Staci in Paradise

As Maria and I became closer we began to share experiences, thoughts, dreams, and desires. Except for Myrna I'd never had this kind of close female friend. I'm normally reserved and keep to myself but in a few months I found myself sharing things with Maria I'd never told anyone else - or even admitted to myself.

I told her about how hollow I felt growing up, an abandoned orphan nobody wanted. I told her how it hurt to be ignored in high school and college. I told her all about Bob.

We had a lot of discussions about Bob.

Maria was a good listener. She seemed to understand and encouraged me to open up in a non judgmental way.

One evening was sitting on her deck enjoying my fourth appletini while Hubby cleaned up after another exceptional dinner.

I was pretty toasty; I could hear myself blabbing on and on and laughing as if from a distance, as though I was suspended a bit outside my body. Maria and I were talking about sex.

She shared some of her experiences; I shared mine. I'd told her about the dungeon, which particularly interested her.

"It was nice," I told Maria. "A real sense of power, you know? Just what I needed after Bob."

Maria nodded encouragement. "But not what I'd want as a steady diet," I continued. "No real sex, yuuuck! Plus, whipping men isn't my number one fantasy anyway."

This started a discussion of fantasies. Maria told me she'd fantasized about being taken, not against her will necessarily, but somewhat roughly and urgently. Against the outside back wall of a nightclub, say.

I found myself imagining a man holding me trapped against a brick wall, taking me as I struggled helplessly against him...

It excited me. I felt a familiar wetness and heat, considered asking Maria to "borrow" her hubby tonight.

A few more sips of the vodka. "I fantasize about men," I began. "Not one man, several men." I began to visualize a line of males, naked, lined up at my bed, erect members in front of them like lances, taking turns with me one after the other...

"I suppose," Maria said as I described this debauchery, "It's like my fantasy in a way, isn't it? I mean, you want to have no choice, to know you must do as someone else wishes."

I nodded. "Yeah, I suppose."

We changed the subject; I later excused myself and managed to drive home safely. Mr. Buzzy got a good workout that night as I imagined the men lining up, one after the other having me, the ones waiting cheering and making rude comments about what a slut I was.

The humiliation added burning heat. I hated myself for thinking it but it was true nonetheless. Maria was right - I wanted to be controlled. Owned.

Thinking the word made me climax. I teased myself with it as I moved the vibrator in and out, enjoying the pleasurable sensations. Several men, I thought, lined up, one after the other, taking me, taking turns, holding me down, nothing I could do, I was their...SLAVE...violent orgasm, clasping, thrashing...

Finally I drifted off to sleep.

Maria mentioned my fantasy again the next day at work, casually, in passing. Nobody was around but remembering my shameful thoughts the night before I snapped at her, cross. She left my office with a hurt look.

Over the next few weeks she and I teased around the subject a bit. I apologized for snapping at her. "Oh, that's all right," she told me. "It just means you really want it but it embarrasses you."

I had to agree.

Maria kept on, having me embellish my fantasy. I surrendered to her gentle urgings, adding more details. I told her about the humiliation, how that excited me, thinking of being nothing but a slut to several men, being OWNED (another orgasm, involuntary, on her deck with no stimulation at all).

If I'd known Maria a bit better I'd have known she was the ultimate planner. After a few weeks she stopped prodding me about it. I decided she'd let it go at last.

How wrong I was.

The year ended well. Work was good; bonuses were handed out the beginning of December. Everyone was happy.

Maria insisted I spend Thanksgiving and Christmas at her house. It was warm, friendly. Relaxing.

Now New Year was rapidly approaching. I wasn't dating, still too preoccupied with work. Maria and I kicked a few ideas around. She had family in Miami she told me; suggested we drive down and celebrate New Year's Eve there.

I protested, claiming I didn't want to be a third wheel, but she poo-poo'd that off. "I have a cousin, Carlos," she told me. "He's twenty five and quite the young stud. I'll set it up; he can be your date!"

A fix up! Yuuuch! I didn't want any part of that, but Maria kept pouring appletinis down me and finally I gave in.

So, December 30th we drove to Miami. I insisted Maria let me pay for hotel rooms for us; she arraigned an obscenely expensive suite in a beachfront hotel. I gulped when I charged it on my Visa, but what the hell? I thought, lotta savings, nothing to blow it on.

The suite was really nice. Maria and John moved into one of the rooms; I got the other.

