Chapter 1

Tomorrow, Saturday, my divorce will have been final for six months. I was married for less than a year when I caught the sorry son of a bitch in my bed with his secretary. I had been suspicious for more than a month that he was up to something. But damn, we were newlyweds for Christ’s sake! How could he?!

I guess I should have known better. We met when I was fresh out of college and had just begun working at Pell & Pell, Inc. He was a junior executive and I worked as an assistant to his best friend, Dave.

We had only been dating for three months when we got engaged. I had only known him for nine months when we got married. Now, at the ripe old age of twenty-three, I’m a divorced woman.

Things at work are a little uncomfortable now, although my boss, who was once my ex’s best friend, has made it perfectly clear to both of us he’s on my side and very disappointed with his philandering friend. He has been very nice to me, very supportive. I thought about finding another job. But this is a great place to work and I really think I have a good future here.

My name is Cam, by the way. Cameron Denton. I’ve gone back to using my maiden name. I’m twenty-three years old, 5’6” tall and weigh 112 pounds. I have dark red hair and a very good figure. I’m slender and I guess you could say I’m cute, as opposed to beautiful, or striking. I suppose that all sounds pretty good but I’ve learned that when a woman is trying to get started in the business world, ‘cute’ is not necessarily an asset. I think a large number of men associate cute with, at the very least, less than efficient if not downright ditzy.

Since the divorce I spend most of my free time hanging around my apartment. Well, I haven’t been hanging around so much as sitting around sulking. One of the problems with turning into a hermit is that I’ve always had a pretty healthy sexual appetite. Not that I am or have ever been promiscuous. I’m not. But it has been six months and I’m starting to really miss the steady diet of sex my ex and I had from shortly before we married until I caught him screwing around.

I’ve known more than a few women for whom sex is a chore, and an unpleasant one at that. I don’t know what’s wrong with those poor women. I can only assume they bought into all the propaganda to which they were subjected by their uptight parents and whatever house of superstition they were forced to attend every Sunday when they were growing up. Fortunately, I never bought into that crap. I love sex. When it’s done right it’s wonderful. And even when it isn’t done all that well it’s still a hell of a lot of fun.

I don’t really have a ‘best friend’. Actually, in my whole life I never had someone I was that close to. Not like those girls I knew in high school and college who had best friends, girls who knew every intimate detail of their lives and with whom they talked on the phone for an hour every night and had sleepovers and were closer than sisters. I had friends. I was never a loner. I just never got “that” close to anyone. Not even Ricky, the unfaithful, arrogant prick I married, I suppose.

I don’t have a best friend, but I’m not really a hermit. I have friends. Two of them made plans to take me out tomorrow. We were planning to have dinner and maybe go dancing for a little while. The goal of this little outing was to take my mind off of my six-month anniversary. I didn’t really want to go at first. But I let myself be talked into it and once I accepted I started actually looking forward to it. who knows, maybe I’ll meet some tall, dark and handsome stranger and spend a passionate night enjoying some wild, toe curling, extremely satisfying, meaningless sex.

Unfortunately, we were forced to postpone my night out for two weeks. My friend, Karen, had been in charge of planning our little night out. Before that night arrived, however, there had been a death in her family and she had to fly home immediately.

At first I was almost relieved because I wouldn’t be forced to step back out into the world after all. But as I was sitting around Friday night, sipping on a glass of wine and reading a good book, I started thinking about that tall, dark and handsome stranger I hoped to meet and with whom I would enjoy hours of meaningless sex. I ended up in bed wrapping my thighs around a woman’s best friend if she isn’t in a relationship, my vibrator.

While I had no trouble achieving a few physically satisfying orgasms, the mental stimulation was lacking. The erotic pleasure I receive from the look of lust in a strong, confident man’s eyes, the touch of his hand on my breast or thigh, the look in his eyes when he sees me naked, the hot, passionate kisses, and of course, the feel of a hard, hot, throbbing cock, as opposed to a cold, vibrating piece of plastic.

After a few physically but not really mentally satisfying orgasms I finally went to sleep. The next morning, even though I thought I was mentally prepared to deal with my emotions, I could not help feeling depressed about my failed marriage. The breakup had not been my fault. Even so, I couldn’t help feeling like a bit of a failure for not even being able to make my marriage last a whole year. I ended up, just as my friends and I had anticipated, moping around the house and feeling sorry for myself.

I went out for a walk in the afternoon, thinking it would do me some good to get out of the house. There’s a small park just down the street. It’s usually a pleasant place to spend a little time on a nice day but as it turned out I should have stayed home today. I spent an hour walking around, me and what seemed like hundreds of happy, loving couples of all ages walking hand in hand. I definitely should have stayed home.

I went back to my place and headed for the ice cream in the freezer. I pulled it out, put it on the counter and stared at it for a minute. Then I said to myself, “Fuck it! That asshole broke my heart and made me cry. I’m not going to let him make me fat!”

