Corporate Party Turns Wild Sex Orgy

Passed around as if a whore, a prim and proper wife is used, abused, and gangbanged.

"Let me go! No! Stop! Please don't! No!"

The drug was wearing off and, no longer feeling horny, she could see what was really happening around her. Surrounded by men, so many naked men they were either waiting to have their wicked way with her or already had their wicked way with her. Pinned down against the weight of one man licking her pussy, while she sucked another man, she had a cock in each hand. For a woman who had been so virginal pure and so faithful to her husband, the only man she's ever known sexually, she was angry.

"Let me up," she said spitting a man's cock from her mouth to speak only to have it inserted back in her mouth again when she screamed. "Let me the fuck up!"

This time, making sure that she didn't eject him, he had a hand behind her blonde, pretty head and, humping her mouth, he fucked her face. He didn't let her go until he ejaculated all he had in her mouth and until after she swallowed.

"Fuck! You dirty bastard. How dare you force me to blow you. Oh, my God, I'm covered in cum. Never have I swallowed so much cum."

As soon as he let her go, unable to even stand, another man took his place. It was obvious that they weren't letting her leave until she sexually satisfied them all. Fucking her while she sucked them, taking on two men at a time, blowing one from fucking the other from behind, she was the queen bee in the way that eight men surrounding were the busy bees.

* * * * *

Heather sipped a glass of wine, while watching the fiery blaze on the evening news.

"If it wasn't for the fact that I'd be suspected of arson and arrested, I would have hung around to watch the inferno and to toast some marshmallows," she said with a laugh.

Now that it was over, looking back at all that happened with clearer eyes, in hindsight, knowing that it was all preplanned and prearranged, she understood why she was treated like a whore and so used, abused, and gangbanged.

"Those fuckers. I hope no one escapes. I hope they all burn to death," she said.

After being stripped naked and raped by the company's sales team at the President's premier, personal party, they treated her as if she was a gangbanger and forced sex was her initiation into their private club of sexually abused wives. As if she was just another company perk, their fourth quarter, yearend, bonus for a job well done, they passed Heather around to their boardroom of top executives,.

"Sons' of bitches. Dirty bastards. No good cocksuckers. Filthy motherfuckers," she said to herself for no one to hear while she was still angry.

Having been drugged, she lost count of how many cocks she sucked and fucked, six, eight, a dozen, maybe more? She had no idea. After a while she just closed her eyes and endured the humiliation. She's never been naked for so long in front of so many men. No doubt, fearing he'd lose his job, not even her husband came to her rescue.

"John! John! Help me! John! Where are you?"

Surrounded by a swarm of men at the executive corporate party, as if she was Lara Logan being touched, groped, felt, fondled, stripped naked, sexually abused, and raped in Cairo, Egypt by dozens of angry Egyptian men who hate America and Americans, the only difference was that she wasn't beaten.

"I can't believe they all did that to me," she said still seething.

With her jaw feeling as if she had lockjaw, her pussy spread wide open as if she had just given birth to a baby, and her asshole hurting to sit without the comfort of a plush, cushiony pillow, she was sore for weeks. With so many men violating all of her holes, all at the same time, even when she did gymnastics and ice skated, never has she moved her legs in so many different and awkwardly difficult positions. Caked with their dried semen, drenched in a mass of dried and dripping cum, it took her three long, steamy hot, tearful showers to rid herself of their stench. With so many men cumming in her mouth, all over her face, in her hair, on her naked chest, in her pussy, and up her ass, they forced her to swallow them by holding a hand to the back of her head. Over in just a few hours, sick to her stomach and with her skin crawling with the thoughts of what they did to her and all that she did with them, she must have swallowed a glass full of their ejaculations.

"Fuckers! I never saw so much cum," she said. "I only hope that someone does what they dared to me to their daughters, their mothers, their wives, and sisters."

