Claimed: A Forced Submission Romance (3 page)
“Come on, then, Luv, show us some skin!” Roaring their agreement, a note of impatient rang heavy in the air. Maybe they wouldn’t actually rape her, Sandy thought, back in one calmly objective corner of her brain, but they were getting increasingly frustrated that she was not playing the game. “Come on...” someone else pleaded, “Be a sport.” “It’s all in good fun!” “Just a bit, then.” “We’re all counting on you.”
As the coercion continued Sandy felt her will weakening. “It’s just too hard,” she complained to herself. “What to do... what to do....” Sandy felt frozen, watching the milling crowd move about in slow-motion. The faces were still happy and friendly, but couldn’t she detect, just under the surface of their constant overtures and entreaties, intimidation. She wasn’t sure.
“Okay, Sandy,” said a voice nearby, penetrating her cloud of terror, “let’s see you dance, then.” And again, the voices took up the call, incited by a new idea, “C’mon, dance, dance, dance....”
The suggestion trickled through her debilitating confusion and fear to present itself as a possibility. A bit of time to think, that’s what she needed, so with a weak smile, Sandy began to move to the music, her mind racing with the jumbled thoughts of escape – of survival. The cheer that greeted her rhythmic swaying surprised her. Pleased with her small success, Sandy began to move a little more, raising her arms like a charmed snake. Someone behind her put his hands on her hips, swirling her, pulling her back against him, but somehow, done to music, it seemed less threatening; why, hadn’t this happened hundreds of times before, in hundreds of clubs at home? Oddly enough, Sandy felt herself relax a little. Then someone else joined them, moving in front of her, his hands on her waist.
“Oh, yeah!” “Go for it!” “You rock, Lady!” Their encouragement was warm and genuine. The music got louder – good contemporary dance-able rock ‘n roll. And, through the latest trough, Sandy’s emotional rollercoaster sailed smoothly back up toward another crest. Sandy had always loved dancing, so the music and movement effected an escape of another kind. That the hands at her waist had found their way under her top didn’t much matter. And, as twenty-some-odd guys and one lone female ducked and turned and gyrated about the parlour of a modest cottage in central Scotland, it suddenly seemed of little consequence that Sandy’s top was being slowly lifted up to her bra, and over. They were gentle but irresistible.
The one part of her brain still capable of sane thought and concern finally accepted what was fait accompli. Sandy felt her arms cooperate on their own as her top slipped off over her head. She really had no alternative but to comply. “And that,” her logical self admonished, “is the Catch 22; for complicity implies consent.” Sandy continued to wallow in the music, her eyes half-mast, as she felt fingers fiddling with the buttons on her jeans, pulling at the clasp of her bra. Sandy couldn’t help but smile. “At least they like me,” she laughed as she noted an almost paradoxical look of affection on every face, then, escaping into the music, Sandy closed her eyes, refusing to acknowledge that she was being inexorably stripped.
Hands played across her body like ripples on a lake, caressing her buttocks, splashing into her bush to gently stroke her lips, and sparkling at her breasts with a pinch or a twiddle at her nipples. Her resignation had settled into a glowing warmth that washed through her. Fluttering her eyes, Sandy now returned avidly the kisses to her lips.
Only nineteen years old, Sandy had had a boyfriend, Dennis, in Ontario, but she didn’t expect their relationship would survive her trip. The sad part was that that didn’t really bother her. She
had
lost her virginity to him on her nineteenth birthday. They had both been fairly drunk and it had been rather disappointing. Notwithstanding, she had given in to his insistence, again, just before she left on this trip, realizing it would probably be her last chance with him, ever; so, they had had sex a second time. That time it had been much more making love than fucking. Even now, thousands of kilometres away, standing naked and worshipped by a throng of strangers, Sandy felt a tinge of sadness at what she’d most certainly lost. But with the recollection of her first real orgasm she felt her entire body suddenly flush – igniting her arousal and suffusing her with desire. “Maybe, just maybe....”
Hands gripped her gently, lifting the weight from her feet and she felt herself being moved, then laid out on the mattress of a cot that had mysteriously materialized in the crowded salon. Her breath coming in short, delicate gasps, afraid to open her eyes, Sandy waited as the music seemed to retreat to the background, and a close hush enfolded her.
“After you, Liam. You’re the captain.” It was almost like a whisper in the wind, barely registering.
