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“Here you go, baby.”
Your head snaps up towards the outstretched hand and with a grateful smile, you take the juice box, standing out amongst everyone’s beers and spiked punch, as if your delicate checkered thigh-length dress in the middle of winter wasn’t doing that already.
“You sure you don’t want something else?” Ransom asks, sitting down and pulling your legs over his lap. His hand lands on your tight-clad knee, fingers cold from his fresh bottle of beer. “It’s a Friday night, a few sips won’t hurt.”
“I don’t know… My parents might be waiting for me tonight. I don’t want them to smell it on me.”
They meant well, you knew that, but sometimes they still treated you like a child. Your mother respected boundaries when it was convenient and although your father was better at that, he refused to let you date. In their eyes, you were still their sweet little girl whose only concerns should be school and getting a head start on your career.
Success was number one, extracurriculars were number two, and social life was number three—that didn’t include dating, “my daughter doesn’t need to waste time on that. Boys are nothing but trouble.”
Trouble isn’t the word you’d use to describe Ransom. Dreamy, handsome and sultry was more accurate. Strong too, you’ve seen the muscles shifting under his cashmere sweaters, but have yet to see him on the ice in his uniform.
He was a hockey player and quite popular, his fraternity status and famous name made him one of the most sought-after boys on campus. And right now, he was running his hand up and down your thigh while talking to his friends.
If your father saw you so comfortably close to a boy, you’d be banished to a tower for the rest of your days. As much as you despised lying, you told them that you doing a group project tonight. They had no clue you were at a fraternity gathering reserved for members and their partners only.
The last time you were here, it was crowded, packed to the brim with students celebrating the hockey team’s victory. Ransom personally invited you after one of your shared classes and clarified that “ yes, I’m asking you on a date .” Your saccharine heart soared and you didn’t hesitate to accept, thinking about the big box under your bed full of skimpy lace and satin outfits, so much different from your regular skirts and dresses.
In your favourite lingerie dress and cutest heels, you sneaked out after your parents went to bed and beelined for his white BMW down the street.
“Am I—Am I overdressed? I’ve never been to a party before.” You asked nervously, squirming in the heated leather seat. “I don’t want to stand out.”
As if you couldn’t fall for him harder, Ransom cupped your cheek with soft eyes, “sweetheart, you’re going to stand out in the best way possible, but I’ll have to make it clear that you’re taken.”
“How are you gonna do that?”
To this day, you haven’t had a more passionate kiss—or a bigger hickey.
An hour into the party, you were hitting it off with the sorority girls and thriving on liquid courage. Plenty of dances and drinks later, you ended up with your face buried in his sheets and your panties around your ankles. You barely remembered anything from that night, just flashes of his toned body and the sound of your sinful act bouncing off the bedroom walls.
You were mortified to find out that everyone heard you over the booming music and refused to show your face since. You’ve made up every excuse in the book, but Ransom was nothing if not stubborn. During every date after that night, he asked you to come to the next party time and time again: “the guys think I’m lying about you being my girlfriend because they haven’t seen you around.”
A little gasp escaped your lips, “I’m your girlfriend?”
He scoffed quietly, throwing an arm around the back of your chair. “Well, I don’t voluntarily spend hours at the library for just anyone.”
“C’mon, sweet girl, just a bit.” He holds the spout to your lips, “open up for daddy.”
Like magic, you obey, staring at him with heart eyes as the alcohol burns down your throat.
Ransom wasn’t a stranger, no, he was your first real boyfriend you couldn’t get over it. You’ve slept with people and explored yourself sexually, but relationships were still so new to you. The commitment and desire seemed like a fantasy out of reach, something unattainable for someone so… you.
Loneliness made everything worse, you watched your friends get paired up and fall in love, all while you hid away in your studies and erotic literature. After losing your virginity to some loser, you used fiction to traverse the world of pleasure, tasting the different flavours of filthy imagination.
It started so small, just an account where you chatted with people just like you. Then you found the confidence to post pictures and videos with dirty captions and admittedly, it was strange to be showered in attention and lust while being terribly inexperienced. Your camming career started not long after that. Your following grew exponentially and so did your self-assurance.
They called you the virgin whore because you were dripping with innocence but could turn into a needy mess, so eager to please.
“We should make a toast.” Sam’s voice booms, a relaxed smile on his face, “to the game that we’re all betting on and, of course, the happy couple. Happy one year anniversary!”
Everyone cheers, raising their glasses and echoing the brunet’s words. You join in too, watching Wanda plant a wet kiss on her boyfriend’s lips. They look so happy, youthfully glowing with love and devotion, the main characters of their own little love story. You hope they’re together forever.
