2 comments/  42085 views/  19 favorites

A Conspiracy of Sluts Ch. 01

By: fastandsloppy



Author's note: This is the first part of a five part novella. Each chapter will be devoted to a different category of erotica: i.e. lesbian, group, interracial, BDSM, exhibitionism/voyeur (in that order). Although the five parts constitute a complete story I have tried to write each chapter so it could be enjoyed stand-alone as well (although I prefer you read the whole thing of course). I will post each chapter about a week apart. Enjoy!

*

Twelve floors above the streets of Manhattan Paige was stalled on the cusp of escape. She fidgeted impotently with her purse while anxiously eyeing the narrowing entrance to the small, movable room. As the gap between the steel doors contracted she rocked forward on the balls of her feet to peek into the corridor. She spotted Doug. He was just outside her office, looking the other direction, towards the fire exit. She moved back a step and sighed with relief; he hadn't seen her. But, as the doors drew to within a few inches of each other, just as she was nearly free, a tiny arm thrust through the gap and broke the infrared safety beam. The doors stopped with a dull click. They began to open again.

Paige stepped to the left to keep herself out of Doug's line of sight as a petite woman darted into the elevator. She was Asian: a pretty little thing with big, brown eyes, long, lustrous hair and a healthy, if not massive, chest. She carried herself with a casual self assurance far beyond what Paige could hope to muster. Confidence must come easy for someone like that, thought Paige as she frowned at her own indistinct reflection in the burnished steel of the door.

"Sorry," said the petite woman. "Didn't see you in here."

"s'OK," mumbled Paige as the other woman repeatedly jabbed the "close door" button.

"Hey, hold that elevator!" called a voice rushing towards them. Paige's shoulders sagged in defeat. It was Doug's voice.

"Sorry!" called the woman through the narrowing gap as she continued to hit the 'close door' button. "In a hurry."

Paige smiled gratefully at the back of her companion's head as the doors finally shut and the car started to move.

The woman turned towards her. A mischievous smirk lit up her face. "That was kinda bitchy, huh?" she said as she scrunched her head into her shoulders in a well practiced ain't-I-a-stinker gesture.

"No problem," said Paige. "I was trying to avoid that guy, actually."

"Doug?" asked the woman. "You know Doug?"

Paige blushed. She'd had no idea this woman knew Doug too. She wondered if she knew him in the same way.

"Oh God! You do!" She laughed. It was more of a cackle. "Did you sleep with him?"

Paige blushed deeper. She could feel the tell-tale ring of hot air settle around her neck as her skin lit up like a red Christmas bulb. Oh God, after getting through high school and college without getting noticed by anybody, now -- in her professional life, of all places - she was going to get a reputation as a slut.

"Oh, don't get embarrassed," urged the other woman. "You'd be surprised by..."

With a shudder followed by a sharp upwards jerk, the elevator came to an abrupt stop. The petite woman was pitched forward off her heels, grabbing Paige around the waist on her way to the floor. Paige choked back a scream and seized the woman by her upper arms, supporting her as her face came to rest mashed against Paige's chest.

"You OK?" asked Paige as she helped her to her feet.

"Shit," said the woman. "Oh. Sorry about that..." She nodded to the smear of smoky red lipstick and taupe eye-shadow across the left breast of Paige's white blouse.

Paige looked at the smear. She rubbed at it briefly but gave up when she realized she was only pushing the pigment deeper into the fabric. As she looked up she caught the other woman'sgaze lingering on the swell of her chest. Their eyes met briefly, strangely. Paige looked away.

The woman bent over to see which buttons on the panel might be worth pushing. She randomly hit a few. One set off a loud, ringing alarm. She let it ring for a couple of seconds before pushing another that turned it off.

"Ugh. Too loud," she complained. "We'll leave that for our last resort."

"This is what I get for not taking the stairs," said Paige.

"The stairs, huh? You afraid of elevators or something?"

"No. I lost a lot of weight recently. I'm trying to keep it off."

The woman turned towards Paige and looked her up and down with a practiced, critical eye that made her feel distinctly uncomfortable. The woman said, "You really should. You've got a good body. But... you did all that by walking stairs?"

"No. I mean, I've been doing other stuff too. Lunges, crunches... that kind of thing."

"Ugh, crunches. I fucking hate crunches. But still, they get the job done. I must do, like, a thousand a week... lookie here," said the woman as she began unbuttoning her blouse from the bottom up. She opened the shirt up to her bra and tightened her abdomen. Every toned ripple and crease showed in anatomy textbook detail.

"Um...very nice."

"Oh! Where are my manners? Here I am showing you my bod and I hadn't even introduced myself. I'm Marie. Marie MacDougall," said the Asian woman.

"Funny, you don't look Scottish".

Marie laughed and pointed at herself with a thumb. "Halfbreed, An Okinawa souvenir, as my dad used to say."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry..."

"Pfft. Don't worry about it."

With a hum and a slight tug of inertia the elevator started moving again. Both women cheered. Paige looked up at the floor indicator: just a few more to go. She wondered if she'd ever speak with Marie MacDougall again.

"My name is Paige, by the way. Paige Hellar."

Marie looked at her. She seemed to be appraising her again... but not her body this time. She seemed to be reading her the way poker players look for tells in their opponents. It was unnerving.

"We should have a girl's night out, Paige; finish this conversation."

Paige smiled, surprised. "I'd like that."

"You have a business card or something?" asked Marie as the elevator announced its arrival at the lobby with a soft tone.

"Yeah, I just got a new box yesterday. It has all my new numbers..." prattled Paige before she realized she just opened herself up to a bunch of questions she didn't feel like answering.

But Marie didn't ask why her numbers were new. She merely pocketed the card and smiled. "I'll give you a call," she said. She winked as she stepped out of the elevator into the Oreskos Corp lobby, walking towards the Avenue of the Americas entrance. Paige watched her call out to a group of young executive types. They paused, smiled and waved her over.

Paige watched in awe. How she'd love to be a woman like that. She let her freshly flowered admiration of Marie bloom into a brief fantasy of instant popularity with the most powerful cliques in the company. She imagined tagging along as Marie's plus-one to one of the scandalously swank get-togethers that What's-her-name Oreskos -- the spoiled young heiress of the company's late founder - was rumored to host in the executive suites. She imaged handsome executives smiling at her from across the room. She imaged whirlwind romances; delirious sex on yachts and private jets; a surprise proposal; a life of luxury...

But then an elevator directly in front of her opened and Doug stepped out. "Paigey!" he said brightly as Paige's face fell. His eyes dropped to the smear of makeup on Paige's chest. "What happened to your tit?"

Paige sighed. Daydreams would have to wait.

***

She'd got a text from Marie on Friday afternoon, suggesting they meet at a vegan place. It was right around the corner from Paige's apartment but Paige had never tried it. It was, after all, a vegan place. Nonetheless, Paige agreed to meet Marie there at eight. It'd be good to try something new tonight.

Paige got there first. It was nice: woody with pale paneling and unpainted furniture; lively with brightly colored wall hangings, tablecloths and napkins that favored reds, greens and yellows. The music was some wheezy third world stuff that was boring but easy to tune out. She was shown to the booth by the window and handed a menu and a wine list. She eyed the wines but ordered a white tea instead. As she waited she immediately commenced to fretting that Marie would stand her up.

It would serve her right if she did. Just before leaving her apartment Paige had sent Doug a text canceling their date. Then she blocked his number. They were supposed to go some party: a "wild" party, he'd said. She'd only agreed to it to get rid of him. She had delayed canceling until the last possible minute so as to not endure hours of his exhausting attempts at persuasion and now she was feeling a little guilty. Why was she so intend on giving Doug the brush off? Sure, he was balding, kind of short and pretty dorky, but he was nice - if a little crude - and he was a successful guy. And, as she had discovered last week, he had other favorable attributes, or rather, a particular attribute: an attribute that had made her come several times during their one night together and left her with a few days of lingering soreness in some tender places.

Paige fought to push those memories down. God, how embarrassingly out of control she had been: moaning and scratching like a cat in heat, begging him to "fuck her harder", letting him do things to her that she'd never done before. She had frightened herself.

Her tea had just arrived when a long black limousine double parked out front. It sat there for several minutes, no one entering or leaving. As she sipped her tea Paige amused herself by staring into the tinted glass and imagining various famous people in there, watching her. She finally settled on Bradley Cooper, imagining him smitten by the way she pursed her lips to blow lightly across the steaming surface of her beverage. She imagined a message sent to her with an invitation to join him in the limo. She imagined a slow drive around the city and through the park. Would he be an insistent lover, roughly taking what he wanted while Paige put up a token resistance? Yes, she decided, he would. She shifted in her seat and could feel a bloom of wetness, stirred up by her silly imagination.

She shook her head. What's wrong with me lately? She thought.

When the door to the limousine finally opened it was not Bradley Cooper who stepped out, but Marie MacDougall. She turned and bent over to say something to someone inside the car. Paige watched two guys on the sidewalk going opposite directions as they ogled Marie's posterior. They smacked right into each other with a ragged 'oof' and nearly went down in a heap. Paige laughed behind her tea as they untangled themselves while glowering accusingly at each other's carelessness.

As Marie stood and trotted towards the restaurant, Paige got a good look at what she was wearing. It was a red dress: tight, low-cut and short. Slutty would be the word Paige would use to describe it she decided. Very slutty.

Marie tic-tacked up to the table in her lofty red pumps. As they said their hellos a tall willowy woman with translucently pale skin and a long mass of frizzy, white-blond hair flitted up. "Hello Marie," she said in a soft, singsong voice.

"Hi Heather," chirped Marie.

"Hey, I wanted to know, are you going to the..." began Heather.

"Heather," interrupted Marie. There was a slight edge to her voice. "This is my new friend Paige. We're having a girl's night out."

"Oh... of course," said Heather. "I won't bother you then." She turned and glided away, leaving a miasma of patchouli where she had stood.

"Heather just opened this place," explained Marie. "I thought I should show some support."

"I wouldn't have minded if you two wanted to talk," said Paige.

Marie shook her head. "Don't worry about it."

"OK... hey, whose limo was that?"

"Another friend," Marie said with a shrug. "I was offered a ride."

"You have quite a spectrum of friends."

Marie tilted her head and smiled. "Yeah, I suppose I do."

They talked about work for a while. Marie was in HR, but "only sort-of", she said. "I'm doing a special project for the big wigs." Paige told Marie she worked in accounts payable, a detail Marie already knew since she had read Paige's personnel file that afternoon. It seemed like a predictable thing to do, especially for someone like Marie who seemed to be used to getting her own way. But still, it irritated Paige.

"So," said Paige slowly, trying not to be annoyed about the minor invasion of privacy. "What else did you learn from my file?"

"Birth date, address, phone number, salary... that sort of stuff. Boring stuff. Tell me something interesting. Like, you said you lost a lot of weight. What was your secret? I might need it if I ever, you know..." Marie puffed out her cheeks and bugged out her eyes.

"You wouldn't be interested," said Paige tersely. She had always hated it when skinny people made fat faces.

"Why? Did you have your jaw wired shut?" joked Marie with a laugh that died in her throat as she saw the hardness seep into Paige's face. "Is something wrong?"

"Oh come on, Marie. I'm sure it's in my file that I was out of work for five months. Right?"

"Well, I saw that, yeah... I'd..."

"You want to know how I lost so much weight? I got scarlet fever, then pneumonia, then blood poisoning. I was in the hospital for over almost two months, in the ICU for a couple of weeks. My parents were picking out caskets at one point. I was so weak afterwards I had to live at my parents for a while just to work myself up to being able to walk again." Paige spat out the words, irritated that she had to relive it again for a curious acquaintance, annoyed that her near-death illness was the most interesting thing about her.

"Oh my God. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"I lost, like, almost half my weight. I don't even look like myself anymore. I look into the mirror and I see a stranger. It still kind of freaks me out."

"But... You're hot. You know that, right?"

"But that's just it. Everything I know about myself tells me I'm a plain looking fat girl." Paige pointed to herself. "This isn't me."

Marie laughed. "No offense, girl, but that's a good problem to have."

"That's what people tell me."

Marie shrugged.

"It's weird. I notice guys looking at me now. You know what I mean, looking?"

Marie nodded. She knew.

Paige sighed. "Y'know, I had sex with Doug just because I could tell he genuinely thought I was desirable. I'm just not used to that. I was a complete pushover. Before the accident I'd only 'done it' maybe four times since college. But I don't want to go overboard the other direction. I don't want to be a..." she found herself looking at Marie with the word on her lips. She choked it back when she saw Marie leaning forward with her boobs seemingly eager to pop from her tight red dress.

"A slut?" offered Marie.

"Um... well... yeah."

Marie laughed. "Like me?"

"I'm not saying that you're a...um... a slut."

"What if I was? Could you be friends with a girl like that?"

"Well, people are free to do what they want... With their own bodies, I mean."

"So what's the problem? I mean, what's the problem with you doing what you want with your body if I'm free to do what I want with mine?"

Paige shrugged. She felt embarrassed about her outburst now. She was eager for this night to be over so she could get back to her tiny apartment and kick herself for implying her first prospective new friend in years was a slut. Maybe her mother was right. Maybe it had been Paige's quick temper and snarky attitude that had kept her lonely all these years, not the extra weight.

"Well, whether or not you decide you want to sleep around, you need to learn how to be a beautiful woman. Fortunately, I have some practical experience in that area, if I say so myself. I'll be your guide."

"Guide to what?"

Marie flashed a charming but wicked grin. "You'll see."

***

Marie had insisted Paige switch to cosmopolitans from white tea. Paige barely resisted before accepting the cocktail. After her little snit about her illness she was eager to calm her nerves.

After the first cosmo, her nerves were calm. After the second, they were a little numb and tingly. After the third, both women were laughing loudly at their own jokes and beginning to slur their words. Heather approached the table again.

"You guys have drank quite a bit."

"Bingo," said Marie cocking her finger at Heather like a pistol and winking.

"Well... but we prefer not to have it too rowdy in here... you know? There are some nice bars over on..."

"Well bring us 'nother drink. Maybe we'll start gettin' groggy next," suggested Paige.

"No," said Marie. "Let's go. We need to stop fucking up the ambiance in Heather's nice new restaurant."

"I didn't say you guys were..."

"Hey!" interrupted Marie, as if they'd already left Heather and her flakey little hole-in-the-wall eatery behind. "Didn't I read in a confidential personnel file somewhere that you live really close to here?"

"Surely not," laughed Paige. "That would be irresponsibly slutty of my file to let just anyone read it."

"Your file loved it. She was begging for more!"

"Oh no! My poor file's going to end up having a bastard litter of untitled Word documents! Hahaha!"

"Hahahaha!"

And so on...

They jabbered a silly and unbroken conversation from the booth at the restaurant to the bodega on the corner where they picked up a pint of vodka and a half gallon of cranberry juice. As they exited the store a couple of Hispanic kids whistled and loudly offered their services.

"You couldn't handle me, homeboy," taunted Marie.

"I'd prefer the blonde chicka with the big titties anyhow," answered one of the kids.

Instinctually, Paige braced for the laughter she'd come to expect after some cruel boys taunted her. She turned away and hurried forward, her face burning hot with anger and embarrassment. When she turned to Marie, she saw she was still several yards behind, walking in a slow, wiggly strut away from the boys, smiling wide as she gave them a show.

Paige's brow contracted into a confounded knot. Marie winked and smiled. "Don't worry about them," she said. "They don't expect any more than a look. Come on, walk with me."

Paige let Marie take her by the arm. They walked the fifty or so yards to the door of her apartment building, the catcalls following a few yards behind. Paige heaved a sigh of relief when they finally got inside.

"See?" said Marie. "I told you were hot. You just need to get comfortable with it."

"You enjoy that sort of thing?" asked Paige as they stepped onto the elevator and she hit the button for seven.

Marie shrugged. "I choose to view it as an honest appreciation of my feminine attributes."

"It's fucking rude."

"Men are simple beasts. You have to take them as they are."

"I guess... What choice do I have?"

Marie gave her a long, dry look. "There are always options, Honey."

Paige threw Marie a quizzical glance but the doors opened for her floor. Marie strode out into the hall and Paige followed, feeling suddenly nervous.

"It's apartment Seven-Twelve, right?"

"Yes... that's right," Paige said, trotting after her. At the door Marie stopped and turned to face her. Paige paused with the keys in her hand. "Look, I don't want to think I've misled..."

Marie reached up and took the keys from her. "Don't be silly," she said. Paige said nothing as Marie unlocked her door, pushed it open and motioned her in. Paige stepped reluctantly into her own apartment.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" asked Marie.

"Why? Are you a vampire or something?" asked Paige with a nervous laugh.


A Conspiracy of Sluts Ch. 01



"Huh?"

"Oh, vampires; you have to invite them into your home or they have no power over you."

"I didn't know that," said Marie. She stepped across the threshold. "See? Not a vampire."

"Well, that's a relief."

Marie handed Paige the brown paper bag with the juice and vodka. "Make drinks. Make 'em strong."

Paige hesitated but accepted the bag. She turned to the tiny kitchen and started pulling out glasses and ice. "Sorry it's so messy in here. I had a hard time deciding what to wear and I didn't have time to put everything away."

There was no answer. Paige turned but didn't see Marie in the dining nook/living nook area of her dinky apartment. The doors to the bedroom and bathroom were open but the lights were off. Paige put down the ice tray and checked the bathroom. It was empty. She moved towards the bedroom. "Marie?" she asked. Her voice wavered slightly. There was no answer. She peered into the dark. Her voice tiny and timid, she repeated; "Marie?"

There was something on the bed; a shadow or some kind of blot. Paige moved forward until she was looking down on Marie's slutty little dress neatly laid out atop the mattress. She gasped.

The gasp became a grunt as something landed on her back, seizing her around the shoulders and hitting her with enough force to topple her forward, facedown onto the mattress. Surprisingly strong arms and legs wrapped around her.

"HAHA!" laughed Marie. "I gotcha!"

"Wha...?"

Marie kept the initiative, rolling Paige over and grabbing her wrists. Paige was too surprised to struggle as Marie pulled her arms up over her head and began tying her to the headboard with a scarf. The firm, bare expanse of Marie's abdomen pressed into her face as she did so. When the little woman sat up she was straddling Paige's midriff. She wore nothing but a tiny strapless bra and a wisp of a thong.