The best thing for me to do, I told myself, would be to get dressed up, put on the sexiest underwear I own and the hottest outfit in my closet, and go dancing. I like to dance. I enjoy shaking what I have and driving guys crazy. I want to be respected for my brain. But a girl still needs to know she’s sexy and members of the opposite sex desire her. At the moment, in my present state of mind, I need that more than most.

I went to my closet and pulled out my favorite little black dress. The emphasis there is on little. It’s so little, in fact, I can’t wear a bra with it. Luckily I don’t really need one. I chose a lacy black bikini panty, a pair of black thigh high stockings and a recently purchased, but never worn, pair of fuck-me shoes that really make my ass look hot.

I took a long hot shower and did my make up. By the time I was ready it was still early but I was afraid if I sat around I’d change my mind so I got dressed and went down to the street to find a cab. It wasn’t until the driver asked me where I want to go that I realized I don’t even have a club in mind. It has been so long since I last went dancing I don’t know what clubs open and which clubs are hot. With a few exceptions, around here at least, it seems like clubs open, become THE place to go and then close down in a month or two.

My cab driver, surprisingly enough, is an actual American! That’s pretty rare these days. He also seems young enough that he might have a clue about what clubs are hot. I explained to him that I haven’t been out in almost a year and I don’t know where to go. I want somewhere hot to go dancing.

He smiled and said, “I know just the place Miss. Everyone seems to be going to The Frame Shop. It has only been open for a couple of months. The guys who own it also own The Ruby Slipper. But the slipper is on the way out.”

I thanked him and we talked a little as he drove me to the club. We were there in about fifteen minutes. He pulled up to the curb and I paid him and gave him a generous tip. I got out of the cab and went into the club. I’ve never before gone to a club or even to a bar by myself. I don’t even like to go out for a meal by myself. But I’m determined to step outside my comfort zone and have a good time or else.

It’s a typical dance club, loud and crowded. I sat at the bar, ordered a drink and looked around. It’s early and not yet so crowded I couldn’t get a table. But I don’t want to sit alone at a table. That would be pathetic. The place is obviously popular and it’s a good-looking crowd. There are some couples scattered through the crowd but it looks like the majority of people occupying tables, mostly in groups of two and three, seem to be men. They are no doubt hunting for ... well, probably the same thing I’m hunting for.

It wasn’t long before I was asked to dance. I was nervous at first. It’s been a long time. As soon as I got out on the dance floor, though, I began to move to the music and almost instantly I began to forget all my troubles.

I danced as sexily as I knew how, and trust me, I do know how. I spotted the looks I began getting from the men sitting around the dance floor. That just encouraged me to shake it that much harder. I headed back to the bar after a couple of dances. The guy I danced with asked me to join him but it’s early and I’m not ready to pick someone yet. He seems nice enough but for some reason I can’t really put into words he just isn’t the man I’m looking for.

I slowly sipped on a couple more drinks and danced with a couple more guys. The place was starting to get really crowded when tall, dark and handsome asked me to dance. I knew as soon as I saw him he was just the guy I’ve been waiting to ask me to dance. He’s not just tall, dark and handsome, but even better, there’s something in his eyes that attracts me. I knew I wanted him as soon as I saw him. He has that natural confidence bordering on arrogance, that hint of danger about him that gets women like me so excited.

I danced with him for, god, I don’t know, I lost track of how long. For the first time that evening I danced to a couple of slow songs. He took me in his arms, held me close and even though our only conversation had been a few words shouted at each other on the dance floor, by that time I was sure he’s the one with whom I want to have that hot night of meaningless sex.

When the song ended he led me to his booth. He didn’t ask. He put his arm around me and led me to his booth. I learned he has two friends with him but he ignored them after introductions were made and so did I.

His name is Don. His friends are Paul and KC. They all seem to be in their late twenties or early thirties. Paul is a large, powerful looking blonde who looks to be about thirty. KC, too, is a well-built man, all three of them are. KC is a very dark-skinned black man. All three men are handsome. All three men are wearing expensive business suits and looking at them you just know they’re successful. It’s difficult to talk over the loud music but Don told me they all work for the same company and are here from Los Angeles to take care of some software installation problems with one of their branch offices here in town.

They came to town on Wednesday but this is their first night out. They expect to be here for at least another week. That’s about all I could find out in this loud environment. Since we can’t really talk, Don and I somehow ended up kissing. Well, it wasn’t a mystery, Don put his arms around me, leaned down and began kissing me passionately.

