No Is Not an Option

Miranda walked into the house, and scurried to the bedroom. She shed her clothes, and buried them at the bottom of the hamper, as if not seeing them would erase the memory of what she had done. She ran to the shower, and did not bother with the cold water, as she dove in, attempting to wash away any trace of the night before. After her shower, she dressed in her most straight-laced, conservative dress, and simply waited for her husband to arrive.

The night before had been a whirlwind. Drinks after work, with the girls from the office, followed by margaritas with her best friend Lacy. As Lacy left, she realized that she was less than steady on her feet, so she sat again, watching the television above the bar, and letting the drinks wear off. She happened to be at a table next to a bachelor party, and as they drank and partied, they offered her a shot. She did not want to spoil their mood, so she accepted.

After several minutes, the groom-to-be asked her to join them, stating that he wanted her to keep the party pg-13, and considering his wild friends, he needed backup. She smiled, and debated with herself. Her husband was out of town on business until Monday, and this young man seemed quite sincere. It did not take her long to convince herself to let her hair down a bit, and be his moral support.

One of the young men stood, allowing her to slide into the booth next to the groom. He smiled, and mouthed a silent "thank you", before toasting his friends. as the toast ended, the waitress brought a very expensive bottle of tequila, simply stating "compliments of the management."

Before she could refuse, the best man had poured ten shots. She quickly counted the 8 men at the table, plus her. That makes nine. She asked the groom about the tenth shot, and the table howled. He explained about the tradition in his family. At a bachelor party, you poured an extra shot. The groom created a fair game, to decide who takes the shot, and refusal was never an option.

The groom decided on poker, using the last five numbers of everyone's drivers license. The person with the best 5 numbers gets the shot. As she pulled her license from her purse, the color drained from her face. her license number ended in 88688. Four of a kind. She admitted her unwanted victory, downed her shot, then the extra one.

She immediately felt the mix of the earlier drinks, the margaritas, and now tequila. She swayed slightly in the booth, and asked if it was warm. The men all laughed, and called her a lightweight. She smiled, and raised her arms to lift her hair into a tight pony tail on her head. Instantly, she fell to her right, into the groom. He steadied her with his hands on her waist, as she pulled up her hair.

She thanked him, and he simply smiled. She was feeling quite unsteady, so as he pulled his hands from her waist, she grasped his left hand, holding it against her, silently begging him to steady her while she got her bearings. She felt a deep relief, as he slid his hand around her again, steadying her. She was glad he seemed to understand her silent plea for help. She slid her right arm around his neck, and rejoined the conversation.

The next few hours were a total blur. The only thing that seemed to stick in her brain was to not ruin the party, so the alcohol flowed, and she felt as if she had suddenly found lifelong friends in the group. As the men slowly departed one at a time, she stayed, keeping The groom-to-be company.

She suddenly smiled, and leaned in close. "you know, I just realized, I dont think you told me your name." He turned, and simply said "Jacob." Unfortunately, she was still leaning in from whispering in his ear, so when he turned to face her, their lips met. Miranda briefly kissed him back, then pulled away sharply. She was unsure if her face flushed from embarrassment, or sudden passion, since she definitely felt both. Even though she was fairly sure that no one had noticed the kiss, she felt the sudden need to stand, and make her exit, The men all agreed that it was probably time to head for home. As she stood, her legs felt like jello, and Jacob quickly steadied her. A sudden thrill coursed through her as his hand slid around her waist.

"Oh, no. I cant let you drive like this. I'll tell you what. We have a spare bedroom. It is yours for the night. There is even a private bath." She politely refused, and started to talk about a cab, but the four remaining men all insisted. In the end, she chuckled, and decided it was probably for the best.

As the 5 exited the bar, a large black s.u.v. pulled up, and a driver opened the door for them. Miranda climbed into the back seat with Jacob, as the others slid into the middle, and front seats. She leaned against him, as the rhythm of the road seemed to consume her. Jacob simply put his arm around her, and continued chatting with his friends, as her drunken brain drifted back to the accidental kiss. It was as if her brain were detached from her body. This only seemed more true, as her hand met his, and pulled it up her thigh, and between her legs.

