Vignette: Setup

Setup

My nostrils flare as the pungent odor comes closer, and my heart races. I've already had one hit and choked on it, but it a greater than expected effect; I felt lightheaded, confused, dreamy, and horny.

I'm sitting on a small couch between two men I've had the hots for since... well, since that first time I met them years ago! We have history, and, although I've never fucked either of them and never intend to, having them crowded on either side of me, with their muscular legs pressing against mine, is affecting my decision making.

An arm is draped behind me on the couch, and the big, rough hand is gently stroking my neck. Their manly smells somehow blend with the odor of the marijuana and cigarette smoke. I normally hate the smell of cigarettes, but in the dark room with ghostly bodies wandering about, smoking, drinking, talking, whispering, and watching, it is just a part of the experience.

Even my fuzzy brain, previously dulled by a couple of Mojitos and a Bloody Mary at the mall, and a Margarita and two tequila shots when I got here, knows I need to get up, say I'm going to the bathroom, and then slip into the guest room and lock the door. Said brain, aware that I'm too intoxicated to drive, briefly entertained and quickly discarded the idea of sneaking out to the car and disappearing, but it encouraged the idea of the locked guest room in preservation of my fidelity.

My befuddled brain is trying to work out how I got so high (and horny) on a little alcohol and on drag off a joint, but it knows that if I take another hit, my marriage, my reputation, and maybe my job may be forfeit.

'No one will ever know' my evil twin insists, but the tiny part of my brain still functioning knows there are too many people in the room to keep whatever we do secret. My husband would already be irate, just as I would be irate if the situation was reversed.

I watch the joint flare in the darkened room, and see it pass to the hot cowboy on my left. My heart is racing so fast I'm afraid I'll pass out! I'm a good girl, not some drunken pot-smoking slutwife; I'll just refuse and everything will be...

The brown-eyed handsome cowboy with the long lashes and full lips holds the joint in front of me and shakes it in offering. I hesitate, and the blonde haired, blue-eyed hunk on my right reaches in front of me and takes it. I sigh in relief, thinking I still have a chance.

"Ali proved she's rookie earlier; how about something gentler - a shotgun kiss." I have no idea what that means. I reluctantly break eye contact with WW and turn my head to watch WR take a long draw, puffing his broad chest out even further. The hand with which he had been rubbing my neck gently but firmly pulls my head toward his.

I see the joint is being taken from his right hand by the woman to his right, and he lowers his face to mine as if to kiss me - 'shotgun kiss!' warns my addled brain. "Open your mouth and inhale," WW commands in his deep, resonant voice. He's turned toward me, with his left hand under my little dress, resting on my inner thigh, stroking my most third-most sensitive erotic zone.

He has previously visited two of the five, and WR has visited two more. All that remains inviolate is my soft, pink interior.

He pulls my legs slightly apart just as WR's lips meet mine. I obediently open my lips and inhale; the pungent smoke is better this way - not so acrid. I don't even choke as I inhale and hold.

My focus is on holding the smoke without coughing when WR's tongue suddenly penetrates my mouth. His left hand is holding my neck firmly in place while he probes with his tongue and grinds his lips against mine. His right hand grasps the inner thigh that doesn't already have a hand, but even higher - only inches from my delicate panties.

The rush hits just as I grasp and hold the wrists above the intruding hands, trying to keep them off and out of my married pussy. The sativa flush begins, and I feel the euphoric high spreading outward. WR pulls my head back, we both gasp for breath, and then his mouth attacks my neck.

I use the respite to try to pull the hands out from under my skater skirt and away from their target. They are far too strong for me, but I persevere; both abruptly relax their powerful arms and let me push their wrists away. As I push their hands outside my legs, they twist their wrists, grab mine, and place my hands over their hard cocks in what must have been a coordinated stunt.

They hold them there while I struggle, and then both attack my neck and bare shoulders like vampires; apparently, they already learned that my neck and shoulders comprise one of the five erogenous zones. Goose bumps break out across my chest, shoulders, and arms, and I shiver with delight.

WR unties the strings of the halter, and WW deftly catches the string in his mouth and tugs down until my breast is exposed. WR does the same thing, and then those questing, biting, sucking mouths begin devouring my second most sensitive erogenous zone - my breasts and nipples.

