To The Victor The Spoils

We have a couple of two seat settees facing each other. I was lying on the floor close to one of them so he pointed to the other one. My wife strode confidently towards it and calmly sat down. Her rapist straight away moved towards her, removing his own garments as he went. I secretly smiled when I realised that he had badly planned for this jaunt because his narrow trousers would not come off easily due to his large heavily laced boots so he was forced to embark on the actual rape with his trousers still puddled around his ankles.

Due to a combination of angle, distance and my limited eyesight, I was unable to see the moment of penetration and that was a bit of a blessing. All the same there was plenty to see. Both set to with enthusiasm but I drew consolation from the fact that their movements, his in particular, were decidedly awkward and clumsy. It only took a moment for me to realise that he was far too big for that relatively small piece of furniture, with his situation not helped by the restricted movement of his legs. Dispassionately I must concede the possibility that he deliberately started that way to give her chance to get used to his size.

He too quickly realised the problem (or thought she was ready) and pulled out. Tossing a couple of cushions on the floor he muttered something to Angie that I couldn't hear but she immediately jumped up and lay on the floor, one cushion supporting her head with the other under her bottom. The rapist quickly inserted his cock back in her cunt and proceeded to fuck her with far more fluency than before. This is the point where my stress level started to increase exponentially, not helped by seeing my wife's delicate white hands sneak up and lock behind his neck. By now he was really powering into her with each thrust causing her to gasp. Perversely I felt a bit happier, remembering all the times she had insisted how much she hated the rough variety of sex.

Then suddenly he slowed down drastically, switching to a more sensual kind of movement. With a touch of paranoia, for a moment I thought he had read my mind.

Although I had a better view point, I still hadn't seen his cock actually going into her vagina. Before their bodies had been moving so fast that it was just a blur but now at this slower pace I got the occasional glimpse when an intervening thigh temporarily moved out of the way. This section went on the longest and caused me the most mental and emotional pain because what they were doing was indistinguishable from making love.

He either gave her a signal or muttered something that I missed but suddenly they both jumped to their feet almost simultaneously. He then lay down where she had been lying and with apparent eagerness Angie moved to impale herself once more on his formidable stiff cock. She was now on top facing him in the cowgirl position (but whether that is classified as the reverse I'm not sure). I do know that I am very partial to both positions. As she moved up and down it caused her breasts to bounce and sway, which prompted him to reach up squeeze them and tweak her nipples, which is exactly what I would have done. The fact that she was now the active participant made it impossible for her to later claim that she had just laid there putting up with it. It pained me to watch her go through her full repertoire of tricks that she had so often practiced on me.

Any desire or curiosity to witness the actual point of penetration was now fully satisfied because I could watch it happen repeatedly, second by second, almost in slow motion and with unfettered vision. Her cunt lips formed a massive O as they stretched to contain his humungous organ and I was unhappy to see how on each upstroke, her inner vaginal skin pulled out, still clinging lovingly to his oily looking cock. Thankfully, apart from the first, this was the shortest part of the rape. Excluding what might be called the foreplay they had now been copulating for almost half an hour.

For the endgame they again switched position with my wife once more on her back with him between her legs. Now he reverted to the rough, fast, powerful thrusting with which he began the charade. The air was filled with the sound of sex, the gasps, the groans and the grunts, the heavy breathing of both and the regular, rhythmic slapping of skin on skin. The whole room must have been overwhelmed with the aroma of sex because whiffs of that unmistakeable smell even managed to permeate my bloody battered nose.

By now the copulating couple on the floor were fucking frantically. Angie had her feet up near her shoulders and he kept switching position, one where he hovered above her supported on his arms and another where he adopted a more vertical position, flexing his hips in a fucking action, while looking down at her with twin rivulets of sweat running down his back. It was as if he was trying to decide which position would be best for the conclusion. Suddenly to my surprise and horror Angie came, starting vocally with a prolonged banshee like shriek and ending with the words "OH YES, OH YES, OH YES". That triggered him or at least started him on the road to the end.

