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The remnants of the city rose before us, a metallic behemoth half-hidden in the shadow of a broken mountain. Once, it might have been a pretty city, full of towering buildings and vibrant, vivacious people, but it had been many years since anyone had bothered to tend to the city’s crumbling roads and falling sky-scrapers. Now, as it rose impressively before us, it was more the silent corpse of a forgotten giant, rotting away as the days and years ticked by.

From where we stood, it looked like ants crawled through it: people, like Thomas and I. Survivors. They stood in long lines outside the city’s makeshift walls, and I wondered I saw guards standing at the gates that led inside, allowing one or more people through here or there.

“Thomas,” I said, pointing at the dark dots. “Look, people.” I tried to hide the note of excitement in my tone, but it was hard. I was excited. We needed supplies, badly, and the spotting of the city was like the heavens themselves pointing us to salvation. I had begun to worry that we would begin hurting for food soon, or even water.

My husband came up beside me, his presence familiar and comforting. I tried to not let myself hope too much, but it was hard not to. It had been weeks since we’d seen a city, and months since we’d found one with anything like a civilization still existing within it. Civilization meant food, shelter, water: hope. “Sierra,” he said, softly, and I heard the warning there. I recognized it, even before he said the words, “don’t get too excited.”

He had said that so many times since the beginning of “The End,” as I had a tendency to call it. Rational Thomas, at all times quick to point out the facts, but I knew he wasn’t being cruel by it. He just didn’t want me to get hurt when things inevitably went bad. It at all times went bad eventually. That was just a part of life now.

“I know, I know,” I said, biting my lip. Despite my husband’s concerns, I was still excited to see the city. “Come on, we should get closer and at least check it out.”

My husband hesitated, but he knew I was right. Finally, he nodded. “Alright, we’ll go check it out. Quickly, though, and only for supplies. Then we go back out.” It was the most I could hope for from him.

I grinned, excited to hear him say yes, and I spread my arms wide, “Great! How do I look, love? Okay?”

I knew I did, even as I asked the question, spinning on my heel to show off for him. It was my one vanity, the one thing that had kept me sane throughout the absolutely insane years: me. The apocalypse hadn’t changed my long, honey-colored locks or broken my healthy habits of working out with yoga and runs. I just had changed my scenery when doing those activities. I still took good care of myself, end of the world be damned, saving every piece of make-up we found and storing the clothes that we needed. While now I wore my hiking gear and boots, in my pack I’d shoved a lacy lingerie slip that I’d found a few days before, and I wore the matching thong underneath my jeans.

It was a surprise for later.

Thomas smiled, shook his head. “You look amazing, Sierra, you know that.” His eyes lingered on my body, and I thought if he would want me to give him a blow job later, when we found a safe place. Normally we resisted in public, but I wouldn’t mind it. Thomas was the one who would probably say no.

My husband was the plain one of us. Average, he called himself. Dark hair, brown eyes, but I loved him. And he was right about not getting too excited; that was how people got hurt. We had to be careful, especially me.

Women were just as much a resource out here as food was, unfortunately.

But we needed the city, risks or not. We needed supplies, food, a place to rest. We would discover almost none of that out here, at least not without fighting for it, and neither of us were fighters. We’d survived by hiding and moving on before things got too hairy.

Before everything had changed, Thomas had been a surgeon, and I’d been a teacher. We’d adapted, but I was rather proud of the fact that so far neither of us had needed to take a life to make it where we were. We’d survived without needing to resort to or even being on the receiving end of violence. Very few people could say the same. The world thrived off of violence now.

It had only been a few years since the collapse, “The End,” the apocalypse, whatever term you wanted to use for it. The planet had been limping along for several years, experts crying that the world was heading in the direction of disaster, with a mild dosing of contagion, climate change, and a series of small world wars to keep things exciting.

But all it took was one nuke for the rest of the planet to follow suit. Then the real end had started.

It was why cities were so rare, so precious now. Very few still existed that weren’t burned-out husks or irradiated wastelands, too uninhabitable to be worth anything to the limited survivors who had somehow had the bad luck to survive the end of the world.