Nonetheless, as if making a terrorist bomb in her planned attack, as if something out of a Stephen King's Carrie movie, the brutal rape of her didn't stop her from seeking revenge. Having served her husband with divorce papers, she wasn't invited to their next party, thank God. No doubt a repeat of the last party, they had plenty of women who enjoyed being sexually assaulted. She waited for everyone to arrive before siphoning gas from gas tanks of the cars that crowded the huge circular driveway. Having already secured the front door, the back door, the cellar door and both side doors with heavy chains, with the only way now out was through the thick glass of the hurricane proof windows. Determined to get even, she wanted them all dead for what they did to her. A tinderbox of rare old antiques, priceless artwork, and oil soaked floors, those sheer drapes would go up in a flash.

"It serves them all right. After they burn to death here, may they all burn in Hell for eternity," she said.

The shining star, blonde, blue-eyed, beautiful, and busty, before they showed their true intentions, she was treated more as a valuable possession, instead of being respected as her husband's wife. Passed around as if she was a twenty dollar whore at a 17th century pirates convention, never was she even given a choice to accept or reject her fate.

"No! Please! Let me go! Stop! Don't!"

The sights and sounds of that night haunted her for weeks. No longer able to sleep, fearing they'd come for her again, she bolted her bedroom door and even disallowed her husband entry. As far as she was concerned, with him not coming to her rescue, already filing for divorce, their marriage was over. What kind of man puts his job over the safety and the humiliation of his wife to be so stripped naked and sexually used as if she was a common stripper hired for a bachelor party. Obviously for him to allow them to do that to her, he didn't love her. He never loved her.

"How could he do that to me? How could he allow his boss and the rest of the corporate executives sexually violate me? What kind of man allows men to use his wife? What kind of man stands there and watches his wife being gangbanged?"

So as not to make a sound and be premature detected walking on the graveled driveway, she removed her high heels. As if it was their blood freely flowing from their expensive automobiles, she watched the gasoline pour from Mercedes, BMW, Cadillac, Audi, Lincoln, Porsche, and Lexus cars to puddle all around the mansion. Viewing her as new meat, one of a kind, as if she was a virgin to be sacrificed at their corporate party upon their boardroom table, there wasn't another woman at the corporate party there like her. All of their wives were short, fat, old, ugly, and boring. No wonder why they all wanted her, she was the only exciting woman there.

"May they all burn in Hell," she said striking the match with the insane laugh of a woman who lost her mind. She delayed her escape for a few moments to watch the fires of her inferno surround the mansion and grow higher before driving away content that she was the last woman to be so sexually assaulted by those men.

* * * * *

"Heather. Heather. Wake up. You need to get ready. We have to be at the party promptly at 8pm," said John shaking his wife after she had fallen asleep on the couch.

"What time is it?"

"It's late. C'mon. Let's go," he said with impatience.

"I had a terrible dream John, a nightmare, actually," she said yawning, stretching, and rubbing her eyes as if she had all the time in the world to get herself ready. "Feeling as if I was in a sexual scene in Rosemary's Baby or a group sex setting in Eyes Shut Wide Open--,"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, tell me all about your dream in the car," he said looking at his Rolex again. "With the amount of time it takes for you to get ready, you need to get in the bathroom now," she John looking at his watch again before yanking her off the couch by her arm.

"Okay, okay, John. Take it easy. I'm going," she said staring at him as if he was the Devil. "Why do we even have to go to this function? After the boring time that I had last year, I swore I'd never attend another one."

"Because the President of the company, who is also the chairman of the board, someone who I've never seen before, until last year's party, and will never see again, after tonight, until next year's party, sent his private, executive secretary to my desk to personally invite us."

"Why must I go? I don't work there. Why can't you go alone without me?"

"Because all the wives go," he said rolling his eyes and sighing. "It's expected and, with me up for promotion, I don't want to insult the big boss. Come on, come on, move. We're going to be late," he said taping his index finger on his watch to mimic the seconds ticking by while waiting for her to get ready.

"Okay, okay. I'm going. Gees John," she said yawning.

