The alley is darker than I expected. The pale light of a half-moon is shrouded behind clouds. A night-summer breeze finds its way under my crinkled chiffon button down blouse and raises goose bumps on my flesh. There is no one else around. All is quite. I wonder if the information that I received from Joel might be wrong. This seems like an odd place for a nightclub.
The tips of stiletto heels clack softly against asphalt as I walk deeper into the darkness. I move cautiously around a corner. The purple glow of a neon sign beckons me closer. It is mounted on the side of nondescript brick building, above a steel door. It flickers periodically, trying to catch my attention, trying to lure me in. I read the words aloud, thankful for the sound of my own voice in this lonely place. “The Purring Kitten.”
A man steps from the shadows and startles me. He has been standing next to the door all along, I realize, watching me as I approach. He looks me up and down, his eyes lingering on my long legs. He likes the French lace thigh-high stockings. He is titillated by the flash of golden-tan skin revealed beneath the hem of a short skirt. The ice capades black mini hugs tightly to the round curves of my hips. A silver glitter waistband sparkles beneath an exposed bellybutton. I think I hear him chuckle. “First time?” he asks while opening the door for me.
“Uh-huh.”
“We usually require guests to be accompanied by a member,” he says, “but in your case I think we can make an exception. Try not to have too much fun.”
I ignore the leering smile and the fact that he looks down my v-neck blouse as I walk past. I have to play it cool. I am undercover. No one can know that I am a super-heroine. No one can know that I am Ms. Marvelous.
I hear the beat of pop music coming from inside. It looks like Joel’s tip is checking out, after all. According to one of his informants, the white slavers we seek have been known to frequent this place. It is not a good lead but it is the only one that we have. I need to make the best of it, even if it means dressing to the slutty nines and letting an obnoxious doorman pat me on the butt before closing the door behind me.
“Creep!” I hiss under my breath.
A middle-aged woman wearing far too much makeup greets me and offers to guide me inside. “Are you alone?” she asks as if surprised. “Would you like some company?” She motions with her hand and four young studs step forward. They are shirtless, all of them, and extraordinarily beautiful. They have bowties around their necks, which seems rather silly, and cuffs on their wrists. Tight black spandex stretch pants leave little to the imagination. Chiseled muscles ripple. Dimpled smiles flash. The boys are showing off for me, trying to get my attention. More neon signs, I think. One, the tallest of the group, has pure, charcoal black skin. He is lean and absolutely ripped. Thoughts of dangerous African jungles, of a white woman taken prisoner by ebony warriors, dance in my head. It is a silly fantasy, I know, but one that has existed in the secret recesses of my mind since reading my first Tarzan serial as a pubescent teenager. My eyes linger on this exotic man-god for far too long and he knows that he has gotten my notice. He motions toward a large bulge pushing out through the crotch of his pants and winks at me.
I turn away, embarrassed. “What kind of place is this?” I wonder silently. A shake of my head disappoints the boys and indicates to the woman that I am not interested. She seems saddened for a moment but then brightens as a new thought comes into her head.
“Perhaps you prefer the fairer sex?”
I look in the direction indicated by her outstretched finger and find myself gazing upon five scantly clad girls. They are athletic and tan and surely a match in beauty for their male counterparts. Silicon boobs are barely contained within stretching bikini tops.
“Uh, no,” I say while trying to subdue a giggle. “Really, I just want to sit at the bar.” She shrugs and guides me inside. Private booths and tables line the outer walls, some of them hidden behind rainbow-colored sheets that hang from the ceiling. There is a pit in the center of the room, its bottom hidden beneath countless small pillows. As we walk past, I notice that it is crowded with
people. They recline against the pillows, some with drinks in hand, and enjoy one another’s company. Some are having conversations and the soft sound of their voices mingles pleasantly with the steady beat of background music. Others are engaged in more intimate activities, bodies in various states of undress, pressing together, hands stroking soft flesh. I instinctively look away, not wanting to intrude on their privacy, but my curiosity gets the better of me and, to my surprise, I find myself gazing back over my shoulder as my guide takes me past the pillow pit and onward to the bar.