"What are you doing!?"

"Having a little fun," she said with an expansive smile while pushing her hair out of her face. "I thought I might rape you."

"WHAT!?"

Marie grabbed two fistfuls of Paige's hair and leaned down to kiss her roughly on the mouth. She backed off an inch to whisper into Paige's face: "It doesn't have to be a bad thing. I mean, not if you enjoy it."

"Please," gasped Paige, unable to believe this was really happening. How could a friendly night out with a cute, diminutive coworker end in rape? Lesbian rape! She twisted helplessly beneath Marie. "Please, stop."

Marie sat up again and reached behind herself to unhook her bra. She tossed it across the room and lifted her arms to lace her fingers into her hair. Paige watched Marie's pert, shapely breasts rise up her lithe body as she stretched.

"OK. I'll stop... if you pass my test," purred Marie.

Marie leaned forward again while moving up Paige's body. She pressed her soft breasts into Paige's face, drawing the hardened nipples across her lips, pressing them together to envelop Paige's head in fragrant femininity. She moved down, kissing Paige on the forehead, eyes, nose, cheeks and chin before nibbling down her neck. She tugged at the collar of Paige's blouse to kiss along her collarbone. Paige's whimpers changed to reluctant groans.

Marie sat up again. "Mmmm... I have a feeling you're going to fail my test."

"What is it?" gasped Paige, suddenly worried she might not fail Marie's test.

Mare reached backwards and thrust a hand under Paige's skirt, between her thighs, up into her panties. As Marie began to tease Paige's pussy with her fingertips, Paige spread her legs wider. She moaned.

"Oh dear. You're as wet as... well, me. I'm sorry Honey; this rape is going to have to continue." She leaned forward and kissed Paige gently on the forehead.

"OK," nodded Paige eagerly.

"I'm going to leave you tied down."

"Yes!" gasped Paige.

Marie went down the line of buttons on Paige's blouse, popping each open in turn. When she opened her shirt and saw Paige's bra was the kind with the latch in the front, she cooed "Oh goody," before quickly opening it and exposing Paige's chest.

"Ooo, you have fantastic boobs, girl," said Marie.

It was true. The one part of her body in which Paige indulged in a modicum of pride were her breasts. They had always been large, but when she was a fat girl the well-shaped mounds got lost in the general lumpiness. Fortunately, when she lost all that weight her boobs had stubbornly kept their size and shape. Her sister Tammy called them "Miracle Tits".

Marie took them in her hands and began to knead them while pinching her nipples. "Mmm," groaned Paige. Marie buried her face in Paige's cleavage for a lingering series of wet kisses, tender bites and long licks that flowed like warm syrupy rivers under, around and over Paige's heaving chest. Paige arched her back and pressed as best she could into Marie's firm, squirming body. Marie paused to stand and slip her itty-bitty thong down her legs. Her pubic hair was trimmed to a short landing strip of dark hair. The lips of her pussy glistened dark pink with wet lust.

She pulled off Paige's skirt and panties and climbed atop her so that their legs were intertwined. Marie pushed her body down so the soft, wet lips of her sex kissed Paige's with hot, delirious pressure. She pivoted expertly: bringing their clits together, slipping them over and around each other, holding Paige's legs for balance as they scissored together with a slowly increasing cadence. The quiet wet slurps of pussy against pussy mixed with their panting breaths and half-verbal cries of pleasure as Marie drove them relentlessly forward toward the precipice of release.

"Ohhh... Yes!" cried Paige as she strained against her bonds. Her helplessness made her skin tingle as if electrified. She gazed up at Marie as the tiny woman towered over her, twisting their lust-slickened clits together as she hugged Paige's trembling leg to her chest. Her long, dark hair had fallen across her face again, making her look like a mad, lusty demon in the dim light.

"Yeah. You like that, huh?" panted Marie.

"Mmmm..."

"Me t... Oh! ...OH...," grunted Marie as she suddenly went rigid, her fingernails digging into Paige's thigh. "Ohhh, ahhh, Nuuungh.... Uh!" she growled as she tensed, froze, trembled and went suddenly limp, sagging onto Paige's now sweat-soaked body.

"Finish me..." panted Paige. "Please."

"Oh don't worry Honey," said Marie with that wicked smile of hers. "We've only just started."

Marie was as good as her word. She slipped down between Paige's thighs and began to greedily feast on and play with her pussy. She left no hidden crease of Paige's sex un-lapped or un-stroked as her fingers prodded up inside body and her tongue traced the damp, blindingly sensitive flesh of her womanhood. Paige fought against the climax, struggling to preserve the ecstatic pleasure of the brink of orgasm as it crept out irresistibly from her loins, filling her bones, skin and muscles with explosive tension. Her breasts heaved and swelled with her chest as she sucked in air through clenched teeth without exhaling. Her trembling skin rose in a tumultuous sea of florid goose-bumps as her body contorted luridly in a wild, horizontal dance. But, at last, there was no resisting the final shrieking plunge off the plateau of pleasure into the cataract of release. Her body jerked and twisted as she wailed out, shaken by an orgasm like none she'd ever experienced. It blinded her, deafened her and blasted away her thoughts as it ran its feral, delirious course. Finally she found herself trembling through the aftershocks and desperately sucking air as she lay, still bound, atop her sweat-drenched bedspread.

Marie climbed back up her body, her face shining wetly in the dim light. "Let's take a shower and go again," she suggested.

"No," panted Paige. "Make me... Make me do you... while I'm tied down. Force me."

"Mmm, you want to be a dirty girl after all huh?" cooed Marie as she began moving up Paige's body.

"I'm a dirty girl," repeated Paige.

"Not yet, baby-pop. You're just a big chicken."

Then Marie slapped her across the face; not too hard, but it stung. Paige's eyes popped wide in surprise.

"You want someone to make you do all the things you're too scared to do yourself," Marie told Paige. She slapped her again. Paige squirmed helplessly.

"Yes..." she gasped.

"You want me to make you into a slut," Marie told Paige as she pinched her nipples and twisted.

"Ow... yes!" cried Paige.

"Yes what? Say it!" Marie slapped her across the tits.

"I want you turn me into a slut!"

"Beg!" She grabbed her ears and pulled.

"Please... Please turn me into a slut!" Paige begged. And she meant it. She wanted Marie to do everything to her... to make her do everything in return. No perversion was too outré. No deed too depraved. Paige wanted to be like Marie: afraid of nothing, up for anything. "Make me do it..." she cooed as Marie scooted up to straddle Paige's head. Paige watched eagerly and helplessly as Marie's glistening labia lowered towards her.

She tasted another woman for the first time as her lips met Marie's pussy in a delicate kiss. Marie purred her approval and shuddered at the sensation of Paige's tongue gliding along the damp divide between her thighs. She let Paige become acclimated to the tart tang of cunnilingus, hovering over her just within reach and purring her approval. Paige explored Marie timidly at first but with an increasingly ravenous vigor as she grew enamored of the feel of her mouth, tongue and skin slipping over and through Marie's velvety folds. Marie grabbed handfuls of Paige's hair and guided her mouth as she pressed downward, pushing her trim muff into Paige's face and drenching her in dense, silky flows of her sultry nectar. As Paige brought her nearer the brink of ecstasy, Marie's pussy began pulsing with jets of her juice that flowed across Paige's face and pooled in the back of her mouth. Finally Marie cried out in ecstasy and sagged quivering away.

"OK," gasped Marie after she rolled to the side, coming to rest in a panting knot of damp flesh pressed to her sweaty flank. "Let's take that shower now."

"And afterwards, we'll do that again?"

"We're gonna be doing it all night, baby-pop," Marie laughed. "And that's just the beginning."



A Conspiracy of Sluts Ch. 02



Author's note: This is the second part of a five part novella. Each chapter is devoted to a different category of erotica: i.e. lesbian, group, interracial, BDSM, exhibitionism/voyeur (in that order). Although the five parts constitute a complete story I have tried to write each chapter so it could be enjoyed stand-alone as well (although I prefer you read the whole thing of course). I will post each chapter about a week apart. Enjoy!





Paige and Marie reluctantly untangled their bodies and dragged themselves from the bed. Their limbs were feeble with after-sex rubberiness; their minds were giddy. They had to support each other as they made their unsteady, giggling way to Paige's bathroom. 

They made love again in the shower. Afterwards, they made love in Paige's easy chair, then on the counter in the kitchen and, finally, in bed again. At last they collapsed, exhausted and panting in the sex-infused air, pledging to reignite their passion as soon as they caught their breaths. But when Paige woke hours later with the weak light from the alley seeping in through her bedroom window, Marie was gone.

It was nearly eleven in the morning. Paige got up and poked around the apartment, checking to see if Marie was really gone. She found a note taped to the bathroom mirror, written in loopy, oversized handwriting. It said: "Sorry to play Wham-Bam-Thank-You-Ma'am but I have someplace I need 2 B this AM. I had a GREAT time!!! We should TOTALLY do it again. Call me! Luv – M." At the bottom of the note, she had drawn a happy face with its tongue out.

One of Marie's business cards was tucked into the frame of the mirror. It said: "Marie MacDougall - Human Resources: Special Projects – Oreskos Incorporated." Then it listed Marie's phone numbers and email. Paige happily kissed the card and tucked it safely into her purse. She carefully folded the note, put it in an envelope and put the envelope in the drawer of her night stand, next to her vibrator.

She drifted around her apartment in a confused but pleasant daze. "I had sex with a woman," she said aloud to herself several times, each time with a different emotion: confused, amazed, panicked, proud. She wanted to call someone. She wanted to tell someone about her amazing night in lengthy and vivid detail but she trembled at the idea of revealing she was now, apparently, bi-sexual. She sat down at her laptop and wrote down everything she could recall, not skimping on any lurid, pornographic detail in an attempt to purge her confusion. It a way, it worked. An aching horniness took its place.

How different this Saturday morning was from a week ago, after her night with Doug. That night had begun with a bunch of people from her department taking her out to celebrate her first full week back at work after her long, near-fatal illness. Somehow Doug ended up with their group. He kept buying her wine. He kept telling her how pretty she was. Paige, stupid, lonely fool that she was, ate it up like a hungry puppy. When he suggested they go back to his apartment she had agreed.

He had been all over her the second they walked through the door. She hadn't resisted. He'd fucked her on the couch, throwing her down, pulling her clothes off and climbing onto her. She'd climaxed embarrassingly easy. He repositioned her; taking her from behind; then putting her on his lap and pushing his cock up inside her as he fondled her breasts; then he had her on her side as he clutched her leg to his chest and sucked her toes. She had come and come and come.

Then he had started playing with her butt, rubbing slick, chilly gel into her tender pucker, prying her open as he whispered gentle encouragements to her. Her panic began to rise but she was determined to be a good sport. As he slowly fed his huge cock into her bottom she had grimaced and moaned but, she had to admit, it felt good in a sick way. But he too had already come several times by then and he ended up doing her ass for a long, long time. Too long. When he fell asleep immediately afterwards, Paige gathered up her stuff and slipped away, her ass growing sorer by the minute and her knees and elbows seared from rug burn. 

There had been no happy glow the morning after that night, only pain and shame. However, her lust was now so inflamed from dwelling on her night with the petite Asian firecracker that was Marie MacDougall that she was almost ready to call Doug and give him another chance. 

But no. She knew she wasn't thinking clearly. She needed to calm her mind. Some exercise would be good. She would walk the stairs.

She got together her usual gear for her stair-walking regimen: sneakers, tee-shirt, sweatpants, a twisty to gather her hair into a ponytail, her can of mace and her police whistle. She looked at herself in the full length mirror before leaving the apartment. Staring back was the now-familiar skinny stranger's head poking up out of her baggy old pre-illness fat-clothes. She sighed, wishing she'd taken the time to buy herself some cute little shorts and a maybe a tight tank-top. But then she thought of those two rude boys following her and Marie down the sidewalk last night. She shuddered. Why invite trouble?

"Pathetic," she said to her reflection before she turned to leave. She grabbed her phone and slammed the door on the way out.

Out in the hall, a pretty, dark-skinned black girl with a triangular face and a short afro was standing outside the elevators talking on her phone. She glanced at Paige, carefully checking her out before turning away.

Paige put in her earbuds, plugged them into her phone and pulled up one of her favorite albums for exercising – The Avalanches, it had a great tempo - as she headed down the hall to the nearest stair door. Before entering the stairs she threw another look at the pretty black girl by the elevators. She caught the other woman staring right at her. Paige hadn't hit play yet so she heard the woman say: "No, the west one... Right now."

As Paige pushed though the door she paused to consider: was this stairwell the west one? In fact it was, she realized. That girl wasn't taking about her, was she? Paige shook her head. That's silly. She was just being paranoid.

Paige began her usual route: up to the always-locked roof access door then down the always-locked sub-basement access door: eleven stories, repeated twice. Her thighs ached a little after last night's energetic frolic but she pushed on, letting the pain focus her mind as it pulsed through her.

Descending now, her calves protested as she bounced down one step at a time. She had hit her rhythm, the balls of her feet hitting the steps in time with the music, and had just passed the door for the sixth floor when a whiff of cannabis smoke reached her. Nervous, she stopped as she hit the landing. There below her, just inside the door for the fifth floor, were two men passing a joint between them. They looked up at her sheepishly.

Paige's first thought surprised her. I wish I'd worn shorts.

They were about her age or maybe a little older; early thirties, tops. One had dark hair, dark eyes and bushy eyebrows that obviously required regular maintenance to keep it from becoming a single brow. The other was a dirty blond with sleepy eyes and a deep cleft in his chin. Both wore sleeveless tee-shirts and cargo shorts. Both had thick necks and meaty arms decorated with an assortment of tribal tattoos.

"Oh!" said Paige.

The dark haired guy hid the joint behind his back and coughed out a dense cloud of smoke. The blond guy merely said: "Oh shit."

"I don't mean to cause any trouble," said Paige hurriedly.

"You sure?" grinned the blond guy as the dark guy continued coughing. "You look like a troublemaker to me."

Paige retreated one step while reaching into her pocket for her mace. "I was just getting some exercise..."

The dark one barked out one last cough. "You go all the way up and down?" he asked mildly as he looked her over with watery eyes.

"Um, yeah. Four reps," she said, lying.

"That's pretty tight," said the blond. "I bet you have some great definition in those legs, huh?"

"Shit dude, can't you see we've already made her nervous. Don't fuckin' ogle her."

"Sorry lady. I didn't mean nothin' by that."

"Oh, it's OK. I'm just not used to finding company in here." Paige relaxed. The guys didn't seem like predators, just harmless stoner-jocks.

"My old geezer neighbor said he'd call the cops if he ever smelled me firing up in my apartment again," said the dark haired guy. "So now I gotta sneak off to the stairway to blaze; like being back in fuckin' school or something."

"Don't worry about it," said Paige as she began drifting down the stairs toward the guys. They weren't bad looking guys though neither was particularly handsome, but – OH! - the bodies on those two. They were obviously total barbell-nerds. "I'm just passing through."

"Hey," said the dark one. "I didn't mean to be rude. You wanna hit?" He held out the joint.

Paige had smoked occasionally in college but got bored with it. She raised her hand to wave off his offer. But as she looked into the dark-complexioned meathead's surprisingly beautiful chestnut-brown eyes she found she had changed her mind.

"Yeah... OK," she said.

It was a fat joint, more of a spliff really. She took a light toke and passed the thing along to the blond dude. In the corner of her eye she could see dark guy peering at her baggy clothes as if he could deduce the contours of her body from the way the fabric hung off her frame.

"By the way, I'm Tony," he said. "That's Neil."

Neil nodded a hello as he continued to hold his breath.

Paige exhaled. She felt a little loopy already. "Paige. Hi."

The joint came around to Paige again and she took a little bigger toke. She decided that would be plenty. She would put off her stair walking until later and take the elevator up to her apartment to chill out. Maybe she'd watch a movie or something. A little herb was probably the best thing for her overwrought mind. Then the roach was in her hand again and she decided one more lungful would be nice. Before she knew it the joint was gone and Paige had lost track of how much she smoked. She felt light-headed and very goofy.

"Wow. It's been a while," she laughed. It felt like both her pupils were on the same eyeball.

"You going to be OK to walk these stairs?" said Neil. "That's some mighty kind bud you just smoked."

"No. I think I'm done for now. Might watch an old movie or something..."

"Hey! We were gonna watch a movie too," said Neil. "You wanna join us."

Paige laughed. This was unreal. Suddenly she couldn't turn around without some guy inviting her to his place. She opened her mouth to make an excuse but her mind went blank. It was just easier to say: "OK."

"Awesome," said Tony with a slow nod. His face lit up in a toothy smile.

She followed them out into the hall, down past the elevators, back to Tony's apartment. His was one of the dinky one-bedroom set-ups just like hers, but with a mirror image layout. Framed sports posters hung on the walls: Rangers, 76ers, Red Sox, Yankees, Knicks, Lakers, Jets, Giants, Cowboys... It seemed like an oddly unfocused collection; most sports fans she knew were devoted on a particular team or sport, maybe two. Also, the place was surprisingly neat; not that she hadn't known tidy sports fans, but she'd never known a tidy stoner.

"It's hot in here," she said, because it was.

"That fuckin' geezer next door always keeps his heat maxed out. That shit seeps right through the wall. I gotta walk around my own apartment with my shirt off most of the time, even in winter."

"Are you trying to get me to take my shirt off?" she teased with a goofy, stoned laugh. 

"No, I was just warning you. We'll probably take ours off."

"But if you want to take yours off we won't complain," said Neil with a wolfish grin.

"Jesus, Neil," said Tony. "Chill the fuck out."

"I don't mind," said Paige as she sat and positioned herself demurely on the middle cushion of the couch. She was feeling silly, euphoric even. She was enjoying playing the coquette. "You can go ahead and take your shirts off if you need to."

They looked at each other and shrugged. Off came the shirts. Oh God they both had such beautiful torsos. Paige swallowed heavily as she felt herself go wet.

"You want a beer?" asked Tony.

"You have wine?"