As we approached this new city, I realized that I had no idea where we were, or what it might have been called in the years before the end. Seattle? Denver? Salt Lake City? I didn’t know anything about the western half of the country or its cities, and I felt especially dumb as we approached the behemoth. I didn’t even know what state we were in anymore, if states were still a thing. We passed more people as we approached: families, loners, groups. Some waved, but most eyed us distrustfully, and I’m sure we did the same back.

Finally, though, we made it up to the gates, only for a guard dressed in military get-up to indicate to the two sprawling lines of people we’d seen from far back.

“Get in line,” he drawled, voice heavy and thick and slightly slurred, so I could only assume he’d been drinking some. That was positive. Drinking meant there were permanent facilities nearby where they made the alcohol. That meant the city had to be relatively well-established. “That line,” he said, pointing in particular to the longer of the two queues.

Thomas and I shared a look, but we did as we were told. Unfortunately, as we stood waiting, it didn’t take long for us to notice that every single person in our line who made it to the front gate was immediately turned apart. If they made it to the gate at all. Not only was the process excruciatingly slow, but as I watched, I saw that every once in a while a guard would appear and drag someone off to who knew where. I fought back my growing unease. Like it or not, we needed supplies, and we would have to tolerate all of the extra bullshit to get them.

“I don’t like this,” Thomas muttered as he watched a family of four be turned apart. The group looked sickly, with two elderly folk and two young children. The more I looked up and down the line, the more I saw a pattern: old, women, sick, children.

The other group consisted almost exclusively of men, and I noticed with a frown that most carried weapons and bags of items. Returning explorers? Mercenaries? One group, in particular, drew my attention: a group of four men, all large and muscular with tattoos on their biceps. One of the men was watching me outright, his face twisted in a leer, and I wondered I saw him gesture to me two or three times to his buddies. I accidentally made eye contact with him twice before I decided to stop glancing that way at all.

Either way, it was increasingly obvious that we had, for some reason, been deemed unworthy of entering the city. Was it because I was a woman? Or because we didn’t carry weapons?

Minutes passed, then close to an hour. I stretched and exercised a little as we waited, trying to keep boredom at bay. I even chatted with some of our neighbors, though they seemed disinclined to be too friendly. Thomas was growing more and more impatient, though, and finally, he muttered, “I’m going to go talk to that one guard, see if we can get us in the other line. Stay here for a second.”

I didn’t want him to leave me, something about this city felt different compared to some of the others we had visited, but I didn’t argue as he quickly moved away from me and back toward the inebriated guard who had ordered us to this line. I watched them argue, then, after a few minutes, they seemed to come to some kind of agreement. Thomas turned back towards me, gave me a weak smile and a half-hearted thumbs-up, then led the guard back to me.

“He said we could switch lines if we traded him something,” Thomas murmured as he came back, “I said he could take a look and choose whatever he wants, so long as we can get into the city.”

Relief flooded me. A trade was simple, and we could look for a replacement for whatever the guard took when we got inside where it was safe. Hopefully, he just took some of our pots and pans, but Thomas liked to collect medicine and medical supplies when he found them, so maybe the guard would go for some of those.

As the man in question followed Thomas back to the where we stood in line, I took a closer look at him than I had before. He was an average sort, slightly taller than Thomas, a bit more muscular, but with a beer gut and a swagger to his step that made him slightly unattractive. His face was scruffy with stubble and dirt, and his eyes were red and glassy. He’d definitely been drinking.

“I wanna see what you’ve got,” he said as he approached, but the way his eyes lingered on me as he said it made my skin crawl. I pulled my backpack down from my shoulders and started to unzip it, but the man didn’t wait for me. I cried out as his hand snagged my wrist, tugging me towards him.

“Wha–?!” I looked at Thomas as the guard began to tug me away from the line, wondering if he had made some secondary agreement. Relief hit me as I saw his evident confusion and horror as he realized what the guard was doing. This hadn’t been the agreement. “Stop! Let me go!” I said, tugging on my wrist, panic flaring.

