The Top Floor

He seemed so normal.

Short black hair, a nice shirt, a crooked smile. He smiled when he finished sentences and it didn't feel insidious. But one drink later and I was half-asleep on his shoulder, my words slurring like I had eight. I'd taken plenty of stuff in college, things that I should not have, but not really anything that felt like this. Before the room stops spinning I'm already outside, and by the time I come to again I'm in an elevator and he's stuffing his tongue down my throat.

Thankfully, this doesn't last long; he takes me by my hips and whips me around to face the wall. I'm more awake now, the fear doing wonders to cut through the fog. The buttons told me there were 15 floors, and the lit one for floor 15 told me I had a long elevator ride to go.

He moves me so quickly I stumble, almost twisting an ankle. As he rough-hands me, he forces me forward ninety degrees, giving me the opportunity to unclasp and tug off my heels. He doesn't stop me, using the time to rip my underwear from my thighs and align himself with me. I feel something soft touch me, my thighs already sticky with the wetness that the drugs had brought on. At least, I hope it was the drugs. I can't genuinely get off on this. I can't.

He groans as he presses his length into me, easily, and I let out a soft noise of protest. How had I let myself get into this situation? The rhythm of his hips bounces me forward, my breasts peeking out the low cut neckline of my tight dress.

As his hips ram into mine from behind, I hold tight to the handrail and close my eyes tight; I pray to any god that may be above that I wouldn't hear the ding of the door to my left. A single tear streams down my cheek, feeling the shame burn across the bridge of my nose at the thought of someone seeing me like this.

Gratefully, or maybe not so, nobody interrupts his nonstop thrusts, each one rougher than the last. I'm almost completely sober by now, the rush of adrenaline taking the last bit of drunkenness right out of me, although the remnants of whatever it was spiked with lingers. It makes me just the right amount of numb not to wince as he buries his cock to the hilt, growing slightly before releasing a broken spray of liquid right against my cervix. I try to panic, to remind myself that a stranger just came inside of me, but I just can't. All I can feel is heat.

He pulls back and releases my hips, leaving me falling to my knees and scrambling to catch myself on the handrail. I feel him leaking down my inner thigh, my dress still pushed up over my hips, and I cringe. The ring of the elevator makes me close my eyes tight, praying there wouldn't be someone on the other side of it. Letting myself get into this situation was one thing, but letting someone else see me like this? That would break me.

He scoops me up by my elbow, my knees wobbling as I walk barefoot out of the elevator. I'll miss those shoes. We get halfway to the end of the hall before he suddenly releases me and I fall, hearing the doors of the elevator close behind me. He keeps walking and knocks on a door as he passes before disappearing behind room 151.

Somehow, I manage to sit upright, making a poor attempt to tug my dress down to hide myself. A door opens, and for a moment I feel like I may be saved. I open my eyes, looking up to see another man, this one with longer, blonde hair. He's wearing a button up shirt with a loosened tie. He's not here to save me.

"Please..." I whimper, trying to back away only to hit the wall.

"Stand." He orders, and I try to comply, but I'm still too weak, too wobbly. When I finally manage to prop myself up against the wall, it's apparently too slow. He grabs me by the hair and pushes me back to the floor as I yelp, thankful for the lack of heels. I close my eyes as the sound of a belt unbuckling jingles behind me.

There's only seconds between the sound of the zipper and the feeling of another dick sliding inside of me. Tears that I thought had long run out start pouring once more, rivaled only by the wetness pouring down my inner thighs.

"Shut up." The man snarls from behind me, his bedside manner decidedly worse than the guy that brought me here. What did he say his name was? Jason? Jake? My soft sobs only get louder, and he presses my face into the carpeted floor to muffle them. Panicking that I can't breathe, I squirm, only to be pinned harder. I decide to shut up; his press lightens.

151 is bigger than the guy before, stretching me unpleasantly. It still didn't hurt, even more so now that I was dripping wet. The sound of wet skin hitting skin drummed a steady, driving beat, one that I kept mistaking for my own heartbeat. Both were so loud. I start to count the seconds the best I can, but my brain's too foggy to keep track, so the pounding drumline seems to go on forever.

