Page 12 of Hard Limits

“She’ll do just fine.”

The young man frowned but knew better and leaning in, he whispered to her. Her eyes flew to mine and she pursed her lips in the cutest angry pout. Moving past Trent, she came up to me.

“What do you want?” She hissed.

“Your pussy on a silver platter.” I smirked as her cheeks inflamed.

“You can’t be here. They’ll kick you out.”

“Now why would they do that? I’m a paying customer with an invitation. Then again, they could try, but not before I grab you and take you with me.”

She clutched the dirty rag in her hand and that fire I loved about her started to simmer. “Good girl,” I whispered. “Now take that delicious ass over to those bottles back there and get me the best whiskey you’ve got. Later you can give me what I want.”

“And what is that?” She gritted.

“The taste of your pussy on my tongue,” I groaned as I played with a long strand of her hair, deliberately stroking the hard tip of her tit through the thin tank she was wearing.

She whirled around and slammed down the glass on the bar as she poured me a shot while eyeing me angrily. My cock liked it, leaping at attention as she propped a hand on her curvy hip. Coming back to me, she slammed the whiskey glass in front of me, the liquid sloshing around her fingertips. She leaned in and narrowed her eyes at me.

“Stay. Away. From me.”

Before she could leave I grabbed her by the back of her head and forced her to stay where she was. Taking her hand, I gripped her index finger and brought it to my lips. She struggled lightly against my hold, but as soon as my mouth wrapped around her finger, sucking the whiskey off them, her lips parted, and her eyes glazed over. I twirled my tongue along the tip and licked along the inside of her slim digit, knowing how sensitive that area was. Her pussy was soaking itself as she bit down on that juicy lip of hers.

Pulling her towards me, I pressed my lips against hers, not kissing her, just holding her there. Captive. “You don’t tell me what to do, Princess. It’s best you remember that.”

I let her go and she swayed back. She stared back at me, her eyes slowly clearing from that delicious sub space she so easily entered. Swallowing hard, she turned, a look of resilience in her eyes. Fuck I loved that. That look made my cock stretch out, eager to take what was his. Letting the whiskey coat my throat, my hands itched to make her mine again. But I was a patient man, and besides, I wasn’t leaving her side. We had all the time in the world to make her realize that I was who she needed.

The lights suddenly went out and I turned in my seat to face the stage directly in front of the bar. A spotlight turned on, centered on a bondage table. The infamous, Mistress Alondrea stepped out. She held a thick chain dangling from her fingertips and on the other end of it there crawled a man, collared and gagged, and attached to her heels.

“Up!”

Her voice was strong, crisp, and cut through the silence like a knife. The man obeyed instantly, lying face down on the table. Immediately, two other men surrounded him, making sure to cuff his ankles and his wrists, securing him. All the while, Mistress Alondrea stood there, swatting the crop she held, against the palm of her hand.

She was a stunning woman, mid-forties, bright green eyes. Her dark hair was up in a tight bun, loose curls outlined her face. Her pale skin shone pristine in the spotlight, and her red lips glittered. There was something about her that caught a man’s eye. Maybe it was the swell of her ass in the leather leotard, or the statuesque legs in those red whore boots. Or maybe it was the assertiveness in which she wielded that crop in her hand, as if it were a part of her.

She rounded the table, the crop gliding down the man’s spine, and my cock lurched as she raised her hand, swatting it against his muscled ass cheek. The flesh flinches, the muscle spasming. The sound echoed through the room as everyone watched their Mistress at play.

“What am I going to do with you?” she asked him.

“Whatever you want, Mistress,” he responded loud and clear.

“That’s music to my ears,” she said, just before smacking his ass hard with the crop.

Before long, his buttocks were fiery red. She smiled, leaned over and caressed them, a hiss resounded from his lips as he bucked back into her hand while she cupped his balls. She smiled at the audience while she squeezed him, her tongue grazing her lips as she tossed the crop aside.

A torch was lit by one of the male spotters beside her, and they obediently handed it to their Mistress when she asked for it. She smirked knowingly as she approached the table, the man groaned as she dragged her nails across his bruised buttocks. His grunts filling the silent space.

My eyes suddenly wavered from the stage to the tight ass that was sashaying past me. I reached out, grabbing her wrist and tugging her between my legs. She struggled against me which made me chuckle. Twirling her around, I pulled her against my hard cock while we both took in the show.

“Running away?” I whispered huskily into her ear.

“N-no,” she stuttered, and I found her uncertainty so fucking tempting.

“So, where you off to?” I played with her hair, pulling it aside, wrapping it around my fist while tilting her head back.

“I... I’m taking my break.”

“Mmmmm,” I wrapped my hand around her neck, holding her there while her eyes held mine. They were filled with fear, with regret, with curiosity.

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