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More than one head turned when Sheila stepped into the room. She had an air about her, it was as if a sort of heat rose from her, a sensuality. She walked down the steps gracefully, taking in everyone while seeming almost disinterested at the same time.
Her eyes roved over the crowd impatiently. She was looking for one thing in particular, and at the far end of the bar, she saw exactly what she was hoping to find.
Perched upon a barstool, half drunk already, sat the very definition of a tramp. Bright shiny lipstick colored an impossible red gleamed from the slut’s lips; her nipples all but screamed at the world through the sheer white dress she wore. There is no need to show cleavage when everyone can see right through her clothes - and this girl’s breasts were clearly visible even from where Sheila stood. The slut was perfect.
Sheila had a penchant for sluts, tramps, whores… the label doesn't matter. Sheila liked hers soaked in cheap perfume, hobbling on high heels, and reeking of their own arousal.
The girl flirted with the man at her side, smiling up at him coyly, giggling with too-bright eyes at his idiotic jokes as she sipped her fruity drink. Drunk on cheap booze, no less, she was well on her way to being trashed.
Sheila walked to the bar, her gently swaying hips turning her long burgundy dress into a slithering creature alive on its own. A businessman slumped over his beer looked up to find a beautiful woman smiling down at him.
"Is this seat taken?" She asked, indicating the stool beside him.
The man, flustered and caught off-guard, hurried to assure Sheila that indeed, she was more than welcome to sit next to him. He gulped down more of his beer, his eyes stealing to the side to watch Sheila’s breasts moving softly beneath her dress. Good god, he thought. The bartender immediately came up for her order, and when her glass of wine arrived, the businessman paid for it gladly.
Sheila watched the girl over the man’s shoulder, her eyes intent upon her prey.
Marcy had come out tonight with one purpose: to get laid. There was no other point to tonight; the only question was who would be the lucky guy. She flirted with many men; she liked to flirt, to be admired, wanted, desired. It made her feel good; it made her nipples hard, her pussy wet and tingly.
She knew she was pretty. She knew men wanted to fuck her. Her short tight body made most men feel big and powerful. The dimples in her cheeks matched the dimples in her ass, and she used both to their fullest advantage.
She laughed at the man in front of her, giggled when he placed his hand on her thigh. Teasingly she pushed his hand away, brushing her wrist past his half-erect cock while pretending not to notice. The man sucked in his breath at the contact.
But already she was bored, already her eyes searched through the crowd for another. This one just didn’t touch her right; her body wasn’t reacting to him. The chemistry wasn't there. She sipped at her tropical drink, she was just beginning to get frustrated when she saw him.
He was alone, across the room, and as her eyes dipped down across his broad chest and back up to his face, she realized he was looking directly at her. Her heart skipped a beat, but she maintained her stare a moment longer than was proper, before pretending to blush and looking down into her lap.
The man beside her continued to talk on and on, oblivious to the fact that he had lost his audience. The girl looked up again, but the beautiful stranger across the room was gone. Disappointed, she turned back to the bartender, and ordered another drink.
Sheila watched every movement of the girl.
The way she nursed her drink: gently wrapping her shiny lips around the straw before closing them and sucking the pink fluid into her mouth. She squeezed her thighs together, imagining the girl’s lips sucking softly on her clit, taking it between them.
The way she flicked her tongue out, licking the last drops from her lips had Sheila almost squirming. The anticipation grew with her desire.
The businessman had added a shot of whiskey to his last order, hoping for courage. This woman was mesmerizing, and the thought that she had sat by him, was talking to him, was too much to believe. His hand shook slightly as he gripped the shot. He threw back the whiskey, savoring the burn of it in his throat, warming with the flush that rose from his belly.
Marcy rose unsteadily, her legs a bit more rubbery than she had thought they would be beneath her. Stealing one more sip from her drink, she turned from the bar, her eyes searching through the crowd. Her ankles shook slightly from the pressure of bearing her weight on one-quarter inch of high-high heel. Hoping she wasn’t stumbling, she headed across the room, towards the restroom, in a circuitous route, hoping again to catch sight of the man she had spotted before.