I am a tall girl and wearing three-inch pumps but have to pull myself up onto the high barstool. The top of the stool rotates and I squirm while trying to get comfortable atop a strange-fitting seat. The hostess softly caresses my arm and asks me if there is anything else that she can do for me. By now, though, I am pretty sure that she is really a man. In any case, I answer no and she shrugs in disappointment. Her eyes scan my body lustfully and I am relieved when she finally leaves me to the mercy of the bartender. He is older than the boys at the front door, though no less handsome, and seems like a nice enough guy even if he isn’t wearing a shirt.
“Is everyone here a bodybuilder?” I stammer while trying not to stare at his sculpted chest. “Everyone seems so… physical.”
His eyes are blue and seem able to penetrate my outer veneer of innocence. My cheeks blush as he leans over the bar and immodestly checks me out. “You should fit right in,” he says while flashing a million dollar grin. “You are absolutely smoking!”
I lay my clutch bag on the bar and cannot help but smile as he takes my hand and gently kisses the knuckles. His name is Pete, he says, and he is totally in love with me.
“But we only just met,” I reply softly.
“It doesn’t matter,” he responds. “Love comes cheap at the Purring Kitten.”
I self-consciously take back my hand and ask for a ginger ale. He finds this amusing and says that it will be a moment. It is then that I notice the attractive woman sitting next to me, two stools over. She is a striking brunette, barely in her twenties it seems, and breathing heavily. A young man, half-dressed like those I met at the door, is gripping her from behind and kissing her beneath the left ear. His tongue darts across her smooth skin agilely, teasing the sensitive spots on her neck. His arms are wrapped around her nubile body and strong hands are pressing down on her breasts, squeezing them. I can tell by the expression on her face that she is in heaven. She notices that I am watching and I think it excites her. Our eyes lock for a moment and I can almost feel her passion.
“Oh my!” I think. “What kind of club is this?”
Pete returns with my drink. I sip at it eagerly but find it impossible to ignore the carnal activity taking place so near by. The girl is moaning. The young man’s hands are all over her. He unbuttons her blouse and pulls the fabric down off of her shoulders. He unhooks her bra and swollen tits spill into his hands. He is rough but she likes it. I try not to look but cannot help myself. Our eyes meet again and it is almost as if she is pleading for something. My cheeks turn red. I think that she is inviting me to join in.
I gulp down the ginger ale and ask for another. It seems hot in this room, like someone has turned the thermostat up much too high. I glance back toward the center of the club, toward the hidden pit of pillows, and wonder what is going on inside. I stare at the colored sheets hanging from the ceiling and wonder what lurid activities might be going on just behind in the private booths. This is no ordinary nightclub, I realize. This is some kind of sex club and the members are getting their depraved jollies. Something unexpected stirs inside of me. Maybe it is curiosity. Maybe it is desire. “I should not be here,” I say to myself. “I should leave.”
But I remember why I have come. I am trying to bust up a ring of white slavers known as the Syndicate. They have been abducting young women and selling them into bondage. It is my job to stop them. This club might be dangerous for me but I have to do whatever I can to stop the slavers. I have to do whatever I can to stop the madness.
There is a large mirror behind the bar. In its reflection, I see a man sitting behind me, distant, near the back of the club. He is alone in one of the private booths but the sheet has been pulled partway back and I am pretty sure that he is staring at me. His face is hidden beneath the shadow cast by a wide brimmed hat, though, and I cannot be sure. He is wearing a dark jacket with the collars turned up and his hands are under the table, in his lap. A cold shiver tickles my spine as I imagine the sick fantasies he may be having about me. Am I lying on the table in front of him, I wonder? Is he kneeling between my long
legs? Are my ankles gripped in his hands as he rams home a stiff cock into my moist pussy? I am probably just being paranoid but alarm bells are going off in my head. And, as I secretly stare back at him through the reflection in the mirror, I am forced to admit to myself that these might not be his fantasies but my own. The girl sitting next to me is moaning louder. The boy is really working her over, now. She is being ravaged and I cannot help myself. My body is reacting. I am becoming intensely aroused.
Thankfully, my attention is diverted as Pete brings me a second drink. I ask him about Benny Truiphant. “Do you know him? Have you seen him around?”
“Why do you want to know?”