I can't escape their grips to protect my breasts, and I know if I do they will grab me by the pussy, so I lay my head back and let them nurse, suckle, and lightly bite, as they wish. Between my hooded eyes I can make out spectral figures, and remember that we aren't the only ones here. I don't know how many couples and unaccompanied men have entered the party since the four of us kicked it off two hours ago, but there are at least a dozen figures. Some are along the other wall, and some standing nearer, in a semi-circle around us. I can't make out faces in the darkness, and I can't hear anything but the deafening rock music, but they are closely watching us and talking to each other.

I've only been milking the bulges in their pants, but there are wet spots at the end each bulge, and their cocks are straining the fabric. While their shorts have a wet spot, they aren't nearly as wet as my panties, the inside of my thighs, and my bottom. WR's couch is going to have to be cleaned before his wife returns home Sunday.

With one hand rubbing my hands up and down their cocks, and their mouths mauling my breasts, they each have a hand free. I feel the hem of my tiny skirt being drawn up from both sides, until it is above my panties in front and back.

I know what's coming next, and it will be my undoing, so I marshal my strength, cry "No!" and attempt to remove my hands from their hard, wet, cocks. Someone leans over from behind me, says, "Shhh, it's going to be all right, baby." The person places their hands on my shoulders and holds me against the couch, and their lips close over mine, upside down. The lips are soft and full, and the tongue insistently darts against my teeth. He - no she - smells good, and I quit fighting.

Her hands begin deftly roaming over my neck, chest, and shoulders. I pant like a puppy when the mouth leaves mine and begins kissing, licking, and blowing in my ear, while the boys nurse my heaving breasts.

The hands that pulled my dress up are now dragging my panties down! I press downward with my powerful ass, but to no avail. The sodden panties are under my ass and onto my legs, which I throw wide apart to prevent the panties from being pulled off. I keep mumbling "No" into the soft lips that are again kissing mine, and the new mouth licking my ear whispers, "Shh, baby, you're going to love this."

We're at a stalemate of sorts. I can't escape the lips sucking on mine, those on my ear, neck, and shoulder, or those on my breasts, and I can't free my hands from being held on the rigid cocks. On the other hand, they can't force my legs together and take my panties off, so their goal remains unfulfilled.

I silently praise my efforts and vow to continue resisting, against my throbbing desires, but for the welfare of my marriage!

But... oh god no! The hands are sliding under my wet ass cheeks! They pause when the fingers edge into my crack, and diverge. WR's fingers slide down to my little brown knot and his middle finger rubs over it. Aided by the vaginal discharge that has pooled under me, his fingertip penetrates to the first joint, and I whimper.

WW releases my breast and slides off the couch onto his knees, freeing my left hand as he goes. I reach with my free hand and grab a handful of the long hair cascading from the person kissing me. I can hardly breathe with her actively sucking my lips and tonguing my mouth, because her position impedes breathing through my nose. I yank her head away and suck in a deep breath.

My wet breast with its inflamed, swollen nipple is chilled by the cool air conditioning when WW withdraws, but not for long. Someone flops down in WW's vacant place, softly covers my breast, and begins devouring it. Their technique is quite different, but highly erotic.

I feel WW's fingers dredging through my flooded pussy, and I hold my breath and squeeze my Kegels to contain the small orgasm that almost escaped.

Like a 6' tall, 180 pound python, WW takes advantage of my effort to keep my panties on. His head rises off the floor, forcing itself under my panties and between my spread thighs. His hands are under my ass, and his fingers begin sliding up and down my blood-swollen labia.

Meanwhile, WR's middle finger has more deeply penetrated my outer ring and is knuckle deep in my asshole; the woman in my mouth and the one on my breast are tantalizing me beyond reason... and WW's long tongue has just licked my clit! Electricity spread outward along every nerve fiber in my body, and I moaned loudly.

I fought the good fight, but I've lost! The sensations flooding my body overwhelm my last reserves, and I release the head between my thighs, grasp WR's cock with my fingers, and begin stroking it. There are mouths on both ears now, and the women who had been kissing me is fucking my mouth with three fingers while encouraging me to suck. I do.

