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Author's note: this story came about after discovering that my husband had been having an affair with a woman who shares the same name as my main character. We're still together though, thanks to a wonderful marriage counselor who suggested that I deal with my anger by writing about it. I'm not sure if this is what she meant, but I do feel a lot better now. ;-)

***

"Stephanie, could you come into my office, please?"

The tired voice of Nancy Blanchard, CEO of Blanchard Enterprises, came over the intercom, startling Stephanie out of her reverie. She'd been daydreaming about George again, fantasizing about the contents of the e mail he'd written her earlier. Her fingers played idly over her breast, the nipple still hard beneath her clothing. Her blouse was filmy, almost transparent, worn especially because of the August heat, as well as for her rendezvous with George later. In fact, her entire outfit today was probably pushing the limits of professionalism befitting her position as the CEO's executive secretary.

Stephanie had been working for Nancy for three years, the last six months of which she'd also been sleeping with Nancy's husband. There had been an instant attraction between the two of them ever since she met George at a company picnic. He was handsome and rich - everything she could want in a man - and she'd made it her personal mission to seduce him before the year was over. Their first sexual encounter, in an empty bedroom at the Blanchards' Christmas party, had been, quite simply, amazing. Things had progressed to the point where she couldn't get through the day without thinking of him. She had even begun talking about siphoning some money out of Blanchard Enterprises so the two of them could run off together, escape to another part of the country entirely.

She couldn't help regarding her boss with a certain measure of pity, almost condescension. Poor Nancy. She just didn't get it. No matter how smart, rich, or powerful a woman got, men invariably went for someone younger, blonder, with a better body. The fact was, men were evolutionarily programmed to favor youth, health, and beauty. Stephanie knew this; she'd heard it once on TV, on the Nature channel.

Nancy was on the phone when she came in, engaged in a heated argument with someone, George no doubt. "I'll be off in a second, help yourself to some coffee," She waved toward the sleek little personal coffee maker on her credenza. Stephanie poured the coffee for both of them, then added cream and sugar to her cup. Nancy always took hers black. This was one of their daily rituals, sharing a cup of afternoon coffee. Some pathetic attempt at female bonding, Steph guessed. Yeah, if you only knew the extent of it, she thought. We're both sleeping with the same man, you can't get much more bonded than that.

"Can you believe this?" Nancy slammed down the phone with a sigh. "George tells me he's got a last-minute meeting with the client tonight. And I was hoping to having a quiet evening in with him."

Stephanie rolled her eyes, feigning sympathy. Clearly, Nancy had no idea George's mystery "client" was her very own secretary.

"Well, enough about George. Might as well not even bother trying to finish up before five now. How are things going with you?"

"Oh, great." Absolutely wonderful, as a matter of fact. While you're working late, your husband will be meeting me in a hotel, and giving me the attention he's not giving you.

"Glad to hear it. Listen, the Riverfront office called earlier. Apparently on top of everything else I've forgotten to courier a couple of files over to them for their quarterly meeting this afternoon. Listen, if I let you take off early, would you mind dropping it off on your way home? It's a very important delivery."

"No problem." The afternoon was starting to look better and better. Not only would she be meeting George, but she'd also be able to start their tryst earlier. Stephanie wondered how Nancy would feel if she realized she'd just given her secretary an extra hour of fuck-time with her husband.

"Thanks." Nancy smiled brightly as she handed over a thick brown accordion file. "I knew I can count on you. You know how much I value people I can trust."

Feeling quite smug and self-important, Stephanie walked the short trip from the corporate building to her little red convertible in the parking lot So what if she didn't have an executive parking space. Hey, she had the executive's husband, and hopefully soon a good chunk of the executive's money as well.

Anticipating an evening with George always made her feel heady, and she could barely concentrate on following Nancy's written directions. She had never been to the Riverfront building. She hadn't even known there was a Riverfront office. It was very warm in the car, and she cranked the air conditioning up to its maximum. She longed to put the top down, but didn't want the wind to ruin her hair right before her date. The combination of the heat and the excitement were making her extremely giddy.

The Riverfront district was unfamiliar to her. In her distracted state she missed her destination on the first pass, and had to circle round. Before she spotted it. It was a nondescript concrete building that blended in with a lot of other nondescript concrete buildings. As she parked the car an uncontrollable fit of giggling overcame her and she had to put her head down on the steering wheel to let it pass. George was going to love this story.

The hot, sticky air assaulted her as soon as she opened the door from the air conditioned car. As she stepped out onto the sidewalk she swayed on her feet, suddenly lightheaded. Something, perhaps it really was the heat, was certainly making her woozy. Clutching the file against her body, she staggered up the front walk, nearly tripping over her tight skirt.