The way he asks the question tells me that he knows the guy. He knows the man that raped and sold me into slavery. “I am an old friend of his,” I answer innocently. “We lost touch a while back and I am looking to reconnect. Any idea where he is?”
Pete smiles as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. “He comes by every now and then. I could give him a message, if you like. Miss…?”
“Ms. Smith,” I lie. “Jody Smith.”
“Ms. Smith? Sure, ok. If I see him I will tell him that you are looking for him.”
I can tell by the glint in his eye that he expects to see Benny soon, probably tonight. Maybe Benny is a regular. Maybe he owns the joint.
“Can I get you another ginger ale?”
I look down at my drink, surprised that it is empty. I pop an ice cube in my mouth and hand him the glass. “Sure, thanks. I seem to be especially thirsty, tonight.”
“This place will do that to you,” he replies while walking away.
I feel a presence behind me and again look into the mirror. It is the tall black man that I briefly fantasized about on the way into the club. His smooth, bare skin shimmers under the dim lights. He looks past me, toward the mirror, and gazes back at my reflected image. Dark eyes capture mine and we stare into one another’s souls for what seems like an age.
“You know what they say about girls who suck on ice, don’t you?” he finally asks in a voice that seems a perfect match for his amazing body.
My heart is fluttering. “No, what?” I manage to blurt out.
“They’re horny.”
I blush and look away. “Please, I would rather be left alone…”
He ignores my request and instead runs his fingers through my hair. He pulls the long tresses back and smoothes them over my shoulders. His hands rub the base of my neck, massaging the tense muscles. He is good. His grip is both strong and gentle. I have to admit that it feels amazing.
My head tilts back and I sigh. He massages the tightness from my shoulders like an old pro. The stress of my super-heroic life evaporates. I relax and allow him to work his way lower on my back. A few minutes of this and I might forget the troubles of the world. A few minutes of this and I might forget why I am here…
“Thank you for the massage,” I say while straightening up and indicating that I have had enough. “But as I said, I would prefer to be alone.”
He spins the stool so that we are facing each other. Insistent hands slide downward across my shoulders and stroke my arms. I am taken aback by his forwardness. I am uncomfortable and unsure of what to do. His chest is magnificent. His shoulders and biceps are smooth and rounded as if carved from black marble. I am too shy to look into his face. I glance down and it suddenly occurs to me why the seats on the stools are shaped the way they are. Polished curves in the wood encourage me to sit a certain way. It is a carpenter’s trick, to be sure, but my thighs are parted and my feet dangling. I have little doubt that he can see right under the hem of my mini. I have little doubt that he can see the spot of moisture forming on the crotch of my silk panties.
He lifts my chin with his hand. “No one comes to the Purring Kitten to be left alone,” he says while staring into my wide blue eyes. “People come to the Purring Kitten to find someone. You came to find someone, didn’t you?”
I think again of Benny Truiphant. “Yes… I came to find someone.”
“Then just chill, baby. Let Darriz satisfy your every need.”
His hands slide inside my blouse and over the silk camisole that I am wearing underneath. I grip his wrists but inexplicably hesitate as thumbs begin to slowly caress my nipples through the thin fabric. I am not wearing a bra and his hands seem to know just how to touch my firm tits. He is so forward, I think. So aggressive. Fantasies of primitive Zulu warriors again enter my mind. It takes a few seconds for me to come back to reality. It takes a few seconds for me to remember that Darriz is not an exotic African tribesman but just an employee of the club. He probably does this kind of thing every night and to every new girl that happens along.
“No,” I say while pushing his hands away. “I do not want that. I am just here to find someone. Someone particular, I mean…”
“Don’t worry, baby,” he says while forcing his way back into my blouse. “I’m particular. In fact, I only go for the hottest chicks that come around. And sweetheart, they don’t come any hotter than you!” I try to think what I should do. I could easily push this man away, I know. In fact, I could push him right through the ceiling, if I wanted. But I do not want to blow my cover. Benny could be nearby. I do not want to blow my chance of catching him.