That evening Maria invited Carlos to have dinner with us. Around eight I heard a knock. Maria walked over and pulled the door open. The handsomest man I'd ever seen in my life was standing there. "Maria!" he exclaimed. "Carlos!" Then lots of hugging and rapid Spanish.

Finally Maria led Carlos over to where I was standing on weak knees.

"Staci, this is my cousin Carlos," she said with a twinkle in her voice. "Didn't I tell you he was beautiful? Makes you want to roll over on your back like a little bug, eh, Chica?"

Embarrassed, I stammered a greeting. Carlos took my hand gently - for a wild moment I thought he was going to bend down and kiss it! - then looked down at me with soft liquid brown eyes.

To say he was beautiful was an understatement, I thought. A bit under six feet, trim, muscular athletic build - he obviously worked out - dark hair, a little curly at the ends.

I looked down, suddenly uncomfortable. I knew and suspected he knew that if he wanted he could just pull my clothes off right then and there and have me on the floor in front of Maria and the only thing I'd tell him would be to hurry up.

I felt myself flush, felt the burning of desire in my stomach, felt myself spread, wetness beginning to seep from my pussy as my body involuntarily readied itself for him.

Damn! I shook off the feeling, took his arm, and let him escort me out, down the elevator, out to his car.

We had dinner at a Cuban restaurant Maria remembered then went to a Spanish club for dancing. The fast dances were ok, but when they played a slow dance and Carlos held me tight my traitor body that hadn't had a man in too, too long betrayed me. I could feel his hardness, knew he wanted me. I couldn't stop rubbing myself against his cock, imprisoned in his pants.

Carlos responded my running his right hand down my back, cupping my ass, pulling me toward him. I didn't resist. Eyes half closed I looked up at him dreamily. He lowered his head and kissed me, a long, slow, sweet kiss that was nevertheless demanding.

My panties were soaked with the wetness of my desire. I remembered Maria's fantasy and wondered if he'd choose to pull me out the back door and take me against the back wall of the club. I wondered if I'd put up a sham fight while urging him on, my hand inside his pants, holding him in my fist, pulling him to me...

Only one thing wrong: Nothing would be forced. I'd have let him have me right there on the dance floor if he'd wanted.

Finally sensing my need Carlos spoke to Maria in Spanish, then led me outside, his arm around my waist. We got in his car - "They'll take a cab home," he answered my question. In a few minutes that seemed to take forever we were back at the hotel; the valet was parking the car, we were in the elevator, kissing, unable to wait until it got to the top, his hand under my skirt, rubbing me through my soaking panties, head back, mouth open, a demanding kiss as he rubbed my clit through the thin satin.

I came there, standing in the elevator. I began to moan uncontrollably as my climax washed over me, obliterating rational thought, "Ahhhhhh....UHHHHHHHHHHHHHH...Yeeeeeesssssss!" as I clamped both legs around his hand, hips bucking and rolling, rubbing myself against him uncontrollably.

The elevator finally dinged. He scooped me up in his arms and carried me, limp, to the door of the suite. I handed him the card; in a flash we were inside and he was carrying me to the bedroom (the right one, fortunately). He lay me on the bed gently. Through half closed eyes I saw him rip his clothes off; suddenly he was beside me, naked.

All pretense gone now, I began moaning, responding to his touch eagerly, rising on cue, legs spread, offering myself to him. He took a long, slow time undressing me. His mouth on my skin was like fire, kissing, licking. I begged him to hurry, to take me, but he was intent on teasing me, making me wait. On and on and on he went. I came twice more as he slowly tortured me.

He's teaching me who's boss, mastering me, I thought. I came again when I thought that.

Finally he was poised above me, holding both my wrists trapped in his strong left hand, too strong for me to break loose as he guided himself into my waiting female wetness with his right hand. I felt him enter me, long and slow as I bucked against him to no avail. He held my ass with his hand, pulling me up to him as he paused, fully inside me.

He waited a minute until my panting subsided somewhat, then began a long, slow rhythm, in and out, in and out. I came again after three or four thrusts, screaming, moaning into his strong chest. On and on and on he went, bringing me to climax after climax.

Finally I felt his pace quicken. I thought he was going to finish, but instead he stopped again.

Looking down at me, Carlos muttered, "You're beautiful, Chica." I smiled up at him. "Maria tells me you have this fantasy," he continued. "I have some friends, we'd like you to be our SLAVE tomorrow, agree to be OWNED by us, be out little SLUT..."