Your thoughts are cut short when Ransom leans over, his breath fanning over your cheek, “when it’s our one year anniversary, we aren’t spending it with these idiots.”
When —that four-letter word sparks joy in your heart and you nod happily. “When it’s our special day, I’m gonna take you out.”
A few months later…
Their unwavering stares from across the room sear heavily through your skull, burning like hot lava, melting you into a mess of sparkles and regret. It’s hard to ignore even with the dimmed lights and loud conversation but you refuse to give them an ounce of attention.
When you entered the fraternity house tucked under your boyfriend’s arm, you immediately noticed the missing hockey stars. Their towering heights and broad frames made it impossible for them to go ignored. Usually, they were the centre of attention but everyone was too absorbed in the game to care. Everyone but you .
Ari and Curtis were the very definitions of vain, walking around with their heads held high and flourishing from the envy of their peers. Their list of lovers was endless and worst of all, it included your name.
Between Ransom taking your coat and leading you to the couch with everyone else, your eyes landed on them sitting by an opened window, drinks in hand as they spoke quietly. Before they could meet your gaze, you ducked away.
Touch-starved, naive little you couldn’t have been a better prey for their appetite.
You were almost too perfect—sickeningly sweet, smart, and beautiful with hidden potential. You let them do anything to you. The filthiest of acts that would make even the most sinful squirm.
This mess of betrayal began after Ransom found out about your secret when he was using your laptop. He would’ve never guessed the prim and proper honours student would be into anal or turn dumb with just a few pets on your clit, or virtually go by Sweet Bubbles .
You feared he’d find it disgusting or shameful and break up with you on the spot. But no , Ransom was more than into it and fucked you silly into your twin bed, even uttering those three words that sat dormant in his mind. Things changed after that. He took you to meet his whole family, bought you a special gift every week (“I saw it and thought of you”) and started sneaking through your window more often.
Soon enough, you were spending almost every day together which also meant you were always at the fraternity house, but Ransom took precautions and didn’t let you come over unless he was there. The whole frat shared a notoriously sleazy reputation, he wasn’t going to lose his girl to one of his fuckboy friends.
Like a good boyfriend, he helped with filming and taking pictures, but his favourite was prep. He could work you open for your chosen toy, get you extra needy and puffy for your dear viewers and jerk off behind the camera while you put on a show. He had his own little pornstar and he fucking loved it.
You thought Ransom kept it to himself as promised, but he was a terrible brag and would jump at any opportunity to make himself superior to others. And his cute nerdy girlfriend being a secret camgirl was too golden to keep under wraps.
All it took was a few beers with the guys for him to talk about every inch of your sex life, go on and on about your endless toy and lingerie collection, and show them your page.
“She had you film this?” Steve asks, eyes locked on the close-up of your panty-clad cunt, the tiny vibrator dragging up and down your slit.
“Yup,” he puffs his chest proudly, “even paid me for my time and let me use whatever I wanted on her.”
“But you haven’t filmed with her.” Curtis feels himself growing hard at the sound of your whimpers, soft and needy. “Why not?”
“She wants us to stay separate from her work. She’s heard of fans getting jealous of partners or some shit like that, but I’ll convince her one day.”
Beside you with his arm around your shoulders, Ransom is high on bliss and under the impression that he already knows about your biggest secret, and maybe he’s also insanely smug because his friends know that he’s hit the fucking jackpot . Too bad he has no clue about the two other secrets in this very room, sitting across from you with cocky smirks.
“How’s sorority life treating you?” Ari asks, lazily running a hand through his long hair.
“Good, I’m friends with all my sisters and I-I get to move in next year, my parents finally said yes.”
“My baby’s an honours student, on the student council, and is gonna be a sorority girl…” Ransom sighs in contentment, “it’s okay to say you’re jealous, guys, I don’t mind.”
What’s there to be jealous of if they’ve had you before?
Who would’ve thought your relationship would turn into a sick joke after rush week? Without telling Ransom, you showed up at the fraternity house buzzing with excitement. You didn’t want to share the news over the phone and didn’t think to ask if he was home—and he wasn’t.
They were his friends, his teammates. Of course, you hadn’t thought they’d push you to betray your boyfriend.
“Congrats, little pledge. We knew you could do it.”
You grinned, sipping from the juice they kept especially for you, “thank you! I was so nervous I wouldn’t get in—things like this usually don’t work out for me even if I try super, super hard. I’ve always had trouble making friends, my parents say it’s ‘cause I’m too shy.”
Too shy… yeah right. The various videos of you fucking yourself stupid on camera say differently.
“Being shy isn’t a bad thing. Honestly, I think it only makes you more charming.” Ari sat on the counter next to you and nudged your arm, “You were worried for no reason. And look, now you’ve got a bunch of sisters which are better than some lousy friends.”