Yet, it is a dangerous game that I am playing. Darriz is stroking and teasing my nipples. His legs are pressed up against the front of the stool and wedging my knees farther apart. The girl sitting next to me is still moaning, her own partner doing deviant things to her. I turn to look and see that he has pulled down her skirt and panties and positioned her ass so that it is suspended over the pack of the stool. I
watch in shock as he unbuttons his tight stretch pants. Shock turns to fascination as he releases a rapidly stiffening, eight-inch meat pole. He teases her with it, rubbing the fat tip across her exposed womanhood until she is desperate for him to enter. He plunges his spike into her pussy with a violent upward thrust and begins rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. My fascination grows as he impales her time after time. Her face turns a bright shade of pink. Eyes roll into the back of her head. Fingers scratch at the surface of the bar. Her chest heaves.
My own nipples are hard as little beads. I turn back to face Darriz and discover that he has unbuttoned my blouse and camisole and pulled them down off of my shoulders. The naked flesh of my breasts fills his hands. “How did that happen?” I exclaim. But my head is spinning. The room is twirling. I see Pete grinning like a cat that has caught a bird and realize too late that I have been drugged. A fresh glass of ginger ale is sitting atop the bar, waiting for me. I lift a hand and clumsily knock the glass over, spilling the poisoned liquid across the wood surface.
“Don’t be like that,” Pete says while wiping up the mess with a towel. “Enjoy the moment while I get you a fresh drink.”
I look down and watch in dazed enthrallment as Darriz plays a gentle game with my tits. It is like I am watching someone else, some actress in an adult movie, perhaps, as his fingers mercilessly stroke and caress my large mounds. But the sensations rippling through my body are real. This is not a fantasy. This is not a movie and I am not an actress. My nipples are quickly swelling. My breasts are screaming with pleasure. I watch dumbfounded as talented black fingers rub expertly across golden-white skin.
He spins the stool so that I am again facing the bar. Powerful arms wrap around my lithe body and pull my back tight against a broad, naked chest. Strong hands resume their work on my breasts. His fingers are like dancers in a ballet, joyfully pirouetting across my tits. He reads my reactions and when the time is right he grips my jutting mounds and squeezes more forcefully, causing me to gasp. I look down and see my soft flesh nearly spilling from between his fingers. He squeezes again and I nearly lose my mind. Finally, he releases my abused melons and allows them to bounce back into shape. But he is not done. He eagerly strokes the protruding buds and pinches them softly between his fingers. Unbearable sensations rock my world. My lips come apart in a schoolgirl pout. A first, almost inaudible moan escapes from my mouth.
My hands fall away from the boy’s wrists and lay limp in my lap. For a moment, in my confusion, I think again that I must not do anything that will blow my cover. I must not allow this man to know that I am anything more than a normal girl. But then I realize just how stupid this thought is. I am a super heroine. I cannot allow myself to be molested by a sex-club gigolo!
But molest me he does. His left hand slides slowly down across my belly and under the silver glitter waistband of my skirt. Probing fingers dip beneath the elastic band of silk panties and burrow into my slit. My athletic body nearly rises off the stool as the longest of the offending digits drags
excruciatingly across my clit. My eyes close as it rubs me time after time. Breathing becomes heavy as it draws slow circles atop my swelling bud. My head falls back against Darriz’s shoulder and I do not resist as he tortures me without relent for the next sixty seconds.
The drug I have been given is powerful. It is difficult to think, much less fight back. But I have to resist. I have to find the strength to fight back. I am a super-heroine. I cannot allow my incredible body to be ravished this way. But I can feel the Sartak- my weakness to sexual stimulation- starting to take over. I can feel my strength melting away. I feel so helpless. I feel so vulnerable. “No…” I moan. “Please, do not… uuunnnggghhh… do this to me…”
Darriz does not know that I am a super-heroine. He does not know that I am Ms. Marvelous and that a climax will rob me of my powers. He is simply doing his job. It is his duty to pleasure the female patrons of the Purring Kitten and in this he is an undisputed professional. But is this all, I wonder? Or is he also a part of the white slavery ring? Is this why I have been drugged? Do Darriz and Pete work for Benny Truiphant? Have I fallen into their trap? Is this how they capture young women and prepare them for a life of servitude?