As he ejaculated sending millions of sperm gushing towards my wife's cervix, the rapist gave a great bellow and leaned his body backwards, gaining the momentum to flex his pelvis forward, driving his huge spurting penis even closer to her womb. It was at exactly that moment that my golf club impacted the side of his head, charged with all the hatred that I felt for the man. He just toppled over sideways and lay immobile with his softening organ still embedded deep inside my wife. I had hit him with a powerful swing, would that I had managed to do it just one minute sooner.

For anybody interested it was a new design No 3 iron. I had purchased it just a week previously and had been practising my grip. When I had finished, knowing that I intended another session later, I had simply pushed it under the settee out of sight rather then put it away in my bag. I cursed that I hadn't remembered the potential weapon when first confronted by the rapist.

Lying there suffering while the ravishment was in progress, I had started to feel my strength returning. It was then that thought returned of the club still lying hidden within easy reach of my hand. To be honest I still felt very lethargic and might not have intervened at that late stage had not Angie had that massive orgasm but the sound of her passion enraged me and provoked me to action. I was still a bit wobbly on my feet but the object of my hatred was so engrossed in fucking my wife that I had the leisure time to move into position and adjust my stance before delivering that critical blow.

With the danger averted my sudden burst of energy temporarily deserted me, leaving me incapable of helping my wife as she struggled to push the man off her and extricate him from inside her body. It was when she had managed to roll herself clear that the red mist descended on me. Seeing our once terrifying assailant lying helpless on the floor in front of me engendered a desire to annihilate him, to obliterate the swine from the world. Part of my rage came from him having raped my wife and some from the hurt he had done to me but a significant amount of the anger stemmed from the fact that Angie had made it pleasurable for him.

Moving until my feet were the right distance from his head, I took time to correct my position and was in the process of started my swing with the intention of delivering another almighty blow, when Angela called out "Don't!"

The imperative tone of her voice penetrated the red haze causing me to pause but my voice was still harsh as I asked, "Why not, the bastard deserves it?"

"I know he deserves it but you don't deserve what might happen to you," my wife argued urgently, "You've only hit him once with your club and no matter how badly he is hurt it's clearly self defence but if you hit him again and he dies, that will be murder."

Seeing the logic of what she said, I lowered my arm and relaxed my tight grip on the club but at a loss what else to do, I crouched down and started undoing the strap holding the ski mask in place, muttering something about at least finding out who the bastard was. Again my wife stopped me, arguing that it would be better that the police see him exactly how he first appeared to us. She went in to say, "Anyway, I think I know who he is, he's one of the security men. One clue is his sheer size but I spoke to him a few weeks ago when we needed that spare pass key when your sister came to stay and I'm sure that I recognise his voice. I also saw him standing at the corner of the building carrying a bag when I got out of the taxi; I assumed that he was on patrol."

I remained slightly bemused so Angela took charge; leaving me guarding our captive while she rang the emergency services, a minute or two later telling me, "The police are on their way. I've also asked for an ambulance because your poor face badly needs attention."

In the ambulance, I lay on a trolley down one side with the rapist in similar position on the other and Angie in the isle between us on a fold down chair, holding my hand. It irritated me that during the journey to the hospital, the two paramedics paid far more attention to our assailant than they did to me. Perhaps it was due to the fact that he was still unconscious that concerned them.

My wounds were patched up and I think I must have been sedated because I have no memory of the rest of that day. I eventually awoke to find Angie sitting by my bed, still holding my hand, and to receive the mixed news that although I had lost two teeth, my nose wasn't actually broken. Later that day we were informed that the rapist had a fractured skull, was in intensive care and that it was touch and go for him. Thought of possible pregnancy hadn't actually crossed my mind until Angie told me smiling that, following her intimate examination, she had been given a morning after pill.