She half bounced through the dense crowd. Her short frame couldn’t see much more than drink height on most of the men. She wormed her way through, feeling the occasional stray hand reach out to grasp at her ass as it passed. She imagined the handprints all these sweaty paws must be leaving on her pristine white dress and swatted at the next hand that found its way to her posterior.
Finally, she saw the beat up entrance to the restroom. The splintered door hung crooked on its frame, a sign said WOMEN, but a black line had been etched through the words and some wit had renamed the room: BITCHES. Marcy thought about this as she pushed the weak door open and stepped into the dank and dimly lit bathroom.
Sheila had watched Marcy as she left the room, her little drunk legs carrying her to the bathroom. A smile had crossed her lips when she had turned to the businessman and excused herself. With but one thing on her mind, Sheila followed Marcy into the restroom.
The smell of the room struck Sheila first: a dank rotten odor of too much moisture, of piss, of mold and a room that hasn’t had fresh air in decades. Peeling paint decorated the walls; water stains dripped down from the ceiling. One dim bulb hung, uncovered, in the center of the room, and cast a faint light upon the interior. It was seedy and derelict -- perfect.
Sheila walked to the door of the only stall in the room, listening. She wanted to giggle as she heard the girl inside peeing, but clapped a hand across her mouth to make certain her giggle didn’t escape. The sound of the toilet flushing was her cue, and Sheila was ready.
As the door to the stall opened, Sheila pushed at it hard, slamming the door into Marcy, knocking the slut half off her feet, tripping her with the toilet. Marcy yelled out "Hey, what the fuck, there’s someone in here!" Just as Sheila smashed the door back again, harder, hitting Marcy across the side of her face.
Marcy gasped from the impact, and stumbled, falling to her knees on the wet concrete floor, her hand holding at her injured cheek. Sheila stood in the doorway of the stall, and looked down at Marcy, a cold smile on her face. Marcy looked up at the tall woman with confusion.
"Hello, dear," Sheila said, reaching out and grasping a handful of Marcy’s hair in her hand. Marcy struggled, slapping out at her, digging her claws into Sheila’s hand to try and free her hair. Sheila yanked hard at the girl’s hair, twisting and shaking her head with it. Slowly, she pushed the girls face towards the toilet.
Marcy squirmed to free herself, the tears springing into her eyes from the sharp pain at her scalp. Her hands sought for Sheila behind her, clawing at the woman, desperate to find some purchase. Each swipe found only air. Slowly her face was being forced into the toilet.
Her scream finally broke free a second before her mouth met the water.
With horror, she watched the stained yellow ring in the toilet grow closer and closer, felt the water reach her chin, her lips, her nose. Wildly she fought, her breath now held, her lungs screaming for more air.
Sheila’s smile grew larger and larger watching the girl’s body flop about and twist beneath her on the floor. She was fighting harder now, fighting for her life it seemed, and Sheila was forced to lay her weight atop the girl to keep her firmly in place. Slowly Marcy’s struggles grew weaker. Finally, Sheila took mercy upon the girl and lifted her dripping head out of the toilet.
Marcy gasped and sobbed, her lungs burning as she gulped in the air. She never thought this bathroom’s air would seem so fresh to her. She winced, and yelped, as Sheila’s hand twisted cruelly in her hair. More tears filled her eyes and she sobbed openly. "Please," She whimpered, not understanding why this woman seemed intent upon murdering her.
"Please," Sheila mimicked the pitiful girl, "Please, is exactly what you will be doing!" Holding tight to Marcy’s hair with one hand, Sheila used her other hand to hike up her long elegant dress, lifting the silky material high above her waist.
Before Marcy’s eyes the woman’s body was revealed. The skirt went up, across long smooth legs, up, past tight thighs, up, across her mound, hairless and smooth, up, to where just her belly began to show. Sheila twisted the girl’s hair hard once more for good measure. "Do you want to go back in the toilet?" she asked the shaking slut.
