ENSLAVED BY SHIFTERS

by Astrid Lee Donovan

  It burst over me in a moment, a gasping, grasping orgasm - the kind that seems to tear you apart from the inside out. It peaked and broke over me, my body twitching and limp, as Adam reduced his insistent licks down to slow, lazy laps and Jake extracted his fingers from me. Smiling slyly, he bought them to my mouth, and, for the second time that day, I licked the taste of my own pussy from a man’s fingers. I wondered if Adam had told him about our moment in the bathroom earlier, when I’d sucked his fingers clean too - I hoped so. Something about Jake knowing what a slut I’d been really turned me on.

  Leaning off me, Jake sat up and began hastily pulling at his leathers, stripping himself down to a shirt and jeans. Pulling them off, he turned to me and yanked my skirt down, taking Adam by surprise. As soon as the skirt was off, Adam plunged his face back into my pussy, making me gasp and groan. Jake looked at down at me with lust in his eyes, and I put on a little show for him, twisting and turning back and forth on the bed, letting him see the way my breasts shook and my hair fanned out next to me. There was something desirous and dark in his eyes, and he strode over to the end of the bed, erection in hand, and positioned me so my head was dangling off the duvet. Positioning his cock at my lips, he gently slid himself into me, and I could taste the drops of precum on his head; swirling my tongue around him salaciously, I savored his taste, enjoying the scent and feel of him in my mouth. It had been a long time since I had really wanted to suck a cock, and Jake’s was so…perfect. Thick and long and hard, just what I was craving. The feeling of him using me for his pleasure was an intense and hypnotic one, and his hips began to pick up pace, pushing further into my mouth, as I moaned around his dick. I was so lost in the feeling that I had almost forgotten that Adam was between my legs, licking my cunt, until he very gently bit my pussy lips.

  I let out a muffled shriek, and cast my eyes down to see Adam looking up at me wickedly. He didn’t want to be ignored. So I threw myself into it, writhing my hips underneath Adam’s busy mouth as I hungrily tongued the underside of Jake’s erection. It was so easy to lose myself in them, to lay back and allow the physical sensations to wash over me. But it was more than just the actual feeling of it all - the way his cock felt in my throat, the way his mouth felt on my pussy. It was about the implications of it, the devil-may-care debauchery of meeting two virtual strangers and fucking them both in a seedy motel room. I felt wanted, desired, and needed, and that was a heady mix for the newly divorced me. I wanted more, more, more, and felt that familiar ache in my pussy again, my legs tensing as Adam slid his fingers into me. My pussy clenched around him, and he suddenly withdrew, making me squirm with disappointment. My body ached for orgasm as I heard the familiar sound of unzipping and disrobing, until there was a rip of foil. Was he going to fuck me? I desperately hoped so. I needed to be filled up by something big, something hard - something right now. And the thought of getting fucked while I sucked this guy’s dick - lying on my back, exposed for all to see - was tantalizing.

  I felt his head nestle up to the entrance of my slit, stretching me like his fingers did earlier. I know I couldn’t take much more of this waiting, and I bucked myself up against him, trying to force him inside me, but he held my hips down.

  “Not yet,” he whispers, and I wanted to stare up at him, to plead with him to fuck me, but I couldn’t - I’m pinned, with Jake’s cock still slickly sliding in and out of my mouth. I felt so used, but so…needed. Wanted. So good. And I was trying to focus on that feeling to take my mind of the feeling of anticipation racing through my body when he pushed into me, showering my body with a whole new range of feeling. I had never been fucked like this before - splayed out on a bed for my partner’s visual enjoyment. Adam leant down and placed one of my nipples in his mouth as he slowly pushed his full length into me, and I let myself fall into the pleasure - it was impossible to fight it. I wanted to throw my arms around him, to feel the heat and hardness of his body against mine, but I was pinned as Jake pulled my arms around his legs, allowing him deeper access to my throat.