“Hey!” Thomas stepped forward, but the guard reached for a baton hanging at his waist and Thomas stopped. The scuffle had drawn the eyes of both lines, and I felt my face heat with mortified embarrassment. “Stop! You can’t touch her!”

The guard didn’t stop, though. He didn’t even slow down. He tugged on my wrist, pulling me hard enough that I lost my footing and stumbled. He used the moment to wrap his arm around my waist, pulling me against him. Immediately, I froze, feeling something hard pressing against my thigh, and it wasn’t his baton. I heard a chuckle, the guard’s slimy breath hot against my neck as he lowered his head and murmured against my ear, “Feel that, honey? I saw your sexy little thong a few minutes ago. Were you showing off for me? Showing that ass off a bit? Don’t worry, I got the message loud and clear.”

My thong? I gasped as I remembered stretching. Surely he didn’t mean that? “I was exercising!” I cried.

He laughed, and I felt his hand slide underneath my shirt, squeezing my breasts through the bra I wore. “Sure,” he laughed, “that’s why your husband came up and offered me anything I wanted to get in the city. I understand – it’s scary out there. Don’t worry, sweetness, I know a nice alleyway where you won’t have to put on too much of a show and then I’ll let you and your hubs right in, skipping the line entirely.”

All of the eyes of the other survivors were on me, and I knew that if we got back in line after this then the guard’s interest would be the last of my worries. A few of the more vile men even openly grabbed themselves now, excited by the show.

“You can’t do this,” I moaned, miserable, but I knew that he could. And would.

“Your husband said anything, honey,” the guard murmured, his lips brushing my neck as he ground my hips against his, forcing me to feel how hard he was. He felt thick, long, and my stomach clenched with anxiety, my mind racing with the horrible possibilities of what he wanted from me. “What if you’ve got some sort of contraband hidden away somewhere? Don’t worry, I won’t fuck you. I’m still on duty, after all. Just a quick tug, maybe, how about that? Can you do that for me?”

I whined, softly, miserably. Thomas looked helpless. We both were.

This was the only way in the city, and we needed to resupply. We would be out of food and water within weeks, if not days. My eyes met those of my husband’s, I saw the anguish in his eyes that he’d somehow put me in this situation, but we both knew what I needed to do.

“You won’t… do anything to me?” I asked, softly, the meaning of “anything” obvious.

The guard smirked, and I could tell he wanted to fuck with me, but he nodded. “I won’t fuck you,” he repeated, crassly, and I saw his smirk grow as I flushed.

Finally, I nodded, the slightest tilt of my head, but it was enough.

“Good girl,” the guard growled, nipping my neck hard enough to leave a small red spot. Then he was dragging me again, though he called over his shoulder, “you can watch, too, if that’s your thing, man.” He was speaking to my husband and, after a moment, Thomas followed us.

I stumbled after the guard. Now that he had smoothed the way enough that I wasn’t gonna scream bloody murder, he wasn’t wasting any time. He pulled me along behind until he came up to what looked like a crack in the huge walls around the city. It led into a dark crevasse covered with blankets and other supplies, like an overhanging tarp and some dingy pillows. It looked a bit like somewhere I would’ve gone as a wayward teenager to score a quick fuck with my boyfriend. My stomach churned as I thought how many other women had been led to this dark corner to enter the city. Hundreds? Thousands? Or just me?

Thomas was only a moment behind me, his footfalls hesitant and unsure.

My worries vanished as the guard pulled me into the dark corner and immediately shoved me up against the cool, metallic wall, his hands roaming roughly over my body now that we were out of sight of the other survivors. I gasped, winded, and he captured my lips in a painful kiss, his mouth crushing down on mine and his tongue forcing its way into my mouth. His hands shoved my bra up, and a pained whimper slipped from me as he squeezed my breasts in his palms.

I was thankful for the limited privacy, at least. The last thing I wanted was for a few dozen frustrated and unruly men to join in on this humiliation.