Marcy shook her head "no", her eyes huge and wild. What was happening? Her mind couldn’t wrap itself around the reality of the moment. As she watched, Sheila lowered herself, seeming to try and sit directly upon Mary’s face. The girl squirmed, the hard edge of the toilet pressing painfully into her neck, desperate to avoid the wet cunt lowering itself onto her. A final cry escaped her lips as contact was achieved. Sheila gave a satisfied moan as she felt the girl’s hot mouth touch against her waiting pussy.
Marcy thought she might be sick. What was this woman doing? She wasn’t some lesbian, she didn’t eat pussy: this was completely disgusting. Her scalp stung badly, the woman kept twisting hard at her hair. Her nose was being smashed, the woman’s pelvic bone was pressing against it. She gasped for breath, still fighting for breath, for freedom. Sheila wiggled her hips, pressing her pussy against Marcy’s face, rubbing it all over.
Her nipples hardened as she looked down at the girl. Marcy’s dress had worked its way up her thighs; the girl’s ass peeked out beneath the sheer fabric. She was arched backwards over the commode, her pert nipples poking through her thin dress, standing at attention. Sheila wiggled more, loving the girl’s whimpers and moans against her cunt.
"Open your mouth, cunt, lick me, eat me, you fucking whore," Sheila commanded, her fingers ripping hair out of Marcy’s scalp with each vicious tug. "Suck my clit into your mouth, you piece of shit. Suck my pussy, you fucking tramp." Sheila’s words echoed off the concrete of the bathroom. Harder and harder she pressed her pussy into the girl’s nose.
Marcy opened her mouth, her throat gagging with the realization of what she was doing. Tentatively she licked out, tasting Sheila’s juices for the first time. "That’s it, whore," Sheila moaned in response, "The quicker you get me off, the quicker your little slut ass gets out of here."
Marcy couldn’t believe what she had to do. It was so degrading, to lick her little tongue out, to slide it between the folds of some strange woman’s pussy. Her tears fell unchecked down her cheeks. Her neck ached from her position, pressed against the toilet and the stall as she was. Desperate to end the nightmare, Marcy licked and sucked for all she was worth.
Sheila moaned louder, her thighs squeezing Marcy’s face between them. Looking down, she could see the girl’s chin and neck, wet with her juices. Sheila felt the blood rushing to her clit, felt the pleasure rising through her body. This good little slut was about to make her come her brains out. Her hips rocked against Marcy’s face. She cried out as her orgasm hit, shaking against the poor girl’s face, soaking her face, her dress, as she squirt all down the front of the girl.
Sheila jerked the girl’s head back painfully, bent forward and looked into her eyes. "Good little whore," she said, and kissed Marcy on the lips, savoring the utter humiliation in the girl’s eyes. Sheila released the girl’s hair and walked out, leaving Marcy to shake and cry upon the concrete floor.
When Sheila returned to the bar, a curious smile of deep satisfaction was on her face. The businessman was happy to see her—she had been gone so long he thought she had snuck out to avoid him. Women did that sort of thing to him a lot. He couldn’t help it if his low self-esteem simply expected rejection. Rejection was what he usually received. He thought once more how stunning Sheila was as she sat beside him, a mischievous grin upon her face.
Leaning forward, Sheila placed her hand high upon the businessman’s thigh and whispered, "Did you miss me?" The man almost choked on his beer, but tried like hell to look smooth and savvy when he replied. "Yes, I did," he replied, his voice thick and serious.
Sheila smiled at the man with all the sunshine she could muster. She was pleased with the world right now; she felt damn good. Her cunt still tingled from the servicing she’d received, and the forlorn look in the poor little slut’s eyes was burned into her brain beautifully.
The businessman swallowed down yet another shot, finding in it the sudden courage to touch this beauty for the first time. Slowly, he lowered his hand to her thigh, just above her knee, and left it sitting there. He waited, half-tense, for Sheila to slap the hand off, but instead, she gave him a smile that told him she’d like to feel more of him. Mind-blowing, the man thought, utterly amazing.
