One from my fantasy diary. It came about when I was lost and asked a service worker how to get to one of the units in the building and, instead of taking me around to the front of the building, he took me through all the back hallways.
I was lost. The plan had been simple: a quick good deed, donating blood while my husband was stuck in meetings downtown. But the building was a labyrinth, and my maps app kept leading me in circles, finally dumping me at a service entrance around the back. I was about to give up, the disappointment a sour taste in my mouth, when a heavy unmarked door swung open and a maintenance worker stepped out.
”Hi, excuse me,” I said, hurrying over. “Could you point me to the blood donation clinic? Am I even in the right building?”
He turned, and his eyes did a slow, deliberate sweep from my heels up to my face and back down again. A faint smile touched his lips. I’d dressed for lunch with my husband—a pretty summer dress that cinched at the waist before flaring out. Modest, but flattering and even a little flirty. I felt cute this morning, but under his gaze, it felt flimsy, transparent.
“Oh, yeah. It’s this way.” He said, his voice a low rumble. He beckoned with a wave of his hand. “Faster if I take you through here.”
I expected a shortcut, a direct route to the main hallways, or the lobby. Instead, he led me into a loading bay where the air was thick with the smell of exhaust and cigarettes. A couple of other workers and a security guard lounged against the wall, smoking. My guide gave them a nod, and out of sheer habit, I offered a polite, fleeting smile and a quick hello as I followed him through another door.
It was only then, as the door clicked shut behind us, that I heard it. The heavy thud of footsteps behind us. Not one. Three.
The hair on the back of my neck prickled. The hallway was narrow, the row of fluorescent lights flickered and buzzed above us. Every turn we took seemed to lead deeper into the building’s guts, past doors labeled for various storage and machinery. “It’s close, just through here,” he’d say or “almost there, ma’am.” The footsteps behind us kept pace, never catching up, but never falling away. Their conversations were low, but unassuming. I tried to tell myself they were just heading the same way, but after the fifth turn, I had no idea where we were anymore.
Finally, he stopped at a plain metal door. The nameplate gone, leaving only a pale, rectangular shadow on the surface.
”Right through here, ma’am.” He pushed it open and held it, gesturing me to go through first.
I stepped through, my polite smile still glued to my face and froze. This wasn’t a hallway. It was some mechanical room. The sharp, pungent scent of grease and metal hit me instantly. The loud hum of machinery blocked out all outside noise. A row of metal lockers lined a portion of a wall and a workbench and heavy duty tool box were tucked in a corner. Pipes ran along the walls and across the ceiling. And, before I could process it; before I could turn to ask what was going on; before I could leave, I heard the door shut behind me. The heavy thunk of a lock sliding home echoed in the sudden silence.
The three men who had been following us now stood with my guide, a wall of bodies blocking the only, now locked, exit.
”What’s going on?” My voice was thin, barely above a whisper. I bumped into a solid body behind me as I took a step back. Arms, like steel bands, clamped around mine, pinning them to my sides.
”We’re just going to have a little fun,” the guard said, his smile no longer friendly, but predatory. The others prowled in, their shadows swallowing the light.
Hands reached for me, rough fingers on my soft skin as they hooked the straps of my dress and slid them down my shoulders. I heard the rasp of my zipper, then the whisper of fabric as they pulled my dress away. I hadn’t worn a bra; the dress didn’t need one. One of them stepped back and, with strange delicacy, hung my dress on a hook next to the door, as if to preserve it. The air was cold on my bare skin and all that separated me from their gazes were my panties, flimsy and useless. Four strangers stared at me, their eyes full of hunger, ready to devour me whole.
”Stop,” I begged, the words slipping from my lips. “Please, I won’t tell anyone. Just let me go.” The words every victim in every story says. They laughed, a low, ugly sound that echoed in the small space.
”Oh, you won’t want to tell anyone,” one of them said, his voice a promise I didn’t understand. Not then.
The man who hung up my dress returned, his eyes roaming over my nearly naked body. “See, ma’am. We're not all bad. Look, I hung up your dress all nicely for when we're done with you."
They closed in on me, my guide’s grip pulled my arms back, not only exposing my body to their gaze but it caused my back to arch and thrust my breasts out, much to their delight.
"Please, don't. Please, stop.” I whispered, a tear escaping from the corner of my eye. "My husband…"
“Blood donation takes about an hour. We've got plenty of time before he comes looking.” The leader, the guard, laughed, his breath hot in my ear as his hands reached around and cupped my breasts. “Look how hard your nipples are. You want this too, don't you?”