"I think I got a couple of wine coolers. I don't know what flavor. Lemme look." Tony took two steps and was in the kitchen area. He squatted down and started rummaging around the refrigerator.

"I'll be right back," said Neil as he stepped into the toilet and shut the door behind him.

"Since you're my guest, why don't you pick out a movie?" said Tony without turning away from the interior of the fridge. "There's a stack of them on the bookcase in the other room if you want to take a look."

Paige got up and went to the other room: the bedroom. The bed was king sized. It barely fit the room. She had to walk sideways to get around the foot of the bed to the short, mostly bookless bookcase. There were a dozen violent moves – "Commando", "The Wild Bunch", "Saving Private Ryan", "Transformers", et cetera – splayed out on the top shelf; nothing that was really her cup of tea. The bottom row of shelves was enclosed behind doors of smoky glass. The thin spines of more movie boxes showed through indistinctly. She opened the doors and began reading the titles. – "M.M.F. Angels", "Daddy's Double Penetration Princess", "All-Amateur 3-Way Junkies", "Bukakke All-Stars 6", et cetera, et cetera.

She closed the doors. It suddenly felt a lot hotter in there. She plucked at her baggy tee-shirt to give the sweat forming on her skin some room to evaporate. Paige opened the smoky-glassed doors again and looked at the selection of pornos. What the hell is bukakke? She wondered. She pulled out the box and figured it out immediately from the picture. She put it back quickly and instinctually wiped her hands on her sweatpants. Gross!

Tony's voice called from the other room. "I got three raspberry wine coolers: two strawberry and a cranberry."

"Cranberry please," she shouted absently as she pulled out a box labeled "Two Cocks per Slut". She looked at the lurid photos on the box: plastic looking women squeezed between two men with their cocks disappearing somewhere into their nethers. Or so one would imagine. Tiny, pink starbursts barely censored out the points of penetration on the cover graphics. You'd have to watch the video to see the "good stuff", apparently. How stupid.

Ridiculous or not, Paige was breathing heavy now, her body dripping sweat. Damn, it was hot in there. She looked over her shoulder to the bedroom doorway. She jumped to her feet when she found Tony and Neil framed in the entry, looking down at her with big grins lighting up their faces.

"Got something picked out?" Tony asked.

Paige looked down at her hand. She was still holding the box for "Two Cocks per Slut." She looked back towards Tony and Neil. Their bare, muscular chests were glossy with a fine layer of sweat.

Paige gulped and bit her lip. She tried to hide the porno behind her back without looking like she was hiding a porno behind her back. "I... Uh...," she said. Her voice sounded weak and far away to her.

"Lemme see what you've got there," said Tony as he stepped past the foot of the bed and reached around Paige to take the box from her hand. She tried to twist away but he was quick for such a big guy. He grabbed it and yanked it from her fingers. After giving the box a quick glance, he showed it to Neil. Neil grinned eagerly.

"That look good to you?"

"It looks... um... interesting..." she said weakly.

What the fuck am I doing? Paige screamed to herself in her mind. Looking into the faces of the two strange men now blocking her exit she could see the expectation in their eyes. She went to take a step back but came up against the bookcase close behind. She thought of Marie stripping down and attacking her; tying her down to her own bed last night. How had Marie known she would go along? What would she have done if Paige has said no? She thought of the confidence such an action would require. How could she ever hope to approximate such courage, such poise...?

Then, before she knew what she was even doing, Paige had taken the bottom of her baggy tee-shirt in her trembling hands and pulled it up over her head. Standing in the sweltering room, feeling exposed in her ratty old bra, she looked at the two leering strangers with a whimper caught in her throat. They stared at her chest without pretense.

"Damn," exhaled Tony. "I wondered if you might be hiding something under that baggy shirt, but... Damn Paige! You're fuckin' hot!"

"Those sweatpants ain't doin' her any favors," said Neil with a suggestive arch of his brow. 

Paige's hands were trembling as she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her sweat pants and eased them down her hips. Her breath was coming fast and shallow as she kicked off her sneakers and stepped out of her pants. She stood looking at the two men with terrified but eager eyes as they inspected her body, now clad only in her simple cotton panties and bra.

The guys started pulling at their belts and pushing their jeans and boxers down their legs. There was no showmanship to their disrobing; they just got naked – fast. Their penises were half flaccid, but as they moved closer to Paige she could see them twitch as they grew wider, longer and more rigid.

"I... I..." stammered Paige. "I usually don't do this sort of thing. Well, ever... actually."

"That's OK Paige. We won't mind if you suck at it," said Neil.

"Yeah. We'll do all the work. You just relax and get some practice," said Tony.

They moved closer. Paige began to panic silently. Did she really want to fuck two strangers!? Together!? She pressed the backs of her legs to the bookcase as they moved up next to her, one on either side.

"We'll start you off slow, don't worry," purred Tony. His arm looped behind her and his hand cupped the small of her back, applying gentle pressure, easing her towards the bed.

"I..."

"Why don't you sit down?" asked Neil. He turned her around and placed a hand on her shoulder. With firm pressure he eased her ass onto the mattress.

It was a low bed. Sitting on it, her head came level with the upper abdomen of the two naked strangers. Their cocks were nearly hard now. They watched her looking at their proud members bobbing eagerly before her. They smiled down at her.

"What you want to do with those?" asked Neil.

Paige looked up into their leering, expectant faces. Her eyes were wide with trepidation. How do you tell two guys "never mind" at a time like this?

"Come on, don't be scared," said Tony.

Paige reached up and took their pricks in her hands. She gave them each a light, testing stroke. They reacted enthusiastically, growing firmer, larger. She leaned forward, her mouth open. Fingers laced into her hair to guide her head down. The tip of Neil's cock kissed her lightly as it brushed her lips. His pelvis rocked forward, pushing it past her lips and back along her tongue. She felt him reach the fullness of his erection as the rim of his glans rocked gratefully against her tongue and palate. She closed her eyes and lapped at it wetly. Soon he withdrew and Tony took his place. They began taking turns, one pumping her mouth as the other rubbed and slapped his cock across her face, leaving thin smears of pre-cum and her own saliva. A hungry groan escaped Paige's throat.

"Oh, fuck yeah... Suck our cocks, Paige."

"Yeah... Take it deep, girl."

Their voices were rasping grunts. Their hands plucked at her bra straps, slipping them off her shoulders. Tony exposed her breasts, pushed them together and squatted before her to thread his shaft into the warm crease of her cleavage. Neil leaned her head back and continued to pump a slow fuck along her tongue. Paige dropped her hand to her belly and slipped her fingers into her panties. Her fingers brushed her clit, teased along her lips. Oh God, she was so wet. Paige heard herself moan lividly.




A Conspiracy of Sluts Ch. 02



Then their hands were on her, holding her, controlling her; strong hands. They were laying her back on the mattress, working with unified but wordless intent as they positioned her for the next act. Paige's heart beat quicker. Her pussy squirmed and dripped with expectation. 

Tony was down by her feet, kissing along her legs as he pulled off her panties and pried her thighs open. Neil was climbing up on the bed, crawling up toward the headboard on his knees, smiling down past his proud erection as he loomed over her. Paige looked from one to the other with wild, disbelieving eyes. She swallowed heavily.

As Tony's lips finally encountered her pussy, Neil stretched a leg over her head to lower his cock to her face. Greedy, hungry and driven by cannabis-fueled lust, Paige took Neil's shaft in hand and brought her mouth to the wrinkled flesh of his tightened scrotum. He moaned loudly as she began drenching his sack with sloppy stokes of her tongue. Paige echoed his moan as two of Tony's fingers slipped inside her and his tongue found her clit.

Paige attended to Neil's sack with a crazed eagerness that surprised her. She wrapped her lips around one of his dangling jewels and bathed it thoroughly with her tongue. His back arched luridly and he had to grab onto her breasts to keep from falling backwards into the headboard. Encouraged by his reaction, Paige's mind focused with the fragile but all-enveloping concentration of the stoned, growing increasingly fascinated with the way the skin of his scrotum shifted, contracted and expanded in reaction to her touch. She played with it: teasing it and testing it. She released one ball and did the other. Neil groaned again - louder this time - and she stretched her neck to nibble back along his taint. He gasped and his whole body shuddered so lividly she wondered if she had made him come too soon. But he hadn't and she was relieved. She began to repeat her route through his sensitive nether-regions, in reverse.

At the same time, Tony's mouth continued to range up and down the wet valley of Paige's pussy. It felt good - very good - but there was no question that his skill and enthusiasm were simply not on par with that shown by Marie on the previous night. Also, frankly, Paige was getting tiring of having her face in Neils ass, no matter how fine, sleek and muscular it was (and it was, it truly was). Paige decided she was ready to rearrange their configuration. 

That's when she got an impulse. She decided to do something she'd wanted to do ever since high school; something silly and immature that she'd missed out when it was age appropriate. She craned her neck backwards to Neil's butt, gripped his flesh in her teeth and began to suck a wet hickey onto his cheek.

"Ow! Hey!" said Neil, reaching back to push her face away from his posterior. "She's biting me on the ass, man!"

Paige laughed deliriously. God! I am so stoned! she thought. 

"Hey...You guys have condoms, don't you?" she said aloud.

"Yeah!" they said as one.

"Good," she said. "Let's... you know... do something with those."

Neil rolled away and dug into Tony's nightstand, retrieving a row of condom packets in a long perforated strip. He tore one free and sailed it to Tony before detaching one for himself. Paige watched eagerly, propped up on her elbows, legs spread across the mattress, as Tony donned his sheath. His eyes drank in her body, spread invitingly below him. He smiled.

Tony got onto the mattress, standing on his knees between Paige's thighs. His cock bobbed before her, firm and slightly curved. Ready. She took it in her hand and pulled him forward. He lifted her legs and spread her wider as she threaded him into her body. She was very wet but the tightness of her depths gripped him and resisted as he slowly eased himself in. They both sighed gratefully as he sunk deeper into her flesh, the bristly fuzz of his pubis finally coming to rest against her clit. Neil climbed up to sit on the mattress by her head and offer his still-bare cock for her to lick with a leisurely rhythm. As she did so, and as her body rocked to Tony's slow, deep thrusts, Neil reached down to strum his fingers across her clit.

"Ohhhh!" she wheezed out involuntarily.

"This slut's in heat!"

"Pound that fuckin' cunt, bro."

Uck! They were saying such awful things. But then, their stupid-puppy enthusiasm was genuinely endearing in its own strange way and their animal lust was infectious. She let herself melt under the focus of their raw masculine power. She wanted to be their slave, their whore, their slut. What she didn't want to be was Paige Hellar, the chubby nothing who no man ever looked at twice.

"Roll me over," she demanded.

They obliged happily. She soon found herself on her hands and knees. Neil slipped on his condom and moved around to get behind her. He ran his hands along her flanks and around her ribcage, cradling her boobs in his hands as he drove his cock into her pussy with a slow, teasing invasion. Tony got in front of her with his legs wide. He stroked his shaft and guided Paige's mouth to his balls. She bathed his scrotum in her saliva as he groaned and stroked. The smell and taste herself on his tight, glistening sack disturbed and then enticed her as she moved up his be-sheathed shaft with her tongue, tasting latex, tasting pussy. Dissatisfied, she rolled the rubber off his rod to expose his bare flesh as she ran the cock far back into her mouth with a hungry hum. 

"Ooo... You got two cocks inside you, Paige. You like that, girl?"

Paige moaned ecstatically around the cock pushing at the top of her throat.

Time passed like this. Enraptured in a pulsating nexus of ecstasy, Paige had no conception of how much.

Eventually Neil broke the long spell. "Hey... Where' s the, uh... the KY, dude?" he asked from behind her. His voice was breathy and shook with the force of his thrusts.

"I'm not sure... maybe the nightstand?"

Paige knew what the KY meant: anal. But she wasn't reluctant now. She wanted them both in her pelvis, pushing roughly against each other; taxing her, punishing her, thrusting her down the path of perversion further than she'd ever dared.

"Oh God, yes!" she cried, although it came out sounding like "Unn gah, yuh" as she spoke around Tony's fat, thrusting manhood.

Neil got up to search for the KY. Tony pulled Paige up his body, kissing her face, neck and tits as he positioned her atop his pelvis. She reached over to fetch a fresh condom off the nightstand and paused to roll it onto his cock. That done, she rose up, taking his cock in hand and slipping him inside herself with a quivering sigh. She began riding him with a steady, energetic grind. Looking down, she saw drops of sweat dripping from her hair and falling from her breasts to rain on Tony's already damp flesh. He smiled up at her, looking for a moment like a grateful, horny kid. She smiled back. They kissed.

"Found it: medicine cabinet," announced Neil as he returned. He climbed up behind Paige and began kissing up and down along her spine as he worked a generous dollop of cool, slimy gel into her sphincter. Paige writhed and groaned as he pushed his fingers into her and worked her open. He was considerate. He took his time.

Soon Neil's breath was flowing hot along the side of her face as he lined up his cock to invade her bottom. Tony and Paige paused and held steady as Neil worked himself in. Paige keened and sputtered as he invaded her. It felt so good. It felt so bad. She pushed her body back against his pressure, forcing him deeper and deeper until both men were buried inside her to their balls. It hurt, there was no denying it, but still, beyond that there was a dizzying kind of pleasure that swept her onward. The pain faded but the pleasure remained and intensified, building and rising like an interior edifice of ecstasy which, dazzled and compelled, she continued to ascend to the heights of desire. Enraptured, she had to remind herself to breathe.

She rocked her hips between them as their lust-hardened shafts pummeled her from within. They settled into a slightly syncopated rhythm, the boys thrusting and pumping as her spine snaked and her pelvis pivoted. As they hit a perfect cadence Paige reached back to hook an arm around Neil's neck as she dug her fingernails into Tony's beefy chest. She thrust back with her ass and pushed down with her pussy until they began to time their thrusts with hers. Now she was leading; driving the hot, wet, noisy contraption of their three-way. Her motions increased in wild vigor, growing almost violent as she ricocheted between them in the cage of muscle they formed around her. Skin slapped and slid together as the heat from their bodies was focused inward, steaming Paige in her skin as she fucked her two partners with ferocious, wheezing intensity. Their cocks pushed harder and deeper, their hands clutching her skin and their fingers digging into her flesh. Paige was nearly out of breath, rasping and wailing like a feral thing, a demon.

"Fuck man," grunted Tony beneath her. "I'm 'bout to come..."

"Bitch is in fuckin' heat!"

"Slow down Paige... easy..."

"Aaaaaah... Uh, uh, uhhhhh..." Paige screamed. Her body went tense and began to contort with rhythmless fury. She growled through clenched teeth as every cell in her body was kissed by delirious pleasure in a fevered instant. "... Ooooh," sighed as she pitched forward to collapse limp on Tony's body. Echoes of her climax rattled through her as two cocks remained hard and fat inside her.

"Don't move. Don't move..." grunted Tony. "I don't want to come yet but I'm so fucking close."

"Yeah...me too..." rasped Neil. "Hey! We oughta finish with a money shot, bro."

"Shit... Why the fuck not!" agreed Tony. "Let's paint her face."

"Wha..." mumbled Paige, her eyes unfocused, her jaw slack.

Before she knew it, she was on her back, looking up with confused and tired eyes as the guys hovered above her. They stripped off condoms that trailed away long, shimmering strands of pre-cum and began stroking their rock hard shafts towards her upturned face.

"No! Don't do... Not that..." she pleaded, her hands up, palms out, blocking her face. She felt a little silly for becoming reluctant at this point, after all she'd already let them do... but still, yuck.

Gentlemen that they were, Tony and Neil shifted their aim just in time, pointing their cocks away from her face and down along her torso. They erupted nearly at once. Empurpled pricks trembled and jerked, and Paige twitched involuntarily as she felt the hot pulses of pearly slime explode against her chest and splatter along her abdomen. She had never actually watched a man ejaculate before so she observed with a reluctant fascination as they emptied themselves of a copious amount of spunk onto her sweat-streaked skin. Viscous white flows of sperm soon clung to her nipples and oozed in thick rivulets down the slopes of her breasts to pool in the concavities of her body. Paige's face contorted in a grimace of disgust at what they'd done even as the smell of fresh sex and the feel of their comingled sperm clinging to her florid skin made her tingle with a depraved thrill.

"Holy shit, Paige. You look so fuckin' awesome right now," said Tony as he looked down at her flushed, sweaty, semen-blasted torso.

"Ew... really?"

"No doubt," said Neil as he sank onto the mattress next to Paige. He leaned over and kissed her gently on the temple. He used a finger to delicately sweep an errant lock of hair from her face.

"So, you want that wine cooler now, beautiful?" asked Tony with a grin.

Paige vigorously shook her head 'no'. The thought-blurring flood of hormones and pheromones – not to mention marijuana - that had swamped her mind in a flood tide of lust was quickly ebbing away and she was feeling Deeply Freaked Out. Suddenly she felt more naked than merely nude, more despoiled than simply screwed. What had she done? Just look at her!

She announced she had to leave, pulling herself off the bed while apologizing in a shaky voice with flustered glibness. She pulled on her baggy clothes in an unseemly hurry, not even bothering with her undergarments which she left crumpled on the carpet. Her loose tee-shirt clung to her sweat and sperm-smeared chest as if it had been adhered to her with paste. The contours of her breasts and the erectness of her nipples were on clear display under the sun-faded yellow fabric now damply stained a blotchy mustard color. She plucked at the gummy cloth with manifest revulsion as the two men sat on the bed and watched with sleepy amusement. Tony offered the use of his shower and a spare shirt but Paige demurred. She just wanted to get the hell out of there.

Holy shit! What the fuck did I just do? What the fuck did I just do?!

She charged out of Tony's apartment and scampered to the elevator. After a long minute of repeatedly pushing the 'up' button it finally opened to reveal a young mother about Paige's age with a toddler in tow. As Paige reluctantly stepped into the car she saw the mother's nostrils twitch distastefully at the thick scent of sex that wafted off of Paige like a pornographic potpourri. The woman looked at Paige with transparent disgust and scooted her little girl behind her as if to shield the child from the embodiment of foul corruption that was Paige Heller. Paige blushed and turned away to face the door.