Protestations seem to drive him to try all the harder, as if my reluctance to surrender is an indication that he is somehow failing at his job. But… oh god… he is not failing. The fingers molesting my cunt are doing terrible, wonderful things to me. Though working by touch alone, Darriz knows exactly what he is doing. I moan as the soft folds of pink flesh guarding my love hole are patiently pulled back and stretched to the sides, leaving me completely vulnerable. I gasp as the tip of his middle finger slides into me. He is an expert at this, I realize. He is an expert at the art of making women climax. I whimper as he penetrates me. My body spasms as my g-spot is discovered and tormented with the first of a series of forceful rubs. Thoughts of resistance quickly disappear from my mind. My will is rapidly being broken and there is seemingly little that I can do to prevent it.
“Oooohhhh… aaaahhhh…”
I force my head up. Pete is leaning against the top of the bar and smiling at me. He winks at Darriz as if exchanging some unspoken communication. I sigh in relief as the black man’s finger finally comes out of my wet hole. But things are only going to get worse, I soon realize. The stud behind me lifts my limp arms and pushes me forward so that they rest on top of the bar. Pete crosses my wrists and grips them in his right hand. He uses his other hand to grab a handful of golden hair and raise my head. Like a hungry animal, he nearly climbs over the bar to get nearer to me. He leans close and smothers my mouth with his own. It is a long, torrid kiss that leaves my soft lips glistening with his saliva. I feel weak. My entire body is tingling. I do not resist as he kisses me a second time. His tongue enters my mouth and toys with mine. The kiss goes on and on and when it is finally over I am left dazed and helpless. I can no longer deny the erotic feelings coursing through the length of my athletic body. They swallow me and I know that resistance is now impossible.
I am dimly aware that Darriz, still behind me, is hiking my miniskirt up around my hips. He pulls back the crotch of my panties. I try one last time to resist, to fight back, but I am so weak. The black stallion grips my slender waist and pulls my ass backward off the rear of the stool. I think again about the devious craftsmanship that went into this barstool. The inside of my knees press against the outside of the seat but it is not uncomfortable. My legs are spread and my feet are dangling in the air below me, more than a foot off the floor. Like the girl sitting two stools over, I am bent forward across the front of the bar and my ass is exposed behind. I hear Darriz unzipping. I feel the soft tip of his cock brush across my moist womanhood. I know that there is little that I can do other than wait in dread anticipation for what is to come.
He teases me a bit, giving his cock the time it needs to swell and stiffen. He presses the length of the warm shaft horizontally into my slit and rubs it back and forth across the sensitive folds of flesh. I can tell that he is big, the girth of his tool probably as thick as one of my wrists. I shudder at the thought of what he is going to do to me. The feeling of his warm shaft pressing against my moist nether lips, of it rubbing across my clit, is driving me crazy. The top of the stool presses against the back of my thighs, its smooth curves holding me steady. My ass and vagina are utterly exposed and vulnerable. “Oh, god!” I think. “This stud can take me at any time!”
Pete continues to hold my wrists, pinning them to the top of the bar. I am bent forward, my swollen breasts mashed against the polished wood. His mouth is speckled red with high-gloss lipstick, my lipstick. He looks past me and nods toward the man who is about to rape me.
“What do you say, Darriz? Are you going to do her?”
“Oh, yeah,” he confirms. “This is the hottest twat I have had in a long time. I take it that you drugged her?”
Pete’s thumb softly flicks my lower lip. “Yeah, I did. She’ll fetch a good price. In fact, I think the boss has a client lined up and waiting. They said they wanted a young, athletic blonde. I doubt they expected anything this good, though. Damn, my dick is about to tear through my pants!”
Darriz reaches under me and uses his fingers to gently spread my hole. He struggles to wedge the enormous head of his cock into my tight pussy. It is a snug fit and I moan miserably. But I am not in any pain. The torturous sensations rippling through my slender figure are pure ecstasy. I do not want him inside of me but neither can I resist it. I am being destroyed and I cannot help myself. Willpower evaporates as the thick cock penetrates two inches into me. My last rational thought is that I never had a chance. I was beaten the moment I entered this bizarre club.
“Yeah…” Darriz replies through gritted teeth. “I know… what you mean. There is definitely something… about this bitch.”