I shook my head, and struggled in his arms but the other men, as if permission granted with that first touch, reached out. Hands were all over me, squeezing my breast, pinching, tugging and rolling my nipples between their fingers. I continued to protest, tears falling continuously now, streaking my makeup.
Their hands, rough and calloused, scratched my delicate skin as they mauled my breasts. My skin felt raw by the time I felt one of those rough fingers slide down my flat stomach and dip under the waistband of my panties.
My struggling began anew, a futile effort against their iron grip. My legs kicked out, but more hands seized them, yanking them wide and holding me fast as a finger pressed lower, invading my private folds.
“Look how wet you are.” The fingers teasing my clit began to move in circles, and I felt my body was responding, a slick betrayal. He chuckled, a low and triumphant sound, as he hooked his thumbs into my panties and slid them down my legs. He balled them up before tucking them into his pocket like a trophy. “A memento.”
I was completely nude. The men descended like wolves, throwing down some used work rags and spreading me out on them. My guide pinned my hands above my head while two others wrenched my legs apart. The guard, the one with his fingers in me, had already shucked his pants. He knelt between my legs, his cock jutting out from his body, a thick and threatening weapon.
“Relax, baby. You're going to enjoy it more if you do.” he pressed the head of his cock against my pussy, splitting my lips open as he thrust forward, spreading me open for him inch by inch. A moan escaped my lips, though tears filled my eyes and I shook my head in protest. He leaned over, speaking directly into my ear, “See, baby? You love this, your body loves this. It's what you're made for.”
He thrust the rest of the way in me and my body writhed against him with a cry. He filled me so much more than anyone else had before, I felt my insides stretch to accommodate the invasion.
“Please, just stop. Stop,” I choked out and begged them to let me go. But the pleading only spurred him on. He dropped his hips into mine, driving his cock deep, and my body arched as the fullness and pain lanced through me.
“That's it, you fucking slut. Feel me in your tight little cunt. Fuck, she's gripping me good, boys.” He growled, beginning to thrust harder. I struggled beneath him but he pinned me with his cock and his hand came up to wrap around my throat, squeezing enough to remind me who was in control. “Just enjoy it, slut. You know your body loves this.”
The hands holding me down started roaming again, squeezing and twisting my nipples and making me cry out. A hand forced its way between us, rubbing my clit in time with the guard’s thrusts. The rough and calloused hands sent bolts of pleasure through me, and I couldn’t help but moan. The guard laughed as he felt my cunt contract around his cock.
”Look at this slut, she’s about to cum on my dick. Go on, whore, cum for us. Show us how much you love this.”
Even as my mind screamed in protest, my hips pressed into him. My pussy clenched around his cock as my orgasm tidal waved through me. My entire body trembled in pleasure as the men around me laughed and jeered.
The pause didn’t last long though, as if the orgasm gave them all the green light to continue, for all of them to participate. The guard picked me and flipped me over onto my hands and knees, reinserting himself and slammed his hips deep into mine over and over again. Two mouths latched onto my breasts, biting and sucking on my sensitive nipples and I could feel myself get even more wet under their stimulation. And then, finally, my guide, the one who led me into this situation, stood in front of me with his cock out.
”Open up, whore.” He leered, his hands threaded through my hair to yank my head up and force his vile cock into my mouth. Immediately he started hammering the back of my mouth, choking me. I gagged and struggled against him but hands held me down as he forced the thick head of his cock into my throat. I felt it stretch painfully around his girth, tears welling up in my eyes again as spit dripped around my stretched lips.
He groaned as he sank himself fully down my throat, my nose buried in his pubic hair. His musky body odour assaulted my senses as I struggled to breath. He pulled back and started thrusting in time with the guard in my cunt. I see-sawed between the two men, the mouths on my nipples tugging and biting painfully as the guard played with my clit again. My body responded in the same traitorous way and I felt myself push back into his cock. I felt both of them swell as they neared their climax.
“Fuck, baby. I’m gonna cum.” I heard the guard yell as he slammed his cock deep into me. I felt the hot gush of his cum flooding me, painting the walls of my cunt. A moment later, my guide held my head down on his cock and I felt his cum spill down my throat as each pulse spurted his seed into my stomach.