Damn Maria! Hearting those words I began to buck and roll, hips thrashing, clenching inside over and over. From a distance I heard moaning, realized it was me, AHHHHHHHHHHH...YEEEESSSSSSS....

Smiling down Carlos kept it up, telling me I was going to be a SLAVEGIRL and all his friends would fuck me one after the other; that they'd OWN me and I'd be their PROPERTY and I'd do WHATEVER THEY WANTED. And I came and came and came, one long, screaming, thrashing, bucking orgasm that went on and on and on until I finally felt him go stiff, felt him hold my ass,. forcing himself deep inside me, felt him jerk as he poured his hot, sweet seed deep inside me.

Men will often go to sleep as soon as they get off. I'd had that happen and heard of it from friends but never had I ever passed out. This time was an exception.

As soon as I felt Carlos's jerks subside I went to sleep, right there with him still deep inside me. It was as though I'd been hit over the head. I was out cold.

I don't think I was out for long. When I woke up Carlos was looking down at me, running his hand though my hair gently. Turning my head I kissed his hand.

He smiled down at me, kissed me gently on the lips, a long, gentle kiss. I felt his hand roaming over my body, slowly exploring.

After a few minutes it seemed the most natural thing in the world, he rolled on top of me and entered me again, going in easily into my slickness. This time he lay still inside me, kissing me and stroking my face.

"It's ok, Chica," he said. "It's nothing to worry about. Women want to be SLAVES (cumming) of men, want to have a strong man OWN and CONTROL them (again cumming). Maria told me about your fantasy.

Panting, I managed to say, "Uh, huh..."

"I want to give you your fantasy, Chica," he said dreamily. "I want to share you with all my friends, I want all of us to have you (cumming), I want you to be our little SLAVE SLUT (cumming).

"Carlos, stop a minute!" I pleaded. "Are you serious? You want me to be um, guest of honor at a gang bang?"

"Yes, Chica," he said in his husky voice. "It's ok, I'll be there, and I'll protect you."

Nobody said anything for a long while as Carlos slowly thrust in and out. I responded, matching his thrusts, enjoying the rhythm he established.

Finally I breathed a single word into his ear, "Ok."

And came again immediately. Damn, I thought, I'm such a slut!

The van was a nondescript white, about ten years old. Nothing special about it, parked by itself in the back of the lot, but as I walked on shaky legs toward its white slab side I began to shiver uncontrollably.

Carlos had his arm around my waist and held me close, his presence a steadying influence. I leaned on him, thinking I'd surely stumble and fall without his firm support. The heels of my red pumps made little "click, click" sounds on the grey asphalt.

The van was bathed in semi darkness, the nearest light fifty feet away. It was conveniently out of sight of the club entrance and the other parking lot entrances. Privacy. We'd need privacy, I thought.

The thought made me shiver uncontrollably again in spite of the mild Miami night. There'd be nobody to rescue me, nobody I could turn to for help. Once inside the van I'd be on my own. I was afraid, terrified in fact. But I wanted it.

Oh, how I wanted it.

I wanted my fantasy, wanted to be used, pillaged ravaged by these men. Most of them I didn't know. Most of them I'd never see again.

But for one night, for a few hours I'd be theirs, their slut, their property to do with as they pleased.

A hot flash rose from deep inside and washed over me. I was already wet with anticipation but I felt a fresh flow of my juices soak the satin of my panties as I imagined what I'd soon experience. My face flushed and I continued to tremble, not from cold now.

We'd finally reached the van. Still easily holding me with his right arm around my waist Carlos reached up with his left hand and pulled the side door of the van. It slid back on its tracks with a rumbling sound.

I peered inside. In the dim interior I could make out a small mattress on the floor of the van covered by a plain white cotton sheet. Three pillows were at the head of the mattress, wedged against the seat backs. Only two seats, driver and passenger.

I remembered my high school days, girls giggling and whispering about these kind of vehicles. "Fuck van" was what we'd called them. I'd never actually seen one.

This was my first.

With smooth pressure on the small of my back Carlos urged me inside. I climbed in on my knees, sat on the middle of the mattress and turned to face the door.