When my legs relax, WW grabs the waistband of my tiny pink panties and pulls them down until they dangle around my ankle. He buries his head between my legs and feasts on my sopping cunt, vacuuming my juices, sucking on my labia, and then tongue-fucking my inflamed pink pussy. He emerges long enough to gurgle, "You're delicious!" before diving back in.

With WW lifting my ass cheeks off the couch, WR's finger is now buried in my rectum, beyond the second knuckle, and he's finger-fucking my asshole like a possessed demon.

The finger plowing my ass, the tongue lapping at my cunt, and the mouths and hands mauling my tits become too much stimulation for a human female to withstand! I wrap my legs around WW's head, squeeze as tightly as I can, crush the heads to my breast, bite down on the fingers in my mouth, and orgasm mightily, just as WR slips a second finger into my asshole.

Stars are exploding behind my eyeballs, and a rush of unintelligible sound is escaping from my mouth. My molten insides quake and shake, and a fiery flush burns through my body until I collapse.

I'm not completely out, but I can't seem to move or speak.

I feel my top being pulled up over my chest, shoulders, and head, and my bare hot skin chilled by the cool air conditioning. My heeled sandals are removed from my feet, which are laid on one end of the couch at the same time my head and shoulders are laid on the other end.

The warm leather feels good on my cool skin, except under my middle, where my juices drying juices are cold. I cover my eyes with my left arm, and pant while men and women surrounding my couch touch, caress, rub, kiss, suck, and bite me. I hear some plotting out my night and morrow, and I hear both complimentary and rude comments about my slender body, my mouthful titties, my tiny waist, my round ass, my swollen hairless pussy, and my full, cocksucking lips.

Those who so recently used me are enthusiastic about the feel, smell, and taste of me, and promise the others unspeakable pleasures using me.

My heart rate is slowing, I feel tingly and disoriented, but mostly I feel exhausted. I have no idea how I got into this state, but I close my eyes and drift into a trancelike state, only to have my mouth pulled open and something rubbed on my gums. My legs are bent and lifted; one is draped over the back of the couch, and I feel a large, very hard cock enter my vagina and begin thrusting. Colorful lights are swirling, and a driving sound covers my pleas for mercy and my screams of pleasure.

Pleasure and pain collide in a world of sensation, and I realized I've given myself over to those who are using me for their own pleasure.

****

The sun shining in my eyes awakens me; I take stock without moving. I'm alone in a bed, lying in a wet spot wider than my body. My disgusting breath smells like cum, and crusty stuff is all over my face, in my hair, and on my tits and stomach. The wet spot is also greasy, probably the result of my pussy and ass draining a combination of slick lubricant, semen, and bloody discharge onto the bed.

My breasts are so tender I can barely touch them, and I discover they are covered in bite and suck marks. I can also see bite marks and hickeys on my belly and legs. There may be more, but raising my head further, or twisting to view other areas causes too much pain.

I want to moan, groan, whimper, and cry out to vocalize my pain and shame, but I fear those who did this to me will return and resume their use of my body.

Inch by inch, I move my feet to the edge of the bed, pivot on my hip, and force myself into a sitting position near the edge, feet on the floor. My 'full, cocksucking lips' are bleeding now, because I've bitten them through trying to keep from crying out in pain. I sit still, letting the vertigo pass.

With both hands on the mattress, I try to propel myself off and up, but the pain and dizziness are too great! Whimpering quietly, I roll on my side, so my his is on the edge of the bed, and slither off like a snake, until my knees are on the nasty rug, which is also spotted with cum and bodily fluids.

My hands claw the sheets, and my mouth bites the stained sheets and mattress pad as the pain surges through my body. I lie there, helpless, and pray that no one finds me in this position.

Last night is a series of flashbacks interspersed with flashing lights, spinning rooms, and noisy static. But some of those flashbacks are of me on my knees, being fucked vaginally, anally, and orally.

I want to lie here, cry, and feel sorry for myself, but the fear of getting caught in such a vulnerable state drives me. As cruel and uncaring as they were last night while I fought and begged, God help me if they find me like this! I had no idea people I considered friends could be such animals, hurting me at laughing at my pain and humiliation.

