I Break the Damn Door Down.

"Ah, Screw it!" I imprecate, before just kicking the damned door in. It takes three of my fiercest strikes, but the hardwood barrier buckles; I pry it off it's hinges—with Natalie's aid, now that she's stopped hyperventilating—and lunge inside the alcoholically-malodorous room.

My eyes go wide as I take in the scene before me: A gaudy banner reading "Karen's Bachelorette Party" hangs above a crowd of rowdy, stone-cold drunk women, who, themselves, are tormenting Ahab, the sexiest man I know.

He's bent over a table—wrists bound with a leather belt—getting fondled and manhandled all over by those tipsy, horny ladies; they're assaulting him in more ways than one, with hands running roughshod across his long, hardening manhood, and tongues haphazardly lapping at his cut muscles— but mostly?

He's getting spanked.

And those ruffians aren't showing his ass an ounce of mercy. Ahab's tight bubble-butt jiggles hypnotically with every punishing slap sent its way, and since ten women are assaulting him at once; his ass has reddened candy apple within the minute he's been in their clutches.

The sight is erotic enough to give me pause, and to make Natalie's knees give way under her colossal frame; although I'm disgusted by their shameless **** of my friend's sexy body, my wet crotch betrays just how arousing I find it regardless.

They drive hand after hand into that poor guy's ass, giggling cruelly as each open palm collides with his rotund backside, and cackling with unfettered malice as their delicate hands rub down his huge dick.

He panics further as his erection reaches full mast and begins to twitch. With his face beet-red, Ahab—only just audible under the din of merciless spanks—begs them again to stop.

They pay their writhing, feckless victim no heed. But then— all at once, they stop.

Ahab—**** back tears and panting—is grateful beyond imagination they've relented, but…

They only stopped beacause I said, "If you assholes don't let go of him this instant— there'll be Hell to pay!"

After that bold statement, they've all turned their attention from him to me. Each of the near-dozen molesters keeps her hands on his trembling body, holding him by the ass, biceps, thighs and penis as they move to confront me.

I can't read the expression on Ahab's face beyond 'distraught'. Although I feel awful for him, that doesn't stop my eyes drifting down his athletic form and taking in the sight of his rock-hard penis, but, when a soft whimper escapes his lips as one of the odious women gives him another rough stroke down there; I feel my protective instincts kick in.

I growl to the drunken heathen molesting him through gritted teeth, "I told you— Let. Him. Go."

I stare her down as Ahab writhes naked—blushing crimson—in eleven ladies arms; his assailants seem unfazed, but that could just be the **** running rampant through their systems.

After a second to consider it, one of them says…