Laid out like a sacrifice, Sandy fluttered her eyes and watched as Liam, – “A Scottish Adonis,” Sandy thought serenely – already naked, lowered himself over her. “How can I be so calm?” she wondered, then, surprised to feel her genitals tingling, even before Liam made contact, “How can I be so aroused?” She waited for the inevitable. Her eyes snapped wide, as she felt his steely erection nudge her labia. “I’m
really
wet,” she noted, not without some satisfaction. He prodded her opening once, then, without any real sense of urgency, he inserted himself into her cunt with one long smooth push. “Ahhh,” Sandy heard herself gasp. He was much, much bigger than Dennis. She could feel his girth stretching her. “Not at all unpleasant,” her inner calmness remarked, as she hissed and puffed, heaving her hips and lifting her back involuntarily. His length was touching places that had never been touched, setting off sparks and surges that excited Sandy’s already stimulated nervous system.
Liam moved slowly, in and out – no sudden rushes, not violent or rough, just inexorably. Time slowed to a crawl and, at that same crawling pace, Sandy could feel a fire being stoked within her. Joining his rhythm, she rocked her bottom, meeting each thrust with a gentle push; she felt her arousal climbing, climbing, until it was she who forced the matter. Spasms ripped through her vaginal walls every time he touched her deep recesses, and the ensuing jolts of sensation excited and frustrated. Sandy could hardly recognize herself as she muttered, “Harder! Deeper! Come on, push!” She pushed back, rocking hard, accelerating her hips until, legs splayed, her pubis slapped loudly against Liam’s groin at every stroke. Sandy felt the tremors quiver through his erection, vibrating against her inner walls, and she could feel him swell impossibly inside her, his solidity pounding her innards.
Like distant fireworks, Sandy could see flashes of ignition just before she heard Liam’s groan. Pushing himself hard against her cervix, Sandy felt Liam’s cock begin to spit and spurt just as she felt her own psyche explode. Writhing and squirming beneath him, Sandy pulled her lips to his chest and bit, in an effort to stifle her shrieks. She had never before felt anything like it. Her body seemed to fly apart, then reassemble slowly, each part stroking others until they found a fit. Her universe included nothing but genitals – his, pushed deep and still twitching spastically – hers, grabbing and grasping, holding in its hot, liquid grip.
Releasing his nipple, which she still held between her lips, Sandy let her head fall back to the bed with a heavy sigh. “Whoa!” was all she could say, but, at some level, she was thinking, “If what I had with Dennis was an orgasm, what, in God’s name, was that?!”
As her conqueror began to disengage, Sandy could detect a rising background noise. “Like applause,” she observed.
Planting light kisses down her glistening, still heaving chest, as he retreated, she heard Liam whisper, “Absolutely smashing! You’re a gem! Thanks!” When he lifted off her, his momentary absence hardly registered before someone had taken his place. She recognized the intruder through fluttering eyelashes. Of course they had all introduced themselves earlier, but Sandy couldn’t remember names, especially now, in such an elevated post-orgasmic haze. Outside her body there was a cheer and a chant as her next lover began his rut. Sandy could feel him churning her insides in time to the rhythm of the mantra – in, out, in, out. He punctuated the motions with kisses to her lips and eyes and cheeks.
Her emotional rollercoaster had stalled, and seemed to be teetering at the very highest point of the tracks – or, perhaps, it was threatening to jump off, to launch itself into orbit. She couldn’t tell any more.
Writhing and bucking, Sandy took up the measured beat, heaving to meet the thrusts, she surprised herself at how active she had become in her own ravishment. Number two didn’t take long to reach his orgasm, or so it seemed to Sandy, but, then again, who could tell, for time was currently of little significance. More rapid than his predecessor’s, his withdrawal left Sandy’s vagina pulsing and weeping.
Squirming in vain, with a mind of their own, Sandy’s hips swiveled and bounced, seeking something to fill the emptiness. And while it was, in reality, only moments before the next player climbed aboard, her cunt muscle quivered and cried for attention. Grasping and tugging with inner strength she didn’t know she had, Sandy pulled the next fellow quickly into the rhythm that permeated the room – the all-encompassing rhythm of drunken male voices, and pounding rock music, echoing off the walls and through the thick atmosphere. Having found the beat, the new swordsman proved very agile, his long smooth thrusts interspersed with short sharp jabs. Sandy parried expertly, sometimes complementing his steps, sometimes syncopating her replies. The world evaporated, yet again. There was only the other man, and the pleasure they could give and take.