Two floors later, Paige fled the elevator car and hurried to her apartment. She locked herself inside, peeled off her clothes – literally, she had to peel them off - and climbed into the shower. Her skin was tacky and gross so she took her time with the soap: carefully washing and rewashing her breasts, her tummy, her pussy, her ass. 

Her mind wandered as she scrubbed, the sensation of her suds-slickened fingers rubbing against her wet skin reminding her of Tony's tongue, or Neil's cock. She washed her butt most carefully; working to rid herself of the lingering greasy feel of the generous slick of lube Neil had applied to her sphincter. One of her fingers disappeared into her backside and she keened pleasantly at the remembered sensation of anal sex done properly. Her other hand found her pussy. Soon she was in a full reverie, her freak-out once again forgotten, her imagination working overtime and spinning off baroque elaborations on her sudden fantasy. She imagined the disapproving mother from the elevator watching her with hard eyes as Paige fucked Tony and Neil... and the woman's husband too, why not? Both watching, frowning in distaste as their eyes roamed her flesh and their tongues darted out to wet their dry lips. Paige imagined skewering them with a hot stare, watching them watch her, daring them to quit being such pussies and join us already. Paige imagined them heeding her call...nearly falling over themselves as they clumsily stripped off their clothes... then more hands and more bodies joining them under the cascade of hot water...all that lust, focused on Paige, only on Paige. As the last of the hot water splashed off her skin, she came. 

And then she was alone again.

Paige turned off the now-tepid water with a shaking hand. She shook her head. "Shit...What's gotten into me?" she wondered aloud.

When she stepped out of the shower her skin was clean but her mind was dirty, much dirtier than before. She considered going back down to Tony's to apologize for running out on them... but no. She knew that if she went back down there it wouldn't be forgiveness she was looking for, nor what she'd get. She touched herself and felt the wetness. She bit her lip and looked longingly at her front door.

Then she slapped herself across her face, hard.

"I need to get a hold of myself," she said aloud. She pulled on her robe and turned away from the door. Tony would be there tomorrow if she wanted him. Neil could be summoned if requested, she was sure. She needed time to process this. She needed to think.

So, briefly, she did, but her thoughts were uneasy. Odd, wasn't it, that Tony and Neil would sneak off to smoke pot in the west stairway when Tony's apartment was on the east side of the building. Then she recalled the pretty black girl standing by the elevators, looking right at her while speaking on the phone. "No, the west one," she had said. That was weird...

Paige took out the cranberry juice and vodka from last night and poured herself a stiff drink. She sat and watched an "Ace of Cakes" Marathon on TV for three hours without seeing or hearing a damn thing. 



A Conspiracy of Sluts Ch. 03



Author's note: This is the third part of a five part novella. Each chapter is devoted to a different category of erotica: i.e. lesbian, group, interracial, BDSM, exhibitionism/voyeur (in that order). Although the five parts constitute a complete story I have tried to write each chapter so it could be enjoyed stand-alone as well (although I prefer you read the whole thing of course). I will post each chapter about a week apart. Enjoy!

*

Paige called Marie that evening. It went straight to voicemail. She hung up without leaving a message and swore at her phone. After spending all day ensconced in her own mind, churning through her recent cavalcade of ever-mounting debauchery, she felt like her sanity was eroding away beneath her. She needed to talk to someone, anyone, about what had been happening lately but she had never really been one to cultivate friends and confidantes. So, reluctantly, she called her sister Tammy.

"Hello?" answered Tammy.

"Can I spend the night out there?" Paige asked immediately.

"Why? What's wrong?"

"I don't want to talk about it on the phone. I'll tell you when I get there."

She splurged on a taxi to get her out to her sister's house in New Jersey, regretting it as she paid the driver with several twenties. Her sister met her at the door, her face turned down in a concerned frown. Paige hated that look. Since her near-terminal illness nobody in Paige's family seemed able to look at her without that same stupid expression on their face.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't want to talk about it right now."

"You came all the way out here..."

"I just want to do something wholesome; family stuff. Is there a Disney movie or something we can take The Larva to?" Paige asked, using their nickname for her young nephew, Art Junior.

Tammy gave her a suspicious look. "Wholesome, huh?"

"I'll tell you why later... I promise."

So Paige ended up taking little Art Junior to see a shitty kid's movie while Tammy and Art stayed home. The grateful horniness with which they practically tossed their son at Paige left no doubt that Paige's urge for wholesomeness would have a lusty flip-side. Unsurprisingly, that's all Paige could think about during the movie.

After returning home, eating dinner and playing with The Larva for a while before Art took him away to bed, Paige and Tammy snuck off to speak privately. Tammy was giving her looks of impatient curiosity as they sat down at the breakfast nook but Paige was still not ready to start.

"You and Art have a good time alone?" she asked, sipping the glass of wine Tammy had placed before her.

"A long shower, I blew him a little, then three minutes of pure heaven."

"Oh..."

"That's not a complaint! It'd been awhile. Two minutes was all I needed," said Tammy. She wiggled her eyebrows.

"That's... um, good."

"OK. Cut the crap, Paige. What's up with you? What's wrong?"

And so Paige told her. She hemmed and hawed at first, speaking reluctantly and slowly, but, as she warmed up to her confession, she began to gush the lurid details of her recent sex life, or rather an edited version thereof. In her telling, Marie was a guy named Marty and Tony didn't have his friend Neil along for their romp. Doug's story she left as-is. However, even with the edits, Tammy was surprised.

"You've screwed three different guys in a week?"

"Well... eight days..." And it was actually three guys and a woman... she added in her mind.

"Jesus, Paige..." she said, shaking her head slowly. "This isn't who you are. You're the smart one, remember? Start acting like it."

"Well you had your slutty phase."

"I was a kid. You're twenty eight years old."

"But... guys pay attention to me now."

Tammy puffed out an exasperated breath. "Will you listen to yourself? You've been given a second chance at life. You only want to spend it letting guys use you like that?"

"Can't I get a little understanding? Don't you remember what it was like having every guy want you?"

Tammy gave her a sad look. Paige returned it. Motherhood had not been kind to Tammy. She used to be the pretty sister, running with a different wild boy every week. Now she was doughy and careworn with the blandly grinding concerns of parenthood.

"I know. I know. Look, it's not like I wouldn't be tempted if I was single and every hot guy in town suddenly took an interest in me, but you have to be aware that to these guys you are nothing more than three holes and a pair of tits."

"Tammy!"

"I'm just trying to be clear that these guys don't respect you."

"Tam, I have a master's degree and a career that pays well; I've had lots of important conversations with guys who didn't use it as an excuse to try to get me into bed. Believe me; I've had plenty of respect. It's overrated."

Tammy gave her a long hard look. "Well, be that as it may, I have a request for you."

"What's that?"

"Please don't tell me this stuff. I've been feeling kinda... well, trapped lately being at home with The Larva all day. Hearing about you cavorting around the city with three guys a week isn't going to help."

"You're telling me to shut up about my problems?"

Tammy snorted in derision. "No. I'm asking you not to brag... If you have any actual problems I'll listen, but having hot guys falling all over you because you finally lost some weight doesn't qualify."

"But I'm not used to this... I don't know what I'm doing..."

Tammy laughed at her. "You really need advice? OK. Don't be stupid. Use protection, don't get pregnant, don't get an STD. Other than that, I don't know what to tell you."

Paige frowned. "OK... I guess."

"And don't tell Art either. I don't want him tossing off to fantasies of you fucking your way through Manhattan...I already caught him checking out your ass twice today.

"...Ew."

"I can't blame him, I guess. Mom said you'd spent that month you stayed with them after you got out of the hospital just exercising all day. I can see you've kept at it... I wonder if Art was pretending I was you when we boinked this evening."

"Tammy! Don't tell me that."

"Fair enough... Mutual code of silence then, little sis?"

"I guess. But who will I talk to about this stuff?"

"You can always call dad."

They had a good laugh about that.

***

After church the next morning they went out to eat. After that, Paige took the train back into the city. A handsome guy in a button down shirt and khakis had flirted with her and she'd flirted back but when he made a proposition that she join him in the toilet she demurred. Tammy would have been proud. However the stranger's desire had managed to re-ignite her libido. As Paige stood in the elevator on the foyer level of her apartment building she looked at the fifth floor button and tried to reason herself out of dropping in on Tony.

She was not successful. She stepped into the fifth floor corridor with her pussy already beginning to dampen. She walked down the hall to Tony's apartment, fighting herself over each step forward.

As she drew closer, she saw his door was open. She could smell paint. She poked her head in and saw an empty one bedroom apartment with a mirror image layout to her own. An old black man with a wiry tuft of white hair wrapped around the back of his head was rolling white paint onto the wall and listening to gospel music on an old, paint-speckled boom-box. The air was nice and cool.

The man smiled at her. "Help you ma'am?"

"Did Tony move out?"

"I don't know nothin' 'bout no one named Tony. I'm just paid to paint this here 'partment. They say they wanted it done tomorrow but I thought I'd go ahead and get it done tonight... so I can go fishin' tomorrow. My grandson's gonna be home from the Navy for a few days, y'see."

"Oh," said Paige. She looked up and down the hall. Did she have the wrong apartment?

"Y'see, I should be finished already, but I came here earlier -- 'bout noon I suppose it was - and they had the heat turned up to eighty-eight. Can you believe that? Eighty-eight. I had to come back after it cooled down. I can't take the heat like I could when I was a young man, I swear to God."

"The heat in this apartment was turned up to eighty-eight?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?"

So this must be the Old Geezer Next Door's apartment, she reckoned. Had he died? Maybe he was lying next door dying as Paige and Tony and Neil had their three-way. Paige shivered. She said, "I guess the guy I'm looking for lives next door."

"He must be a lucky cat to have a pretty lady like you huntin' him down."

Paige smiled a goodbye and went to the next door down the corridor. A skinny, middle-aged homosexual answered. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry, I think I have the wrong apartment. I was looking for a guy named Tony."

"Tony what?"

"I... I don't know."

"Well sweetie, I doubt any of my Tonys are the one you're looking for anyway."

Paige couldn't argue with that. She thanked him and went to the other apartment flanking the one being painted. She knocked and a chubby, middle-aged woman with a scrunched face opened the door.

"Yeah?" said the woman. She seemed annoyed at being bothered.

"Does a guy named Tony live here?"

"Ha. I wish!" said the woman.

Paige thanked her and looked up and down the hall quizzically. She must have been more stoned and fuck-dazed than she'd thought when she'd been down there. That was the only possible answer. She decided to come back later and ask around. Right now she was getting the creeps, although she couldn't put her finger on why.

***

Monday morning: Marie still hadn't called back, her sister didn't want to talk to her and Tony had apparently disappeared off the face of the earth. Paige was feeling low, used and abandoned. At work but unable to focus on the financial intricacies of Oreskos Corporation's various property investments, she left her cubical and drifted to the break-room. She stared at the Snickers bar in the vending machine for ten minutes. She got out a crisp dollar bill and put it back twice before she finally turned away. Feeling better for having won a skirmish with temptation she stepped back into the hall. She found Doug standing there waiting for her.

"Hey Paigey, you're looking fine today."

"Oh. Hi Doug."

"Aren't you going to ask about the party on Friday?"

Paige sighed. "How was your party on Friday?"

"Lonely! You ditched me, remember? But I don't hold grudges... not against lovely hotties like yourself anyway. But now I figure you kind of owe me..."

"I don't owe you anything Doug."

"Bad choice of words. Let me just ask you a favor then."

"What?"

"I just ask that you remember me. That's all. Could you do that... just remember me?"

"Remember you?" she sighed. "Of course I remember you. That's why I'm using your name, Doug."

"Noooo," he laughed with forced mirth. "I mean..." he looked over his shoulder and up and down the hallway. "You are on your way up babe; on your way to bigger and better things. I just want you to remember ol' Dougie when you're hot shit someday. Remember who discovered you."

Paige's patience finally ran out. "Discovered me? I'm not the New World or something. What the hell are you even talking about anyway?"

"I..."

Security didn't come up to accounting very frequently - not unless someone was being escorted out of the building following an unpleasant firing -- so it was notable when a six foot five black man in the standard gray polyester security uniform came striding around the corner. He seemed oddly formidable for corporate security. She'd thought they only hired cop-wannabes rejected by every police force in the metro area. This guy looked like he could single-handedly hold back whatever army you happened to have with you at the time. One thing was obvious: his eyes were fixed on Doug and he was coming toward them at a quick walk. Doug saw him and his face dropped.

"Mr. Parker, Sir," said the guard with a forced obsequiousness that came out sounding like a threat.

"Uh... yeah?" asked Doug. He had gone pale.

"There is an important matter requiring your attention. May I speak to you privately?"

"I'm kind of busy."

"This comes from very high up... Sir. I suggest you hear me out."

Doug turned to Paige. "I'd better see what he needs."

"Yup. You better," said Paige, smiling from ear to ear. She caught the eye of the security guard -- Lucas Burr, said his name tag -- and he answered her smile with a slight twinkle in his eye. He motioned Doug towards a meeting room across the hall and let his eyes linger on Paige before he turned to follow.

Was Doug getting fired? Paige snuck up the closed door of the conference room and put her ear to it. The conversation didn't travel well through the wood. She could hear the sound of Doug and Officer Burr's voices but not the meaning. Every once in awhile Burr's impossibly deep voice would rise in volume enough for a few words to make it through: "...God help you if you fuck this up..." (mumble, mumble) "... don't forget who's running this goddamned party..." (mumble, mumble) "...I told you, I don't fuckin' care if you saw her first..." (mumble, mumble) "...it's a special fuckin' project, that's why..." et cetera. She couldn't hear anything Doug said other than his pathetic, whimpering tone. Paige slipped away when it seemed that the rhythm of their conversation indicated they were headed for a wrap-up.

Feeling uneasy, she returned to her desk with the distinct impression she had been the topic of Lucas Burr's tirade. But who the hell was Lucas Burr to her and why would he interfere to keep Doug away from her? And then there were the bits and pieces of conversation she had picked up. He had told Doug not to "fuck this up"; fuck what up? He mentioned a party; what party? And who was running "this goddamned party" anyway? And he referred to a "special project"? Paige dug out Marie's business card and read: "Marie MacDougall. Human Resources -- Special Projects."

What the hell was going on?

She called Marie. Marie seemed to know everyone and be aware of everything going on. Surely she'd have a reasonable explanation for all of this. But Marie's phone went straight to voicemail, just as it had all weekend. It was only when Paige decided to seek Marie out in person that she noticed Marie's business card had no office number listed. Stymied, Paige sat back helplessly and fought back the paranoid panic growing within her.

She had to do something... but what? She considered talking to Doug again, but that required talking to Doug, again. Besides after receiving a forceful talking to from a huge African American security guard, Doug would definitely consider answering any of her questions a favor worthy of "repayment". Of course there was Lucas Burr. She remembered how he'd looked her over. He might be willing to chat...

Paige took the elevator down to the lobby and approached the information kiosk. The two guards behind the semicircular counter gave each other a significant look as she approached.

"Can I help you Miss?" asked one of the guards politely. His tag said his name was Laurence Rosedale.

"I need to speak to one of your colleagues. His name is Lucas Burr."

The guards looked at each other again before Rosedale asked: "Concerning what, may I ask?"

"It's a personal matter."

"I'll... um, see if I can get him," said Rosedale. "Who shall I say is looking for him?"

"Paige Hellar."

The other guard watched as Rosedale punched a number into the phone. "Some woman is looking for Luke... says her name is Paige Hellar.... A personal matter, she said... Umm Hmm... I know... Right." Rosedale put his hand over the mouthpiece and spoke to Paige. "He's not available right now."

"I'll wait."

The two guards looked at each other significantly again. Rosedale put the phone to his mouth again. "She says she'll wait." His eyes shifted around the ceiling as he waited for an answer. Finally he responded: "OK, will do."

"OK. Come with me Miss Hellar," said Rosedale as he stepped out of the kiosk and started towards the back of the lobby.

She followed him to a steel door behind the cluster of elevators. He led her down a series of bland hallways until he showed Paige into a scuffed-up room with a metal table and several metal chairs. There was a long mirror along one wall of the room.

"Wait here please," he said and left the room. The door closed behind him with a loud click.

Paige looked at the mirror and was confronted with a full view of her new slender self, dressed for business and looking out of place in the dingy interrogation room. She put her face to the glass, trying to peer through to see if anyone was on the other side. "Anyone in there?" she asked loudly. There was no answer. She pulled a chair up to the mirror and sat with her back to the glass. And she waited.

Lucas Burr showed up fifteen minutes later. He smiled at her as he entered the room. "Someone said you wanted to speak to me," he said.

Paige had cooled down somewhat. No longer full of indignant fury at the possibility that she had been discussed at a meeting to which she had not been invited, she fumbled for a way to begin.

"Hi. Hello. I'm, um, Paige Hellar," she said. She stood and extended her hand.

Lucas Burr lightly took her hand and gave it the faintest of squeezes. "Very pleased to meet you, Miss Hellar."

"I... um... I wanted to know... um... What were you saying about me to Doug?"

Burr smiled innocently. "I didn't discuss you with Mr. Parker in any way, Miss. I don't even know you."

"Well, what were you talking to Doug about?"

Burr laughed gently. "I can't discuss that Ma'am. You know that."

"Did Doug put me on a list of easy sluts or something?"

"Not that I'm aware of Miss."

"He implied he discovered me. I don't know what that would mean otherwise."

"Whatever issues you have with Mr. Parker, I suggest you take them up with him, Ma'am."

"Well... Shit!"

Burr laughed deeply and slowly. "Look, Miss Hellar. I know what this is all about. You're not the first."

"I'm not? The first what?"

Lucas Burr stepped closer to her, filling her personal space. Instinctually, she took a step back. The backs of her knees came up against the chair behind her and she dropped into it. Burr took another step forward so his dark bulk towered over her. He reached up and gently brushed the side of her face with his fingertips. Paige swatted his hand away.

"You're not the first office girl here who got curious about gettin' some dark meat."

"Whoa!" said Paige as she pulled herself up out of the chair. She put a hand against Burr's chest to push him away. The firmness of his massive pectoral muscles surprised her. She could feel the power in them as he let her move him back a couple of feet. "I didn't come down here to..."

