Claimed: A Forced Submission Romance (5 page)

Letting him loose for a moment, Sandy drew Damon slowly back into her mouth, squeezing him with her inner cheeks, as she stroked the underside of his helmet with her tongue, pushing him inexorably into her throat. Damon moaned and writhed, his hands over her ears, unable to decide whether he wanted to push her off or pull her deeper – as if that were possible. Meanwhile, squirming and twisting, lifting and plunging, Sandy worked her magic on Alex, strengthening her vaginal grip on his tool with every plunge. And all the while Sandy found that she could grasp with her anal sphincter and squeeze with her rectal muscles, holding Liam tight while she pulled away, stretching his rigid tool, then releasing it as she plunged back to swallow it whole. Her talent delighted everyone, including all those still spectating. A little squeeze here, an extra caress there, Sandy was playing their mutual crescendo like a maestro.

At last, though, she felt pressures within herself going critical. Throwing every ounce of energy into her frenzied dance, Sandy brought her tableau to the edge, held them for just a moment, then let herself go. The orgasmic spasms that jolted her body were visible to all, and were indeed the triggering convulsions that set off all three of the lads as one. Their roars sounded like feeding time in the zoo, and the simultaneous eruptions from their pulsing peckers, flooded Sandy’s body. The feel of scalding nectar splashing both bowels and womb, and the hot syrup spattering her gullet, enflamed her senses, pushing her climax out beyond the bounds of the imaginable.

Sandy could no longer support herself. Falling forward in a swoon, she dropped Damon’s still drooling tool from her slack jaw, and pulled off Liam, before tumbling sideways half on and half off Alex. She barely noticed his persistent hardness slipping out of her box. Silence engulfed the scene. Even the stereo had gone off. Then, softly, loathe to break the reverential silence, Lindsay said, “Oh my God, are you people still at it?” Moving swiftly to Sandy she touched her cheek. “Oh, my god,” she repeated, “My poor girl. Are you okay?” Sandy, still only semi-conscious, faint with over-exertion and over-stimulation, managed to flutter her eyes and smile. An inarticulate sigh was her only response, but it was a sigh of complete satisfaction – total contentment.

L
indsay had worried the whole afternoon and evening, and would have come home much, much earlier, had the rest of the ladies only let her. So she and the girls had only just arrived, just in time to witness the massive quadruple climax erupt to the astonishment and delight of the whole libertine team. It was, she had to admit, impressive by anyone’s standards, and she stood, astounded by the vitality of the whole tableau, until it slowly collapsed in front of her. Men and women alike, everyone present seemed awed by the spectacle. No one said a word. Once again, as Lindsay stared at the limp figure, sticky with sweat and cum, looking impossibly delicate and petite, entangled there amongst the three hulking brutes, she wondered what she had done. Guilt and fear, and perhaps, some feeling of unfulfilled responsibility, rose to finally move Lindsay to action. With nary a word to anyone – including Alex, who still lay, unmoving, half under the insensate sylph – Lindsay scooped Sandy’s limp body into her arms and carried her to the bathroom, where she set about running a tub, replete with bath oil and bubbles.

Sandy could feel herself being placed gently in the bath. The hot water felt good on her tired body, and the caresses of soapy cloth were soothing. Through slitted eyes she watched as Lindsay clucked and cooed concern over her, but the descent from her final climax had drained her of emotion. Her rollercoaster seemed, once again, grounded. “Where were you, when the whole frigging team was pawing me? Where were you when the rape began?” she thought to herself. No, at that moment, anyway, she wasn’t going to let herself like this woman.

“Thanks, Luv, for being such a sport,” Lindsay, whispered. Finally, sitting on the floor next to the tub, she stopped her scrubbing, and let her hands dangle over the edge. “Sorry,” she muttered.

“You knew what was going to happen,” Sandy accused, the extent of Lindsay’s complicity suddenly obvious. “You set me up, didn’t you?”

“That we did,” Lindsay admitted, ruefully. Then in a rush she added, plaintively, “and I’m so sorry!” Her hand moved to Sandy’s shoulder and stroked tenderly, “So very sorry!”

“But it was a conspiracy.” Sandy observed, flabbergasted, “How could you?” She paused, looking at Lindsay, distress flushing her sweet face. “You presented me to them! A sacrifice! Spoils to the victor!” Sandy could feel her blood beginning to boil. Her shoulders stiffened and she sat upright in the tub, her eyes piercing the figure beside her. She had put herself at the mercy of strangers and was torn with rage at her violation – rage and disgust – and disgust with herself for her own strange collusion. Lindsay cowered visibly, fixed beneath Sandy’s cold stare, but, as quickly as it rose, vehemence colouring scarlet Sandy’s face and chest, the anger dissipated. Lindsay watched in wonder as Sandy’s shoulders relaxed again, and her bright red blush faded back to the pink of content. Slowly Sandy settled back into the tub, her eyes going distant for the moment. “Collusion...” she let the last word of her inner tirade echo in the air. “Complicity. Consent.” Sandy began to ponder her own participation, for hadn’t she, in effect – no, actually – allowed it. Sure they had coerced her to start; pressured her to let them have their way, but in the end it was she who had acquiesced. She had become an active party to her own ravishment, her own degradation. Not only that, but with incredible speed and aplomb.