I hear him grunt before I feel his release, also unprotected, hit my cervix. I swallow a whimper so I don't piss him off again and he stands, pushing me roughly as he does so. I don't even look at him as he walks back to his door, knocking on someone else's as he passes. God. How many of them were there?

The next one is so unremarkable that I barely register that he's entered me, and he only lasts a few pumps before releasing inside of me. He leaves in silence, the only sound the knock of another door. Lying on the floor, I almost wished someone would save me, but I knew better by now. There was no being saved. I just had to survive this. A man with short black hair, a tee shirt, and jeans walks out immediately, as if he was waiting by the door. Or watching through the peephole. I suddenly feel even more exposed, more violated. He knocks on room 154 as I try to shy back against the wall. Another man, this one brunette with a slightly heavier build.

"Ready for our turn?" 153 asks, already unbuttoning his jeans.

"I've been ready since I heard the elevator." The brunette laughs. It sounds almost... lighthearted.

"Open up, beautiful." 153 approaches me with an average sized length, something I am grateful for as he stuffs the entirety of it into my mouth. He's clean, thank God, so I manage to keep from gagging. Pretending I was still too fucked to give a proper blowjob, he gives up after a few strokes, his friend also stuffing his slightly larger dick into my mouth to wet it.

The brunette lies on the floor, the other man guiding me so I was now straddling him. I shake my head with a soft whimper, looking up to meet his eyes with my own welling with tears. He looks empathetic for a moment, gently brushing my hair from my face.

"We aren't gonna hurt you. We're just going to have our fun okay? Then I'll call you a cab myself." His thumb brushes along my lower lip, protectively. How ironic. I whimper again and close my eyes, sinking down against the brunette's hips. Everything before this was done to me, but here I was, guiding his dick inside of me. I had to initiate my own rape. 154 groans, grasping my hips and guiding me up and down when I don't do it myself.

"Good girl..." 153 praises as the tears I thought had run dry start up again, these ones born of shame, not fear or pain. With a slight ruffle of clothing, I feel something warm and velvety against my ass.

"No, no please-" Before I can properly plead, he slowly presses himself into my ass and easily slides through the mixture of wetness, saliva, and cum. The friction of the two inside of me pulls a shiver out of me, something they mistake for enjoyment.

"That's it, just enjoy." 153's breath is labored as the two pick up their pace with alternating thrusts, causing my insides to pulse along with the rolling rhythm. I can feel the heat getting to me, or maybe the drugs, or maybe the tiniest bit of kindness I had been shown. Whatever the reason, I could feel a warmth radiate from my clit, rubbing against 154's pelvis, and I knew what was coming. I squeeze my eyes shut to fight it, but I can only hold my breath and tense as a foggy, unsatisfying climax rocks through me and fills me with shame. The two men laugh.

They're at it for what feels like ages, but eventually I feel the twitch of an impending release. The brunette cums first, filling me once again, followed by 153, who groans happily and presses against me. I'm pinned between the two, my leftover tears darkening 154's blue shirt, so crushed that I can't take a full breath.

I gasp when 153 suddenly pulls out, hating the feeling of his seed dripping from me, but hating it more when he lifts me off of the other guy's lap and it's joined by the seed of four other men. I can barely stand, but just before I fall, he grabs my face. His grasp isn't painful, but it is firm.

"Open." He chuckles when I comply, taking a bag of white powder from his pocket, licking his finger, and then dipping it inside. Before I can pull away, he rubs the powder on my gums, and almost immediately I feel buzzed. My blinks slow, and suddenly I feel wholly numb. It must be more of whatever the first guy slipped into my drink. "Now, let's get you cleaned up."

When I awaken, I am lying on the floor right inside my apartment, pantiless, shoeless. I'm bruised, sore, but otherwise in one piece. My thighs are slightly sticky, but there is no sign of the fountain of cum that had been pumped into me. My hair was wet. They must've washed me, threw me in a cab, and sent me home. I suppose I should feel grateful.

I don't.