Lucas Burr took her wrist in his massive paw and slid her open palm down his body. She tried to pull away as he moved her hand nearer his belt buckle but he held her close.

"I liked the way you told me you were an 'easy slut'. Very subtle. Heh heh heh."

"I... I..."

Down he moved her hand. Down over the front of his pants until it rested atop the bulge of his cock. It twitched noticeably through his trousers as she let her fingers close on it.

"What do you think you're doing?" She asked quietly, breathily.

"Helping you make up your mind."

"What are you going to do to me?"

He got in close, his face inches from hers. "As much as I can get away with."

His palms were on her shoulders now. She left her hand where it was, still cradling his manhood through his pants. She could feel it grow as she gave it a gentle squeeze. She felt herself go wet at the sensation.




A Conspiracy of Sluts Ch. 03



"Are there people watching us?" she asked, her voice a whisper now.

"What do you think?" he said to her as he urged her back down into the chair. He stepped closer so he was straddling her knees. Paige looked up at him, terrified at what he'd do, impatient that he just go ahead and do it.

"Let me see your tits," He ordered.

Her hands shaking, Paige began to pluck at the buttons of her blouse. She could feel her heart pounding quickly through her fingertips. Soon she was out of buttons. She opened her shirt for Lucas Burr.

"Take it off. The bra too."

Paige obeyed, shrugging off the shirt and reaching behind herself to unhook the bra. She hesitated as she let the bra fall away until she finally let it drop into her lap. He reached down and toyed with her breasts; squeezing and kneading them. He took her nipples between his thumbs and index fingers and squeezed them until she winced in discomfort. She grew wetter and wetter.

"Take my cock out," said Burr.

Paige reached up and opened his belt and his fly. She pulled his trousers down and was confronted by his inhuman bulge showing through his tight, blue, boxer briefs. She laid her hands upon the outline of his maleness and traced him delicately through the fabric. She was pleased to see him squirm as she teased him. But she was too impatient to tease him for long. Taking the elastic in her hands she pulled his underwear down to unleash his monster. It swung outward, bobbing luridly in her face. He was uncircumcised.

"I'm really not a slut... not usually..."

"Sorry baby, but I don't give a fuck what you usually are. You gonna suck that or what?"

Paige looked up at him through wide eyes. Why was Luke Burr was being such a jerk? Why was she going along with it? She took his dark, rigid shaft in hand and brought it to her lips.

"Wait," Burr ordered. "Turn this way. I want to watch you suck my cock in the mirror."

She obeyed, turning ninety degrees to present her profile to the mirror. Luke Burr moved close again. She kissed the tip of his prick and drew her tongue around his head. She watched in the mirror from the corner of her eye as a thin strand of shimmering pre-cum stretched between her lips and his cock.

"Quit fucking around and suck that shit," he said, bringing his big meaty hand up behind her head and pulling her face forward. His cock sank deep into her mouth. It tasted musky. She reached up to clutch the base of his thick shaft. "Oh... shit..." he groaned as he threw his head back.

Paige reeled mentally. She'd never been with a black man before. She strained her eyes to watch in the mirror as her pale-pink face slid along that fat purple-brown cylinder. She reached up under her skirt and pulled her damp panties aside to strum her clit. Stringy flows of spit and milky precum began to escape her lips to drip from her chin and speckle her tits. She didn't care. Her lust was running the show now.

"Oh baby, I want to fuck that sweet pussy of yours soo baad," said Burr.

"Yes... I... I want you inside me," she heard her voice say as she looked up at him.

"Get up," he ordered. His meaty paw clamped on the back of her neck and pulled her up out of her chair.

"Do you have a rubber?" she asked.

"Don't worry baby, I won't come inside you," he purred.

"Uhhh..."

"I said: Don't. Worry."

Paige frowned but didn't balk. She said nothing as he turned her so she was facing the mirror with him behind her. He reached down and yanked her skirt down her legs. Standing, he reached around and started kneading her breasts as he kissed along the nape of her neck.

"Oooooo..." she purred as one hand slid down her trembling abdomen and into her panties to cup her pussy. She was very, very wet as his fingers dipped into the crease of her sex.

As she was slipping into a warm cocoon of ecstasy defined by Luke Burr's massive arms and probing fingers, a sharp but muffled noise startled her back to cognizance. There was no mistaking it; it was a sneeze. And it had come from behind the long expanse of glass in front of her. She looked into the mirror but only saw her own surprised face beneath Burr's suddenly irritated one. He forced his face into a weak attempt at nonchalance as soon as he realized Paige had noticed the unexpected sound too. But Paige was too far gone to back out now. She rolled her eyes back in her head and pretended she'd heard nothing.

Luke's fat middle finger poked up inside her vag. "Fuck me," she gasped as the knowledge that someone -- or, more likely, several someones -- were watching them from behind the glass caused her to shudder with wanton pleasure. She bent her head back against Luke's chest as he fingered her hole and clit with one hand while hugging her tits with the other. She came suddenly, pushing back into his massive body as she quaked and sputtered through a surprise orgasm.

He pushed her panties down off her legs and brought his big pink palms back behind her knees. With an easy motion he lifted her up against his chest with her legs spread wide, facing the mirror. She reached up to hook her left hand behind his thick neck as she used her right to take his rigid member and press it to the wet lips of her sex. She pushed his raw manhood back along her damp crease and threaded the domed shaft up into her body with an enraptured sigh.

"Ohhh!" she cried out as his cock pried her pussy lips wide and forced her open. Oh God, he's raw inside me! She thought with an ineffectual surge of panic. She'd never had a man inside her without protection. Never. Her heart raced and her body trembled as she let it happen.

She clasped her fingers together behind his neck and rode his strenuous fuck with a shared, sinuous rhythm. As he raised and lowered her up and down along his cock with his powerful arms she watched in the mirror as the dark shaft pistoned in and out of her ruby tinged gash. He moved his hands up her thighs as he took a step closer to the mirror. She kicked off her heels and braced her feet against the surface of the glass with her toes splayed wide.

"Holy shit," she gulped as she watched him fuck her in pornographic detail. God she looked good, she admitted to herself: her pale body spread out against his dark hulking chest; his fat member punishing her sopping wet pussy; her heavy breasts bouncing and swaying as he pumped her hard. She could see every detail of his raw, fat, veiny cock invading her. It was shiny and damp with her juices that flowed and dripped from his tightly constricted scrotum. She writhed against his chest as she wished she could watch the men watching her. She imagined their taught faces, their bulging eyes, their hands uselessly plucking at their flies. There were no little pink starbursts censoring the good stuff here, they could see it all.  

And she came again, jerking and wailing, pushing against the mirror with her feet hard enough to warp the reflection.

"I'm fucking you so fucking hard..." he grunted.

"Ohhhhh," she moaned.

"I'm gonna come any second." he growled in her ear.

"NO! Not in me!!!"

"You wanna eat my cum?"

No, she didn't, actually; she didn't care for the taste - not that she had ever had a lot of opportunity to get used to it. But then, she sure as hell didn't want him coming inside her! She heard herself croak: "Yes!"

"Get down, I'm 'bout there," he said in a ragged voice. He let her feet find the ground and he released her from his massive hands. She dropped to the floor gracelessly. He grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her head to his cock. He was stroking it quickly, pointing it at her face. It was glossy with her slime. She tasted herself as she accepted it into her mouth.

"OHHH FUCK!" He shouted as he came. Paige felt the slimy pulse of sperm filling her mouth. She tasted the pungent tang of salty musk. She felt the excess spunk erupt from the corners of her lips to course down her neck and splat against her heaving tits. Unwilling to swallow it, she let if flow out as he withdrew his cock. A flood of semen painted her sweat streaked body as she sank to the floor.

"Daaamn," panted Luke Burr. "Fuck. Baby... you're... something else. Holy fuckin' Jesus, that was good."

Paige couldn't answer as she struggled to catch her breath through lips gummy with spent spunk. She looked up at the mirror and saw no one but herself and Lucas Burr, but she eyed it like she was skewering every pervert rent-a-cop with her knowing glare.

"So..." she gasped thickly. "Is Doug passing my name around on some kind of slut list or what?"

"Christ woman, don't you ever give up?"

She didn't get an answer. Actually, she forgot the question when she realized the state she was in. She was filthy, disheveled and soaked with sweat and semen. Plus her skirt and blouse, which had been wadded up on the floor beneath her, had caught a lot of the sperm she'd refused to swallow. She had a moment of panic when she realized there was still six hours of work left in the day.

Private Security Officer Lucas Burr proved his worth, however. There was a shower in guard's locker room and he let her use it to wash off the filth. He found an old hoodie and some sweat pants for her when she got out. He told her he had called her supervisor and reported she'd twisted an ankle and had fallen in one of the stairwells. He'd informed them she'd already been taken home.

"Twisted my ankle?" she complained as she dressed. "Now I have to pretend to limp around all week."

"You'd rather tell them you were fucking a nigger security guard?"

"Don't be crass," she said.

But as he drove her home in one of the rent-a-cop patrol cars she had to admit to herself, it was a good excuse, too good in fact. She turned to him as they neared her building.

"How did you know I walk the stairs for exercise?"

He kept his eyes forward as he spoke. "Look baby, you're a hot piece of ass and an excellent fuck but I ain't talkin' to you no more. You're too fuckin' crafty for me."

True to his word, he didn't say another thing until they pulled up to the curb in front of Paige's apartment and he unlocked the car door. "Here you are baby, home sweet home."

She was suddenly very annoyed. She opened the door but paused with one foot on the curb. "I know your buddies were watching us fuck," she said with a sneer.

He smiled a big smile. "Is that so? Well, have a good day now, ma'am." He reached over and pushed her out of the car with a powerful shove. She tumbled out into the midday crowd of pedestrians and came to rest on her back. As he drove away she grabbed a chip of concrete off the crumbled sidewalk and threw it after the car. It missed, skittering harmlessly into traffic.

"I know something's going on, you fucking asshole!" she shouted as Luke Burr pulled away.



A Conspiracy of Sluts Ch. 04



Author's note: This is the fourth part of a five part novella. Each chapter is devoted to a different category of erotica: i.e. lesbian, group, interracial, BDSM, exhibitionism/voyeur (in that order). Although the five parts constitute a complete story I have tried to write each chapter so it could be enjoyed stand-alone as well (although I prefer you read the whole thing of course). I will post each chapter about a week apart. Enjoy!

*

Paige was agitated. She paced her tiny apartment with quick strides that covered the round trip from the front door to the bedroom window in a few seconds per lap. She mumbled to herself, cursing "Officer" Luke Burr, Douglas Parker, mysteriously disappearing Tony What's-His-Name and his stupid friend Neil. She cursed Marie for tempting her into a fevered night of lesbian sex then not calling her back. She cursed herself for becoming a stupid horny slut at this stage of her life. She cursed her sister for having had the good sense to be a stupid horny slut when she was young while Paige had stayed at home studying, doing homework and eating whole boxes of pop-tarts at a sitting. She cursed stupid God for giving her a stupid fucking vagina.

She tried to nap but couldn't sleep. She mixed up some cranberry juice and vodka and drank it while she watched the last half of one of the old Thin Man movies on TCM: the one where Jimmy Stewart turns out to be the murderer. The physical, mental and moral exhaustion of the day finally caught up with her just before the film reached its denouement and she fell asleep in her chair. When she woke up it was almost three in the afternoon. 

She checked her phone for messages. There was one from her supervisor, hoping she was OK and encouraging her to take it easy. Still nothing from Marie. She put the phone down and fidgeted around the apartment for a few minutes, trying to talk herself out of calling Marie again. She didn't want to be an obsessive one night stand; calling and calling and calling and not getting the hint. But - damn it - wasn't there anyone who was willing to have sex with her more than once?

She picked up the phone and selected Marie's number.

"Heeeey, girl!" sang Marie into the phone after the first ring. "What's up?"

Paige had expected to get Marie's voice mail again. She had a calm, friendly message all lined up in her head. However, getting Marie in person threw her off her plan. "Where have you been? I've been freaking out!"

Marie laughed. "I heard you met Luke."

"So you know Luke?"

"Luke's an old friend. I asked him to keep Doug off your back but I told him to keep it on the down low. Sounds like he got a little carried away. Luke isn't too good with subtleties." Marie laughed again.

"So he told you he fucked me?"

"Did you mind?"

"He had people behind a mirror watching us..."

"He told me you thought that. He says it's not true."

"I know it is true."

"Listen, Honey, I don't want to get in the middle of this. I've told him to leave you alone from now on. That's the best I can do. If some of those other security guys were watching... well, they've certainly been undressing you with their eyes every time you walked through the lobby anyway. At least now they won't have to stare as hard."

"Oh Jesus," groaned Paige.

"So, what else is new with you?"

"I slept with two guys on Saturday... at the same time, I mean."

"Woo! You go girl!"

"Yeah... it was pretty awesome," she admitted. "But I went down to his apartment the next day and it was empty... I'm starting to think something weird is going on."

"Maybe he just wasn't home?"

"No. It was empty. No furniture, it was being repainted, the heat was fixed. And speaking of the heat thing, that was really weird because they'd told me..."

Marie interrupted. "You're just freaking out because you're feeling guilty for letting yourself have a little fun for once. So what if the apartment was empty? It's New York. People come, people go."

"But..."

"Listen baby-pop, tonight I'm going over a friend's place to hang out. Why don't you come along? It sounds like you could stand getting out of that tiny apartment of yours and I think you'd like my friends. Wha'd'ya say?"

A smile split Paige's face. She felt suddenly giddy, light as a feather, all cares and confusion washed away. "Well, yeah... That'd be great."

"Excellent!" said Marie. "I'll be over at about seven to pick you up." And she hung up.

The panic began almost immediately, kicked up by a sudden dread of meeting Marie's friends, who Paige assumed would all be impossibly classy, cool and sexy. Paige methodically emptied her closet looking for something to wear. She wanted something sleek and spicy or, failing that, at least something non-frumpy. But soon she was confronted by a pile of unacceptable garments stacked atop her bed and a closet empty of everything but bare hangers and old fat-Paige clothes. It was time for plan B. She needed to go shopping.

As she descended in the elevator she did a quick mental re-budgeting. Of course she really couldn't afford to replace her whole wardrobe; the debt from her medical expenses was staggering. But she was working again with regular paydays on the horizon. Surely two or three cute outfits - no, scratch that, hot, alluring outfits, not "cute" - wouldn't break her budget... Well, maybe it would in the short term... but, damn it, she didn't want to feel like a Laura Ingalls at Caligula's court if Marie was taking her to an orgy or something.

Orgy?

Paige paused on the sidewalk in mid step. Orgy, she thought, again. Is that what she was rushing towards? Knowing Marie -- if she could even be said to actually know Marie -- probably, yeah.

"What the hell am I doing...?" she said aloud as she stood stalled on the sidewalk. This time of day it was only moderately busy with foot traffic. She moved to the side to get out of the current of humanity as she wrestled with her moral panic. She'd been smashing through long-held taboos so quickly lately that her moral qualms had begun to blur. It was like some force had been compelling her forward into greater and greater feats of depravity until some atavistic part of her had sparked into action and now she was rushing headlong towards she-knew-not-what under her own power. The suspicion that something weird was going on -- curtailed for a time when Marie had answered her phone and invited her on some new adventure -- reasserted itself. Her heart raced. Her palms were damp.

That's when she noticed she was outside the vegan restaurant where'd she met with Marie last week: "The Gentle Gourmet" it was called. Curious and eager for a distraction, she peeked in through the front window. Inside, she saw Marie's flakey restaurateur friend Heather speak to a waitress briefly then turn and disappear into the kitchen.

Paige went in.

"You can sit anywhere you'd like," said the waitress, a cute girl with bobbed red hair and the beginnings of what would probably be a sleeve of colorful tattoos someday.

"I want to speak to Heather."

"Let me see if she's busy."

As she turned toward the kitchen Heather stepped out. She seemed surprised, maybe even a little alarmed, to see Paige standing there.

"Hello," she said with a polite smile. "You're Marie's friend."

"Yes, that's right. I'd... I'd like to talk to you... can we go somewhere private?"

Heather looked around the restaurant. It was nearly empty but it didn't seem to satisfy. "My office?"

"Sure."

The office was in the back of the kitchen. It was more of a large closet really, with a small desk, a filing cabinet and a safe. There was barely room for two people to sit. Their knees nearly touched as they sat facing each other. Heather closed the door and waited for Paige to speak.

"Um...look, you know Marie; she's very, um, nice. But... but I get the feeling something is going on... I feel like I'm being set up for these... weird situations..."

"Situations?"

"Sexual situations."

Heather seemed nonplussed. "Well, Marie is a bit of a free spirit..."

"I think there's some kind of... I hate to use this word... conspiracy to lure me into these sexual situations..."

"A conspiracy?"

"It sounds crazy saying it out loud, but there've been so many strange things..."

"You seem a little agitated... let me get you some tea."

"I don't..."

"No. I insist. It will calm your nerves. Then you can tell me what you think is happening."

Paige breathed a sigh of relief. Heather wasn't laughing in her face. That was much better response than she expected. "OK. I'll have some tea."

Heather disappeared for a while and returned with some oddly colored hot water in sturdy porcelain cups. It tasted a little harsh but she drank it eagerly as her throat grew dry telling Heather the story of her recent descent into sluthood. Heather listened politely, saying little as she watched Paige drink the tea and speak.

Finally she finished her story. "Well? You know Marie better than me... What do you think?"

Heather seemed vaguely distressed to be asked her opinion. "I... I don't mean to... Well, it sounds kind of... well, incredible..."

"So you think I'm making this up?"

"You have to admit it sounds odd. You did admit it."

"I..."

The door to the office opened and a man stepped in. "Hey Heather, I'm..." he began to say. Paige looked up and saw Neil, the meathead blond she'd had the three-way with at Tony's apartment on Saturday.

"YOU!" said Paige.

"Aw shit," said Neil.

"Look, Paige..." said Heather in a hurry. She suddenly seemed very panicky.

"You're in on it!" spat Paige as she stood quickly and jabbed an accusatory finger at Heater.

Then the world did a wild lurching spin as Paige's knees gave out and her vision went all grainy and washed out. She crumpled into Neil's meaty arms.

"What the fuck is she doing here?!" cried Neil.