He looked into her eyes questioningly, before sliding her silky panties to the side, and gently stroking her tender lips. At this point, her haze lifted just enough to allow her morals to whisper out a fogged decision. Even though she started it, she needed to get his hands out of her panties, no matter what it took.

"hey guys, how long until we get there?" she called towards the front seat.

"About a half hour or so. Why? "

"My head is spinning. Would you mind if I laid down for a bit? I'll be more social when we get there, I promise."

The men all agreed, and Leah slid down into Jacob's lap. The men in the middle seat turned, and made teasing "awwww" sounds to her, but she shooed them away, and they went back to talking. Once again, her body betrayed her brain, and she quietly started gently blowing warm breaths onto the front of his tight slacks. In her mind, this was good, because she wasn't technically touching him, and if he tried anything, she *might* stop him. Miranda smiled to herself, as she felt his fingers wrap themselves into her hair, gently pushing her lips against him. She decided that he was surely going to stop her, so she called his bluff, and quietly unbuttoned his pants. This suddenly became a game of "I dare you", and she was determined not to ruin his night.

The fingers in her hair gently pulled her lips away from him, and she was about to smile and look up at him victorious. She opened her eyes, just in time to see him slide his rock hard cock out of his briefs. She steeled herself for him to push her head back down, but he never did. It was then that she realized, he was not going to force her. he was once again daring her.

Miranda inhaled slowly, and lowered her lips to the head of his cock, kissing it gently, twice sucking in drops of precum. She parted her lips, and hovered, just barely touching the head, as her hand met the fingers wrapped in her hair. Silently, she urged him to push. Secretly, she needed him to push. When he hesitated, she griped his hand, and forced him to push her head down, and around his gorgeous member. For the rest of the drive, she silently and gently bobbed her head, swirling her tongue around him. Twice, she felt him stiffen in her mouth, and each time, she pulled away, keeping him on the edge. The third time he stiffened, she could not resist. She slid his cock into the back of her throat, and let him pulse his seed into her. She gently sucked him clean, and fell asleep, as he fastened his pants.

She vaguely woke, as he carried her into the house, then closed her eyes again. She knew what was happening, she just could not keep the room from spinning when she opened her eyes. Jacob deposited her gently onto the bed, then carefully removed her dress, and pulled the covers up over her. Internally, she smiled at his chivalry. She heard him take two steps toward the door, then suddenly stop. By this point, Miranda was still drunk,. but by no means as incoherent as she was earlier.

She had settled into the bed, and was getting very comfortable. Perhaps that is why she did not jump when she felt the head of his cock slide between her lips, brushing against her teeth. Maybe it was still the alcohol, but she simply could not resist. She lifted her arm over her head, and feigned a deep stretch, and yawn, but never moved her head. The result of her fake yawn was that her lips closed around the thick shaft of his cock. She felt him tense, and start to pull out, but she gently cupped his balls, and hummed a quiet "hmm mmmm..", telling him to stay where he was. At the same time, she sucked hard, and swallowed, pulling him deep into her throat. Slowly, she used her lips, tongue and throat to milk him again and again. She stopped only long enough to look up at him, and whisper

"please, don't stop. I never get to just be a slut. I'm always the good girl. Tonight, let me be bad."

Miranda gasped, as he suddenly grabbed the back of her head, and forced his throbbing cock into her throat. She felt him pulse, then pulse again, and his hot cum poured down her throat. He did not hesitate at all, but quickly pulled her panties to the floor, and flipped her to her stomach, pulling her ass high into the air. For the next several hours, Jacob, and his friends each took turns using her willing little body, filling her every orifice, and leaving her physically exhausted. When she woke in the morning, Leah could instantly feel the swollen flesh they had enjoyed. Hell, even her lips were tender!

As soon as her husband Bo walked in, he clearly noticed the concern on her face, and simply sat, and listened silently. She told him everything, took full responsibility, and begged for his forgiveness. To her surprise, he simply stood, told her not to follow him, and walked into their bedroom. When he returned, he simply turned into the living room, deposited himself into his chair, and went mute.