He struggles to penetrate me further. I am fighting him, trying to squeeze myself off, but he gradually drills me another inch. His fat member is too much for me, too powerful. The features of my face contort. My eyes close. I groan loudly. I cannot resist him any longer. I cannot—
My body quivers as Darriz straightens his legs and finally buries his long cock fully into my aching pussy. I think again of the girl next to me and manage to turn my head and look at her. She stares back through dazed eyes, a blank gaze that confirms that she is drugged, too. She was not asking for me to join in, I realize too late. She was asking me to help. She was asking me to save her. But I did not understand and now the rapist continues to ball her, ramming home his weapon time after time into her limp body. I failed her. I failed us both. And now, because of my ineptitude, I will suffer the same fate as her. And though I have never seen this woman before tonight, and though we have never spoken, I feel that we are sisters in this. We will be destroyed together, destroyed by two magnificent gigolos whose sole talent is using their god-given cocks like glorious weapons.
The cock inside of me begins moving at a slow, patient pace. In and out, in and out. I gasp as it probes deep into my body. Back and forth, back and forth. I whimper as it pulls teasingly from my hole. I groan as it slams back in an instant later. He gives me the full length and pauses. He pulls it slowly back then slams it in again. The merciless fucking goes on for another two minutes. He uses quick thrusts followed by slow exits, patiently turning me into a helpless sex slave.
“Won’t be long now…” I hear him snicker. “I’ll have her purring like a kitten in no time...” Pete raises my head and I prepare for another kiss. Instead, he lifts the fresh glass of poisoned ginger ale and pours it into my mouth. Cool liquid trickles down my chin and drips onto my overheated tits. I cough. He gives me some more. I swallow. Vision blurs. Arms and legs go numb. He checks my pulse and decides that I have had enough.
“Funny thing is,” he comments while lowering the glass, “she was asking about the boss. Says she knows him.”
My limp body shakes with each new thrust of Darriz’s hard tool. His cock is so thick that I can barely accommodate its girth. My wet pussy is stretched wide. My nether lips tightly hug the smooth shaft of this African man-god. The hot spike drags across my g-spot torturously with each new penetration. My body is on fire. An orgasm is rapidly building within my loins.
“Uuunnnggghhh…”
“I doubt it,” Darriz answers. “If she did, the boss would have sold her a long time ago.” “Yeah,” Pete agrees with a laugh. “Benny would sell his own sister. In fact, I think he did!” He pushes his thumb into my mouth and enjoys the way my soft lips instinctively wrap around it.
I suck on it helplessly. My mind is awash with sexual imagery. I cannot help myself. I would suck on his cock if he would let me. He pulls the digit from my mouth and my tongue follows. I pant like an overheated dog.
“That’s a good little slut,” he says derisively. “Give in to the feelings.”
“No…” I moan again. “Must not… give up…”
“You had better hurry up, Darriz,” I hear him say. “Others are waiting for a turn.” I look past Pete’s shoulder and force my eyes to focus. The reflection cast by the mirror makes me groan in distress. I can see what is going to happen to me. A crowd has gathered. First among them are the three men that, along with Darriz, greeted me at the front door. They stand behind me, scanning my lithe body hungrily. Their cocks are out and each man is stroking his stiff tool with his hand, anxiously waiting for a turn at the hot blonde. Others are waiting behind them. It is my pheromones, I know. The super-charged chemical attractants constantly emitted by my body have garnered the attention of every male in the club and some of the women, too. They cannot help themselves. They are filled with the desire to fuck me.
I whimper like a sacrificial virgin. “This cannot be happening! Not to me!”
But it is happening and I am helpless to prevent it. I have been drugged. My body is on fire. Breasts are swollen and nipples are as hard as marbles. My wet pussy, filled to overflowing, aches. I teeter on the verge of a crushing orgasm. I am being ravaged. I am being destroyed. Men and women are lining up to fuck me and I, Ms. Marvelous, the super-powerful defender of Megapolis, am completely helpless to defend myself!