  Placing one leg over his shoulder, Adam started getting into a rhythm, going a little harder and a little faster as his cock spread me wide open. It was right on the edge of pain and pleasure, all at the same time - a painfully good mix that set my teeth on edge again. I couldn’t even look at the man who was fucking me, because I was too busy sucking someone else’s dick - I tried to focus on taking Jake in as deep as I could go, as he leaned down to slap one of my tits till the nipple hardened and stung. But I couldn’t distract myself from the impending orgasm, and I could hear Adam’s breathing coming faster and more ragged. He wasn’t far from finishing, either.

  Feeling my pussy clench with agonizing sweetness, I rolled my hips against Adam’s cock and came, my body bowing to the pleasure of it all. I felt Jake’s cock twitch in my mouth, and he finished within seconds of me, his legs tensing underneath my hands as I swallowed every last drop of his cum. I pulled my head back just in time for Adam to lean down and kiss me passionately, his expression almost pained, as he reached a frenetic fever-pitch, his body moving against mine, using me for his pleasure. As my orgasm faded away, he reached his own climax, rocking against my body as he slowed his pace and let his breathing settle down.

  We lay there for a moment, a sweaty, malleable, horny heap of flesh. My mind flashed back to the first time I’d seen them standing in that garage- who knew that it would end up like this?

  Adam was the first one to speak, as he peeled himself off my cleavage. “Anyone for another beer?”

  Jake and I looked at each other, and then nodded. If ever I had earned a drink, it was now.

  4

  It was a couple of months since my tryst with Jake and Adam in the motel room that fateful evening, and, as it turned out, I never came back from Detroit. I headed into town the next day, stealing a beer for the road (not literally, I hasten to add), and leaving a note with my phone number on it and instructions to call me if they were ever back in town. Then I drove to the city, and started scouting at rooms for rent and apartments for sale - I eventually found a sweet young couple looking for someone to take their spare room, and I moved in with them. They were both a few years younger than me, but they had already settled into a life of authentic coupledom and seemed content letting me go out and hit the town while they stayed in and watched movies. They were a cute pair, and I liked them together, but I soon sniffed out my own group of friends to go partying with.

  Even after I was settled in and had shuttled my stuff up from my sister’s place to my new house, I wouldn’t feel totally at home till I had work of some description - it made me feel self-sufficient and safe. It took a while to scout out a decent job, but I found a place after three weeks of looking - sure, it wasn’t my own beauty salon, but at least I was in a training position now, so I was climbing up the ladder. I got to teach the younger girls how to paint nails and give massages, and it turned out to be surprisingly fulfilling - it was a great way to bond with the nervous kids coming down from the university I used to attend. I liked it there, and I had successfully shed the shackles of just being Oliver’s wife - in fact, I barely ever thought about him any more, except when my mother called and just had to let me know what he’d been up to, despite my protestations. Whatever, I’d successfully done what I’d intended to, and broken free of my old life to start something new. And that felt pretty damn good.

  Oh, and a postscript? It turns out Adam and Jake came through town quite often, sometimes alone, sometimes together. And yes, they always had a place to crash. Usually next to me, in my bed, after we’d spent the night having loud, dirty, nasty sex. Because there are some things a girl just doesn’t want to give up, no matter how much she’s trying to start over.

  TAKEN BY TWO MMA FIGHTERS

  1

  “Marla, we are going to find you such a man tonight,” Cassie yelled over the radio, which was blaring Beyoncé. Bey, booze, and boys: Cassie’s recipe to fix a broken heart. Marla smirked as she looked out the win
dow, which was streaked with the falling rain. The storm would pass soon; it always did, in Florida, in summer.

  “Yeah,” she said in agreement, though if she was going to be honest, she didn’t give a damn about finding a boy. Booze? Yes, please. But another man? She didn’t really care either way. Except it would be a good way to take some sort of secret, passive-aggressive revenge on Todd, who’d cheated on her after a year of serious dating.

  Would it, though? She wondered. A guy will fuck anyone. Just sleeping with someone doesn’t take much, if you’re a girl.

  “C’mon, c’mon, let’s see them hands in the air,” Cassie said, taking one hand off the wheel and grabbing Marla’s wrist, forcing her to raise the roof in time to “Run the World.” Marla laughed and sang along, already feeling better than she had when Cassie had swung by two hours prior. They’d pre-gamed a bit, not enough that Cassie couldn’t drive but enough to make Marla more agreeable to the night’s plan.