”Swallow it all, whore. Don’t spill a single drop.” He growled, his hands bunching in my hair as his cock cut off the air. They both pulled out of me and dropped me to the floor but I was alone for hardly a moment before the two other men took their places. Their movements were less controlled, and they tossed me between them like a rag doll, forcing their cocks into my sore throat and cunt. It didn’t take them long to cum in me, driven by their frantic, rough energy. It left me wanting, teetering on the edge of another orgasm.
I was allowed a brief reprieve while they recovered. I lay on the dirty rags, tears running down my face as I tried not to retch all over the floor. The cum in my stomach settling like a heavy weight, and more of it coated my inner thighs, dripping out of me.
Then the guard came over again, pulling me up by my hair. I cried out, the sound swallowed by the incessant hum of the machines. He pulled me over to a pipe running down from the ceiling and handcuffed me to it, leaving me to balance on my toes. He lifted my leg, his fingers sliding between my lips to gather the combined cum on his fingertips. He thrust in a few times, teasing my clit as he did and I felt my own arousal mix with theirs. A moan escaped. I couldn’t help it. My body still hummed from its climax, a desperate need that rose in me, matching the drone of the machines. I leaned back into him and tried to grind myself on his hand.
”Look how needy you are, you fucking slut. Grinding yourself on me when you were just begging us to stop.” I shook my head but my body spoke the truth as he thrust his fingers in and out of me roughly. I gasped and moaned, the arch of my back letting them know I wanted more, the grind of my hips to his hand letting them know how much I needed it.
”You like this, don’t you. We fuck you better than your husband ever has, don’t we?” He growled low in my ear as he fucked me with his fingers, I watched as his cock grew hard in front of me, my own need growing in kind. “You’re going to love this.”
He slid his fingers further back, slick with our combined juices, and pressed one to my puckered ass. I flinched and tried to squirm away but his other hand grabbed my hip, yanking me back against him as he spread my cheeks open. He pushed it in, my resistance futile and I bucked against him as his finger breached my final barrier. He worked it deeper, a slow, insistent back-and-forth, until he was buried to the knuckle. He circled his finger inside me, stretching my ass. “Relax, baby. It’ll feel just as good as your other holes.”
He thrust a few more times before withdrawing to move behind me. I struggled again, a fresh wave of panic hitting me as I realized his intent. I felt the head of his cock slide between my lips, coating itself in our combined fluids, before the pressure of his tip pressed against my ass, demanding entry. I fought, but his hands clamped my hips in a vice, and, with relentless pressure, he impaled me on him. I tried to force my body to relax, trembling as the head broke past my resistance. I screamed as white-hot pain shot through me, my entire body shuddering. He held me still for a moment, savouring it, before forcing the rest of his length into me.
”So. Fucking. Tight. Grip me, you little cunt.” He groaned, driving into me with shallow thrusts, deeper each time. The muscles in my back strained as I took him, my arms stretched overhead, helpless against the assault. He groaned again as he bottomed out in my ass, his balls pressed up against my pussy lips, his cock twitching as it found its home.
I had no time to adjust before my guide claimed his place in front of me, lining up his cock with my cunt. I whimpered, a useless sound, as he began to force his way in. The cock already buried in my ass left no room, creating a dual, crushing pressure. My body gave a violent shudder, stretched to its absolute limit as the overwhelming fullness stole my breath.
“Stop, please.” I whispered, whimpering through my discomfort. But the men just laughed, sinking in deep and holding still for a moment before starting to thrust in tandem.
”Aren’t you enjoying this, baby? Don’t you love feeling so full?” They mocked, their laughter mixing with the rhythm of their thrusts. “Your body’s made for this. Look how well you’re taking both of us.”
A hand reached down to rub at my clit as my guide dipped his head to suck and bite my nipples. I gasped as the discomfort was quickly replaced by an unwanted pleasure building deep in my core.
”Fuck, no, please. Please.” I begged, feeling the familiar climax building. I didn’t know if I was begging them to stop, or to continue. But they didn’t stop. Their fingers and cocks were relentless, manipulating my body towards its betrayal. “Please. I can’t— I’m close...”
My body squirmed. Not to escape, but to press closer. To grind my clit against the cock driving into me, to thrust my hips back and take the one in my ass even deeper. I couldn’t help myself. The pleasure and sensation of being so full, of being used so completely was overwhelming my senses. I was a whore, a slut who loved being double-fucked. And I knew, with a chilling certainty, that I wouldn’t breathe a word of this to anyone. Just as they’d predicted.
