed was the door I needed. I banged on it, shouting her name, but it did not open. I rested my shoulder against the wood of the door, appraising its strength. It felt solid, beyond my ability to break down. But I was frantic by now, and I moved back and threw my entire weight against it. 

It did not budge. 

Repeatedly I launched myself at the door until there was the sound of running feet coming along the passage. Two men turned the corner and slowed to a walk when they saw me. They had on white shirts and black ties: Marcus's security, who I had seen earlier. Immediately they tried to reason with me, asked me to stand back from the door. I ignored them and once again lunged at the door. I called her name, over and over. "Lori! Lori!"

Then they were on me, wrestling me to the ground. It was so easy. This was what these men lived for, trained daily for. I would not have stood a chance even if I had not exhausted myself on the door. Soon I was sprawled face down on the floor with my hands behind my back. They shackled them with cuffs, but I still struggled. Eventually, I calmed. I understood my resistance was a pathetic tantrum and so became compliant. They stood me up and slipped a leather hood over my head. I was in such a state, agitated and desperately wanting my Lori. They bustled me down the hall then up some stairs, manhandled me into a small but warm room and manoeuvred onto a bed where they bound my ankles. That's when I started to fight them again. 

 I don't remember the prick of the needle.

TO BE CONTINUED>>>>>>>>>>>