Lindsay watched in wonder at the marvelous and frightening changes washing over the pretty visage, lying there, considering. And she was very much relieved once the awesome, silent anger had past. Under Lindsay’s troubled gaze Sandy’s eyes fell closed, and her breathing calmed, her heaving chest almost stilled. Then, more amazing yet, Lindsay observed a smile, not a mean smile, or a vengeful smile, but a genuinely contented smile settle on Sandy’s innocent face, igniting some hitherto unknown maternal feelings in Lindsay. She gazed affectionately at the peacefully sleeping figure, and wondered if she had not just blown a chance at a great friendship, perhaps even a sister-ship.

But Sandy wasn’t sleeping; she was just reliving her ‘active participation.’ Surely if collusion led to pleasure, why should there be disgust? Surprise, maybe, but disgust? And what superb pleasures they had been. If, indeed, she had been caught in an unsavoury contrivance, weren’t the results worth it? Yes, yes they were, dammit. The smile on her face grew. “So,” she whispered to the air, forgetting for the moment, that Lindsay sat silently beside her, “perhaps the ends do sometimes justify the means.”

“Appropo what?” Lindsay wondered, puzzled at the sleepily whispered remark. She took a deep breath, held it for a moment, staring at the peaceful girl before her, then began. “Please, let me explain,” Lindsay whispered, her hands fluttering uselessly over Sandy. At first she thought there was no response at all, but then Sandy’s eyelids fluttered, and her hand gently reached up and took Lindsay’s in its wet grip, holding it gently, and reassuringly.

“Okay,” Sandy whispered, “go on.”

“Well,” Lindsay began, clearing her throat, her voice small and unsure, “I guess it all started a few years ago when the lads, quite unexpectedly, won the championship.” She laughed at the memory. “They were deliriously happy and, afterwards, congregating at the pub, as was their habit, they hatched this absurd idea. You know how it goes, ‘To the victor, the spoils’ they shouted to one another; ‘All for one and one for all,’ and all that kind of nonsense. But they were all wound up and excited. They were high on victory and getting higher on beer. So, I guess,” Sandy could feel Lindsay shrug, “like men everywhere, somewhere in all that, their fantasies turned to sex.

“In any case, they all came tumbling back to us waiting girls and wives – we’d skipped the pub to prepare a wee victory party, as it were – and announced that they had decided, ‘In honour of our win...’ that they were going to share a woman for the afternoon. ‘Geroff it!’ we all said. ‘Don’t be daft! And who’d you think that woman might be?’ We laughed and tried to change the subject, but they, each of them, insisted they were serious. ‘Dead serious!’ one of them said. ‘Fucking serious,’ said another, and nobody laughed.” Lindsay allowed herself a little chuckle then, recalling their reaction.

“Well, we were shocked, of course; but there was no changing their minds. They were adamant. ‘This act of sacrifice’ they proclaimed, ‘is absolutely necessary – for the good of the team.’ We stood, mouths agape as they went on and on. ‘One of the team-members, one of us’ Jimmy announced, indicating the assembled players, ‘will give up his exclusivity,’ and he gestured to the bunch of us girls, standing in disbelief, ‘for the afternoon – for the good of the team.’ The men loudly cheered their assent, as we girls just looked at one another incredulously.

Lindsay smiled affectionately down at Sandy, who, now interested in this remarkable history, had opened her eyes. She returned the smile, and squeezed Lindsay’s hand encouragingly. Lindsay, licked her lips to go on. She had never told this story to anyone before. Out loud it sounded rather far-fetched, still, she continued. “This is Scotland, of course, so, in their usual chauvinistic way, they didn’t even consider what we would want. They just set about deciding how to ‘fairly choose’ their odalisque. In the end, they drew a name from a hat; ‘Monica,’ they announced, quite pleased with themselves. Monica was Stewart’s girlfriend at the time; they’ve since gotten married and moved away. At the sound of her name, she just looked at us, smiled, shrugged and, to our utter shock and surprise, turned to join the lads. I think, deep down, they were all just as surprised, but they covered it well with their loud bravado.