Miranda spent the rest of the night in a near-panic. alternating between hyperventilating, crying uncontrollably, and walking past the living room, where Bo was sitting in his chair, clearly trying to maintain his composure. She didn't want to "poke the bear", so she didn't approach him. He was never violent, and rarely even angry, but this was.. uncharted waters. She knew him well enough to understand that when he needed space, it was to swallow some type of anger, and that he was best left alone. By the end of the night, she simply fell asleep, assuming that Bo would come to bed eventually.

When Miranda woke in the morning, she automatically rolled over to Bo's side of the bed, only to find it cold, and still made from the day before. Immediately, she realized that he hadn't come to bed at all. She gasped, and threw the covers off of herself, and started for the door. As she made her way to the bottom of the stairs, and turned toward the chair where she last saw him, she noticed how... empty the house suddenly felt. Her head turned every which way, desperately trying to find him, but he was gone. She grabbed her purse, and tried to steady her shaking hands as she found her phone, and punched his name. Behind her, from the kitchen, she heard his familiar ringtone for her, "brick House" by Rob Zombie. Miranda turned the corner into the kitchen, praying to find him, but instead found his phone on the counter, the screen a spiderweb of cracked glass. He had left. She suddenly felt not only alone, but broken, and totally responsible for this fiasco.

She collapsed into a chair, her head in her hands, sobbing. Unsure of what to do, her body seemed to take over, guiding her up the stairs to shower, and get dressed. As she stepped out of the shower, she heard her phone chime from the kitchen. Without even grabbing a towel, she screamed down the stairs, trailing water behind her, desperate in her hope that it was Bo.. As she grabbed her phone, she saw the screen display.

1 new message from *unknown*

She unlocked the phone, and read the message out loud to herself. "I have your husband. He is safe, but not very happy. He wanted me to relay a message to you. 'I can't believe you did that. My trust in you is just gone. If you EVER want to hear me call you CUPCAKE again, I suggest you prove that you can be trusted." She fell to the floor. She would have thought it was a hoax, except for that one word. "CUPCAKE". It was their private code, that nobody else knew. It meant that whatever was happening was very real, and very serious, and that the person that said it wanted exactly what they asked. It amounted to "if you dont hear CUPCAKE, I'm not the person talking." Miranda found herself literally shivering with fear. Not for herself, or for Bo. The message clearly said that he was safe. She was terrified that she had imploded their marriage. She texted back a single word, "YES".

Not thirty seconds after she sent the text, she heard the doorbell ring. Luckily for her, she remembered her state of undress, grabbing her robe from in front of the washing machine before answering. As the door opened, she saw a young woman, approximately 18 years old, holding a box. "delivery for Miranda," the girl whined. Miranda grabbed the box, and slammed the door, watching the girl sulk away into an older grey Toyota. The girl wasn't with Bo, that much was clear, But Miranda was unsure whether to be relieved, or disappointed. Opening the box, she instantly felt the blood drain from her face. In the box was a pair of 8 inch heels, and a Lbd. That was a Lbd as in a LITTLE black dress, capital L, as in VERY little. As she pulled the dress from the box, she instinctively held it to her body, judging the length and fit. It no more than touched her robe, before the phone chimed again.

1 new message from *unknown*

"drop the robe. Put on the dress, heels, hair, and makeup. Nothing else."

For the second time in as many days, Miranda did not even think for a second about right or wrong. She simply scrambled up the stairs, to get ready for when the next set of instructions came. The first thought that came to her mind as she slipped on the heels was "Cinderella", as they could not have fit better if they had been custom made for her. She slid the dress up her body, and whimpered. Clearly, she had to make a choice. The hem of the dress was cut in such a way that she could conceal her bare pussy, or her ass, but not both. Her one and only attempt to pull it down resulted in her chest falling out of the top. She closed her eyes, and thought of Bo, and her love for him as she turned to the stairs, with her bare ass on display for whatever came next.

She had no sooner grabbed her phone to text "unknown", when it chimed again. "unknown" had uncanny timing.

"xxx East Ben White Blvd. 20 minutes. Do not go in."