Young, naive, blonde, busty, and beautiful, looking much like a better looking Charlize Theron, but with tits, big tits, if she wanted a life of fame and fortune, and was willing to pleasure every casting couch director and producer who gave her an opportunity, she was good looking enough that she could have been a movie star. Not one to sell sex and self-respect for fame or for fortune, she was content being the wife of John, a mildly mannered marketing man. Unbeknownst to her, having already made his backroom deal with the Devil, John was the junior executive of the company and if he wanted to make his way up the corporate ladder, as had all the other junior executives before him, he had to play ball by giving the members of the board what they all so desired, and what they all so desired was his beautiful, sexy wife.

"Well John, not everyone gets invited to these parties," said his immediate boss. "Only the up and comers get a special invitation by the big boss's personal, executive secretary. Actually, had I not met your wife, I'd be surprised why you were invited," he said with a dirty laugh.

Unbeknownst to her at the time, as if she had walked on the backset of a Stepford Wives movie, the wives in attendance of the corporate party were all passed around so many times that they had the mean, angry, and combative look that old whores get at a brothel, after having fucked and sucked one too many men. Only, none of them, not one of them, was as beautiful and as sexy as was Heather. Moreover, content to live a lavish life, none of them complained or refused to go along with be sexually used and abused. As soon as she walked in the room, all eyes were upon her as if she was a made of pure gold.

"Psst, look at her. That's John's wife," she overheard someone say.

"My oh my, I can't wait to fuck her," said someone else.

Already having a bad premonition after the dream she just had, Heather couldn't believe that she had to attend another corporate party after the boring time she had last year. Had she known that last year's party was just an introduction to the prelude of what was to happen at this party, she never would have attended. Only, not given a choice, with her husband knowing full well what was to transpire, she would have at least liked a little warning. Then, she would have known not to accept a drink from anyone.

Forcing her in a corner when getting her alone, except for the expected drunken groping by a few of the top executives of the company, Heather didn't expect this party was any different than the one she attended last year. Yet, much worse that any swingers' party where no meant no, her screams of protest didn't matter. Instead of hiring out a hall at the country club, as they did last year, this year, they held the party at the mansion on the hill that belonged to the President and Chairman of the Board, Edward Reginald Blankenship, III. Having driven by the house dozens of times and admiring it, wishing she could see the inside, she always wondered who lived there, while imagining living there as the lady of the house.

"I just love this house," she said as she slowly drove past it to admire it. "Only, I can't imagine living here. It's so big and ornate." Knowing there was no one home but the servants, she stopped her car in front of the house for a better look. "How grand would that be to entertain friends and business associates from such a fine mansion?"

She could just imagine herself wearing gowns and jewels every day, instead of jeans and sweatshirts, she thought to herself as she drove her minivan home. Yet, for some reason, the house at the top of the hill, as grand as it was, frightened her. As if it was the mansion was a living and breathing thing, in the way of Count Dracula's castle, there was something foreboding about it. As if the mansion had come alive, breathing and seething, the elaborate home loomed even bigger in her nightmares. Situated atop a hill, as if it topped the company flowchart, the mansion overlooked the employees homes below as if in the old days, back in the 1800's when workers were so subservient to the owners.

"Nothing has changed," she said for no one to hear.

Money, money, and more money was the name of the game at this level. With John's lowly position in the company, living on the other side of town, too ritzy for them, they couldn't afford to live in this swanky neighborhood. After being at the trough for too long, as if a barnacle stuck on the hull of a ship, unable to pry their greedy hands and mouths away without a crowbar, it was no longer about accumulating wealth, it was all about amassing power and influence. To those at the top of the heap, already having enough money, more money than they could spend in ten lifetimes, power was their true Holy Grail and influence was the game that made people do crazy things in order to become one of the top dogs. With just a phone call and a snap of their fingers, as if they were royalty, the top executives lived a life not just of luxury but of privilege. No one dared go against them.

Having been to these parties before with her husband, but at other less successful companies, these parties were always so boring. She lost respect for them and for the drunken employees who attended them. If she had to watch some underling kiss one more executive's ass, she'd puke. The newbies, including her husband, were all a bunch of suck ups and brown noses. That's two credits she could now give to her power-hungry husband. In the mold of all the others, he was a suck up and a brown nose. He turned into such a corporate phony.