Darriz is gasping for breath. I am the best fuck he has ever had. He pulls back on my hair, straightening me up. His hands slide under my thighs and he lifts me off of the stool. My hundred and twenty-five pounds are like a feather in his strong arms. My legs are spread wide. My arms hang down across my belly and over a jacked-up skirt. My hands dangle above my crotch. The tips of my fingers brush across the base of the huge shaft of man-muscle that is penetrating into my body. My head falls back and flops atop his shoulder as he bounces me up and down on his saber-like instrument of destruction. Swollen breasts heave as I struggle for breath. I moan in utter misery. My orgasm is so close. I cannot hold it back for much longer.
I stare into the mirror, hypnotized by the sight of my slender body being fucked. His cock is buried deep inside me. The base of his thick shaft glistens with my love juices. I cannot believe how fat it is. I cannot believe that I am able to absorb it. The golden-white skin of my svelte body is moist with perspiration. It contrasts starkly with the dark flesh of my ebony attacker. He is so much bigger than me. I look like a little girl in his arms.
He forces me to ride the stiff monster for what seems like forever. Time loses all meaning. My heart is beating so loudly that I think it might explode. My lithe body is enduring sensations unlike any I have ever felt before. Somehow, I seem to have gone beyond the point where I should have climaxed, to a place beyond burning arousal, beyond erotic stimulation. Every nerve ending in my body seems to be simultaneously on fire and frozen numb. I can barely breathe. I want it to end. I want the overwhelming torment that I am experiencing to stop. I want desperately to climax. But my orgasm is like a time bomb that continuously ticks toward zero but always stops with one second to go. He is torturing me, I know. He is reading my reactions, bringing me to the point of release and then pausing so that I am drawn involuntarily back into his world of sexual persecution. He is making me an addict, a sex addict that is entirely dependent on him for the merciful release that I so desperately desire. He is the pusher and I am the junky. He is in total control of my body, in total control of what I can feel and what I can do. I am growing lightheaded. I am nearly ready to pass out. And then, just as I can surely endure no more, I hear an odd sound. It is the sound of my own voice, I realize, but making a noise that I have never heard before…
“Puuuuuurrrrrr…. Puuuuuurrrrrr…”
“That’s it, he whispers into my ear. Purr like a kitten for Darriz.”
“Puuuuuurrrrrr…. Puuuuuurrrrrr…”
At last, he lifts me off of his meat pole and unceremoniously drops me. My exhausted figure collapses against the bar and barely remains upright. His cock explodes atop my ass and leaves my panties and skirt stained wet with the remains of a powerful ejaculation. It takes every bit of my remaining willpower to keep from coming. I stand there, dazed, leaning over the top of the bar, my legs stiff and a trembling, a still-open love hole ready to accept the next cock in line. “My turn!” I hear one of the boys shout.
“No, I get to go next!”
There is a brief argument but, in the end, all of them will be unexpectedly denied. A hand reaches past me and drops a stack of greenbacks on the top of bar.
“One thousand dollars for an hour with the bitch!” a sinister voice declares.
I turn my head and look at the man. My vision is blurry but I can see that it is the man from corner booth. The collars of his jacket are still turned upward and the wide-brimmed hat still casts a shadow across his face. I groan inwardly. It seems that the pervert is going to make his sick fantasies come true.
“I will give a thousand dollars to spend an hour with the bitch!” he states again.
Pete looks the man up and down. He shrugs and gathers up the money. “Sorry, boys,” he says while glancing at the others. “Business comes first.”
Darriz giggles and wipes himself off on my skirt. He looks at the man who has bought me and warns him not to damage the merchandise. “She is only yours for an hour,” he cautions, “and the boss is going to want to do something more… permanent… with her after that. It won’t do if there are any marks on her, you understand?”
The man nods. Strong hands grip me by the shoulders and pull me off of the bar. I am so weak that I can barely stand, much less walk. He lifts me up. I lie in his arms like a baby, my once powerful body now limp, arms and feet dangling. He holds me firmly and carries me away, back toward his private booth. He lays me across the top of the table, on my back, my legs hanging off of the end. He closes the sheet, isolating us from prying eyes. I am to be his and his alone, I realize. For the next hour, my body will be a sexual plaything for this evil man.
“Oh, god…” I think. “What is going to happen to me? What is he going to do to me? Is this the end for me? Is this the end of Ms. Marvelous?”