Don pulled me close and really took control. It struck me as very sexy the way he’s taking charge. He’s an excellent kisser, too. Before long I felt his hand on my breast and I didn’t object in the least. He seems to really know his way around a woman’s body and it felt great! I opened my eyes briefly and saw Don’s two friends watching us. Being groped in public isn’t something I’d normally permit but at the moment I’m so turned on I didn’t care. In fact, it kind of turned me on even more that we have an audience. I closed my eyes and just enjoyed being sexy, being desired. It’s really good for a girl’s ego and after the depression of the last six months I need an ego boost.

We got up to dance a few more times, each time for a very long time. By midnight I was exhausted. Don was reading me like a book. He knew when I was ready. He didn’t ask. There was no discussion at all. Without a word to me he paid the tab and led me outside. His friends followed along behind us. We flagged down a cab and Don told the driver to take us to the Riverside Hilton.

I found myself sitting between Don and KC in the back seat. Don put his arm around me and pulled me close for a kiss. I could feel my skirt riding up my thighs and I pulled back to try to adjust it. When I looked down I could see the crotch of my panties.

I also saw Paul and KC watching closely. Don didn’t give me a chance to adjust my skirt. He pulled me back against his powerful body and started kissing me again. He returned to erotically molding my breast with his large hand and since I couldn’t do anything about it anyway I just thought, “The hell with my skirt! Let them look.”

It was stupid, I know. But at the time I was horny and the idea of being watched this way by two strange men only added to my arousal. How incredibly exciting to know two men I don’t know at all are looking at my thighs and can see my sexy underwear and to know how much that must be exciting them. That thought was just making me hotter and I found myself thinking of it as an exciting new form of foreplay! I wanted nothing more than to get to Don’s room and get fucked, long and hard and all night long if he can manage it. It has been a long dry spell and I’ve accumulated one hell of a backlog of horny.

The cab pulled up in front of the hotel and Paul paid the driver as we got out. We went through the deserted lobby and got into the elevator. All the way up to the ninth floor Don held me right up off of the floor in his strong arms and he kissed me passionately. He was also running one of his hands up the backs of my thighs onto my butt, lifting my skirt in the process and exposing my panty covered backside to his friends. I felt the cool air on my exposed flesh and I tried halfheartedly to push his hands away because that’s what a woman is supposed to do. He ignored me but to be honest I wasn’t all that upset about once again being exposed to Don’s friends. I hate to admit it but I was getting a secret thrill thinking of how Don’s two friends were going to have to go to bed horny tonight.

I quickly ceased my futile efforts to cover my ass. I put my arms back around Don’s neck and ignored the show his friends are getting. The truth is, I’m being overpowered and I love it! I’m pretty sure I would have been very disappointed if he had stopped exposing me and behaved himself.

When the elevator came to a stop I heard a chorus of loud gasps. I couldn’t see what was happening for nearly another minute. Not until Don finally let me go. I turned around and saw two older women and their teenage daughters staring at me.

I was extremely embarrassed. But as we left the elevator and I was guided along to Don’s room with his hand holding one cheek of my ass, I can’t help grinning and thinking about how exciting it was to be exposed to two women and their daughters and shocking the hell out of them. I’m not normally an exhibitionist. Quite the opposite, I always dress conservatively. Well, almost always. My dress tonight is more daring than normal.

Even so, everything that needs to be covered when out in public has always been covered. At least it always has been in the past. Tonight not so much. I’ve been groped in a dance club, my panties were exposed in the cab and then there was that long, passionate kiss in the elevator with my skirt pulled up and my rear end exposed. I should have been alarmed by my behavior and even more so by the way Don is treating me like some kind of slut. I should have come to my senses and stayed in the elevator. I should have gone back down to the lobby and taken a cab home.

Instead, I’m high on hormones and those hormones are anxious to submit to Don. It is submission, too. In all my other relationships I’ve always been, if not in charge, at least an equal partner. Not now. I’m being urged along out of control. I seem to be powerless. It’s a new experience for me and it excites the hell out of me.

Don stopped and slid his key card into his door and went in, pulling me in after him. I was a bit put off when his friends followed us into the room but I quickly shrugged it off. I think I assumed they would just have a nightcap or something and then go to their own rooms.

I looked around as we entered. We were not in a hotel room. It’s a huge, luxurious suite. It’s bigger than my apartment! Don sat on a large leather sofa and pulled me into his lap. I heard his friends making themselves drinks and then sitting down nearby. It was kind of eerie actually. They never talked. They just watched.

Any reservations I might have had dissolved when Don began kissing me again while confidently moving his hand up my thigh to the wet crotch panel of my underwear. I gasped when he touched me, the feeling going through me like an electric shock. It has been so long since I felt a man’s touch there.

I grabbed his hand and made a feeble effort to restrain him. “Not yet,” I whispered in his ear. “Please, Don. Wait until your friends leave.”

Don kissed me again and despite my best efforts he continued to rub my pussy through my underwear. A few minutes later he broke the kiss and said, “My friends aren’t leaving, baby. Now you can fight me if you want. But you’ll lose. I’m going to fuck you tonight. That’s what we both want. So quit playing games.”