  “I’m serious, these guys are…whooo, they are men. Not like lizard-dick Todd. John brings me around sometimes and I’m just, like, babe, are you trying to get me to cheat on you? You’ll see; you’re gonna walk in and ‘It’s Raining Men’ is gonna start playing in your head,” Cassie said, flipping her long, platinum blonde hair over her shoulder.

  Though they had been best friends since high school, Marla and Cassie’s style couldn’t have been more different. Cass went exclusively for a beach bimbo look, though she wasn’t a bimbo in the slightest sense. Still, with her bleached hair, long, thin body, persistence in only wearing push-up bras, and 45-minute make-up routine, she looked every inch the Playboy Bunny.

  Marla, on the other hand, preferred to wear her dirty-blonde locks loose, keeping them cut to her shoulders. She wore little, if any, make-up and could always be found in a T-shirt and shorts. She usually went braless, as well, her perky B-cup breasts not needing the shaping or lift that Cassie’s C-cups required. The most daring wardrobe decision she ever made was the occasional crop top. Her frame was thin, but only by virtue of genetics. She would never be caught dead at a gym. Which made the night’s activities a bit strange for her.

  They were on their way to the MMA gym where John, Cassie’s long-term boyfriend, worked out and sometimes fought in an amateur league. He was fighting that night, and the girls were going to provide a two-girl cheering squad. And, as Cassie wouldn’t let Marla forget, to possibly scoop up one of the night’s other fighters for a little private sparring at Marla’s apartment. After the match, they were due to go to Plumb’s, where all those hot, sweaty men celebrated after beating the shit out of each other.

  As Cassie pulled into the parking lot of the gym, Marla’s drive to enjoy herself started to dip. Her buzz was wearing off, being replaced with a bitter determination to have a bad time. It had only been three weeks since she’d walked in on Todd giving it good to his dog-walker.

  “You gave me a fucking key, Todd!” She’d screamed once the waif-thin girl had run half-naked from the house. “You knew I was coming over! What the fuck!”

  “I didn’t know you were coming over, Marla,” he’d said, sitting at the edge of his bed and pulling his pants on, refusing to meet her eyes. “If I had, I wouldn’t have been doing this.”

  “Oh my God, it doesn’t even matter,” she’d said, starting to cry tears of rage, which only made her feel worse. “How could you do this to me?”

  “You’ve known things were rough,” he’d said, calm as could be, pulling on his shirt, still refusing to look at her. “It’s been a long time coming…”

  That’s when she’d hit him. To get him to look at her, at least. To show that just because she was crying didn’t mean she was weak. He’d let her do it, had still avoided her eyes, had left her with a stinging palm and no more solace than she’d had moments ago.

  “I think you’d better leave,” he’d said. For a moment, Marla had wanted to drop to her knees and beg for forgiveness for hitting him, beg him to talk to her, tell him they could work on it, that they’d get past this and still had a future. But only for a moment. Then she’d turned on her heel and stalked out of his house, slamming the door behind her. She’d only made it around the corner in her car before having to pull over to scream and weep with rage, slamming her hands against the steering wheel as though it could absorb all her sadness and anger and shame.

  She’d tried, a few times, to talk to him, after. Usually when she’d drunk enough wine not to second-guess the virtue of the call. But he refused to pick up, and when he did, he refused to answer her questions. How long had he been cheating? Was it just the one girl? Why? Mostly, why? What had Marla done wrong? Didn’t he feel bad? Didn’t he feel guilty, even the tiniest bit?

  “Nothing I can say will make you feel better,” he would say. “Knowing all those answers won’t make anything better for you, M.”

  “You can’t call me that anymore,” she’d sob. “And you’re a coward. A fucking coward.”

  “Maybe. Don’t call me again, Marla.”

  Now, after three weeks of languishing in her apartment, subjecting her friends to endless rom-com marathons, pints of ice cream, and bottles of wine, she was finally cajoled into coming out and “restarting her life,” as Cassie put it. Cass also referred to it as “cleaning the bats out of the attic,” which Marla thought was just about the worst euphemism for getting laid that she’d ever heard.