“You’re some of my lousy friends.” You giggled. “Wanda wants to have a sleepover but I’ve never been to one before.”
“And you came here for advice? I don’t think you’d be interested in our kind of sleepovers with girls.”
Heat flooded your cheeks, “No! I came for my boyfriend. When did you say Ransom was getting back? I want to celebrate with him.”
“This is one of his longest days, so not until eight or nine.” Curtis answered, blue eyes tracing over your face and landing on the pledge pin on your shirt, “So it looks like you’re stuck with us for now, sweet bubbles .”
Months later, the nausea still lingers.
“We won't tell anyone if that’s what you’re worried about.” Ari leaned close, his big hand landing on your thigh. “Do you wanna keep it that way and let us congratulate you?”
That was the beginning of the arrangement, whatever you could call it. You went from their best friend’s girlfriend to their little plaything.
Maybe you are a bad person. You never claimed to be perfect, but surely you wouldn’t get any good karma now.
“ Look at that , has the fresh little pledge missed us that much?”
You stare up through teary eyes, breaths ragged as you sloppily jerked them off. Your fingers barely meet around their thick girths, it makes you wonder how they fit in you at the same time.
They forced you to take them—meanly quoting one of your most popular videos: “thought you said you liked it when it hurts? When your little hole is stretched to the brim, and you can feel it in your guts?”
Curtis grabs your wrist, keeping you locked on his fat base, “he asked you a question.”
“Y-Yes. Missed you both so badly, daddy.” Your face is filthy with spit and drool, your own and theirs, but you know better than to wipe it off. They liked seeing you ruined and used like their little cumrag.
“Yeah, we’ve seen you cry about it on your cam shows.” Ari groans, guiding you back to his length, sliding deep down your throat, “poor girl, crying to a bunch of strangers while fucking yourself stupid, whining about missing being full and covered in cum.” The corners of your mouth burn as he fucks your face, “Which hole do you want?”
“I want to see her cry.” Curtis stands over you with a dangerous glint in his blue eyes. “If you’re really good, bubbles, I’ll let you kiss me.”
Ari pulls you off his cock with a lewd pop and brings you to your feet. “Don’t worry, I’ll kiss you all you want, baby.” He wraps you in his arms, big hands caressing your curves and dips.
If you close your eyes, you could pretend it’s Ransom instead and you aren’t drowning in misery. You know it’s wrong, you know it’s terrible and an irreversible act of betrayal, but you can’t help but feel sad that Curtis won’t kiss you.
You pout, “why no kisses?” You’ve been good, you haven’t said a word to anyone and you did whatever they asked. You’ve been better than good .
“You haven’t broken up with him.” He answers so simply, “and because of that, we aren’t gonna fuck your ass either.”
Ari and Curtis were always efficient and the rush of dejection doesn’t last long before you’re on your hands and knees, arousal leaking down your thighs and stung paper thin. Your head is empty but your body is so full and overstimulated from both ends.
Ari rocks into you from behind, big hands gripping your hips so tightly they’ll surely be bruised tomorrow. “So fucking needy, can’t function without a cock in you, huh? Bet your daddy’s real proud of you for being the team whore. First the spoiled brat, then Steve, and then Jensen.” He lists, every deep stroke pushes the air from your lungs, your choked whines silenced by Curtis’ heavy balls.
“And now us— again . Working your way through the frat like a desperate slut.” The other finishes, teeth gritted as you mouth at his sack, your nose nuzzled into his base.
It wasn’t your fault. How did you know that you were sexting Steve behind that anonymous username, or that the custom video you recorded was for the IT guy? Ransom knew about your job and they paid for your services, it wasn’t okay that they were his fraternity brothers but it wasn’t cheating, right? But this— this was definitely cheating.
“Don’t tell Ransom, pl-please.” You beg, sniffling wetly, “he’s gonna b-be so mad.”
Curtis snorts, pulling you back to his balls as you struggle to take one into your mouth. He’s so big and nasty, slapping his cock against your face when you try to pull away for a breath, “Don’t you know that Ransom has always liked them a little used? No wonder he wanted you, ya fuckin’ dummy.”
You turn away, eagerly inhaling through your moans. Ari hits that special spot and rubs the pad of his thumb over your rosebud. “H-He doesn’t know…”
“Is that what you think?” Curtis asks, tracing his sloppy tip all over your cheek, “when has he ever let you walk around the house alone? When has he ever let you out of his sight when we’re nearby?”
“He wouldn’t… uh! ” You moan when Ari grinds forward, filling you to the brim, a delicious burn erupting from your centre. “He wouldn’t—he wouldn’t.”
You’re right but Ari and Curtis were having too much fun right now to tell you that.