I tried to pull away and exclaimed indignantly, “No, god damn it! Not with an audience! Either they go or I go!”

Don smiled but there was nothing friendly or reassuring about it. He gathered a handful of my hair, brought my face so close to his that our noses almost touched and with obvious amusement he said, “They’ll get their ‘go’ soon enough. Now stop fucking around and put your arms back around my neck.”

I did! I don’t know why. I’m definitely not that kind of girl. I’ve never even considered having sex with more than one man. I don’t do gang bangs. I don’t know any women who do! And yet ... I know I haven’t been drugged. I had a few drinks tonight but I’m not drunk. Yet somehow I find myself in a position I’ve never before experienced. I’m no longer in charge. Not of the situation, not of me, and I’m certainly not in charge of what’s going to happen to me tonight. I’m experiencing a strange mix of emotions about that. Stranger still, I’m not even certain this is going to be rape. It never even occurred to me to scream for help. I’m not resisting. I continue to follow the orders he’s giving in that stern, arrogant tone. I’m making no attempt to break away from him and make my way to the door. If I continue to allow him to kiss me and grope me while offering absolutely no resistance there’s no way I can say I was raped.

Don smiled at my surrender and started kissing me again. And I kissed him back!! I felt his hands moving over me and exposing my body and I’m incredibly conscious of the lust I see on the faces of the two men watching his every move. When his hand returned to my crotch once more I fought to hide my almost instant orgasm from him, from all of them. I did not succeed.

Don broke the kiss and said, “That’s a good girl. Go with it. You’re going to have the time of your life tonight, baby. And you’re going to learn so much. My friends and I know how to train a girl to please a man. A lot of your training will be difficult at first. But once we get you broken in you’re going to be a real sex machine. I guarantee it.”

I didn’t care much for the sound of that but I was distracted when I felt him pulling down the zipper on the back of my dress. I still didn’t resist. I closed my eyes and buried my face in his neck as if this would all come to a sudden end if I just couldn’t see their lust bloated faces.

I can’t believe I’m letting this happen to me! But I am. I did. I kept my face covered as he pulled my dress down to my waist, exposing my lust swollen breasts and my hard puffy nipples.

I bit my lip in an effort to stay silent as he leaned down and took one of my nipples into his hot mouth and sucked and nibbled on it. I wrapped my arms around his head and pulled him tightly to my breast as he lifted me up and slipped my dress out from under me and slid it down my legs.

I’m excruciatingly aware that I’m now in a room with three large, strong, very horny men I’ve just met, and I’m wearing only my panties and stockings. I’m also aware of a very large lump under my ass. His cock feels huge!

Don finally broke our kiss and stood me up facing his friends. I immediately covered my breasts with my arms. As soon as I did I felt my panties being pulled off. Don picked up each of my feet in turn and I saw him bring my underwear to his face. He sniffed loudly and obscenely at the wet crotch panel.

He got to his feet and stood behind me then and he pinned my arms to my side. As he kissed and nibbled on my neck KC spoke for the first time that evening. “Look at that bright red snatch!” he exclaimed. “I’ve never seen a naked redhead before. It looks like her tight little pussy is on fire,” he joked. Then he added, “Damn! I’ll bet the bitch is tight. Look at that tight little slit! She looks like a fuckin’ virgin!”

Don finally released me and I heard him undressing rapidly behind me. In a moment I felt his naked body pressing against my back, his hands caressing my breasts and his long, hard cock throbbing against my lower back.

He turned me in profile to his friends and pushed me to my knees. Suddenly in my face was the largest, sexiest, most intimidating male sex organ I have ever seen! It must be at least nine inches long! Don never said, and I never measured it. But I swear it was nine inches long if it was an inch. As if in a trance, without any orders from Don my hand came up as if it had a mind of its own and my fingers closed around the base of it. Well, not all the way around. His cock is so fat my fingers don’t reach all the way around. With my fist around the base of his cock there was nearly and inch of space between the tip of my thumb and the tip of my middle finger.

With Don’s cock moving slowly toward my face I looked up at him and whimpered, “Please, don’t hurt me.”

He smiled down and quietly but firmly responded, “Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it after a while.”

The threat implied in that statement went right over my head. It was only when I remembered it later that I realized the full meaning of it. My plea was falling on deaf ears. I wouldn’t fully appreciate how much pleasure they derived from hurting me until a short time later.

I know what he wants from me. I’m just not sure I can do it. I’ve always figured I’m able to suck a cock at least as well as the next girl. I think it’s kind of a sexy thing to do with a man you want to please. I’ve never been fond of having a guy cum in my mouth and I’m pretty good at avoiding it. But as foreplay goes, I don’t mind sucking a nice, hot, masculine, male member.