Heather shushed him as she clamped her hand across Paige's mouth. She needn't have bothered. Paige discovered her tongue was working about as well as her legs.

"Just hold on to her," she said. "The drugs are finally kicking in."

***

Pale fingers of rosy light woke her as the waning radiance of dusk crept across her face and stabbed rudely through her eyelids. As she shook herself from a dream both disturbing and enticing she became aware of a painful dryness in her mouth and a sharp ache that throbbed between her temples. She rolled away from the light but the headache followed. She half opened an eye and saw a room that was unfamiliar. She tried to think but her mind was slow and foggy. The dry flesh of her tongue and lips remained stubbornly stuck together as if painted with thick paste.

She sat up and slick satin sheets slipped off her bare breasts to pool around her hips. She covered her nipples with her fingers as she looked around the room. One wall was a huge window slatted by floor to ceiling vertical blinds; the other walls were painted a muted pink. She crawled to the side of the bed furthest from the window and lay there rubbing her temples with her palms pressed to her eyes.

She swung her legs off the bed and felt them buckle beneath her. Sitting in the shadow of the mattress she held onto the plush rug as the world swirled around her. Unsteadily, she crawled on her hands and knees toward the window, found the drawstring and yanked the blinds closed. She lay panting in the dim light for several minutes, looking at everything, focusing on nothing.

She pulled herself up to sit on the edge of the bed, facing away from the window. Gradually she began to inspect her surroundings. There was the bed, an oil painting on the wall, a long cherry-wood credenza, and a matching end table on which rested a glass pitcher of water and a tumbler. She lifted the pitcher to her lips and drank, tipping it too fast so excess water coursed down her naked body. The coolness jolted her further into cognizance.

She drank too fast. A cramp in her abdomen made her stop. She stood up and leaned against the credenza, looking up at the big painting looming over her: a formless mishmash of colors barely blended and glopped thickly on the canvas. Testing her legs, Paige pushed away from the credenza and walked around the bed. From across the room the kaleidoscope of colors resolved themselves into artfully blended shades of pinks, reds, grays and blacks. Only then did she realize the painting was a close-up of an aroused and very wet vulva, a pearly seep of white oozing down a channel of distended, ruddy-tinged labia. Paige turned away, blushing.

It was only then that she remembered. Marie's friend Heather had drugged her! But why? Sex slavery? Blackmail? Forced surrogacy? She had no idea but every option seemed terrifying.

She searched the room again. She wondered if there were cameras in here, watching her. She pulled the red satin sheet off the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders like a robe. She went to the window, pulled the blinds aside and squinted into the golden light of the waning evening. She was in a tall building, high up. The view looked out over Central Park.

Panic blooming within her, Paige went to the door. She expected it to be locked but was surprised when the knob turned easily and the latch opened with a soft click. She gave it a gentle pull and it swung wide, revealing a hallway painted warm grey and hung with a series of small paintings even more pornographic than the five foot semen-soaked vulva in the room behind her. She peeked down the hallway and saw that it emptied into a large room aglow with the fading light of the spent day. In that room, framed in the angles of the mouth of the corridor, a young man sat at a glass table, hunched over something engrossing. He wore leather shorts and nothing else.

The young man's elbow was on the table and his head was cradled in his palm. She couldn't see his face. He was well muscled and very trim; even leaning forward in the chair didn't produce a roll in his belly. Paige watched as he scribbled hesitantly while occasionally consulting a large book or tapping impatiently at a calculator. Paige grinned despite herself when she recognized the body language. The guy seemed to be struggling with some kind of math homework.

Paige carefully snuck down the hallway. On the far side of the big room beyond the end of her corridor was another corridor that led to what looked like an elevator door. She considered trying to sneak past the distracted math student but she paused. It was too easy. It must be a trap. She remembered some war movie she had once watched with her father where the evil enemy soldiers had allowed the hero to escape just so they could catch him, punish him and crush his will. Of course the hero wasn't so easily crushed but Paige was no hero. Nervously, she reversed her course.

She began creeping carefully backward, not making any noise, not moving too fast. But when she was still a couple of yards from the door the math student sighed heavily and sat up in his chair. Paige froze. He suddenly turned his head and looked right at her. He was a beautiful young man, a boy really, late teens or maybe early twenties, tanned and unblemished, but in his mouth was an ugly black ball gag perforated with breathing holes; the strap ran around to the back of his head and disappeared into his shoulder length, wavy black hair. His eyes registered surprise, Paige's terror. She jumped back into the room and slammed the door.

She knew he was going to come for her but she had no place to hide, no place to run. She crawled up on the bed and pulled her sheet tighter around her. She watched the knob with dread, knowing that when it turned she would certainly be raped, tortured or worse.

Instead there was a knock: quiet and polite.

"Go away!" cried Paige.

But the knob turned nonetheless. The door swung open and the slender but muscular young math student hesitantly walked in.

He was carrying a stack of what looked like index cards. He held them with both hands. His eyes were kind and apologetic. He approached the bed carefully and held out a card. Paige timidly reached out and took it. It was handwritten in elegant calligraphic copperplate, saying: "Please do not be alarmed. We mean you no harm. My Mistress would like to speak to you."

"What's with the gag?" asked Paige. Her voice quivered with barely restrained panic.

The young man sorted through the stack of cards and pulled one out. He handed it over to Paige. It said: "My Mistress does not want me to reveal details she would prefer to reveal herself. This gag, in conjunction with these pre-written cards, ensures that I can only communicate what I am allowed to communicate."

"You're fucking kidding me."

The kid held out another card. It read: "No, I am not kidding you."

Paige smiled a wry one. Real cute. She looked up from the card at the boy. He smiled kindly at her through his eyes. Paige was stuck by how attractive he was. Almost too attractive; feminine; a little... well... faggy. But still, he was fine, very fine.

"So, who's this 'mistress' of yours?" she asked.

He looked at his cards and back at her. He shook his head. No card for that question.

"Who are you then?"

He had a card for that one. It read: "My name is Malcolm. I work for The Mistress in various private capacities."

"Private capacities? So, you're her concubine?"

Malcolm thought about it for a couple of seconds, shrugged and nodded.

"Like in exchange for tuition money?"

Malcolm nodded eagerly; he seemed to be impressed by her deductive powers. He gave her the thumbs up sign. Paige smiled reluctantly.

"So what does she want with me?"

Malcolm looked at his stack of cards, shrugged and shook his head. No card for that either.

So the situation was weird but, apparently, not deadly. Paige relaxed and sat back on the mattress. And that's when it hit her, all of the various clues that had been swimming around in her head coming together at once and breaking into her consciousness as a cohesive whole. She knew where she was. And she knew who this "Mistress" was too!

It all began several months before Paige started working at Oreskos Corp. The Great Old Man, founder of the company, Ari Oreskos had been dead for nearly a decade but his daughter -- a wild and irresponsible young woman, according to rumor -- had managed to force her way into the corporate decision making. No one knew how she managed the coup and no one was pleased with her choices. Her biggest boondoggle was the purchase of the doomed project on Fifth Avenue across from the park. Young Miss Oreskos had acquired it for more than it was worth from a large development firm driven to the brink of bankruptcy by the self-same property. The costs to finish it had been astronomical and many long-time employees had fled in the belief that Miss Oreskos was driving the company right into the ground. In fact, Paige owed her job to a vacancy left by a panicked father of three who couldn't afford to follow the company into financial ruin. Paige was just out of graduate school so she didn't mind. The fiscal chaos of the situation had kind of intrigued her, actually.

Of course, during her long, life-threatening illness Paige didn't think of the Chastanet Tower Project -- as it was known around Oreskos Corp -- at all. But in the few weeks since Paige had returned to work but she had already noticed that the property was still bleeding serious money. Occupancy was good but costs were bizarrely high. At the time she'd wondered if that had anything to do with the current occupant of the property's penthouse, a certain Miss A. Oreskos.

And now she knew... that's where she was: the penthouse of the Chastanet Tower, the guest of the young "Mistress" Oreskos, her boss. It all fit together so fucking neatly.




A Conspiracy of Sluts Ch. 04



Paige realized she'd been sitting there wrapped in her sheet and thinking furiously for some time. Malcolm stood at the side of the bed looking confused and holding out another of his silly cards.

"Would you like something to eat / drink?" it read.

Paige frowned at the card. She couldn't think of food right now. She still had no idea why she was here. Was it going to be blackmail? Sure, on balance Oreskos Corp was making impressive profits due to some lucky -- or shrewd, or suspicious; depending on who you asked - investments championed by Oreskos Corp's young and reckless new CEO, but the losses at the Chastanet Tower were still deeply worrisome if anyone cared to look. Was Paige was going to be coerced into cooking the books to make that fiscal blemish go away? Not that that made much sense either. Oreskos Corp was a privately held company, who would even care about such internal shenanigans as long as the taxes got paid? Unless, of course, they were selling the company... or planning to go public... there was just too damned much that Paige didn't know.

She read the card again. "Would you like something to eat / drink?"

And in a flash, she had an idea. It was a wicked plan and desperate, but the spark of it made her feel warm inside. She would find out what the hell was going on all right. She still had one weapon at her disposal. And after all she'd been through lately she was no longer reluctant to use it. She looked lovely young Malcolm over again. No, she wouldn't be reluctant at all.

Paige handed the card back to Malcolm. She waited until he took it from her until she spoke. "You got one in there that asks if I want to... um, to... fuck?"

She stumbled on the sentence and her voice broke a little on the word "fuck" but Malcolm didn't seem to notice. He plucked a card from the stack and handed it over. His eyes were hot with sudden intensity.

"Would you like to make love?" read the card.

"No... I said I want to fuck." She said. She didn't stammer this time. She tore the card in half and tossed the pieces away.

Paige stepped off the bed, leaving the sheet behind. Naked, she stepped close to Malcolm and tickled her fingertips down the tight, corrugated flesh of his abdomen. His beautifully defined muscles danced and twitched at her touch. His body was hairless, probably waxed. She looked into his eyes as she slipped her fingers down into the front of his tight leather shorts. She pulled him towards her and gently kissed up and down his neck as she let her nipples slip across the smooth skin of his chest. Within his shorts she could feel that his cock was already rigid against the tips of her fingers. She tugged at the top button of his fly with her right hand but the shorts were so tight that they were reluctant to come undone. Malcolm brought his hands to his fly to assist but Paige brushed them away.

"No," she said. "Let me do it."

She moved down his body, kissing her way along his skin as she sank to her knees until she was face to face with the long bulge behind his fly. Using both hands, she was able to release the buttons one after another. His penis, already hard and eager to please, swung free and lightly tapped her on the nose. She giggled like a kid.

Don't get giddy you stupid slut, Paige thought to herself. You have a plan. Stick to it!

OK, yes, The Plan; she had a plan. But still she paused to gaze at Malcolm's beautiful cock. Fat and long, but not too long, circumcised and without a speck of pubic hair; it was like the platonic ideal of an erection. She began to kiss up and down the shaft with a trembling eagerness that was genuine despite her intention to betray poor Malcolm at the first opportunity. She brought out her tongue and began to bathe the tightly stretched skin of his shaft with her saliva. He must have showered recently; he tasted clean and soapy. She sunk her face onto his manhood and began pumping his length along her tongue with an enthusiasm that threatened to get away from her. Thin globs of salty precum were already speckling her tongue.

He was breathing heavy and the air rushing through the holes in his ball gag were making a quivering whistling sound that brought her out of her horny reverie just in time. She pulled her face off his cock, stretching long strands of his now-copious fluid between his head and her lips. His cock twitched and dripped, just a few strokes from release. He looked down at her with frustration but she just smiled at him as she stood again.

"This looks silly on you," she said as she reached up and behind his head to find the buckle on the ball-gag. She unfastened it with a click and pulled it away. "And it's distracting as hell."

"You're not supposed to do that," he said. His voice sounded like a kid's voice to her: too much lilt for a man, too soft. She didn't answer except to kiss him deeply, fully conscious of the taste of his semen on her tongue. He didn't flinch at all as she shared it with him.

I bet he's bi. She thought. She wondered if Miss Oreskos had any more bisexual boy-toys wandering around her penthouse. Paige could think of some things she'd like to try...

Quit it, you stupid horny slut! She chided herself. The Plan! Stick to the fucking plan!

"I could get in trouble," said Malcolm as Paige stepped away and sat on the bed.

She swung the gag on its strap like a pendulum, taunting him. "Then come and get it," she said as she opened her thighs and dangled the ball-gag against the glistening pink of her welcoming cleft. She lifted her feet so her heels were propped on the edge of the mattress. She let her thighs fall open. Her heart was racing as she waited for him to make his move.

For several long seconds Malcolm stood there with his lovely erection bobbing from the fly of his shorts as he ran his eyes up and down her naked body. He took his time feasting on the sight of her and Paige squirmed as she watched his lust spark within his dark eyes. Paige bit her lip in anticipation as he finally fixed his hot glare to hers and pushed his shorts down his long legs. She held the gag above her head to beckon Malcolm up onto the mattress but instead he sank to his knees at the edge of the bed. Paige gasped and tossed her head back as his mouth met her pussy.

He found her clit right away, kissing it and circling it with the tip of his tongue. His fingers joined in, spreading her lips, dipping into her depths, plowing up hot furrows of ecstasy. His mouth roamed along her slick folds as his fingers continued to stroke and penetrate her. He licked all the way down to her sphincter and she shuddered in uncomfortable pleasure as he pushed his tongue into her bottom. She reached down to grab his ears and return his attention to her sex. He let her guide him. She hummed in delight as she did. Soon they hit a perfect rhythm. Her back arched and her breath grew short as he drove her rapidly towards climax. I shouldn't let my self come... she thought. I need to keep my head clear... need to stick to The Plan... find out what's going on here... But the kid was good, not as good as Marie, but still very, very good.

Paige lay back, bit her lip and chewed a knuckle to fight against the rapidly gathering climax coiling in her loins. Then she remembered the gag still dangling from her hand. She recalled being tied down by Marie, the strange sensitivity it aroused in her to be bound, to be helpless. She slipped the ball between her teeth and reached behind her head to fasten the buckle. She stretched her arms above her head as if she tied down, helpless, a prisoner, a sexual plaything for her young guard. Resistance was futile, as they say, and it truly was. Her body twitched with a soul-deep tremor and she gasped out a gag-muted sigh as she bit down on the ball. She kicked her legs wide in a near split and arched her back as she came.

She closed her eyes and savored her orgasm as it pulsed through her. She kept them closed as she twitched and panted through the aftershocks. When she opened them again she discovered Malcolm had climbed up on the bed and was now hovering over her. His face was slick and his breath smelled of her sex. He smiled a devious, knowing grin at her.

"Oh... I see what you like," he said, tapping the ball in her mouth with the manicured nail of his index finger.

Paige smiled up at him with her eyes as he reached up and gathered her wrists into one of his strong, long-fingered hands. He pulled her wrists up, further stretching her out across the mattress, letting her know he knew the game she was playing and that he was eager to play too.

"You're my prisoner," he said in her ear in a harsh whisper. He smiled a smile that was probably meant to be taunting or cruel. In truth, the kid looked adorable as hell.

Paige played along. She squirmed in mock-terror as her fleshed buzzed with anticipation.

"I can do anything to you, slave," he told her. "Anything."

Paige flashed wide eyes at him as he crawled up the mattress and threw a leg over her midriff. He released her wrists but Paige kept her body extended as if bound tightly to the bed. He gathered her breasts in his hands and slid is lovely cock between them. Paige quivered as he began slowly thrusting his shaft into the cleft between her tits.

"Yeeeah... You like that, don'cha, slut."

Paige cowered back into the mattress because she knew that's what he wanted her to do. But she also began snaking her spine and twisting her torso to help work his cock with her chest. She couldn't believe how good it was feeling to be tit-fucked by this kid.

"Maybe I'll shoot my cum all over your pretty face..."

Paige craned her neck to look down at his firm, florid head as it popped in and out from the top of her cleavage, inches from her face. To her surprise, she discovered that the idea of Malcolm erupting all over her face was more than a little enticing right now. She thought back on how she had chickened out when Tony and Neil had suggested doing the same thing all of two days ago... odd much of a difference context can make. However, for Malcolm's benefit, she shook her head in ersatz terror.

"Or maybe in your ass..."

Paige did her best to feign horror at the idea but the sensation of Malcolm's hands kneading her breasts while his attentive young cock slid between them was feeling really, really good. The best she could do was stifle a lurid moan.

"Yeah, slut, you'd like that. OK. Let's see that ass," he said as he let go of her breasts, climbed off her and rolled her onto her belly. "Let's see it... On your knees! Open those legs!"

Paige got up on her knees and spread her legs for him. He slapped her hard across her rump. Paige gasped.

"More!" he growled. He slapped her again. "More!"

Paige grunted through her gag as he struck her. She pushed her face into the mattress and moved her knees as far apart as she could manage. He said nothing. For what seemed like a long time he just stood there, behind her, looking at her. Paige squirmed, waiting, thinking of his eyes upon her, wondering what his face looked like as he inspected her. She could feel herself growing wetter and wetter by the second. What the hell? She thought. Why is this turning me on so much? She moaned in frustration.

Finally he touched her. The touch, after so much anticipation, made her flinch. He laughed at that. His fingers were on her bottom. He began kneading her flesh, separating her ass-cheeks. He moved in closer, until she could feel the terminal tendrils of his long dark hair tickling along the flesh of her bottom, until she could feel his breath on her pussy. Then, once again, he began pushing at her asshole with his tongue. This time Paige could not stop him.

"UuuuUUUUuuh..." said Paige through her gag. Holy crap that felt gross... and good.

He worked his tongue into her ass, then a finger, then two and three. Paige writhed at the sensation. She panted and bit into her gag. He tongued her ass some more and spit into it before bringing the head of his cock to her dark pucker and slowly pushing himself inside. Paige barked guttural grunts as he worked himself in, down to his balls.

"You. Fucking. Slut..." he grunted as he worked himself into her guts. "Take it ... Take it all..."

