II
I danced with Joe, my arms around him, my body pressed close to his, kissing him, tasting his mouth with my tongue as I allowed his deep into my mouth. We were the center of attention, though the admiring stares were outnumbered by jealous glares. They all wanted to be where I was, dancing with the generous wolf, but most women simply couldn’t compare to my sultry looks, or wouldn’t dare to dress as daringly as I did.
Some would choose to veil their jealousy in disapproval, of course, whispering spitefully to one another that I was a gold digger, a cheap whore out for whatever she could get. So what if I was? Would they be any different? Joe Wolseley’s reputation preceded him, and they’d all have dropped their panties in a flash, given half a chance at a taste of his largess. I kept my eyes open for threats. No one was going to take Joe away from me.
We danced for most of the band’s set, until Joe suddenly started, and his arms slipped from my waist. He turned around. “I’m so sorry…oh! Laurie! Did I just back into you?” He was addressing a skinny brunette with fluffy hair and gold-rimmed glasses, in a red sheath dress with a plunging neckline that showed off the bosom she didn’t have.
“Hey Joe!” she greeted him with a smile. “It’s no problem. How are you?” Then she gazed past Joe to me, and gave me a look that would have frozen a blast furnace. I knew this bitch – Laurie Boreas. Memories of my first encounter with her at Chatro, flooded back. She’d tried to insult me, but a few choice words had been enough to put her in her place. Later the same night though – after Colleen had flipped me – she’d dared take advantage of my temporary weakness to put me over table and slap my ass a few times. I glared back at her.
“Slumming tonight, Joe?” Laurie continued, her eyes still on me. “I thought you were after the up-and-comers,” her eyes narrowed even further, “not used-up skanks on their way down.” She smiled at him. “You be careful with that one. With all the people who’ve been through her, there’s no telling what you might catch.”
I bristled. “Two’s company, Laurie,” I hissed. “Three’s a crowd.”
“Tell me about it.” She hooked her arm around Joe’s elbow. “I’m sure Joe will tell me if he wants me to leave.” She smiled up at Joe, reached up to turn his chin toward her, and kissed him.
Joe hadn’t backed into Laurie. She’d deliberately bumped into him. I knew just what the bitch was after – Joseph Garnet Wolseley. That wasn’t going to happen if I could help it.
“Get lost, Laurie!” I hissed threateningly.
“Make me!” She snapped back “You has-been whore.” She tensed, stepping clear of Joe, ready to pounce if I made a move.
Instead, I stepped back from Joe and from her too, as though I was about to back down. “Ever heard of Dorothy Parker, Laurie?” She looked at me, perplexed. “Oh you must have…I’m sure you’ve heard her famous saying…’guys don’t make passes at girls who wear glasses’…no? Here…let me help with that.” My right hand whipped out to slap her glasses off her face.
She reacted by seizing my wrist – just as I expected. I stepped in, simultaneously using her grip on my wrist to pull her toward me, and my knee pounded up into the pit of her unprotected stomach. She doubled up, coughing. I ducked low and sent a left uppercut into her chin that jerked her upright. She let go of my right wrist and I planted that fist into her belly right where my knee had landed, doubling her over again. She crumpled to her knees, and a final punch to her chin laid her on her back.
Joe swept me into his arms, his eyes alight. “Brutal!” he proclaimed as he kissed me, “Swift!” as he gave me another kiss, “Decisive!” with yet another. He led me away from the dance floor – I made a point of stepping over the moaning Laurie – to the bar, where he slid onto a stool and pulled me onto his lap as he ordered us drinks.
His arm encircled my waist. “I’m picking you up at your work, Monday lunchtime, and taking you to a jeweler, to get you a new belly piercing…one with a garnet centerpiece!” His fingers played with the charm in my navel. With the thrill of my latest victory – my second of the night – his gentle caresses sent ripples of pleasure through me. I squirmed in his lap. “And to a boutique for a garnet dress…the same style you’re now, but in silk jersey as I said.” He kissed me again. “I want you wearing that dress Monday evening, when we look at an apartment for you.” He grinned. “A generous discount on the rent, of course. After all, you’re going to be part of the Garnet family.”