“Do we have to spell it out for you, bubbles?” Comes his slow drawl as he drags his nails down your back, “c’mon, put the pieces together. He’s sitting outside with the rest of the guys, drinking and talking ‘bout dumb shit, and letting you go to bed alone… Knowing well enough that we’re here too.” Your tight hole clings to him, so fucking needy and wet.
With the right persuasion, he bets you’d beg them to squeeze into your cunt, but that would mean he’d have to be sweet and Curtis was already dead set on making you a cumbrained mess. Playing nice wasn’t in the cards tonight. If you were their girl… well then that would be a different story.
Ransom actually thinks they’re at a sorority party and adding a few more names to their list. He’d lose his mind if he knew they were spit roasting his girlfriend in his fucking bed.
“You understand yet, dummy? Your boyfriend just whored you out to his friends.”
They almost feel bad when you start crying but they know some of those pitiful tears are out of pleasure. You clutch the wrinkled bed sheets and fuck yourself on Ari’s cock, wicked excitement replacing the gutwrenching guilt. A familiar insatiable ache builds, craving relief at their cruel hands.
“Maybe next time he could watch. Get a little treat for letting us fuck his girlfriend raw.”
You mewl, shaking your head to rid yourself of those shameful fantasies, but it haunts you. Ransom loved watching you touch yourself and get off for strangers, but he wouldn’t set you up with his own friends. He wouldn’t deceive you like that.
Would you hate it if he did?
Ari chuckles, reaching between your legs to rub your clit, “you know real life isn’t like the movies? You don’t have the fuck the whole frat to join a sorority.”
Your eyes roll back into your head when his skilled fingers toy with your nub, meanly pinching it between his fingers and rolling it. You barely register Curtis sliding back into your mouth until his pubic hair touches your nose. Tears stream down your cheeks in the prettiest way, he wishes he could snap a few pictures and give your fans some real action shots.
He cranes his neck, watching you struggle to take his cock, “lucky for you, pledge, we love shameless, cumbrained dummies.”
“Especially the ones who fuck themselves on camera for the whole world to see.”
You shudder, clenching tightly around Ari’s dick, sucking him in with every thorough pound. The rest of the world fades away as bliss bleeds in, your heart hammering in your chest. Every cell in your body is under their control, buzzing under their rough touch as they use you like a set of pathetic holes. Ari swats your clit and your ass, your poor squeals silenced by Curtis’ deep thrusts, dying in the back of your throat as his balls slap against your chin.
“Look how much she fucking loves it.” Ari groans, eyes locked on your tight hole split open on his length, a ring of white cream sits at the base of his cock, nestled in the trimmed hair and smearing down to his balls. “Making a damn mess like that’s the only thing you’re good for.”
“You gonna clean him up, baby? Choke on his cock just like mine?” Curtis asks, tracing your stretched lips, “then you’re gonna kiss your boyfriend, huh? Let him taste us like the cuck he is.”
“You want daddy’s cum in your pretty cunt? Maybe Ransom will get a taste of that too.”
You try to nod, the elastic in your tummy tightening. It’s so much, it’s too much. You feel so small and helpless between them, you don’t even remember your own name.
Curtis grins madly, “Dumb baby, ain’t nothing but a cute little cumrag for us. We should send you back down there with our cum on your face, let everyone know that you’re free for use.”
Your sharp moan is cut off by a gag when Curtis forces your head down, fucking into your mouth with newfound vigour. Your whole face grows burning hot, wet with spit, tears and cum, your makeup beyond salvation but you’ve never felt more pretty or desired.
Like he can read your mind, Curtis smiles down at you, “you’re so fuckin’ pretty, you know that? Prettiest girl on campus. You gonna cum for us? Squirt all over Ari’s cock, make a cute little mess?” He pulls out for you to respond, only managing a short bubbler of yes, da-daddy.
Your throat is sore and used, just as bad as your stretched cunt. Your body erupts in flames, blowing out of control as your orgasm takes over. You convulse, falling face first into Curtis’ crotch, your walls pulsating around Ari’s length, begging for his cum but he forces himself to hold back. With a grunt, he reaches between your trembling thighs to strum your clit, brutally prolonging your intense high as your juices spurt all over him, filthily marking his skin.
Your senses come back one by one, so slowly that it all still feels like a dream. You shiver while their hands run all over your body, now lying on your back with the soaked sheets under you.
“You gonna dump him now, bubbles?”
You sniffle, twitching when Ari just plays with you, rubbing your clit and messily spreading your slick all over your pussy. “I-I can’t. I love him…”
They both sigh.
“You still do, hm? You love him enough to fuck all his friends behind his back. It’s okay, we’ve got all night to convince you—and maybe if we’re lucky, he’ll walk in and catch us.”