The men were there, a few feet behind Carlos. There were at least twenty men in the group. Most were young, teens and twenties, although I spied one or two older faces. All were Hispanic, Cuban first or second generation I guessed. Some had drink cups from the club; a couple held beer bottles. They were whispering to each other, a quiet buzzing I couldn't quite make out. Occasionally one would gesture or leer in my direction.

I could imagine what they were thinking.

I felt the soft material of my bra against my nipples. They were hard little points, two pencil erasers pushing against the flimsy material of my bra and my dress. Carlos had picked out my outfit - a push up bra and teal low cut satin dress so short I was afraid to bend over in it - and I knew in the absence of a camisole my nipples were clearly visible.

My thong was obviously also visible as I tried without success to sit in ladylike fashion on the mattress. I curled my legs under me and finally gave up trying. What the hell? I thought as my legs spread a bit under my weight.

When Carlos had picked out my clothes earlier he'd passed up several black and red thongs in favor of a rather plain white one. I'd wondered about that at the time but now his plan was clear. Red or black would not have shown my wetness as the simple white one obviously did. I was soaked and without looking knew the men could plainly see the wet dark stain of my juices leaking through the thin silk covering.

I heard a collective groan of appreciation from the men, now pressing closer to get a better look.

I was wet, excited, and ready. They knew it; my body plainly sent the message.

Smiling, Carlos entered the van. The men pressed closer around the open door. Kneeing in front of me he cupped my head in his hand and pulled me toward him. His mouth found mine and he kissed me hungrily, hard, his tongue invading my mouth.

I kissed him back passionately, my hands involuntarily splayed on his chest. I felt his hot animal heat as the kiss went on and on.

His hands roamed over my body, stopping on my right breast. Cupping it he began to rub and caress my soft woman flesh. Moaning as he kissed me I surrendered to the pure pleasure I felt.

Carlos finally broke the kiss. I arched my back, neck back, as he kissed and licked my neck, my ears...then lower, slowly...kissing, licking gently...

I felt his hand on my back. The zipper slipped down smoothly. He moved his hand off my breast a bit; the dress slid down off my shoulders.

The men let out a loud "OHHHHH" of appreciation as my push-up bra was revealed. They began to talk excitedly to one another in Spanish. I heard the word "puta" a couple of times.

I don't speak Spanish but I knew what puta meant: Whore.

Carlos tugged at the hem of my dress. I rose up a bit and he pulled it off me. Next his experienced hand found the catch of my bra. I felt a coolness and sudden freedom as it slipped off my chest, hanging by the straps on my arms.

I flushed as I saw the men leering openly at my breasts. They were quite pretty I knew; the best implants money could buy. Not too big as huge boobs would have looked silly on a small woman; a medium C cup.

This was the first time I'd exposed myself to twenty males. I felt embarrassed, humiliated.

Excited.

I couldn't control my panting. It was if I were out of breath as Carlos pushed me back gently, his hand cupping my womanhood through the silk of my thong. He was rubbing, caressing...My hips rose to meet his hand, urging him on, easing his access.

Suddenly his hand swept past the silken barrier. Dimly I saw him pull the soaking thong off my legs and hold it high in his left hand as his right hand continued to massage my wetness. The men cheered and clapped as he held his trophy high. With a flick of his wrist he tossed my panties into the crowd.

Somewhere in the far distance I felt a flush of warm humiliation. Tomorrow my panties would hang from some man's car mirror for all to see.

I didn't really care. Somehow Carlos slid his pants down; he paused a moment above me. He held my wrists together over my head in his left hand as he guided himself into me with his right.

The men cheered Carlos on as he took me. I was again humiliated beyond words. The humiliation of being taken before twenty strangers, the anticipation, the excitement - it was all too much. As I felt Carlos slide deep inside me I went stiff and crying out loudly moaning, screaming, climaxed.

And not just any climax! It built and went on and on and on seemingly forever. I felt my hips rise as I rolled up to meet Carlos's thrust. I felt myself clenching him inside, squeezing, my body begging for his seed, for his own climax.

Seeing this, the men began to clap and cheer. I heard cries of "Go puta!" and "Do her, Carlos!" along with other Spanish words I didn't recognize.

Again I was humiliated beyond belief. In that moment I hated myself, hated the men, hated the need that had driven me to this.

But the need was still there. And it would be satisfied.

Finally my climax subsided. I realized Carlos hadn't moved, was still holding himself inside me as I'd bucked and squirmed. Now he began to thrust in and out, almost leaving me on each outward stroke then plunging deep into me again.