I shivered with delight. I’d been trying for weeks – months – to get Edward or Cesaire to help me into an apartment. Even Ms Justeen had taken up cause, without success, but here was Joe Wolseley, whom I’d only met tonight, offering me his help! Of course, I wouldn’t burn my bridges with Edward or Cesaire. They would certainly help me too, as they had already. But it was Joe Wolseley who was offering the most – and it was Joe Wolseley who’d receive the most from me in return.
I kissed him deeply, lingeringly again. “You don’t know how much this means to me.”
“I can guess.” He smiled. “A place to call your own.”
I smiled back. “A place you can visit whenever you want.” I wriggled in his lap, rubbing my breasts against his chest a little to reinforce my meaning. I wanted to ask him so much more, but I bit my tongue. I couldn’t seem too eager – or too greedy.
Turning my head to gaze across the room, I nudged Joe and pointed to the dance floor. “Look…there’s Jo St Leon…enjoying her prize.” The tall blonde had cleaned herself up and was dancing with Paulina, making out with her, kissing her deeply. Her hand was up under the subbie’s top, massaging her left breast. Paulina’s head rested on Jo’s scratched-up but still impressive breasts, her eyes closed, clearly loving the blonde’s domination. “Wow,” I murmured, “I always thought Jo was straight!” Joe chuckled.
I had a sudden inspiration. Jo St Leon worked in promotions. She managed events. If I could get close to her – make myself useful to her – I could learn some things, perhaps enough that I could organize an open house for potential buyers at Joe’s apartment block. I’d have to do some favours for her, of course – but that might not be too onerous. I still shivered at the brutal way Ms Jo had destroyed Dezarae.
I caught myself – there I was, doing it again. Why was I calling Jo ‘Ms’ even in my head? The answer was immediately obvious – Melissa Windeyer is nothing if not realistic. Ms Jo had shown her power by defeating Dezarae. Dezarae was tough, but Ms Jo had shown herself to be tougher.
Besides what I might learn from her, Ms Jo herself was part of Joe’s target market – an aspiring A-lister just like me. She was young, professional, the kind of person who wants the convenient bars, cafes, restaurants and stores that inner city living provides.
I couldn’t let her get too close to Joe, of course. Rumour held that Jo had bedded more than a few men to help her rise to where she was in the professional world. I smiled to myself. She was no different to me. Business and professional women like Jo St Leon or Kim Curzon might look down on girls like Brit and me, but they put out for much the same reasons.
Joe had begun speaking to some guy who’d just sat down on the vacant stool next to us. I turned my attention to them as they talked business. As I listened with my arm around Joe’s neck, only speaking occasionally – I reminded myself of the old adage ‘you were born with two ears but only one mouth’ – Joe’s friend began looking me up and down with obvious hunger. He certainly wasn’t discrete, and Joe must have noticed him undressing me with his eyes. I blushed a little. Admiration was no more than my due, but this man’s blatant stare made me feel naked – and, to my horror, aroused.
He winked as he noticed me noticing him, and leaned forward to touch the large sapphire pendant nestling between my breasts. As he did so, he casually stroked my bare skin with the back of his hand, making me blush more. “Such a pretty bauble,” he smiled, “and expensive too…not the kind of thing you could afford on a store clerk’s pay. A gift, perhaps?” He looked me right in the eye and winked. “From a…generous admirer?”
I blushed even deeper at his implication, and slapped his hand away. “How dare you!”
“How dare he be so right on the mark?” chuckled Joe, pulling me closer against him. “Oh don’t pout, Melissa. On Monday you’ll have a garnet pendant too, to match the piercing I promised you. Yes, you can keep the sapphire, but I prefer my girls to wear garnets as well as garnet.”
His casual words ‘my girls’ weren’t lost on me. I’m Melissa Windeyer, not just one of his girls, and I’d prove that soon enough, but I wanted that garnet pendant and everything that came with it. To be fair though, I had called him ‘my guy’ earlier, and to have him reciprocate wasn’t exactly a bad thing.