I gave myself up then, fucking the men back harder, desperately chasing the climax that teased me so relentlessly.
“Look at this slut go, she’s loving it!” The guard in my ass groaned. He increased his efforts, hammering his thick cock into me, while my guide made it his mission to bruise my cervix with every thrust. “I’m gonna fill your ass with my cum, baby girl.”
The men groaned as they neared their peak. I struggled to hold on, a dark, needy part of me desperate for us all to cum at once. I wanted these men to fill me, to feel them flood my cunt and ass as I came, too.
They fucked me hard for a moment longer before the guard let out a roar and erupted in my ass. I cried out as my own orgasm crashed over me, my pussy and ass clenching, milking their cocks as my body shuddered. A moment later, I felt my guide pulse inside me, his cum adding to the flood already filling my insides.
“Fuuuuuck yessss!”
“That’s it, whore, milk out that cum. It’s all for you.”
The men continued their degrading praise, and I savoured every word like a delicacy. When they were done with me, they pulled out. I slumped down, held up by the cuffs on my wrists for a moment before the other two men took their place. I could barely stand, my legs were so weak, but I stuck out my ass obediently, offering myself to one of them. He pressed his thumbs into my gaping asshole and spread it wide, as if he wanted to take a deep look inside. I groaned but didn’t resist. It was futile, and more importantly, I didn’t want to.
A part of me, a deep, dark part, enjoyed this. Being used for their pleasure. The object of their momentary desire. Being reduced to a dirty little toy. I loved the roughness, the degrading names. The way they talked to me, and about me, like I was a mere object. A primal, secret part of me needed to be claimed and used like this. My husband was loving, sweet, and caring, but he didn’t know how to please me like this. He didn’t know how to use his darling wife like this.
A noise brought me back to my senses. The man behind me gave a hack, and then I felt the glob of spit land directly in my ass. He held me open, spat in me, then aimed his cock at my puckered entrance. I shuddered, feeling even lower than before, and still I pressed my ass back into him, groaning as he filled me with the hard cock I craved.
The last man took my guide’s place, pressing his cock into my cunt. They both started hammering into me, bouncing me with ferocity. Hands on my clit and my nipples pinched and tugged, each painful shock bringing me closer to yet another orgasm. My moans mixed into a harmony with their grunts and groans, the soundtrack of our arousal.
It wasn’t long before they came and added to the cum leaking from my body. Then, they were done. They left me hanging there, limp and spent, for a few long minutes as we all recovered.
Time lost all meaning. The hum of the machines, blended with the grunts, the slapping of skin, and my own cries became the background music of my use. They took turns, filling me over and over until the cum leaking from me was a constant warm trickle. I was no longer a person, but a set of holes to be used, passed between them like a shared tool. Finally, when my legs could no longer hold me up and they were spent, they uncuffed me and made me lick their cocks clean. My final act of degradation. One of them tossed me a clean rag to wipe the cum from between my legs. I wiped my face, my makeup ruined. They handed me back my dress, sans panties, and watched as I struggled to pull it back on over shaky legs.
Like a gentleman, the guard helped me zip it up, his touch almost tender as he smoothed my hair down. Then he leaned down, his hand closing around my throat, and claimed my lips in a possessive kiss.
Not a word was spoken as they led me out of the room, the guard and the other maintenance men headed in the opposite direction, while my guide led me down the hall to a double door leading to the mall.
“Clinic’s down there to the right. You’re probably out of time, though.” He chuckled, giving my ass a light shove out the door. It clicked shut behind me and I was left for a moment to compose myself.
I stumbled to the nearest washroom I could find, my reflection a map of everything that had happened. I splashed cold water on my face in a desperate plea to erase what had happened, but it only washed away the remnants of my makeup. A quick stop at the drug store followed, my hands shaking as I grabbed concealer and mascara. The makeup application was clumsy, incomplete, but it would just have to do.
As I hurried to meet my husband, the city bustled around me, oblivious. But I was acutely aware of the cum still filling me, a warm, heavy presence deep in my cunt and my ass. And with every step I took, I felt the air on my bare, unprotected pussy lips. Then I felt it: a slow, terrifying trickle of wetness coating my lips and the inside of my thighs. I held my breath, praying it was just sweat, praying that it wouldn't leak through my dress on our lunch date. But it wasn’t sweat. It was evidence. Evidence of my use. Evidence of my lust.