Sarah Succumbs Book 1 Donna Chaney This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All characters portrayed are adults. This book contains graphic depictions of sex and BDSM; it is not intended for anyone under the age of 18. Copyright © 2012 by Donna Chaney All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. Smashwords Edition, License Notes This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This book is a work of sexual fantasy. It is solely intended for mature audiences. The author does not condone sexual exploitation, non-consensual sex or risky sexual behavior. This is fantasy only. ONE Beginnings They'd come far. Sarah Stark thought about that as she lay on the bed and watched the door close behind Trent. Her body was still glistening from the sweat that he'd worked out of her pours, and her clitoris was still jumping. She thought back to how they had first met and how bold Trent Danslow had been. It had all started so casually. Even now, she could hardly believe she had let it happen. But there was something about his touch, about his bold lack of concern for anything other than what he wanted that had made her feel as if she had no choice in the matter. And that feeling … complacency? … a need to surrender to the sensation of danger and excitement … that feeling had started it all. Sarah closed her eyes and thought back to that first night. The evening had been almost perfect. Her husband, David, had finally gotten his tenure and they had been out celebrating with the head of his department and his wife. Sarah had chosen a tight-fitting but tasteful black dress that plunged just enough at the neckline to invite a second look, and rose high enough on the thigh to come just short of a full tease. They had all had dinner at an elegant restaurant and then moved into the bar for after dinner drinks. They'd taken a booth in a dark corner, and when they went to sit, Trent guided his wife in beside David and took a seat next to Sarah. When the drinks arrived, a scotch and soda for David, an apple martini for Judith, Trent's wife, a Long Island iced tea for Sarah and a Makers Mark straight up for Trent, Trent proposed a toast. "To David, who suffered long and battled hard to win the tenure he so richly deserves." As they raised their glasses, Trent dropped his right hand beneath the table and firmly onto Sarah's thigh. Startled, Sarah nearly spilled her drink. But the act was so brazen and so deliberate she didn't reach to remove it. His hand rested just above the knee, gently squeezing from time to time as he allowed his fingers to scratch lightly against the sheer stockings. As they lowered their glasses, Trent pulled his hand away and gave Sarah a sideways glance. And even in that flash of a look, Sarah knew that his advances were just beginning. The very thought of it made her body flush. It was so wrong, so very wrong on her husband's special night, and, somehow, that seemed to make it even more exciting. As unobtrusively as she could, she slid over just a hair further away from Trent. It would make it slightly more difficult for him to reach out unobserved, and it would tell her a lot about how determined a man he was. Part of her hoped that her moving would put an end to it, but most of her hoped that it wouldn't, and she had no real idea why. The evening passed slowly, the hum of conversation flowing over them. Judith held an animated conversation with David about whether or not Shakespeare could have written all those plays and sonnets by himself. David was enthralled with the attention and deep into his third scotch when it happened. Sarah had just set her drink back on the table when she felt Trent's hand on her thigh. It lingered for a moment and then slowly slid upward, forcing the hem of her skirt to climb to her hip. His palm cupped her pussy, his index finger slowly wagging up and down the length of her slit. She could feel herself begin to saturate the lace panties. Almost of their own volition, her legs slid apart and allowed him to work his middle finger inside the lace … and inside of her. It was dangerous and more erotic than anything she'd ever felt before. It was difficult to sit still, and more difficult to keep from showing on her face what she was feeling all over. She could feel her nipples stiffen against the softness of her dress as Trent worked his fingers deeper into her. Involuntarily, she squeezed her legs together, trapping his hand against her mound. Her body ached to move, to ride with the rhythm of his fingers. Everything was tingling and it was more than difficult to control her breathing. When she came (the first of three times), she had to grip the edge of the table to stay still and hoped that David didn't notice. *** Sarah sat propped herself up on her elbows and stared at the closed door. Trent was gone. The memory of that first night had brought her nearly to climax and she desperately wanted to feel him inside her again. She reached for her cell phone, wondering if she could call him back. Her hands were shaking as she flipped the cover open and dialed. The call went directly to voicemail. Their afternoon was over, and it was time to shower and get back home before David got there. As she dressed, she wondered if it could ever be any different. Was there any possibility that she and Trent could ever be together, not just for an hour or an afternoon, but really together? And if they could, would that somehow ruin what they already had? Would that diminish the sexual power they shared simply because it removed the danger of discovery? TWO A Hint of More It was on their third meeting when things began to change. David was away giving a series of lectures on the west coast. It was a warm summer's evening and the email from Trent, complete with directions, drew Sarah to a seedy part of town and an empty warehouse. The excitement of what was to come ran through