I turned to watch the room, and was almost instantly sorry I had. Maeve Strasser strode in. The big, curvy brunette wore calf boots so glossy they shone like mirrors, with heels so high I couldn’t help but tremble momentarily, my tummy churning at the thought of one spearing me there. Maeve’s outfit was severe – a black leather skirt that didn’t quite reach her knees, with a matching jacket open to show her low-cut ivory tank top. A hanging silver chain drew attention to her big bust and deep cleavage.
Maeve was clearly on the prowl. She made a circuit of the room, watching the crowd like a hawk on the hunt for prey. A circle of subbies scattered out of her way. As she came closer to the bar, I reminded myself that Maeve was little more than a collared sub herself. It did me no good however. I shuddered and nestled even closer to Joe as I remembered what Maeve had done to me – no! I shook myself mentally again. I wasn’t going back there! I blocked the memory from my mind, thinking of icebergs, of a garnet piercing and a glittering future in a new apartment of my own.
She made her way toward the other end of the bar, where they served snacks as well as drinks, pushing between a knot of women gathered there. “Maeve, watch where you're going, please. You spilled my drink.” Angela Peccavi spoke politely yet firmly.
“So what if I did?” Maeve’s tone would have cut stone. “You shouldn't be in my way, woman.” She stood with her body almost touching Angela's.
“I am minding my own business,” replied Angela levelly. “I'm not in anyone's way.” She turned to face Maeve and added, again politely but firmly, “No one else has complained.”
“You're in my way,” repeated Maeve. She was so close to Angela that their breasts brushed one another. Angela’s hair was blonde and halfway down her back, longer than Maeve’s dark brown mane which fell only to her shoulders. They were nevertheless similar in height, both heavyset, both wearing high heels and tank tops so tight their breasts struggled to escape. The outfits didn’t suit them – their tummies and the love handles at their waists bulged over the waistbands of their tight skirts.
“That's because you won't walk around me.” Angela gazed into the brunette’s eyes.
“Why should I?”
“Everyone else has.”
“I'm not everyone else…and you're still in my way.” Without taking her eyes off Angela, Maeve took one step back, peeled off her jacket and tossed it aside. It landed against a startled fluffball standing nearby. “Hold that for me, girl,” Maeve commanded. The subbie’s jaw dropped but she obeyed, folding Maeve's jacket and cradling it in her arms.
“Now move!” Maeve stepped forward again, her arms outstretched, ready to push Angela backwards. The blonde bobbed down to a crouch though, and Maeve's lunge only made her overreach and stagger. Staying low, Angela wrapped her arms around Maeve's legs and pushed forward, trying to topple the big brunette. Maeve staggered, grabbing at Angela’s back, desperate to keep her balance.
Angela shoved harder and Maeve stumbled backward, crashing hard into a table. The occupants grabbed their drinks hurriedly and scattered aside. Angela thrust her head forward, aiming to headbutt the brunette’s belly. Maeve seized a fistful of blonde hair and yanked her foe’s head up, thwarting the headbutt, but it did her little good. Angela's head crashed into Maeve's shoulder, bending her backward over the table.
I squirmed in Joe’s lap, delighted that Angela was more than frustrating the big brunette bully. ”Ha! Angela just outsmarted Maeve!”
Joe laughed. “It’s not nice to gloat,” he said teasingly. “Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?”
“Not many,” I retorted archly. I leaned back and kissed him, wriggling again in his lap, rubbing myself against his crotch. I could feel his cock hardening again. “Aren’t you glad I’m not a well-mannered ‘good girl’?”
“Well, there is that,” he conceded, kissing me back as Maeve struggled to prevent Angela from toppling her off the table to the floor. The brunette still had hold of Angela’s hair, more for support than to inflict pain, and she slapped and clawed at the blonde’s arms, trying to break their grip on her thighs.