The only lube Malcolm had used was his saliva so the going was rough, especially at first, but he had spend a good long time loosening her up with his fingers and tongue so it wasn't too long before she was taking his full manhood with relative ease. Then came the now-familiar falling away of discomfort, revealing a pulsating glow of prickly desire as his hot shaft of hard flesh insistently caressed the tender tissue of her reluctant interior. She began to thrust back with her ass, willing him deeper, driving him faster. Her nipples were slipping along the smooth satin sheets as he drove her. She could feel her body beginning to bloom in a quickening rapture...

That is, she did until he wrapped his hands around her throat and started strenuously choking her as he pumped his cock down into her ass.

Paige said nothing. She couldn't. She couldn't breathe! Almost immediately her lungs were heaving, gasping for oxygen. She abandon the pretense at being tightly bound to the mattress and brought her hands to Malcolm's, pulling at his fingers to get his hands from around her throat. She began to thrash under Malcolm in genuine instinctual panic as her lungs labored, and her vision grew dim.

"Did I tell you you could move your fucking hands?" he snarled.

Malcom grabbed her wrists and brought her hands behind her back as Paige gratefully sucked air through her gag. The oxygen felt so good that she didn't even wince in embarrassment at the small toot she emitted when he yanked his cock from her anus. But suddenly she was expelling that wonderful oxygen in a muffled yelp as he began spanking her across the ass with sharp, cupped-palm slaps. Paige grunted at the stinging pain of his strikes and the uncomfortable pressure in her shoulders as he pressed her arms tightly into the small of her back.

"I'll teach you discipline, slut!!" he was saying. Slap, slap, slap went his hand.

Paige groaned from deep within her throat.

Slap... Slap... Slap... Slap... SLAP!

Finally he tired of spanking her. He got behind her again. Keeping her wrists behind her back with one hand, he lined up his shaft with the other. Paige sighed into her gag as he pushed his cock into her pussy, disappearing into her in one fluid movement. He began to fuck her slowly but powerfully with deep, graceful thrusts. Paige's eyes rolled back. The pleasure felt so much more sublime after the pain. She began to gyrate her hips in time with his movements. She felt like she might come again.

But then it occurred to her that Malcolm wasn't wearing a condom.

A hot prickle of terror zapped along her scalp and her stomach lurched into free-fall. "No! Wait! Stop!" she said but it came out sounding like "Uh! Wuhd! Hawp!" around the gag.

"Yeah, you like it rough. Don't you slut?" he rasped at her as she struggled.

"HAWP!"

He pushed her crossed forearms further up her back, causing her cry out around her gag at the sharp ache in her straining shoulders. He grabbed a fistful of her golden hair and pulled her head back as he began to fuck her roughly with hard jack-hammer thrusts. She kicked uselessly with her feet but to no effect. She was helpless.

Holy shit! I can't let him come inside me! Paige thought in a burst of panic. I can't let him get me pregnant. Please, God, no... not like this!

"Unnnh!" she cried into the sheets as he hiked her ass up into the air and began slamming her pussy with slow, deep pumps. He began to slap her across the ass again as he neared his climax.

Paige continued to squirm beneath him, hoping he'd notice her distress as genuine. She twisted her spine and howled wild cries of despair through the gag but it all had the opposite effect.

"Wow, you're really into it," he gasped with laboring breath. "They'd said you're one wild fuck once you get going..."

"NNUH!" she wailed. She could tell he was nearly there. His thrusts were getting slower and more deliberate. His cock was rigid as an iron rod. Time was almost out! But she had to get him out of her pussy before he came. She had to!

"Ahhh, fuuuck it... I'm... coming..."

"UNH! UUUNH!!!"

And then he was jerking and sputtering behind her, emptying his balls into her womb, infesting her with his seed. He released her wrists to grasp her hips and milk the last of his spunk into her. Paige lay unmoving beneath him, her mind in shock as imagined Malcolm's sperm squirming around inside her, wriggling blindly but insidiously around her womb, some inexorably fighting their way up her fallopian tubes, searching for a target, an egg, one of her eggs, eager to wreck her life with bastard begot of this boy-whore. She figured and re-figured the days since her last period, trying to guess her current fertility, not liking the answer she kept getting. She pulled her hands up to her face and began to weep.

"Whoa, that was awesome," said Malcolm as he rolled over to lay face up on the mattress next to her. "Hey... Are you OK?"

Paige looked at him with angry, tear-blurred eyes. She reached behind her head and fumbled with the latch on the gag until Malcolm rose up on one elbow and reached around to help her remove it. When they finally got it off her she sobbed, "You came in me, you FUCK! You probably just got me pregnant!"

"What? You're not on birth control!?"

Paige shook her head while wiping tears from her eyes.

"Shit! I can't be a dad... I'm... I'm only eighteen!"

"Well you should've..." began Paige, but she said no more. The uncomfortable truth was that there was nothing Malcolm did wrong, not really. Poor Malcolm -- who was looking very sick to his stomach now -- had only gone where she'd led him (or where he thought she'd led him). She was the one who started this. She had donned that stupid ball-gag in her stupid, horny flight of fancy. She had been the one with her stupid plan to...

Oh yeah... The Plan. She thought. She looked over at Malcolm who was laying on his back staring up at the ceiling with a look on his face like his life had just ended. I might as well see it through. Paige sighed, pulled herself up into a kneeling position and threw a leg over Malcolm's hips. As she sat on him she could feel a gush of semen ooze past her labia. She shuddered inwardly at the reminder of the time-bomb festering inside her body.

"What?" said Malcolm peevishly.

"I want to know what's going on here."

"Huh?"

"Same questions as before: where am I? Who's in charge?"

"I already said, I can't tell you..."

"I know I'm in the penthouse of the Chastanet Tower building and I know the woman you refer to as your 'mistress' is Ari Oreskos' daughter and heir." The surprised look in his eyes told Paige she'd at least figured out that much correctly. "Now tell me. What the hell is going on?"

"Really, I can't tell you. I shouldn't have even let you... Aghhhhh!"

The last syllable came as Paige reached over to the end table, picked up the glass pitcher and smashed it against the headboard. Malcolm threw his forearms across his eyes to shield himself from the shower of clear spring water and sparkling shards of glass. Paige was left with the thick handle attached to a curved chunk of dangerously sharp glass. She brandished it at Malcolm's face.

"Tell me!"

He swatted at her hand but Paige scooted back. Noticing an opportunity, she grabbed his now-limp cock in her left hand and brought the sharp edge of the glass to the base of his penis. He became very still very quickly.




A Conspiracy of Sluts Ch. 04



"Recruiting!" he shrieked his voice rising high and shrill. "You're being drafted or something! Fuck if I know! Let go my dick!!!"

"PAIGE!" shouted a familiar voice from somewhere over Paige's shoulder.

She turned and saw Marie standing in the doorway. With her was a tall, beautiful woman of about Paige's age with a lot of dark, curly hair. They both looked horrified.

Malcolm kicked. His foot landed hard in Paige's stomach and her breath left her all at once. The force threw her backward off the bed, her body clattered into the blinds and her head smacked against the tempered glass of the big window with a reverberating thunk.

All went dark.



A Conspiracy of Sluts Ch. 05



Author's note: This is the final part of a five part novella. Each chapter is devoted to a different category of erotica: i.e. lesbian, group, interracial, BDSM, exhibitionism/voyeur (in that order). Although the five parts constitute a complete story I have tried to write each chapter so it could be enjoyed stand-alone as well (although I prefer you read the whole thing of course). I will post each chapter about a week apart. Enjoy!




Paige was jolted back to consciousness by a pungent sting in her twitching nostrils. A dark-eyed woman in a yellow silk blouse and charcoal gray skirt hovered in front of her, holding a vial of smelling salts and wafting the vapor towards her with fluttering movements of her scrupulously manicured fingers. Marie squatted awkwardly at Paige's side in spiked heels and a tight black mini dress, holding an ice pack to the back of Paige's head. Marie and the other woman exchanged relieved glances as Paige's eyes flickered open.

Paige inspected this unfamiliar woman from close up. She had a Mediterranean look to her, with swarthy olive skin and a lustrous mass of black hair that carelessly framed her face in loose, bouncy curls. Her eyes were excessively large, her eyebrows a little too thick, her mouth a little too wide; but these disproportionate features transformed what would otherwise be a merely pretty face into one possessing a uniquely striking beauty. In comparison, Marie's typical Asiatic good looks seemed perversely ho-hum.

Paige let her eyes focus beyond Marie and the other woman. She saw they were not alone. A dozen or so people looked on with varying degrees of interest. They were generally attractive, well dressed and well maintained. Some looked vaguely familiar, some not. Paige couldn't concentrate enough to sort them out. Malcolm, who Paige now remembered had knocked her unconscious when she had threatened to sever his penis with a shard of glass, was nowhere to be seen.

Then Paige looked down at herself. She was completely naked. A pale smear of semen still shone milky on her inner thigh. She wondered again if Malcolm had just gotten her pregnant. She shuddered as she folded her arms across her breasts and pulled her knees up to her chest.

"How are you, Paige?" asked the woman with the smelling salts. Her voice was a pleasant contralto. Her pronunciation was precise to the point of seeming haughty.

"Who are you?" asked Paige irritably, her voice sounding woozy.

"I'm Athena Oreskos - pleased to meet you - although I must say I'm a little surprised you haven't already figured that out. I mean, you've sussed out everything else about our silly little schemes." She smiled at Paige like a teacher showing reluctant approval for a bright but naughty student.

"You're Miss Oreskos?"

"Yes. But please call me Athena."

"My boss, Athena Oreskos?"

"If you want to think of it that way, yes, I suppose so."

Paige looked her over. Her waist was slender, her abdomen flat, her chest was nearly as large as Paige's but her hips weren't as wide. It was the kind of body made for modeling swimwear or lingerie. And she had been born stinking rich too. Paige indulged in the urge to hate this stranger for having been handed - through a lucky trick of parentage - every advantage deemed desirable for a woman by modern civilization. 

"Not any more. I quit."

"Oh Paige, Nooo," said Marie. She placed hand on Paige's shoulder. Paige shrugged it off.

"I quit and I want to go home. Let go of me."

Marie looked to Athena with disappointment; a look that said: please fix this.

"Paige, let's not be..."

"Am I a prisoner here?"

"Of course not."

"Then let me go. Now."

Athena and Marie exchanged a look. Athena exhaled slowly. "Very well. I suppose I can't blame you. We've really made a mess of this whole thing." She looked at Marie and Marie turned away, tears welling in her eyes.

Paige moved to stand but she was still unsteady. Plus standing would mean fully exposing herself to the crowd of strangers again. She scanned the faces looking down at her. She felt irritation rather than embarrassment.

"Where're my clothes?"

"Well... you soiled yourself a bit when Heather drugged you. We're having them cleaned and we'll return them to you. But, don't worry, I'll lend you something."

"Shit," said Paige.

"Paige... please..." began Marie. "Don't leave..."

"Leave me alone you devious little cunt," said Paige, pushing her away with more force than she intended. Marie stumbled backwards off her heels, landing on her ass. A few people barked out truncated laughs, a few gasped, others mumbled to each other. Marie's face contorted and she heaved out a sob. She jumped up and fled, leaving a wake of tears. Paige sagged back to the floor, feeling shitty.

"Craig, help me get her up off the floor," barked Athena. There was an edge to her voice that caused the other people in the room to mill about fretfully. A tall man with shaggy, sandy hair and pale blue eyes pushed from the back of the small crowd to scoop Paige up and sit her on the bed. Paige looked him the face as he lifted her. And what a well formed face it was! She felt her determination to be rid of these people waver a as she gazed into those eyes but she rallied her annoyance and forced herself to glower at him crossly.

"Everyone, out," ordered Athena. "Not you Craig. Keep this icepack on her head. I'll get her something to wear and we'll take her home." Athena herded the crowd out into the hall and closed the door behind her.

"I can hold my own ice pack," Paige told Craig.

"Suit yourself," he said. He handed it to her and moved around to lean against the credenza. He looked her over with unabashed interest. Paige felt herself grow warm. She wrapped her arms across her breasts again. Craig smiled a crooked grin and shifted his gaze to her pussy. She crossed her legs tightly.

Craig reached down, snatched the crumpled sheet from the bed and handed it to her. As she took it from him she noticed that his hands were dirty with smudges of various colors of paint. He wasn't dressed as well as the other members of the crowd either, just faded jeans and a threadbare black tee shirt that clung to his wide chest.

"So what do you do around here?" She asked as she wrapped the sheet around her body.

"I painted that," he nodded towards the big oil painting of the messy vulva that hung over the credenza. "Athena lets me keep a studio up here."

Paige looked at the painting again. "It's disgusting."

Craig laughed an honest, deep belly laugh. "Too bad you're washing out. I like your moxie. Too many of these bozos are too eager to just parrot The Princess' opinion on everything."

"Washing out?"

"Yeah... of your initiation. I bet you'd've been interesting to have around. Plus I'd love to paint you... disgustingly, if you know what I mean." His smile got wider and toothier: a teasing grin, charming as hell.

Paige felt herself blush. "I'm not 'washing out'."

Craig shrugged. "Whatevs."

Paige scowled at him. What an arrogant jerk. But she found herself looking at him more carefully. His face seemed familiar. "Weren't you in the Village Voice or something?"

"Vanity Fair," he corrected. "Six months ago. 'The New Sexuality in Fine Art', blah, blah, blah. They had a photo of me, but none of my paintings. I would have preferred it the other way around. I might've sold some fucking canvases."

Paige remembered now. She and her sister Tammy had both remarked on his photo (approvingly) and had idly discussed going to the gallery showing the article was plugging. But then Paige had gotten deathly sick and of course they'd never made it to the show.

"You're Miss Oreskos' boyfriend?"

He laughed. "Athena isn't really the 'girlfriend' type. But she fucks me as much as she fucks anybody and we frequently sleep in the same bed... so, I guess you could look at it that way."

Paige turned away. He was too damn cool, too damn handsome. She was determined to break free of these perverts, no matter how enticing they presented themselves. She looked through the window at the penthouse view of the city starting to twinkle into its night face across the twilight-shrouded park. But that was too cool and enticing too. Paige looked at the floor and focused inwardly at the rage and shame of what she'd be tricked into and put through.

Finally, Athena breezed in with a dress draped across her arm. It was sleek, metallic blue, strapless and it looked disconcertingly slight in her hands. She laid it on the bed next to Paige. "Here you go. You can keep that."

Paige looked at the dress with distress. It was fantastic but nearer a swimming suit in it's coverage of skin.

"Also..." said Athena. She held out a hand with a pill in her palm. "Take this."

"What is it?" Paige asked suspiciously.

"RU-486, so Malcolm doesn't get you preg..."

Paige scooped it up and swallowed it dry. "Thanks," she said in a small voice. A deep feeling of relief coursed through her mind like a narcotic.

"Good. Now put that dress on and we'll take you home in my limo."

Paige looked at the dress. It probably cost several thousand dollars, at least. Paige looked from the dress to Athena to Craig to the window. She knew she should say no. She should insist on some plain old sweatpants, a tee-shirt and cab fare; get out without any fuss or obligations. But the dress was amazing. Craig was amazing. Athena was amazing. It was all so fucking amazing. And she'd never been in a limo before...

"OK," said Paige.

She let the sheet fall from her shoulders and picked up the dress. Craig watched as Athena helped her squeeze into it. Paige could feel his eyes on her. They made her skin tingle.

After she dressed, Athena and Craig walked Paige down the hall into the large room beyond. The main room was vast, sprinkled with off-white furniture, a smattering of sculpture and large tropical plants in oversized pots. Several large paintings hung on the walls, the subject matter of which was almost universally smutty: more of Craig's "art" apparently. The room was fronted by a colossal wall of windows that looked out over the park toward the towering landmarks arrayed along West Central Park Drive. But the real view was inside. Athena's friends had already begun to play. Groups of three, four and five people - some naked, some barely clothed - churned and moaned on the diverse chairs, lounges and couches. She spotted the pretty black girl who'd been spying on her just before her encounter with Tony and Neil. Beneath her was Tony. Other faces she recognized from around work; the attractive ones you'd spot on the elevators or in the hall and wonder how such a person ended up in a career as resolutely unglamorous as property management. 

In a big chair up against the windows, a couple caught her eye. She was tiny and lithe and he was large and muscular. His massive hands cradled her buttocks as he raised and lowered her along the length of his cock. She had her little feet braced against his hips and her arms looped around his neck. Even though her face was buried in the man's meaty chest Paige recognized Marie right away. She admired the way her slender back writhed with coiled energy as she rode the intimidating thick shaft and the way the twin dimples in her lower back shivered with effort as she attempted to admit even more of her partner's rigid manhood into her body. Another man stepped up behind Marie, blocking Paige's view. He squatted down and began tonguing her sphincter. Marie moaned lividly.

Paige realized she had stopped to stare. Athena and Craig looked at her with arched eyebrows. Their expression saying: well, do you want to leave or not? Paige turned away from the action. She followed them down the hallway to the elevator and stepped inside. It descended very fast. No one spoke.

Down in the garage a black limousine awaited them. A trim, middle aged driver in a smart uniform opened the door and helped them in. As she climbed into the car Paige instinctively tugged at the hem of the tight little dress but it wouldn't go any lower without exposing her breasts. But then, she wasn't wearing panties so it was difficult to get in without showing her pussy. She did her best, letting the chauffer see what he could. She had a flash of anticipatory dread about getting out of the car when she got back to her building.

Once inside, Paige eagerly inspected the interior. The seats were gray leather, the lighting was low and tasteful and there was a little bar behind the driver with several carafes of cut crystal holding liquors that varied in color from clear to pale gold to deep brown. Next to the bar was a twenty-four inch flat-screen TV mounted into the front wall of the compartment with a DVD/blu-ray player embedded in the console beneath it. Athena settled in next to Paige. Craig sat across from them, next to the bar. He reached over and poured himself something brown, with ice.

"Would you like anything?" he asked as they pulled out of the garage.

Paige shook her head. Athena ignored the question.

Athena sighed. "I'm devastated that we're losing you. You were so close."

Paige turned to Athena, her face confused and showing a slightly annoyed grimace. "I don't even understand why you want me."

"You're a very lovely woman, Paige. It's a pity you can't see that. We were attempting to build up your confidence. I suppose we needed more time..."

"But... why? Why go through all that trouble just to lure me into your... your... whatever it is."