Mirands grabbed her purse, and headed for the door. As she exited, she noticed that her keys were not in her purse. She wheeled to go back in to look, only to find her house key in the lock. Clearly Bo, or someone, had taken her keys. She was going to have to walk. She could already feel the color rising in her cheeks, as she turned onto the sidewalk, painfully aware of the breeze blowing up the back of her nonexistent skirt. Without a moment's hesitation, she steeled herself, and whispered "serves you right", as she marched to her destination. Arriving 4 minutes early, she slowed, preparing herself for what might be to come. The front door of the bar was in front of her, but she had been told to wait "outside." to the right of the door was an outdoor covered patio, complete with televisions showing various sporting events, 2 pool tables, and a scaled-down bar. . The patio was not full, but there were about thirty people spread across various tables. She turned to the patio, and headed for an empty table. As she approached the table, she started to sit, but hesitated, realizing what this was. Pennance. Punishment for her betrayal. Even though he was not there, she felt like to sit, and hide her exposed ass would be cheating Bo out of what he needed, and deserved, She stood at the table, determined to make it right.

The diminutive waitress approached her, and started to speak, then quickly fell silent, as she noticed the display, simply whispering "oh.. what... ummm." Miranda quickly interrupted "please dont ask. I need a double rum and coke, a shot on the side, and a Shiner draft please." the girl gave her a shy smile, and hurried off. When she had gotten her drinks, Miranda did not hesitate. She killed the rum and coke immediately, followed it with the shot, and half of the dark beer, As she paused to take a breath, her phone chimed again.

"I think you should find someone to play pool with. If you dont win, your day will get a lot worse. Here are your rules. If you bend your knees, you lose. If your feet are ever less than shoulder width apart, you lose." Miranda whimpered silently. With the short dress, her busty frame, and long legs, this was going to be a challenge to her modesty. She walked to the wall, and chose a cue. As she walked to the table, she crossed the path of a young man sitting alone. She stopped, and sputtered "Please play with me. UUUHHHH... pool, I mean..." He smiled, and grabbed a cue. She suddenly noticed that the tables near the pool table were suddenly very popular. She had drawn a crowd. The young man struck the balls, and it was her turn. She studied the table briefly, before choosing her shot.

Determined to play her part, she slowly bent at the waist, arched her back, and lined up the shot, The men in front of her had a clear view down the front of her dress, and those behind her were suddenly moaned quietly, almost in unison. She made her shot, but was having a hard time concentrating, and missed her next. To her surprise, the young man somehow cleared all of his balls from the table, all while watching her. A chill ran up her spine, as she remember the words YOU MUST WIN. Feeling desperate, and defeated, she mouthed the word "please" in his direction, and lifted her skirt, exposing her bare shaved slit. His jaw dropped, and he immediately mishit the cue ball, sinking it instead of the 8 ball. He stood up, and with a sheepish grin, said "well, I guess I lost, but it was worth it!" Miranda squealed, and hugged him, whispering "thank you" into his ear as she turned away. At this point, she knew what to expect, and grabbed her phone. The text was waiting.

"very good. As soon as you cum, you can go home."

She slid into the tall chair, and slipped her hand under the skirt, knowing full well that the length of the dress made discretion impossible. As soon as she touched herself, she discovered that she was incredibly wet already. Running her finger down, her glistening slit seemed to want to almost pull her finger inside. She had already resigned herself to not caring about who saw what, and this stimulation made her completely oblivious to her new found fans. Every eye in the room was on her, male and female, but she had closed her eyes, so she jumped when she heard the young waitresses voice. "I'm not sure what's going on, but I think maybe you could use a bit of... privacy?" Miranda looked her in the eye, as she rubbed herself. "please, I can't leave. Not yet. I don't have a choice."

The waitress stepped between her legs, blocking the crowd of lustful eyes. She looked Miranda in the eyes, and stepped closer. The waitresses hips purposely pushed miranda's fingers, sliding them deep into her pussy. The young girl grinded against her hand, as Miranda buried her face in the girls neck. She felt herself tense, and was almost ready to cum, She kissed the young girl's neck, as her thumb flicked over miranda's swollen clit, sending her over the edge. Her Hips bucked, and thrashed as the orgasm tore through her. As she relaxed, she thanked the girl, and slunk to the door, as she walked home, she unwittingly started to strut, as if without thinking, she had decided to own her situation. When she turned her key, and entered the house, she almost screamed, as she found Bo standing in front of her. Before she could even speak, he grabbed her by the ponytail, and pushed her to her knees in front of him. She somehow stifled her squeal, and lowered her eyes to the floor.