Still hiding in the bathroom, Marcy cried into the toilet bowl, her tears causing ripples in her own reflection as she watched. She felt wretched. No one would ever believe what had just happened to her, would they? She didn’t think she even wanted anyone to know what had just happened to her. It was too humiliating.
The girl looked down at herself, at the mess she had become. Her dress was smudged with filth. Wetness spread up from the floor to her skirt, and down from her dripping hair onto her breasts. If her dress hadn’t been see-through before, it certainly was now. Shakily, she rose to her feet, pushing her dress down around her ass, smoothing it as much as she could.
Marcy choked off yet another sob and wiped angrily at the tears that dripped down her cheeks. Stumbling to the sink, she scrubbed at her face, trying desperately to wash the smell of Sheila’s cunt off of her. She drank and drank from the rusty faucet, wanting the taste of another woman’s pussy gone from her mouth.
Finally, she looked up, into the beat-up mirror. Her hair was a knotted and wet mess, hanging down around her face. Her make-up was smudged and dark circles showed beneath her eyes from her mascara. Slowly, she began to clean herself up, arranging her hair, wiping her lipstick off her cheek.
Sheila was in a great mood now, and wanted to share it with the man at her side. Gently she grasped his hand, working it up her thighs, pushing it between them, until it came to rest firmly against her cunt. Her eyes sparkled as she smiled at the man, her intentions apparent. The businessman, by now drunk, was more than happy to oblige. Clumsily he grasped at Sheila’s cunt, feeling her heat through her dress.
Marcy slowly pushed the door open, knowing she had to go back out into the bar. She held her breath as she stepped out and surveyed the room. Everything seemed exactly the same. She couldn’t figure it out. How on earth could nothing have changed out here, when so much had happened to her while inside the bathroom?
Shaking as she walked, Marcy returned to the bar. The man who had been entertaining her was long gone, but there sat her drink, half-gone, just as she’d left it. She hurried to finish it, ordering another before it was even gone. Before she might have enjoyed the alcoholic buzz -- now she needed it.
When her second drink came, she grabbed it eagerly, reaching into her purse for money. Before she could pay, a smooth voice startled her from behind, "Let me get this," it said. Marcy looked up to see the gorgeous man standing before her.
It was the same man she had seen before, the one she had been hoping to meet. She knew she looked horrible now, and she felt extremely unsure of herself as she accepted his offer to pay. As the man studied her intently, Marcy found herself going over her appearance. Does it show? She wondered if he could smell the toilet on her, if he could smell that horrible woman’s cunt. He smiled at her again, and despite what she had been through, Marcy felt herself begin to relax a little. She smiled softly at the man in gratitude.
The man had seen Marcy earlier in the night, had known she wanted him from that first glance they had shared. He’d watched her flirting, watched her drinking, and was merely biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to approach the girl. It seemed his timing was golden yet again.
Sheila sat at the other end of the bar, watching all of this intently. She had smiled hugely when the girl had first exited the bathroom. The look of fear was so delicious on the girl’s face it tempted Sheila to go back into the bathroom for an encore performance. Little smudges of grime showed on the whore’s skimpy dress; her knees were dirty and red from the bathroom floor. Only Sheila knew why one side of her face looked red and swollen, only Sheila knew why the girl’s lips were so delightfully plump right now.
As Sheila watched, a handsome man approached the girl. He bought her a drink, started some small talk, and began moving in for the kill. Sheila wondered if the girl would go for him.
Marcy couldn’t stop looking around the room, looking for that woman who had abused her so badly. She wondered if she had left already, or was she somewhere, here, in the room, watching? Marcy felt eyes upon her and looked up, to see the man smiling down at her once more. Marcy felt safe with him, she felt like she was back in a world that made sense. She smiled back at him, reaching out to run a finger down his chest, before casting her eyes once more about the room.