“But Maeve's not nice! The bitch has an attitude problem. From the time she opened the door, she was looking for trouble. And,” I giggled, “she found it. Angela's outsmarting her. Come on, I want to watch Angie stomp Maeve down to the bottom of the pile.” I slipped out of Joe's lap and, holding his hand, led him toward the fight.
We pushed our way into the front row of the spectators, just as Angela, by now crouching on the floor, raised her left hand to the base of Maeve’s butt and heaved upwards. Maeve folded forward over Angela, her shoulder drove into the brunette’s belly and for a second, Angela hoisted her foe's feet off the floor. That was all she needed to send Maeve crashing heavily to the ground.
“Oh yes!” I giggled – and so what if I gloated? “Maeve’s bought herself a fight!” I relished the thought of Maeve taking a beating – at Angela’s hands or anyone else’s. Revenge is sweet, even if it’s delivered second-hand.
Maeve lost her grip on Angela’s hair as she fell. She kicked out quickly though, forcing Angela back and preventing the blonde from capitalising on her success. Maeve rolled away and got to her feet, her eyes flashing with rage. Angela kept her distance, raising her hands to the spaghetti straps of her top and tugging them upwards to help keep her breasts from spilling out.
As though taking a cue from that, Maeve went on the offensive, swinging from her hip to slap hard at Angela’s chest. The blow connected and slammed her breasts one against the other, again almost popping them out of her top. I could see the darker crescents of Angela’s aureolas as only her hard nipples hooked on the edge of her top kept her covered.
Angela retaliated, swinging a closed fist at Maeve’s face. She should have hit harder though, a straight arm with more weight behind it, and Maeve twisted her head and rode the blow, so Angela’s fist skidded off her jaw. With a grunt, Maeve came back at the blonde with another hard slap to her chest. Angela’s left breast bounced free as she staggered backwards. She had no time to do anything about that though, as Maeve’s third slap sent her stumbling sideways into the same table she’d bent Maeve over, moments before.
Maeve smirked and attacked again, but Angela bobbed down like she had before. The brunette’s slap soared over her head and it was Maeve, outstretched, who staggered this time – right into Angela’s fist, which plowed into her enemy’s gut. Maeve groaned and whitened but before the half-winded brunette had a chance to retreat out of range, Angela struck again with a left-right combo, both her fists driving deep into Maeve’s soft belly. Maeve doubled over, gagging.
I pumped my fist in the air. “Yes!!! Angie’s wrecking her! She’s smart…she took those slaps so she could lure Maeve in. Maeve fell for it and Angie struck!” I knew what those blows would feel like for Maeve, and the bitch deserved nothing less. It was wonderful to watch Maeve retreating, trying – and failing – to dodge Angela’s attacks. The blonde hammered her with fast, strong, well-aimed punches to her tummy, her breasts and her face. Both Maeve’s breasts were out of her tank top, jiggling and swinging wildly as she tried frantically to defend herself.
Finally it seemed Maeve couldn’t take any more. She broke away, scurrying backwards, ducking around a table to give herself from respite from the constant pressure of Angela’s assault. She stood there at bay, fists up, chest heaving as she gasped for air.
Angela sidestepped around the table too, taking her time. Maeve backed up, but she was up against one of the pillars with nowhere to go. Angela closed with her, swinging a heavy punch at her head, but Maeve dodged sideways. Angela tried again with a second punch at the brunette’s face, but Maeve ducked and Angela, unbalanced, stumbled forward into the pillar as Maeve slipped out of the way.
Maeve seized the advantage for the first time in the fight. She yanked two fistfuls of blonde hair, dragging Angela in a quarter circle away from the pillar, forcing her to bend at the waist. Cursing, Angela tried to grab Maeve’s shorter hair, flailing her arms wildly but to no avail. Maeve used her hair like a handle, dragging Angela back and forth, keeping her off balance, forcing her to dance to Maeve’s tune.
Angela suddenly pushed forward, toward Maeve, sending her fist into her enemy’s belly again. Maeve grunted hard, hunching over. Her grip loosened enough for Angela to get upright. She grabbed Maeve’s hair too and for a long moment the two women struggled, locked together, growling and cursing as each tried to drag the other down, to rip hair, to inflect pain.