The guard broke the wet, sloppy kiss, and I gasped and moaned as he ripped my shirt up over my head, his hands squeezing and pinching as he went. His mouth found my breasts for a brief moment, suckling on them almost tenderly before he bit down on my nipple, tugging it between his teeth and drawing a sharp cry of surprise from me. He laughed, then turned me around so that I was pushed face-first against the wall.

Thomas watched from the entrance of the crevasse. He hadn’t moved an inch since the guard had hauled me in. He watched, his eyes wide. A part of me wanted to shout at him to help me, but I knew it wasn’t worth it.

I had agreed to this, after all.

The guard grabbed my hips, hauling me roughly back against him. His cock was hard, and I could feel the stiff rod as it jammed against my ass. He rocked me against him a few times, pressing himself against my butt, groaning softly with what seemed like growing need. “Holy fuck, honey, I wish I wasn’t on duty because I feel like you’d be worth the trouble I’d get into for fucking you.”

I was glad, though, that all he could do was grab my pants and pull them down, showing off my ass and the lacy thong that had gotten me into trouble in the first place.

“There it is,” the guard groaned appreciatively, his fingers sliding underneath the thin string to pull it up, before he allowed it to snap back against my pale ass with an audible twang. I whimpered, and he grabbed the lingerie, tugging it until the thin material was grinding between my pussy lips, rubbing against my clit. I gasped in pained pleasure, and he pulled again, obviously enjoying the sound of my moans. I could feel how hard he was and somehow, it felt like he was getting even harder. “Fucking slut. Look at you, showing off for men that aren’t even your husband. You women are all the same. When shit gets hard, the men step up and the women spread ‘em.”

His fingers found my sex, and he whistled softly underneath his breath as he slid them inside me. “Wet as fuck, too.”

My cheeks burned, embarrassed. He was right. For some reason, my pussy was positively soaking wet, wetter than it even got when Thomas and I made love. I was humiliated as the guard held his hand up, showing the stickiness that clung to his fingers, then he rubbed my arousal against my lips for added effect.

He leaned forward, grabbing my hair and pulling me against him, until his lips were pressed against my ear. Then he murmured, too soft for even my husband to hear, “You taste that? You like this, don’t you? You’re soaking wet thinking about jerking me off, aren’t you? Fucking whore.” I knew that he was gonna demand that I pleasure him, soon, and I alternated between nausea and anxiety.

Without warning, though, the guard shoved me forward, then stepped back.

I stumbled against the wall, catching myself too late, my palms scraping across the metal. I looked over my shoulder in confusion and saw that the guard was grabbing himself through his pants, but he was still backing away.

“Alright, I’m done,” he said, though I saw his eyes and knew he wanted to say anything other than just alright, “you and your slut wife can go on in the damn city now.” For good measure, to ensure that I didn’t think he was being good-hearted, he added, “If I don’t stop now then I’m going to break my fucking promise, and I really can’t handle another write-up like that this week.”

This week? I felt like I was gonna vomit at the guard’s casual admission, but I just hastily re-donned my shirt and pulled up my pants. My body felt grimy where he’d groped me, and I tried not to think about what might have happened if the guard hadn’t been feeling generous.

“Follow me,” the guard said. After a hesitant second, we did.

Thomas wouldn’t meet my eyes as we approached the gate, and worse, as we rounded the wall I saw that all of the survivors who had been waiting in line were staring at us. For some reason, I tried to discover the group of four men that had been watching me, but my stomach twisted with nerves as I realized they weren’t there anymore.

They’d made it into the city, too.

“Go on in,” the guard said, indicating to the gate, “security inside will check you again.” Again? He was smirking as he watched me, and I could still see that his pants were tented from his arousal. But, the door was open, and he didn’t try to stop me or my husband as we walked towards the city. A part of me hoped he would ignore us, but I wasn’t that lucky.

His voice reached me in a murmur as I passed by him and walked through the rusted gates. “If you need anything, sweetness, don’t hesitate to ask. For a price, I can get you anything you want.”

I shuddered, then stepped into the city.

NSFW: yes

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