  “Ugh,” she said, holding the door handle and looking out at the clearing sky. It was still light out at 7, the sun high and now dazzling through the parting clouds.

  “Oh, fuck no,” Cassie said, waving her finger in Marla’s face. “Don’t you start groaning. We are going to have a good fucking time; you hear? Look at me, Marla, and repeat after me: I will have fun. I will flirt. I will make out with the studliest man at this gym.”

  Marla kept her face turned until Cassie actually grabbed her by the chin and forced her to make eye contact.

  “Say it, M, say it,” she said, giving Marla her lioness look. Marla knew better than to refuse when Cassie got that look on her face.

  “I will have fun. I will flirt. I might make out with the studliest man at this gym,” she said. Cassie narrowed her eyes, pouting her lips slightly, like a parent trying to figure out if their child was lying to them.

  “I’ll take it,” she said, and reaching into her bag pulled out the flask of vodka she’d prepared before leaving. “Now, you take this.”

  “Oh, Cass, I don’t know if…”

  “Marla,” Cassie said, shoving the flask at her friend, who reluctantly accepted it.

  “Drink as much as you want, I’m taking care of you tonight. But try to save me some, huh? That’s the good shit,” Cassie said. “Actually, here, let’s drink a bit before we go in. You first.”

  Marla sighed and rolled her eyes, but unscrewed the flask all the same. Tipping it back, she took a healthy glug before shoving it under Cassie’s nose with a disgusted gag.

  “If that’s the good stuff, I can’t imagine what the bad stuff is,” Marla said, holding the back of her hand against her lips and trying to swallow through the lingering sting.

  “You’re such a snob,” Cassie said, taking a big swill for herself. Unlike Marla, whose drinking was usually devoted only to red wine, Cassie was a bit of a party girl, and she swallowed the vile liquid like a champ. Re-screwing the cap, she handed it back.

  “I’ll be watching, and if I don’t see you helping yourself at least four times during this match, there’ll be hell to pay,” Cassie said pointedly. Marla laughed. There was always hell to pay with Cassie. She was like a beach blonde demoness. At least Marla had Cassie’s promise that it was Marla’s turn to be the drunk one; usually, Marla was responsible for dragging Cassie away from a fight with a bouncer or a newfound friendship with similarly wasted girls.

  The one sip helped rekindle the spirit of the night, and Marla weaved her way into the gym, her nose crinkling automatically at the smell of leather, disinfectant, and men. Cassie f
ollowed, draping her arm around Marla’s neck and extending her hand out in a sweeping gesture.

  “See, M, what did I tell you? Raining men,” she said, singing the last part.

  And, sure enough, it might as well have been a Chippendale’s rehearsal. Everywhere Marla looked, men were lifting weights, sparring, running the overhead track, or milling about. Big, little, thin, bulky, blonde, brunette, bald, black and white; it was a sausage party if there ever was one.

  And, as though all that testosterone had evolved into some female-finding radar, every eye seemed to turn to them when they entered. Cassie began to move towards the ring set up in the middle of the gym, waving at some guys who she seemed to know. Marla felt like a bug under a microscope, except the scientists were all handsome as hell and smiling at her. Her cheeks flamed bright red, and she was happy that Cassie was clinging so tightly to her.

  She felt almost naked, though she was wearing her typical attire of shorts and a loose cotton T-shirt. Granted, the slight bit of skin that showed between the shorts and the T-shirt exposed her flesh a bit more, but not enough – she thought – to warrant all this attention. As Cassie dragged her to the ring, she felt like she was floating through a kaleidoscope of pure hotness.

  “Hey, where’s John?” Cassie yelled to no one in particular. Moments later, John appeared out of what seemed to be a changing room, a smile on his face, arms open. Cassie, with stereotypical flair, ran to him and gave him an audible kiss. This left Marla alone and unguarded, and she was quick to follow behind, as though the momentary separation would lead to any of those guys swooping in and rushing her away to be ravaged in the showers.