The interior of the building was only a slight improvement on outside. She managed to make it into the lobby without falling on her face. The security guard, boyishly handsome in his blue uniform, gave her a big smile as she tottered to his desk. She would have flirted with him if her head wasn't reeling so badly.

"I'm Stephanie Rogers. I'm delivering a file from Nancy Blanchard." Her words slurred. Was he smirking at her? God, he must think she was drunk.

"Right. Yes, we've been expecting you, Ms. Rogers. Come with me, please."

She followed the guard down a dimly lit hallway, wobbling a little. He caught her eye, gave her another smirking grin, and put his arm out for her to take. She sagged against him, grateful for his support. Her face flushed with embarrassment. He *did* think she was drunk. She certainly felt drunk. Maybe she should find the restroom, get a drink of water, splash some cold water on her face. Why was it so hot in here?

The guard let her into a room at the far end of the hall. It looked to be some kind of meeting room, unfurnished except for a small table near the center and number of folding chairs stacked against the wall. The floor was covered with a generic sort of carpet. Definitely not as posh as the main building. A group of men were standing at the far end of the room. Were they waiting for her files? She couldn't understand why they weren't sitting down. It was getting so hard to think.

"Ms. Blanchard's delivery is here," the guard announced to the room. With that, he plucked the file out of her hands and tossed it into the corner.

Confused, Stephanie whirled around, nearly losing her balance. Didn't Nancy tell her this was a very important delivery? If only her brain would focus. The nasty thought hit her: had she been drugged? The coffee? It had to be the cream, or the sugar. Oh God, Nancy. With her last coherent thought she realized that the file wasn't the important delivery. She was.

The security guard pushed her into the room and shut the door behind him. The men began advancing on her. From somewhere back by the wall a voice called out, "Take off her clothes!" Other voices joined in, and soon the room was a rowdy, chanting sea of voices. It was hard to tell how many there were. Strong arms pinned her hands behind her back, and she struggled weakly in their grip as another pair of hands started unbuttoning her blouse and pulling it free of her skirt. The voices cheered at the sight of her bra, a sheer, lacy thing she'd worn just for the purpose of meeting George later. She had a brief glimpse of her captured blouse being waved up in the air like a victory banner before it disappeared from view.

More hands grabbed at her skirt, tearing the hook and zipper open in their eagerness. Another cheer rose up as the skirt was pulled off, exposing her matching thong panties. Through the fog in her brain Stephanie could make out faces, leering, crude, ogling her finely toned body, and she realized with growing dread how sheer her bra and panties really were.

She stumbled forward as her panty hose were stripped from her legs, toppling her out of her high heeled shoes. Then her bare feet found purchase on the floor, and she made a last, stumbling break for the door, feebly trying to cover herself with her hands. She wished she'd worn more sensible underwear.

The men let her make it almost to the door before they grabbed her again. This time they lifted her bodily off the floor and hoisted her up over their heads, like a trophy. More hands pulled off first her bra, and then her panties, taking every opportunity to paw at her breasts and in between her legs.

They carried her back to the center of the room, where they dumped her unceremoniously on the hard wooden table. Her head lolled over the edge, turning everything in her view upside down. One of the men, or maybe a few of them, pushed open her dangling legs. She could hear them making lewd comments as they inspected her pussy, a couple of them coming so close that she could feel their breath on her thighs. Prying fingers opened her labia, exploring, probing. To her dismay she realized that in spite of her horror and revulsion she was getting quite wet.

Stephanie opened her mouth to cry, and one of the men shoved his cock into it. Then she felt another being pushed roughly into her vagina. The men began pumping, pushing her back and forth across the table between them. The only thing she could see in front of her was her assailant's pendulous, hair-covered balls, grotesque in their closeness. She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed for it to end.

Just then the man in front of her jerked, and a thick wad of cum hit the back of her throat. Stephanie gagged and chocked. He pulled out long enough for her to cough and sputter, only to be replaced by another cock. Meanwhile, the man between her legs had pumped his own load into her, then withdrew to make room for the next in line. Her arms flailed uselessly at her sides as she was fucked repeatedly at both ends. Something warm and sticky splashed across her breasts. With her head in an upside-down position it was hard to swallow. Thick white cum overflowed her mouth and dribbled out the corner of her lips.

At some point she became aware that the onslaught had abated. She slid off the table and landed in a heap on the carpeted floor. Then the hands were back, turning her over onto her stomach and propping her up on her hands and knees. She felt some kind of cool salve being spread over her ass and pussy. It felt soothing against her violated flesh. Suddenly gentle fingers were massaging her breasts, teasing her nipples until they stiffened in response. Her breathing deepened and a whimper of arousal escaped her lips. Someone slipped a finger inside and began to work it in and out. It was followed by another, then another. Soon she was rocking her hips back to meet each thrust. Another finger started rolling her swollen clitoris around like a marble, while yet another found the tight bud of her anus and coaxed it open. This last sensation felt strange but not unpleasant. The combination of sensations and drug overwhelmed her, and she momentarily forgot where she was and let the pleasure engulf her.