I steel my resolve, put my hands on the edge of the mattress, get my feet partially under me, and push off the mattress into a standing position. Pain is screaming in my spinning head, and I'm so dizzy I know I'm going to fall. Panic and adrenaline help me grasp a nearby chest of drawers with one hand, balance on the bedstead with the other, and allow my spinning head and heaving stomach to calm.

When I regain my balance, I move gingerly, a few inches at a time, by grabbing door frames and anything else along the path, until I make my way into the bathroom. There is no shower, but there is a massive tub. I know I can't climb into it, and the running water would alert the others, but I so badly want to get into water and clean the nastiness off of and out of me!

Somehow, I reach down, turn the lever a tiny bit, and get a soft stream of running water. I locked the door when I came in, but that thing won't keep them out - an icepick or anything like it pushed into the hole in the handle will open it. Nonetheless, I feel more secure as I wet a washcloth and use it to wipe my mouth and face, and then the blonde locks matted with cum.

That done, I turn the water off and spot a medicine cabinet over the sink; I carefully make my way back, and find a bottle of aspirin and a bottle of Tylenol: I take two of each.

I return to the bathtub, rinse the washcloth, and start to address my sore, scum-covered pussy. Through the pain of my battered body comes an unbidden thought: I have a case for rape, but the police will need the proof intact. I decide my pussy can survive in this condition long enough to be poked and prodded at the hospital where the rape tests will be run.

My torn, bleeding, leaking anus is another matter entirely; I cautiously squeeze the water out of the washcloth, and, with pain I've never before experienced, I manage to lay it between the cheeks of my ass. It accomplishes little, but dams the nasty emmissions enough that I don't feel it running down, and can't smell it as clearly.

Weak as a kitten, pain exploding all over my body, and especially inside my pussy and asshole, I give myself a moment to quietly cry while I lean against the wall.

When the pain relievers begin to kick in, I make my way to the door, and crack it open an inch. There's still no sound from downstairs, so I creep back into the bedroom and look for my clothes. My new dress is nowhere to be found, but the shopping bag from the outlet mall is sitting on a chair. It contains another of the slut sets Gayle talked me into buying after feeding me mojitos at the spa, and potent Bloody Marys before and after a salad lunch.

I was ready to go home, but then she bought me a double margarita and drove me over here, "to see our old friends, WW and WR."

I'm an idiot. Why could I not foresee this was a setup?

The slut dress has an open back, a deep Vee front, and barely covers my ass. Does it show off my shapely legs, as she and the young salesman claimed? Yes, it does - practically all the way to my panties, if I had any panties to wear!

Dressed commando in a frontless, backless dress that barely covers the cunt the spa ladies made bare, while I giggled at what my husband would think and downed another mojito, the breeze from the AC is obvious everywhere on me. As sexy as this dress would be with a nice thong covering my goodies, it was simply obscene when providing views of my destroyed, dried cum coated pussy and thighs, and the washcloth clenched between my ass cheeks!

I have no shoes, so it's easy to creep around the room and examine the two video cameras. One is sitting on a chair, the other on a tripod. I find, remove, and examine the SD card from each - 12 GB. Christ, did they record every moment?

I stop to chastise myself for using the Lord's name in vain, knowing that I need all the help I can get to survive today, much less survive the coming confrontation with my husband!

Creeping down the hall on tiptoes, I look into each room I pass. The beds are trashed in each of the other three bedrooms as well, but there are no cameras; looks like I was the sole star of last night's porn shoot.

No one is in the living room or kitchen, but I can hear voices from outside, in the back yard. I spot my purse sitting on the kitchen counter. It has what might save me, but I have to make it through the living room without getting discovered. I lean down, which causes gastric distress and a loss of equilibrium. I let it subside and scurry across the room.

I almost fall, but snag my purse and move deeper into the kitchen with it. Steadying myself, I open my purse, dig to the bottom, and find my cute little Springfield Micro-compact 9mm right where it is supposed to be. I pull it out, check the 11 round mag, and load one in the chamber.

For the first time in a long time, I'm not afraid.

My old roommate got me drunk, our friends poured more alcohol into me and shotgunned potent marijuana into me, before rubbing shit on my gums and blowing it into my nose. I've been fucked, sucked, and mauled against my will, and I've sucked and fucked to keep from getting hit again, but now I'm the one with the power!