Insidiously, though, something else insinuated itself into their isolated, insulated universe. Something was poking Sandy in the cheek, chasing her lips as she turned her head this way and that. What was it? Insistent, the warm, spongy interloper poked and prodded and bounced against her cheeks until she was forced to acknowledge the rest of creation and open her eyes. “Jesus!” she swore under her breath, “That’s huge!” And so it was. An enormous cock, thick and stiff and ready, bumped her nose. Just like the fabled one-eyed snake, it bobbled and jerked, and attempted, in vain, to assault her mouth.
Sandy was, actually, only vaguely aware of the phenomenon of cock-sucking. She hadn’t ever imagined herself doing it, but, right then, she couldn’t really even think about it. The sensations currently being caused by the Steely Dan between her legs demanded virtually all of her attention. As she pondered, ever so briefly, something marvelous detonated deep inside her and shot, tingling and teasing, up her spine to shower like fireworks in her brain. “Ahhhh!” Sandy moaned, throwing her head back. Seeing its opportunity, the hovering cock-head plunged, settling its plum-like tip just inside her lips. To his credit, the owner of the impatient prick did not force his rampant member into Sandy’s throat, but held it still while she explored it with her tongue.
The novelty of having a hot, throbbing penis in her mouth was not lost on Sandy. The warmth it radiated; the texture – intriguing. Swirling her tongue, round and about, Sandy could taste a salty-sweet flavour around the opening.
Without faltering, her hips continued to rock and heave, almost as if on autopilot, sticky, slick juices slathering the invading erection. And she could feel it accelerating – gathering momentum for the final push. Holding the other gently in her mouth, Sandy drew back for an instant, then slammed her hips forward to meet the ultimate thrust. Pubic hairs entwined, she could actually feel the cum spraying against her cervix. The sensation was unbelievably intense, and echoes of her previous orgasm bounced about her fundament like errant skyrockets. After a couple more jabs, her partner hauled himself off.
The ensuing emptiness left a demanding ache in her groin, and without a thought Sandy turned her face to push herself deeper onto the cock in her mouth. She was being consumed with excess, she had to have more – had to have it all. Pushing onto the rock-hard shaft, squeezing her inner cheeks against its invading firmness, Sandy felt, like a blind man, with her tongue sweeping around the glans before pulling back to poke at the slit at the tip. She couldn’t believe what she was doing – neither could the owner of the tool.
“My, gawd. She’s a natural,” he breathed, as she raised herself onto one elbow and forced herself back down the fleshy post. Caught up in some kind of sexual frenzy, Sandy scrambled to control her gag reflex as she bumped the back of her throat up against the swollen end. Then, taking a deep, snuffling breath as she pulled back a smidgeon, she began bobbing energetically against the rigid, throbbing beast. Someone else was trying to mount her, pushing back on her shoulders in order to line himself up with her slick blossom. Sandy grabbed at her felatee’s hips, pulling him back down onto the mattress with her, holding him tight in her throat.
Her wantonness shocked her. Where had this person, this slut been living? She had never felt this way in her life; she’d never done or even dreamed about anything like this. Where had it come from? And was it permanent?
Her two partners fell into a complementary rhythm. Taking it from both ends, Sandy felt parts of her she barely knew existed becoming inflamed with wild, carnal arousal. It occurred to her, in that separate part of her mind that could remain objective and uninvolved, that this wasn’t really so much about desire as it was about craving; the sudden need she felt had little to do with anything she ever thought she wanted; no, this was much more to do with obsession.
Sandy could feel another orgasm building – sparks flickering not only in her box, but in her head. Stretching her lips, she pushed herself harder and deeper against the throbbing piece that threatened to choke her, but, every extra inch of meat she took into her throat stoked that peculiar fire that was smoldering somewhere – some non-specific-where. She couldn’t determine whether the epicenter was in her head, or her gut, or her crotch. She just knew that something was going to blow, and blow soon.
The cock in her mouth began to swell even more. Its twitching became frenetic. Pulling at the sweating hips, Sandy jammed against the crotch until she could feel the wiry hair tickling her nose, and felt swollen plum jerk and shudder deep, deep in her virgin throat. The violent ejaculation threw her over the edge. Gulping and swallowing the jetted load, she hissed through her nose, flopping about in uncontrollable paroxysms. Convulsive tremors running through her vagina detonated yet another orgasm, as the man atop her threw back his head and yelled in ecstatic triumph as he pumped jet upon jet of semen into the younger visitor. Echoes of the three mutual climaxes rattled and pummeled each of them, until they collapsed into a heap of quivering, shimmering flesh.