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friday_night

Friday night

The bar is crowded, even for a Friday. The blue-collar crowd is out in force; the band is loud; and the pool tables and dance floor are both packed. Most of them are celebrating the end of another work week, and well on their way to beginning the weekend in style. Southern style. Beer, booze, music, and having a good time.

He is sitting at the bar, nursing his second beer. He has to nurse it; She has set his limit at three, and things are just starting to get interesting behind him. She is fifty feet away, on the dance floor, doing an almost obscene bump and grind, to the music of Brooks & Dunn, with a complete stranger. The stranger has no idea that he is simply a role player in an elaborate relationship. He just wants to get drunk, and laid. In that order. He doesn’t know it yet, but tonight will be his lucky night.

But for him, sitting at the bar, on beer number 2…not so much.

She had warned him not to cross the line. Not to dare Her. Not to push Her past a certain point. He had listened to Her words, but he didn’t catch the tone in Her voice, the tone intended to warn him that She was not kidding. She would do it, if only to put him in his place. Unfortunately for him, as had happened before, he had missed, or ignored, the warning signs. He had made the critical mistake, crossed that invisible line, and now it was too late. She had made the decision…Her decision…and now he would pay for his error. Big time.

So he sits, nurses his beer, and watches. He knows how this will end, and he knows there is absolutely nothing he can do about it. All he can do at this point is watch, and wait, for what he knows is coming.

Midway through his third beer, and three “way too close” dances for Her, it is clear that She has made Her choice. Via the mirror behind the bar, he sees Her when She rises from the table, excuses Herself, and goes to the ladies room. He knows what this means, and when the text message arrives, he reads it with a mixture of anticipation, and resignation, to what he knows is about to happen.

“I have made My selection. Go home. Be in the closet, in the Stockade, plugged, gagged, and blindfolded. Secure both ankles, your neck, and one wrist. I will secure your last wrist when I get there. Then enjoy the show, My bitch. I am going to let him fuck My brains out. You will listen, and then you will clean up the mess.”

He reads the message; finishes his beer; and leaves. He knows the clock is ticking. Thirty minutes later, he is positioned as She has instructed. The wait is not long. Ten minutes after that, he hears the sounds of them entering the house. She is home, with Mr. Right Now. Five minutes after that, She has locked the last metal cuff around his wrist, closed the closet door, and brought the lucky stranger to Her bed.

She knows he is there, and knows that he is listening, so She goes into full-blown “porn star” mode for Her lover. The sex is loud, long, and no-holds-barred. By the time it is over, the stranger believes he has met his queen. She is polite, but firm. He has to go. Her boyfriend will be home soon from his late-night job, and he has no sense of humor about strange males in his house. Reluctantly, the stranger leaves, with memories that will keep him awake for many nights yet to come.

Much the same as the one in the closet.

She opens the closet door, smiles at his form beneath Her, and spends the next five minutes rehashing, in very explicit detail, every moment that he has already listened to. How much She enjoyed taking a strange cock inside Her; wrapping Her flesh around a hot, hard, willing cock; the hard fucking She got; and feeling the hot jet of semen as Her lover exploded inside Her. She tells him what he already knows is coming; then releases him from the Stockade; leads him to the side of Her bed; places him on his knees; then lies back on Her bed and enjoys the feel of his tongue inside Her, as he cleans Her flesh of the residue of the reckless fucking he has spent the last hour listening to. Despite the fact that the sex was good, this is by far Her favorite, and most enjoyable part of what has been…for Her…a very enjoyable evening.

She saves Her final insult until he is secured for the night in the Bitch Closet; chained, hooded, and collared, and with the scent of Her sex still fresh on his face. Only then does She tell him. Just to make sure he understands that She is serious, and that She will make him pay dearly for another mistake of this nature, they will be going back to the same bar tomorrow night. She will take another lover. The cycle will repeat, with one minor change.

Tomorrow night, She intends to allow Her lover to take Her in the ass.

friday_night.txt · Last modified: 2015/03/05 05:48 (external edit)