My second night in hospital was very different from the first because I got very little sleep due to troubling thoughts. During the events of that night the pain must have dulled both my perception and what was recorded by my conscious mind. My subconscious was a different matter and it was these memories that came flooding back to disturb my rest. What bothered me worst was the thought that after twelve years of fidelity a woman should have some difficulty having sex with a new man, especially in a forced situation but there was no getting past the fact that my loving wife had taken to it like a duck to water. This prompted the unworthy question, 'Had Angie been as faithful as she pretended over the years we had been together?'

This suspicion was fuelled the next day when I met Angie's boss for the first time. He had kindly offered to see that we got home safely after being discharged, doing the chauffeuring himself. She had told me very little about him except that he was past normal retiring age. I had complacently pictured him as white haired, possibly bald and rather decrepit so it was a bit of a shock to find that he was almost the opposite of that image. He had a full head of dark hair white only at the temples and his movement was vigorous. Had I passed him in the street I would have estimated him to be a good twenty years less than his true age. It was too easy to imagine them together when she went on her business trips with him leaving me at home.

The moment he left the question blurted out without any planning, "Has anything ever happened between you and your boss?"

"Whatever brought that on?" Angie asked back grinning.

"I dunno, he's just a lot fitter than I imagined and you do spend a lot of time in his company," I blustered.

Realising that this was very important to me, the expression on her face changed. "Darling, Gerald is a lovely man and I am rather fond of him but I swear that no sex has ever occurred between us, of any kind." The sincerity in her eyes told me that she was telling the absolute truth but although her words eased that particular worry, my mind was still in turmoil.

My groin area still felt bruised and tender and although in fairness she most probably felt roughly the same, Angie bustled round tidying the apartment while I just sat and pondered.

It was after the evening meal when we were both sitting with a drink in hand that my angst burst back to the surface. "You wanted him to fuck you," I accused.

"Whatever makes you think that?" my wife replied looking both startled and puzzled.

"Several things but the first happened right at the start. You had to kiss him and let him finger you because he had ordered you to but there was no need for you to squeeze his dick to encourage him. You did that completely on your own initiative. Don't try to deny it because I saw you," I told her angrily.

"I'm not going to deny it because it happened but I think any woman in that situation would have done exactly the same," Angela informed me, her own anger rising. "When a woman knows that something large is going to be pushed up inside her, it's nice to know exactly how big so she can get mentally prepared. I did it for my benefit not his."

"Why were you so wet? He remarked on it and I could hear the sounds myself. Wasn't that a sign that you wanted what happened?"

My wife took a long sip of her drink and then sat gazing at me before saying calmly, "I could have been wet for several reasons. It could have been a residual effect of having all those cocks digging into me at the dance but I prefer to think that I was wet for you because we both knew we were going to have sex that night. There is also the possibility that it was genetic programming. If a woman is dry and gets roughly raped it can do terrible damage to her insides so I think that knowing what is going to happen nature creates lubrication as a protective measure."

"I suppose that you are going to say that you were enthusiastic for the same reason," I said nastily.

"I did promise that I would give myself to him."

"Promises made under duress don't need to be fulfilled," I shot back, cutting off anything more that she might have said.

"That wasn't the only reason," she argued. "In a hostage situation, the standard advice is to try to establish rapport with a captor because that makes it harder for them to kill you."

I think that I was about to dispute that but now it was her turn to but in, as she asked impatiently, "Would you prefer that I had let him get bored fucking me and decide that battering you was more fun?"

That was a killer and it took the wind right out of my sails for several long seconds but then, desperately retrenching, I asked, "Can you deny that you enjoyed having sex with him?"

"No I can't but that is completely natural. If it isn't brutal, during intercourse a woman's vagina feels almost exactly the same sensations irrespective of whether the sex was coerced or not. It's how females are made."

"Is that why you deliberately contrived to make it go on longer than necessary?