Athena laughed. "It's just a circle of friends my dear. We're attractive. We're adventurous. We enjoy sex. Isn't that enough?"

"That doesn't answer my..."

"Well, how else do you propose I invite someone I desire into my clique? Go around saying 'hello attractive stranger, do you want to join our orgy club?'" She chuckled. "Word would get out, my dear. And the next thing you know I'm all over the gossip blogs and supermarket tabloids. The media loves to pick apart and punish wealthy and sexually active women. To build a coterie such as ours requires finesse."

"Unfortunately you're just too clever for us... or our finesse is too clumsy," added Craig with a wry smile.

"But there must be better candidates: other rich girls, actresses...."

"I have a rule: no famous friends. They draw too much heat and I don't want that kind of attention."

"But there have to be plenty of non-famous attractive people in a city this size... enough so that you don't have to dip into your own accounting department anyway."

Craig laughed. "My God, she really can't see it!"

"The only unattractive thing about you, Paige, is your tiresome lack of confidence."

Paige clenched her jaw and crossed her arms across her chest. The slight increase in pressure threatened to squeeze her breasts out of the top so she dropped her hands to her lap and began nervously wringing her fingers. As she did this, Athena and Craig shared a long look.

"You should show her," said Craig.

"She's seen it."

"It would be different seeing it now."

"She'll be angry."

"She's already angry."

"What are you talking about?" demanded Paige.

Athena gave Paige a look. Then she shared one with Craig. Craig threw her a 'why not?' gesture. Athena sighed, picked up her purse and pulled out a square envelope. She pulled out a DVD, silvery and new, and frisbeed it across the cabin to Craig. Craig let it land in his lap, picked it up and slid it into the DVD player.

"What is that?" asked Paige, a tone of terror in her voice because, basically, she'd already figured out what it was.

Craig turned on the TV. On it was a view of the back of Paige's head with a dingy room beyond. Private security consultant Lucas Burr was entering the room.

"YOU RECORDED THAT! You... You...FUCKERS!"

"Skip ahead Craig," said Athena calmly.

"I'll sue!"

"You really want this admitted as evidence in a court case?

"I... I..."

Craig let the recording go back to normal speed at the point where Paige was turned profile to the camera, her face running up and down Burr's cock. One could see the arc defining the rim of his glans rippling beneath the tightly stretched skin of her cheek as the girth of his shaft deformed her face. A thin trickle of saliva and precum hung from her chin.

"No," said Athena. "Go to the sexy part."

"This part is sexy," objected Craig. 

Paige looked at Craig. His eyes remained stuck to the screen, his attention totally focused. His hand moved into his lap and plucked at his crotch, adjusting for sudden discomfort.

"Craig..." prompted Athena. He reluctantly hit fast forward.

Paige leaned her head on the back of the seat and stared up through the smoky glass of the limo's sun roof. The sky had now dimmed to a deep cobalt blue, starless over the city lights. They had already made it past the park and she watched buildings slip by as the limo turned onto Broadway at Columbus Circle to head downtown. Traffic was getting bad. She saw a double-decker sight-seeing bus drive by. A middle aged couple was looking down, trying to squint through the tinted glass without success. It was probably the worst possible route to get Paige back to her apartment, what with the theater traffic and the sightseeing buses. And apparently they were going to make Paige relive this morning's embarrassing lapse with Lucas Burr the entire way. Her face burned with anger and shame.

"Right there, that sexy part," said Athena.

Paige looked back at the screen. She didn't want to see herself getting fucked by Luke Burr but she was also curious what a woman like Athena Oreskos might consider so excessively sexy.

"Oh yeah..." said Craig. He turned to look at Paige. "This is really fucking hot." Paige noticed the heat behind his eyes as his gaze dropped from her face to survey her body barely concealed in her tight, borrowed dress. Paige shifted uncomfortably and looked at the screen.

There she was, nude but for her shoes, now entirely nude as she kicked them off and splayed her toes against the surface of the two-way mirror. Luke held her aloft with his huge hands cupped beneath her buttocks. She had her arms raised, clasped behind his neck as they both worked to raise and lower her along the impressive length of his thick shaft. She was making a sinuous motion as they worked him in and out of her body. Her muscles stood out beneath her dampening pink skin. Her breasts bounced and wiggled in a slight syncopation to the rhythm of her hips. Her face was enraptured. She opened her eyes and was staring directly into the camera without knowing it.

She looked... beautiful.

"How many..." Paige paused to swallow. "How many people were behind the mirror, watching?"

Athena answered distractedly. "Oh a dozen or so I suppose."

"When I sneezed I though you were going to freak out... but it kinda seemed to turn you on," said Craig with a chuckle, not looking away from the video.

Paige thought back. He was right, it had turned her on. But then, she'd thought she was only being watched by a few perverted rent-a-cops at the time. But as she thought of Athena and her friends ogling her she could feel the tell-tale welling of dampness between her thighs, the prickle of sensitivity blooming across her skin, a certain shortness of breath.

"Does the idea of being watched arouse you, Paige?" asked Athena. She was leaning towards Paige, her weight shifted onto the heels of her hands. Paige's gaze dropped to Athena's cleavage as her upper arms pushed her breasts together. She pulled her eyes back to Athena's face.

"I..." Paige paused to gulp. "I just don't know if I'm cut out to be one of your... orgy people."

"And now you never will," said Athena, sitting back. 




A Conspiracy of Sluts Ch. 05



"Remember kiddo, it's better to regret something you have done than something you haven't done," added Craig around the ice in the drink he was sipping. His pale blue eyes stared at her over the rim of his tumbler.

Paige looked away, up through the tinted sunroof. The limo seemed to be stopped in traffic, nosing its way onto 7th Avenue. One of the several open-topped, double-decker sight-seeing busses caught in the snarl was looming over them. Asian tourists hung over the rails, snapping shots of Times Square, which they were currently oozing towards at a glacial pace. Next to the sunroof she noticed a toggle. She reached up, flicked it and the glass began to slide open. The bleat and growl of New York City traffic flooded the car. The oily fumes of exhaust assaulted their nostrils. The sticky warmth of the late-spring evening washed over their skin.

"What's wrong?" asked Craig. "The air too fresh in here for you?"

"Please don't ask me any more questions..." said Paige. She leaned over and kissed Athena full on the mouth; wet, but without tongue. "I'm trying not to think."

Athena pulled Paige close. Their lips met. Their tongues. Soon they were squirming on the seat kissing madly, their hands running up and down each other's bodies. Over by the bar, Craig set down his drink and leaned forward.

"Umm... I don't know that this is a good idea," he said as he looked up out of the sunroof.

"Shush, Craig," whispered Athena around a kiss.

"Yeah, shut up you," added Paige.

Athena smiled. "You've surprised me, my dear... Again."

"I'm surprising myself too," said Paige as she plucked at a button on Athena's blouse. She got one undone but the next one ripped free and spun away to get lost in the thick shag that covered the floor. "Oops," said Paige.

"Screw it," said Athena and yanked the blouse open, peppering Paige in a fusillade of little mother of pearl projectiles. Paige failed to stifle a giggle as she dove into the soft valley of Athena's cleavage. 

She yanked down the cups of Athena's bra. She brought her mouth to her nipples, eagerly nibbling and licking her hardening pink areolas. Athena squirmed to reach behind her back and unhook her bra. Paige sat back to let her, watching with shallow breath as Athena whipped her shirt and bra across the cabin. The bra landed draped atop Craig's head, leaving him peeking out around one of the cups. They all laughed. Paige moved forwards again. Athena stopped her.

"No, my dear. It's my turn."

She pushed Paige back into the seat and pivoted her around so she was facing front. Athena knelt between her knees. She ran both her palms up the curves of Paige's body from her thighs to her neck while fixing Paige with a smoldering hot stare. Paige opened her thighs wider, hinting for Athena to come closer. She did, reaching around to find the zipper on the tight dress and drawing it down slowly. Athena drew it off of Paige's body like a snake shedding its skin, leaving her nude on the leather upholstery. Athena, on her knees, in her short dark skirt and topless from the waist up, held back; looking her over with hot-eyed appreciation. Craig loomed up behind Athena, shoved her thick mass of curly hair aside and began planting kisses down the back of her neck. His hand pushed down the front of her skirt and found Athena's pussy and she squirmed in delight. Paige moved forward to kiss her breasts some more. She watched from inches away as goose-bumps erupted across Athena's flawless olive skin.

From above, a mingled hubbub of Asian voices drifted down through the open sunroof; their tones indicated a mixture of concern, confusion, disbelief and fascination. Paige looked up to see a row of silhouettes outlined by a pulsating, four story high electric sign. They were all gazing down into the limo. Some were pointing, others raising phones and cameras. Flashes began to strobe from above.

Paige leaned back as Athena and Craig shared a soul kiss. She ran her hand down her and onto her pussy. She began to strum her clit as she stared up at the anonymous shadows haloed in a riotous kaleidoscope of neon; a score of indistinct souls from half a world away gazing down at her, pointing at her, photographing her. Now other hands, Athena's hands, moved up her legs. Paige spread them wider as Athena slithered up between her thighs, her face level with Paige's pussy. Craig was kneeling behind Athena, pulling out his cock and tearing her panties away.

Paige closed her eyes as she reached up to stroke her nipples and focus on the sensation of Athena's tongue and fingers exploring her labia and circumscribing the rim of her vagina. A commotion brought them open and she could see traffic was moving again. Several of the Asians on top of the bus seemed to be complaining bitterly that they were pulling ahead. Craig had entered Athena and was fucking her slowly from behind.

"We're losing our audience," said Paige.

Athena's face, shiny and flushed, rose from between Paige's thighs. She rolled to the side and hit an intercom button. "Dave, keep us close to those sight-seeing buses. Get us between a couple of them if you can." She smiled a wet smile at Paige.

"Perfect!" said Paige and drew Athena to her for a deep kiss. Craig took Athena's place between Paige's thighs and threaded his hard, slick shaft inside her. Paige moaned as she wrapped her calves around the small of his back and held him close as she worked her hips, grinding her clit against his body. Athena leaned down to kiss Paige's tits as she reached around and pushed a finger up Craig's ass.

They petted and kissed and fucked as Dave piloted them through the shoals of traffic, always aiming for towering vehicles full of soon-to-be shocked tourists. As they pulled under their next audience their love-making would spark into a conflagration and they'd redouble their caressing and slurping and fingering of each other as Craig alternated his attentions between them. They posed themselves as if performing for horny angels in heaven above, careful to present a lurid prospect through the frame of the open sunroof. As they probed and explored each other spread-eagled on the floor and seats of the limo they provoked cries of surprise, distress and arousal from groups of Japanese, Germans, Italians, Russians, Koreans, British and salt-of-the-earth Americans from staid, conservative flyover states. Photos and video a-plenty were taken of them as they made love for their transitory fans, mementos that would be deleted later tonight in the hotel by jealous spouses or else shared with friends and posted for strangers on the internet for years to come. When they thought of it, they tried to drape their hair across their faces or keep their hands and forearms raised to block their features from the cameras but too often Paige would forget and leave herself exposed for the world. Finally Paige grabbed the tatters of Athena's discarded panties and pulled them over her face as a mask. Athena laughed before getting right back to tonguing Paige's clit as Paige squirmed energetically atop Craig's cock.

They circled around Times Square, moving up Sixth past Radio City Music Hall, rolling over to Fifth to cruise past St. Patrick's Cathedral and Rockefeller Center and then turning west to cruise back through Times Square again; all the while chasing squads of tourists in big, open-topped buses as the girls pushed themselves to one orgasm after another in a long series of impromptu live pornographic exhibitions. Craig held back heroically but eventually he croaked a warning of his imminent climax. Athena pulled Paige down to join her in bringing him to completion with their lips and tongues. Paige didn't shy away when his spray speckled their faces with hot pearls of semen as a score of French-Canadian students howled with delight from above. They kissed the spunk off each other as Craig retired to his seat to pour another drink and enjoy the remainder of the show. Paige swallowed his seed without hesitation. She even enjoyed it.

Still the girls scissored and squirmed, licked and sucked, fingered and frotted. The warm air in the cabin of the limo grew hot and hotter. Their skin waxed slick and shiny with saliva and sweat and the ripe juices of sex. They glowed lividly in the pulsing neon of the city, writhing on the floor and the seats like a luridly throbbing alien thing.

At last their movements grew sluggish. Their tired limbs grew weak, rubbery and resistant to command. Not at once but in parts – a leg, an arm, a torso, a neck - they collapsed on the carpet, mingled together, piled against and upon each other, panting in an exhausted daze. Paige absently plucked at strands of her hair stuck fast to the damp skin around her eyes and the corners of her mouth, blond darkened to brown by sweat. She turned to gaze at Athena with eyes weary and unfocused. Athena looked wild; her lipstick was ruined, her eyeliner and mascara badly blurred. Her skin was ghostly pale.

"Ooooh shit..." said Craig. He was looking at Athena.

Confused, Paige looked at Craig, then back to Athena. Athena was shivering, her eyes were blank. A dollop of drool slid from between her lips and dribbled from her chin. Her shivers intensified until she was shaking violently.

"What's wrong with her!?"

Craig didn't take time to answer. He leaned forward, gathered Athena in his arms and pulled her up onto the seat with him. Her body betrayed its rigidity as he moved her. She continued to tremble and drool as he held her to his chest and spoke softly to her. He was telling her she'd be fine, that everything was all right, that he loved her, that he loved her, that he loved her. He stroked her hair with his hand and kissed her forehead.

"Epilepsy?" guessed Paige.

Craig looked at her and nodded.

"Is she going to be OK?"

"She'll be fine. It was all that flashing, all that neon. I fucking warned her... She should have known better, God damn it."

"Oh my God... I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

"Not your fault,' said Craig. "Although, in answer to one of your earlier questions: now you can see why we go through all this trouble to recruit people. We can't just go to clubs to meet adventurous sluts like normal perverts do: too many lasers, too many fucking strobe-lights"

"Oh..." said Paige. Epilepsy, she thought with disbelief. So I got lured into being a slut because Athena has epilepsy and strobe-lights are an unfortunately ubiquitous part of the hedonistic life-style. She stifled a laugh.

Athena began to stir in Craig's embrace. "Oh... poop," she moaned in a slurred voice. She pivoted her head and looked up at Craig with tired eyes. "I had a thingy again, didn't I?"

"Yup."

"Did I pee myself?"

"No, it was a pretty minor one."

"I'm so sorry," said Paige. "I didn't know about... I didn't know that all those flashing lights would..."

"Please," said Athena. "I don't want to talk it."

"Well... I am sorry."

Athena gave her a weak smile. "You shouldn't be. That drive was fantastic, dear. Except that it now breaks my heart even more that you've quit."

"Oh... well... about that..."

"I think she might be changing her mind," said Craig.

"Are you changing your mind?" asked Athena.

"Well... yes. I guess I am."

"I was hoping you'd say something like that," said Athena as she fumbled her phone out of her purse with uncertain fingers. The pale grey light of the screen lit her and Craig's faces from below, making them look otherworldly, like spirits or perhaps gods. "Craig, would you send a text? Let the gang know the good news: Paige is one of us."

Paige watched as Craig tapped a text into the phone. "Do you think Marie will mad at me? I was kind of a bitch..."

Craig laughed. "I wouldn't worry about that. Her response to my text was the word 'yay' with about fifty a's and a couple dozen exclamation points."

"Really?" Paige could feel tears in her eyes.

"Yeah. Now she wants to know if you are coming back to The Chastanet with us."

"Can I? I'd love to. I don't care if I never go back to my crappy little apartment."

Athena, her eyes closed and her head now lying in Craig's lap, spoke in a sleepy mumble: "I own that building, dear. Please don't denigrate it."

Paige's face went blank as another piece of the puzzle clicked into place. "I see," she said. "So that's how you arranged my, um, my 'encounter' with Tony and Neil," she thought about that for a second. She found that after putting two and two together, four and four came easy. "So when the elevator at work stalled with me and Marie in it, that was a set-up too wasn't it?"

But Athena didn't respond. She was snoring lightly in Craig's lap as Craig leaned over to the intercom and informed Dave of their change in plans.

So no answer was forthcoming. But Paige decided she didn't care. "OK then. I think I'll have that drink now," she announced to Craig. "Nothing too nasty please."

"You got it, newb," said Craig with a teasing grin as he put down the phone and got to work.

Paige pulled herself up onto the seat as the limo changed direction and began gliding up Fifth Avenue. Craig passed a drink to her: vodka and cranberry juice, of course. She smiled to herself as she sipped it. It was all so unreal. She bit her lip hard enough to taste blood but, fortunately, she didn't wake up in her tiny apartment with its thin walls and shitty natural light. She decided to allow herself to believe, or at least hope, that it this was really real. She watched Chastanet Tower loom up before them with her heart in her mouth, still half-expecting it to dissolve away in mist as they approached. It did not. She bit her lip again, but not as hard this time.

The limo turned and descended into the garage. They rounded a corner and a heavy metal door rolled up to admit them to the separate parking area. As they pulled up to the penthouse elevator Paige saw Marie standing there in a short blue kimono and wicked high heels. She held a leash to which was attached a balding man, nude but for a pair of leather chaps, with sheepish eyes and a phallus-shaped gag protruding from his face. He was on his hands and knees with the pointy heel of Marie's right foot propped up on his ass. Marie was smiling elaborately as she watched the limo pull up next to them.

"Is... is that... Doug?" asked Paige.

"Yeah," laughed Craig. "He's being punished for having a big mouth."

"...and being kept around for having a big something else," added Athena with a groggy smirk as she laboriously pulled herself up into a sitting position. "But I know you don't care for Mr. Parker, Paige. We'll send him away for tonight if you want."

"Was Doug really the one who suggested you recruit me?"

Athena nodded. So did Craig.

"Keep him," said Paige as she opened the door. Still nude, she stepped out of the limo into Marie's embrace. As they kissed Paige reached down until her hand encountered Doug's head. She patted his bare scalp and turned to look into his upturned face.

"I guess I owe you something special," she said with a smile.

"We both do," said Marie.

That's when Doug Parker proved that, even with a large, dildo-shaped gag in one's mouth, it's still possible to smile from ear to ear.