"Yeah, look, she's hot for it!" came a triumphant cry from somewhere in the crowd. Someone grabbed her hair and pulled her head up. She found her looking straight at her reflection in a small hand mirror. Her face was a mess of sweat, tears, smeared makeup, and other things she didn't want to know about. Her carefully styled hair now hung in damp, matted tendrils. Yet even through her drugged haze she could discern the flush in her cheeks, the arousal in her eyes. She turned her head quickly away in shame, but there was nothing she could do to stop the orgasm building inside her. Her body bucked and spasmed to the delighted hoots from her audience.

Quivering and panting, Stephanie savored her brief respite, trying to ignore the humiliation. Then suddenly she felt more pressure between her buttocks as one of the men pushed his cock against her puckered ass hole. Before she realized what was happening it ripped into her anus, causing her to scream in pain. The onslaught had begun again.

Stephanie was no longer aware of what exactly was happening to her. For what seemed like an eternity she was fucked, orally, vaginally, and anally, sometimes all three at once. She felt fingers penetrate her; fists, what may or may not have been a bottle. Her breasts grew red and sore from being grabbed and twisted. Cum covered her back, spurted in her hair and dripped onto her face. There were times she felt herself having orgasms of her own, but her shudders and cries were drowned out by the noise of her assailants. The small, still-lucid corner of her mind was glad that they could not see the extent of her degradation.

At last the men seemed to tire of her, or just plain tire. Stephanie fell over onto her side, exhausted and aching. Her body was slimy with semen, her ass and pussy stretched beyond repair. More fluid overflowed from her insides and ran down her legs.

One of the men placed a small black box on the floor by her head. She recognized it as a hand-held cassette recorder of the kind that people used to dictate memos. He pushed it closer and pressed the playback button. The room went quiet as the sound of her boss's recorded voice filled her ear:

"Hallo, Stephanie. Nancy Blanchard here. I trust you enjoyed this evening's festivities. Judging by some of the rumors I've heard, I should expect they were right up your alley, no pun intended. And now that things should just be about winding down, I only have three more messages for you.

"First of all, you're fired. You needn't bother coming up here later to collect your personal belongings, if you want them they'll be around the back of the building by the dumpsters.

"Second, I just wanted to inform you that I'm divorcing George. Turns out he's always been absolutely hopeless when it comes to managing money, so he was totally unprepared for it financially. I've offered him a very nice divorce package - more than reasonable given his recent behavior - under condition that he avoids any and all further contact with you. I doubt it will take him too long to decide what to do.

"And third. I thought it only fair to inform you that I've taken out a bit of insurance. I've made a video of the events of the entire evening. And believe me, by the time the boys in the video department are through with the edit, it will appear as if you not only enjoyed every minute of it but also instigated most of the action. Should you ever decide to take action against me or my company, I will be more than ready to make it public. The men involved are also prepared to back up the contents of the tape. They're fantastically loyal, you see. Completely trustworthy. And you know how important it is to have people I can trust..

"Which brings me back to you, Stephanie. Frankly, I'm very disappointed in you. I hope you will take this as a lesson when it comes to your next job, which will be, preferably in another city entirely. Oh, and one more thing, I've left the outcome of this evening to the discretion of these gentlemen here. I trust they will know best how to deal with you."

***

Sometime later, she didn't know when, she was vaguely aware of being bundled into the backseat of a car and propped up between two sweating bodies. She had no idea of how long they drove, or in what direction. It was stuffy in the car, amid all the bodies. She thought she might get carsick. Eventually they stopped. The the car door opened and they shoved her out.

She felt soft grass under her bare feet, then pitched forward on her hands and knees. Everything was spinning. She was going to be sick. Her stomach lurched and she vomited out a large puddle of semen. She managed to crawl forward a few feet, then collapsed back onto the grass, staring up at the sky. The moon was shining brightly above the tree tops and a soft breeze blew across her bare skin. She was in a park maybe, or out in the country. She didn't know.

The cool night air, refreshing after the steamy heat of the Riverfront building, was rapidly dispelling the fog in her brain. As her head cleared, she could make out bits of conversation.

"Aw man, look, she leaked all over my leather backseat!"

"Never mind, Ms. Blanchard said she'd pay the cleaning costs."

"Her clothes, damn it, did we pack her clothes?"

"Aw, just leave her."

in a sudden fit of panic she tried to sit up, to beg the men to take her back, but a fresh wave of dizziness felled her again. The voices receded, and the car doors slammed. Then there was only the sound of the engine, fading gradually in the distance until it was gone.
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