her like a river through a ravine. Her imagination ran rampant, wondering what Trent had in mind. The further she got into the bad areas of town, the more her anticipation grew. Before leaving the house, she chose an outfit that she knew to be one of David's favorites: black stockings and lace panties, stilettoes, a snakeskin skirt that barely covered her ass and an old, white tank top that showed off her nipples and surrounding areola. She purposely left her long, brown hair in disarray; it added to the illusion of being used. When the Garmin announced her arrival, she pulled over next to a dumpster. The warehouse was completely dark, and the alley in which she was told to park was starkly empty. There was no sight of Trent's car. Now, both nervous and exited (she could feel her juices beginning to run down her thighs), she stepped out of the car. "Trent? Trent, are you here?" Her heart was beginning to beat heavily against her chest. "Trent?" she called, hesitantly, as she stepped away from her car and inched toward the only door on that side of the building. Before she reached it someone grabbed her from behind. A hand was clamped over her mouth and an arm around her throat, both stifling the scream that tried to escape. She was pulled backwards and then suddenly slammed up against the dumpster. She tried to free herself but movement was impossible. Two more men were pulling her arms out wide. Her body was pressed against the cold metal of the dumpster and she could feel her nipples stiffening. "It's play time, slut," Trent whispered in her ear. "But I'm just a casual observer." He unclamped his hand from over her mouth. "I just want to watch what they do to you. Later … later, you can take care of me." He stepped away from her and another man took his place. Sarah's heart was beating furiously. Wondering what they were going to do to her - three strangers who were now in control of her body - made her ache to be touched and at the same time, her mind was repulsed by the idea. "Let go of me. Let me-" Her head was yanked back by her hair so hard that her back was arched. A hand, strong and firm, tightened around her left tit. "Shut up, bitch. You don't give the orders. We do." The stranger leaned in and ran his tongue up the side of her neck. "The only time you have to open your mouth is when we want to put something in it." He let go of her tit and then slapped it hard. The men holding her arms pinned them against the lip of the dumpster, just above the elbow. With that control, each let their free hand start to explore between her legs. She could feel their fingers rising on her thigh and the hem of her skirt slipping higher and higher. "Spread your legs," said the man behind her, "and let my friends finger you." He grabbed her nipple and twisted it. Sarah let out a yell and immediately felt the sting of a sharp slap on the side of her face. "Suffer quietly, whore. We don't want to hear it." The other men had worked their hands inside her panties and were rhythmically shoving their fingers in out and out of her. She could hear Trent laughing in the background and urging them on. "Take her! Use her! Do whatever you want to her and don't be gentle about it. Make her serve you. She's just meat!" Suddenly, the two men let go of her and she was pulled away from the dumpster. For a moment she was free, but that moment evaporated in a heartbeat. The man who had been behind her shoved her forward. She lost her balance and fell, but one of the other two caught her and shoved her back. Then she was shoved sideways, caught and shoved again. They were having a game of catch and she was the ball, and each one made it a point to try to grab her by a tit or between her legs. When one of her heels snapped, she went down hard, her right knee slamming onto the rough macadam of the drive. She screamed and reached to cradle it but never got the chance. The two men who had pinned her arms were now split. One held her arms outstretched above her head and the other was pulling her legs open. "Wanna do her mouth or her hot pussy first?" one of them asked, while shoving and twisting the broken heel into her swollen mound. The man who had been behind her stepped over her body. It was hard to make out his features in the dark, but she could see the muscles bulging in his forearms and biceps. He knelt down and sat back on Sarah's belly, his knees against her armpits. "I think I'll just play awhile." He leaned in and ran his tongue across her forehead as his hands closed on her tits, squeezing the nipples between his fingers. "Need to see how good she tastes. They always taste better frightened, and I don't think this one's frightened enough yet." He pinched her right nipple between his thumb and forefinger and pulled it straight up, let go and then pulled it again. "Let me help," said Trent. He walked over, knelt down and pinched Sarah's nose closed. When she opened her mouth to breathe, he upended a bottle of bourbon into to it and held it there, watching her gag and listening to it gurgle out, running down her chin and cheeks, soaking the collar of her shirt between her bulging mounds. He forced it into her three times until the bottle was almost empty and then dumped the rest on her tits. Her tank top immediately clung to her skin, her nipples prominent buds that forced themselves upward against the shirt. "Won't make her more scared," said Trent….but I know for a fact that it'll make her oh so much hornier. Now I want to watch you take turns with her … and then we'll gang her. All four of us." Sarah's mind was swimming. Part of her wanted to get away from them … most of her wanted… Do me. Fuck me like a whore; use me like I didn't exist for any other purpose, kept rolling through her thoughts and she couldn't fight them. She could feel herself dripping, she could feel the wetness of the shirt against her erect nipples, she could feel the