After making his mark at this company, he'd never have to kiss anyone's ass again or so she thought. After he acquired a modest level of success, power, and prestige through hard work and steely determination, she didn't know that, even though his ass kissing may have been at an end, her cock sucking was just beginning. As did many of the other wives privately and reluctantly disclose, they were glad she didn't work there. Yet, in the way she did when talking to the wives of the other executives, feeling that they were holding back and not talking openly about all that happened there behind closed boardroom doors, she always had an uncomfortable feeling, especially when in the presence of John's superiors. With everyone being so secretive, but for her, no one seemed open and honest. Always leering at her, undressing her with their beady, little eyes, as if thinking of her as a profit margin on their balance sheet and an asset on their financial statement, she couldn't stand any of the phony executives.

"Don't worry," her husband said to her. "You'll have a good time because, other than the top executives, the only other people attending were from corporate sales, the salesmen, nicknamed the flyboys because they traveled so much."

Great, just what she needs, more aggressive men to grope her and try to kiss her while forcing her hand on their cocks through their pants. Yet, good for her husband's career to be seen and to mingle at the party, she was glad that someone was getting something out of attending this party. Not telling her husband, Heather had a few problems in the past with a couple of the flyboys at the summer party and at the Christmas party after they all had one too many drinks. No doubt, using drinking as their excuse to grope her, feel her, and caress her, at the summer party, they lifted her short skirt to expose her bikini panty and forced her hand to touch their erections through their pants.

She was glad she didn't wear a bikini to the party because, surely, they would have lifted her top to expose her big breasts. Then again at the Christmas party, making lewdly suggestive remarks, they tried to kiss her while touching her, groping her, and feeling her. Inappropriately feeling her breast and grabbing her ass, while trying to put their hands beneath her skirt, they had crossed the line of acceptable social behavior when they forced her hand to touch their erections again through their pants. If she had given them any sign of encouragement, they would have forced her to her knees and forced her to suck them.

The mistake she made was in not telling her husband or so she thought at the time. Defending her honor, her husband would have, no doubt, confronted them or, after he didn't come to her rescue now when they stripped her naked and gangbanged her, maybe not. For fear of her husband being fired for fighting with a well regarded, moneymaking salesman or executive of the company, she kept all that happened to herself, which is now her reason for not wanting to attend another drunken party. She'd rather just tell John she was suddenly ill and needed to stay home.

She remembered back to how his indifference started after being told by the doctor that she was unable to conceive. It was a good thing he was there with her because she never could have found the courage to tell him. So very disappointed, he was intent on having a son. Not the same man, he changed after that. Now thinking of her as if she was his damaged property, as if he was her king and she was his queen, evidentially only wanting her as a vessel to give birth to his son, it was tragically funny how he no longer wanted her sexually.

Even though he no longer wanted her, he didn't want any other man to have her or so she thought, that is, until she was gangbanged by nearly every top executive in his company. Not wanting to payout what took him so long to earn and amass, whenever she brought up divorce, he changed the subject. Whenever one of the drunken executives cornered her alone, with one hand on her ass and another on her breast, a wrestling match when they tried forcing her hand to feel their cock, Heather handled the situation with a polite, albeit firm, negative aplomb. Clipping their wings and grounding them, in the way she shot these flyboys down so smoothly and so easily, perhaps, just looking the other way, no one would have noticed, even if they had been standing right next to them that there was a problem. Only, in the way she had rejected them, they were out to get her.

It wasn't as if Heather didn't like the attention of another man flirting with her and complimenting her, she did, as any woman would. Admittedly, having a more beautiful face and a much better body than any of the other wives, she enjoyed dressing sexy by wearing short, low cut, form fitting dresses that flattered her shapely figure. With her husband no longer paying her the attention he did when they were first married, she'd be lying if she said that she didn't enjoy the attention that she received from the other men at the party. Married for seven years, it's been a long time that he told her he loved her and even longer since he made love to her. Forget about making love, she couldn't remember the last time he fucked her, really fucked her, in the way that his co-workers had just done.