Angie looked at me quizzically with one eye but didn't speak, letting me expand on my question. "After the actual rape started, about a third of the way through, it was obvious that he was getting ready to cum until you told him, "Slow down, there's plenty of time". Why ever would you say that unless you were enjoying what he was doing to you and wanted it to go on longer?"

"Yes, I intentionally prolonged it and for one very good reason, I wanted to give you enough time to recover a bit and do something. That's why I deliberately positioned myself so that his back would be mostly towards you, and then tried to keep him distracted. What actually happened is very close to what I was hoping for."

"That's a lie, you didn't know that my golf club was hidden under the settee," I shouted triumphantly.

My wife shook her head slowly, and then like a mother speaking to a child, she explained, "What I actually hoped was that you would be able to get up, run out of the apartment and raise the alarm. I knew that he couldn't chase after you very fast with his trousers tangled round his ankles."

I felt very foolish for not even considered doing that and in reaction I played my ace in the hole, asking about what had hurt me most in the whole episode. "Why did you let him make you cum? It wasn't even a small orgasm because it looked massive, far larger than any I have managed to give you."

"I don't know," Angie said helplessly. "I've been asking myself the same question ever since it happened. I had felt a couple of small tremors earlier on and suppressed them but that just came out of nowhere. Throughout the whole thing I think I behaved honourably, doing only what I thought was for the best but I'm deeply ashamed of that. I think you are right; maybe I did let the bastard get through to me."

With that confession her barriers came down and she started sobbing uncontrollably.

I rushed to comfort her and soon we were kissing passionately. We have never revisited that conversation since and seldom even refer to that night. All that remains is to give a summary of the aftermath.

Angie wasn't permanently stretched as I feared that she might have been and I didn't suffer erectile difficulties. Actually that isn't quite true because the first few times that we made love I worried that she was bound to adversely compare the size of my equipment with that of the rapist's massive organ.

The intruder remained in a coma for over a week and it was three weeks before he was out of intensive care. During that time it was discovered that my blow had caused impact trauma to a critical part of the brain making him a permanent paraplegic with no movement or sensation below the waist. I drew an inordinate amount of pleasure from this news. The bastard might have fucked my wife in front of me but it gave me intense satisfaction to know that he would never fuck any woman again.

My wife seemed less sure, saying, "I can't help feeling a bit sorry for him, what he did to us was horrible but never being able to walk again is a terrible punishment."

"He deserved it," I said categorically. "He was fully equipped with the ski mask and stuff so it he had probably done it several times before. He needed to be stopped."

"He might have bought the mask legitimately on a winter holiday and the whole thing was spur of the moment," Angie contradicted. "He sees me going out on my own all dolled up, hopes I will return the same way and hangs about on the off chance. When his wish was granted and he grabbed the opportunity. I can't help thinking that if I hadn't been wearing that particular dress, nothing might have happened, so that makes it at least partly my fault."

I was about to make a reasoned retort but then realised that this conversation was a road I didn't want travel down so I contented myself by saying, "You're talking rubbish. Just forget it." Thankfully she did.

Angela was correct in her identification because our assailant was one of the security guys. In now seems likely that his claim to have followed her into the building was a lie to disguise the fact that he had his own pass key.

A few days after I got out of hospital I was arrested and put on police bail, accused of inflicting grievous bodily harm but the charge was soon dropped and nine months later our intruder was put on trial. He pleaded guilty to his attack on me but not guilty to rape, claiming that the sex was consensual. The prosecution soon demolished that by re-showing pictures of my battered face to the jury and asking if any woman would willingly agree to sex after witnessing her husband being hurt like that. He was found guilty on all charges. When imposing sentence the Judge told him, "I am knocking off five years off your rightful sentence to account for the serious injury you suffered that night but you will still go to prison for fifteen years, with the strong recommendation that you should serve a minimum of ten years.