The man leaned forward, whispering to the girl while Sheila watched. His face nuzzled into her neck, and Sheila watched as the girl’s eyes glazed slightly, then closed. The man’s lips pressed against Marcy’s neck, nibbling on her. Despite her recent trauma, Marcy felt the heat inside of her begin to rise, felt her blood begin to stir from this man’s touch.
He licked softly at her neck, chewed gently at her ear, and whispered to her how hot she was, how sexy and exciting. All this was balm to the girl’s shattered self-esteem. Her eyes opened and shut, her head spun, and still he nuzzled against her.
One of his big strong hands traced the line of her neck down to her breast and Marcy felt her stomach drop. His hand moved even lower, lower, and she felt his heat against her thighs. He kissed the girl deeply, searching out her tongue with his own, carrying her along in a tide of desire.
Slowly he pulled back, a small smile across his face. Marcy drew a deep breath and fanned at her flushed face, "Whew!" she gasped out. She grabbed at her drink, swallowed a bit, and looked around, more casually this time. And then she saw her. Across the bar, Sheila sat staring at the girl, a big grin on her face.
Heat rose up in waves across Marcy’s face; shame filled the girl. Sheila was watching her closely, enjoying the vision, watching the girl become excited even when she didn’t expect to. Marcy gasped, her breath catching in her throat. She turned to the man beside her and whispered urgently, "Take me out of here, please."
The man was more than happy to oblige. He dropped a tip on the bar, took Marcy by the hand, and walked out of the bar. Marcy kept her head turned as they walked past Sheila, too ashamed of herself to face the evil woman.
Sheila turned to the businessman, smiled at him seductively, and suggested they leave the bar and head back to her place. The businessman, already in awe of his luck, wondered for the millionth time how he had won such good fortune to take home this beauty. She was a woman, through and through. He rose from the bar, offering his arm to Sheila. What the lady wants, he wanted to make sure the lady got. Eagerly they left, smiling to one another.
Marcy climbed into the man’s truck, anxious to put her experience at the bar far behind her. She was sure she would never come back here. Scooting over in the seat, she pushed her body against the handsome stranger’s, her hand tight on his thigh. The man grinned at her as he started the truck. He grabbed her hand and slid it up, until her palm was pressed tight against his cock and balls, trapped inside his pants. She giggled, starting to feel more herself, and squeezed, enjoying the firmness she felt.
The roads were dark and deserted as they drove. Marcy pulled the man’s cock from his pants. Giggling again, she squirmed herself around until her head rested in the man’s lap. Softly, slowly, gently, she took him into her mouth.
The stranger gasped as he felt the heat of Marcy’s mouth encompass his hardening member. Slowly she moved her head, licking up and down the length of his cock, biting softly at the tip. She sucked on it, sliding it down her throat until it hit the back of it, pushing to try and force it deeper. The man placed his hands on her head and pushed too, trying to force his cock down into the slut's waiting throat. Marcy flinched when he pushed at her head, but got past it, knowing that it was only her recent experiences that had her reacting that way. She gagged at the cock in her throat, but didn’t back off. She thought herself a fantastic cocksucker and wanted to prove it.
A sigh escaped from the man’s lips as he drove, concentrating hard so as not to crash the truck. He let go of the girl’s head and just let her do the work, giving himself up to what pleasure she could offer. He still hadn’t reached orgasm when the truck turned and the headlights lit upon his garage. He pulled the truck inside, while Marcy wiped the spit off her lips and pulled her dress back down. She followed him inside the house eagerly.
His lips found hers before the door had shut behind them. He kissed at her harder now, urgently, pressing his tongue deep into her mouth, taking it over, owning it. Marcy moaned against the handsome stranger, pressing her body tight to him. Her nails dug into his back as she grasped at him, pulling him tighter and tighter to her. She moaned shamelessly as his hands slid over her ass. She gasped when his fingers finally touched against her cunt.
Marcy’s head spun with the pleasure as this man’s fingers worked at her cunt. He pinched her clit gently, rolling it between his finger and thumb, and Marcy squirmed. He rubbed at the slick folds of her cunt, sliding a finger between them, caressing them, before finally plunging one finger inside her. He felt the girl shake around his finger.