“’Go down to the pub, you lot,’ Liam commanded, ‘and give us a few hours.’ So we did. Sometimes I wonder what would have become of their hair-brained scheme if we’d just refused to go – or if they hadn’t drawn Monica first; but, being young and adventurous, she was a player, so we just all left. When we all got back, almost two hours later, Monica was lying there on the couch, under a sheet, with a shit-eating look of complete contentment on her face. Stewart was sitting at her head, stroking her hair and cooing like a proud father. And it was such a success in their eyes that they decided next season they’d celebrate every win that way, not just championships. ‘Share the abundance!’ they declared. ‘Pshaw!’ we retorted, ‘Not bloody likely!’”

“What about Alex?” Sandy asked.

“Oh. He loved it, of course!”

Puzzled, Sandy pushed further. “Weren’t you jealous?”

“Well,” Lindsay paused to recollect, “I felt a bit awkward, at first, but he was so happy and loving and grateful, like we had given them this wonderful gift.” She laughed at the thought of it, then, serious again, went on.

“But you know, when they handily won the first game of the next season, they simply drew a name, like there was nothing for it. Marianne, I think it was; and she followed them willingly. After that, well, I guess it was our female pride that kept the ball rolling. None of us wanted to be the first to balk. So we just went along, until, eventually we were all drawn. We’ve all had our turns, some more than others – it’s just part of the game, now.”

“And you?” now quite alert, Sandy watched Lindsay’s face carefully, “What did you think of it?”

“Oh, it was strange the first time, let me tell you. I didn’t know what to expect. I hadn’t been with another man in years, and here I was about to gang-banged. Yes, it was exceedingly strange.” She looked up and smiled. “Strange, yes, but really not too bad, once we got going. Good, in fact, really good.” She laughed, ruefully. “I don’t know if I’d want it as a steady diet, but I’ve very much enjoyed my turns ‘under the prick’, as we say.” Lindsay could see Sandy formulating another question so she answered it before it was spoken. “Ah, then, Alex is really just like the other lads. They are so proud when it’s their girl’s turn. And afterwards, he fusses about like an expectant father. It’s really quite odd, but quite cute.” She stopped for a moment, in thought. “No, he’s never jealous – none of them are – just very proud.”

“What about...?”

“Oh, other than this, what would you say, anomaly, we’re all pretty much monogamous. I mean, there’s risks in everything, don’t you think?”

Sandy nodded, then waited silently to see if there was more. “The new guys on the team,” Lindsay continued, “they’re just bowled over. ‘I’d heard rumours of a tradition,’ they would say, ‘but, I never....’ Only one person ever objected. He was a bit of a poofter, I suspect. But that was all. He just left us alone – left the team.”

“You know,” Lindsay remarked, after a long pause, “up until three weeks ago, they’d only lost one game since then. Sexual incentives do wonders for tournaments of testosterone. But then they lost two games in a row, and just about that time, we heard that you were coming.” Lindsay stopped, her eyes filled with guilt and embarrassment. She stumbled a bit before proceeding. “We figured maybe they needed ‘fresh meat’. Oh, that’s awful, isn’t it? What with you lying here and all. I’m so sorry.”

Sandy watched Lindsay’s eyes damp up, and squeezed her hand consolingly. “S’okay,” she whispered compassionately. “All’s well that end’s well.”

“This had been planned for over a week,” Lindsay continued with a wry smile, “before ever I laid eyes on you.” Lindsay clasped her other hand over Sandy’s and gave a heartfelt squeeze, “you sweet thing.”

Gazing into Lindsay’s eyes, Sandy became confused, yet again. She couldn’t understand the love and warmth she felt for this woman – this woman – this procurer. After all, she had arranged and delivered Sandy into a perverse, ritualistic ravaging. Still, Sandy couldn’t help but like her. It was baffling.

Running a finger lightly across Sandy’s cheek, Lindsay continued, “When we knew you were coming, we – the girls – decided to offer you, as a surprise, to the lads.” She stopped and bit her lip, then went on, “I know it was a bit unfair of us.” An sort of bitter laugh caught in her throat. She paused, regaining her composure. “A
bit
unfair? Totally unfair – but when the idea came up, on our ladies’ night, last week, over a few pints, it just seemed like harmless fun. I guess we’re all so used to it – somehow, we didn’t stop to think about you – a real person.” She shrugged helplessly. “Unforgivable! How could we – how could I have taken such scandalous advantage of you, arriving here all bright and trusting and eager for adventure. Hmmph!” she snorted, “You certainly couldn’t have expected this!” Sandy shook her head slowly, her stunned gaze still fixed on Lindsay’s teary eyes. Then Lindsay smiled a sad little smile and added hopefully, “But you
did
enjoy it in the end, didn’t you?” Sandy stared wide-eyed at her hostess; surprised at the question, then, giving a slight, self-conscious nod, she whispered, barely audibly, “Yes, I suppose I did.”