strength of the men who had her on the ground and she wanted them … she wanted all of them. The man on top of her, stood, took of his pants and knelt down beside her head. "Make me feel good, cunt!" He leaned over her, grabbed a hank of hair and steadied her head so she couldn't pull away. He shoved his hard, throbbing cock into her mouth. His thrusts were slow and deliberate at first: in … out … in … out. As he started to swell in her mouth he pushed harder and harder, faster and faster, not allowing her time to breathe. Her back arched as he pounded himself into her and she struggled for air. Spittle and streams of pre-cum dribbled from her lips. His pelvis smashed against her face again and again and again until she felt him explode in her mouth, the thick, warm taste of the salty cream ran down the back of her throat and oozed out the sides of her mouth. When he pulled out, he slapped his hand over her mouth. "Swallow it, whore. Swallow it all and get used to it. You're just a toy with tits and a pussy for us to use." As he spoke, he wiped his still throbbing member across her face, over her lips and up across her eyes. Then he arched himself over her, his cock dangling just above her lips. "Clean it off with your tongue, slut! Make it all nice and clean so I can shove it in your pussy when my friends are done using you." He moved around and knelt at her head, his knees cradling pressing tightly against her ears, and took hold of her arms with his powerful hands. The man who had been holding her legs down now pushed them apart and slid in between them. He bent and ran the tip of his tongue over her panties, pressing it hard against her clit. When she moaned, he tore the panties free and slammed his cock into her dripping pussy and pounded her, the sounds of her wet pussy squishing with each thrust. He held her hips down and slammed himself into her until he exploded inside her with satisfaction. And when he finished, the next one climbed on top of her. Helpless, she lay there pinned to the ground her tits bouncing with each heavy thrust of her user's cock. When he finally came, he slid out of her, crawled up her belly and began nipping at her nipples through her shirt, his teeth closing hard enough to send a shiver of pain throughout her body … and the more she moaned (or screamed if the bite was hard enough), the more he enjoyed it and the harder he bit. Her pussy throbbing and her tits and nipples aching with the electricity of pain and pleasure, she lay there on the ground, waiting for what was to come – what Trent had promised would come last – a rough gangbang. She'd already cum more times than she could count, and the thought that they were going to keep using her until she was sore both scared her and heightened her arousal. Trent's voice echoed from somewhere in the darkness. "Now we'll all take her like a two-dollar whore…but the back door … that's reserved for me ...at a later, more appropriate time. Other than that, without causing any major damage … be as brutal as you like. They dove into it with a passion, ravishing every inch of her body. Her pussy was licked and pounded, her tits squeezed until they turned purple and her nipples were pulled and pinched and twisted. Tongues were forced into her mouth, only to be replaced with throbbing and dripping cocks. She was gagged with their thickness and ooze. Her face was slapped, her ass was turned crimson. She was twisted from side to side and used in every position they could think of. At one point, they hoisted her off the ground, two of them supporting her by her arms and legs while the other two took turns, one in her mouth and one in her pussy and then switching ends. When they were pleased, they changed position with the two holding her and they took their turns. Sarah was fucked and slapped and turned and twisted until she could hardly take any more. Her hair was matted to her face with drying cum, her tits covered in it, its thickness dripping from the tips of her now tender nipples. When they finished with her, when she was totally covered in their hot, sticky lust and it oozed out of her mouth and pussy, Trent dragged her over to the warehouse, unlocked the door and shoved her in. A moment later, the three men who had used her were tying her hands behind her back. When they finished, they forced her into what looked like a Plexiglas cage, wrapped a dog collar around her neck and chained her to a ring bolted to the floor. Pushing her into it, they bound her to a straight backed chair. The man who had shoved her up against the dumpster leaned down and took one last lick of her still hard nipples, blindfolded her and then walked away. Trent looked in through the glass. "Now you'll wait here. You, Sarah, chose to be with me. I am a man who gets what he wants and am always in control. From now on, you exist for only one reason … to please me … to please me in whatever fashion I see fit." He smiled an evil and lecherous smile. "And that includes letting anyone I want use you in any manner I see fit, and I am totally unconcerned about whether or not you're enjoying it. Now, you wait here for what comes next. If you liked having four men use you-" He laughed. "-you're gonna love this. If you didn't like it … oh well. Too fucking bad!" Trent nodded to his friends and the four of them left. Sarah was helpless. Tied in a chair with her shoulders pulled back and her tits pushed forward, and chained in a box, she dreaded and anticipated what might happen to her next. When the door slammed over and the men were gone, she was left in total darkness … awaiting the unknown. About the Author Donna Chaney was born in a small suburb of Philadelphia, where she still resides, living a very private but extremely fulfilled life. Her writing is her escape from the everyday world of paying bills and planning meals. ALSO BY DONNA CHANEY Sarah Succumbs Book 2 The Box (Part I)