Gently he removed his hand. He placed both his hands on Marcy’s shoulders, and then ran them down her arms, caressing her sensuously. Marcy watched him through heavy lidded eyes, her mind blurring and fading as her desire rose. Softly he ran his hands down her arms, until he held both wrists firmly in his grip. He looked deeply into her eyes.
"Would you let me tie you up?" he asked. His voice, so deep and heavy in her ears, sent chills down Marcy’s body. He licked at her earlobe. "Would you?" he asked again, his body pressing against hers.
Marcy could hardly think straight. She knew only one thing -- she wanted this man. Wanted him desperately, needed to feel him inside of her, needed to be filled by him. With a small nod, she acquiesced.
Inside a little drawer in the kitchen, was the rope. He smiled at the girl as he wound it about her wrists, taking care not to pinch her skin, or tie the ropes too tight. He pet her hair, gently brushing her skin, as he bound her. He soothed her with words, touches and looks.
Marcy had never let someone tie her up before. While it made her nervous, while there was some fear inside of her, she also found it very exciting. That this gorgeous stranger should be tying her, binding her, keeping her held in place just for his desire, for his use -- that was hugely exciting to Marcy. It was kinky and forbidden, and right now, it had Marcy dripping wet inside her little white panties.
He bound her wrists tightly together. One long rope dangled to the floor, he grabbed this up and led the girl into his bedroom. Marcy didn’t notice much about the room as she entered. All she could see was this man, this man who was doing such wonderful things to her. Marcy had almost entirely forgotten about the disgusting event in the restroom earlier.
Attaching the length of rope to the headboard of his bed, the man pulled on it, forcing Marcy to climb up the bed. She giggled as she crawled. When her wrists met the headboard, he tied it off. With a playful push, he knocked Marcy onto her side. The girl laughed and rolled onto her back, feeling quite exposed with her hands tied above her head. She had no way to protect herself.
Slowly the man began to undress her, sliding the white fabric down her body, across her belly, past her hips. Marcy helped, wiggling around on the bed, lifting herself so that he could pull the dress free. Her little panties were next, and they landed on the floor beside her soiled dress.
He kissed at Marcy, deeply, letting the girl feel how much he wanted her. He pressed his body down on hers, his lips lowering. He slid his mouth along her neck, down her collarbone, across her breasts. Slowly, excruciatingly, his mouth worked its way down toward her waiting cunt.
Marcy could smell her own excitement. Her whole body felt flushed and hot. The initial contact of his lips against her pussy was like a jolt of electricity. Marcy moaned out loud as the man went to work, licking and sucking at her cunt. Her pussy opened to his mouth. She squirmed beneath him, feeling the pressure building as his mouth pushed her closer to her own orgasm.
At that crucial moment, the man pulled back. Marcy cried out, frustration clear in her voice. Why did he stop? Curious, she glanced up, to see what was going on.
Marcy's breath caught in her throat. Her desire turned to fear, her passion to revulsion. Standing at the foot of the bed, stood Sheila, a predator's smile on her face. Marcy couldn’t understand, couldn’t quite put the pieces together. Why was she here??
Sheila laughed softly, glanced over her shoulder at the confused businessman, and walked to the handsome stranger. "I see you’ve met my husband," she said, laughing harder. She kissed the handsome stranger lovingly. "He takes care of me, see," she continued. Sheila pulled her dress off smoothly, exposing her perfect body to the men, to the girl. "He makes sure I always get what I want," she said, her eyes intent upon the bound and gagged slut so nicely ready, laying upon her own bed.
Marcy shut her eyes, not wanting to open them ever again. A rustling sound and the feeling of weight on the bed enticed her curious nature. She began to slowly, timidly, open her eyes. Through the haze of her half-closed eyelids she could begin to make out three bodies: Two men and one women, all now naked, smiling widely as they closed in on her.
Copyright © 2002 Succubus
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