Heels scrabbled on the smooth tiles as clumps of hair fluttered to the floor. Angela let go with one hand and, jerking Maeve toward her with the other, fired a fist into the brunette’s left breast, crushing it into her ribs. The blow wasn’t as hard as it would have been if Angela had stood back and used her body weight, but the impact still sent Maeve staggering, and she lost her grip on Angela’s hair.
Angela repeated the blow, this time with more force. Maeve thrust her left arm up to block it though and lashed out with her right in a heavy slap to Angela’s face. The blonde rocked back on her heels. Maeve followed with another slap, but this time Angela was prepared and parried it, though it cost her her hold on Maeve’s hair. She countered with a slap of her own and struck Maeve’s jaw hard, snapping her head around and whipping her dark hair across her face.
For another endless moment the two big women traded slaps. Maeve used her left arm to block the first few that Angela sent her way, but Angela just kept pounding at her with her left hand as well as her right, mixing up her targets, aiming blows at Maeve’s flushed face, sweat-slicked shoulders and bare, bouncing boobs. She didn’t even try to block the blows Maeve launched at her, though she did dodge, stepping in and out, side to side, making Maeve work hard for every hit she landed.
“Yes!” I encouraged Angela. “Punish her!” I turned to press against Joe, rubbing my breasts against his chest. He needed to remember he was with me and not some floozy like Laurie or Clara. “Look! Angie’s wearing the bitch out. Maeve bought herself a fight all right…and now she’s paying way too much for it.”
“It certainly seems that way,” agreed Joe, sliding his hand up between our bodies and inside my dress. He seemed more interested in squeezing my nipples. Already aroused from the spectacle of Angela pounding Maeve, I moaned as he kissed me and bent me back, his tongue ravishing my mouth. I thrust my hips forward, grinding gently but firmly on his swelling cock through his pants. Oh yes, Joe Wolseley was definitely mine for the night, and after I gave him more great sex, I’d get that garnet piercing, the pendant, the job and so much more.
In the meantime though, I turned my eyes back to the fight. Angela and Maeve were still slapping each other, their arms and extension of their torsos as each swung from the hip, investing her full weight into each slap. Neither tried to evade the other now, standing face to face with their feet planted as they hammered one another. Their faces were flushed, their bare chests and bulging bellies heaving from the exertion, gasping and groaning, skin blotched red from the heavy blows.
I cheered when Maeve took a particularly solid hit to the side of her head. Her eyes seemed to roll back for a second. Her knees buckled and she staggered, almost falling but managing to catch herself on the edge of a nearby table.
Angela seized her chance. She lunged forward, curled her foot behind her enemy’s ankle and slammed her shoulder hard into Maeve’s chest. With a despairing yelp, the brunette crashed to the floor. She got a hand around Angela’s neck and held on, but that only dragged the blonde down on top of her. Angela again got the best of the situation, grabbing her foe’s head and slamming it into the tiles.
Maeve went limp for a second and Angela grabbed the brunette’s left hand, stretching the arm up over Maeve’s head, holding it there as she struggled to capture the other arm. Her skirt rode up, exposing the pale cheeks of her ass, bisected by the thin band of her tiny black thong. Maeve recovered a little, and writhed desperately under Angela as the blonde’s big bare breasts slapped her repeatedly in the face. She tried everything she could to shake Angela off her, but she failed.
I smiled and hugged Joe tight. Angela was about to finish the bitch, and I knew she’d have fun with her when she did. Maeve would be humiliated – so humiliated she’d never show her two-timing face in the Scene ever again. No longer would I have to deal with her malicious lies and exaggerated half-truths belittling me.
Maeve still had some fight left in her. Her legs snaked up around Angela’s waist, her own tight skirt sliding up over her broad hips. She locked her ankles together and squeezed. Angela’s eyes went wide and she groaned. Abandoning her efforts to pin Maeve’s arms, she grabbed the brunette’s legs, digging her thumbs into the backs of Maeve’s knees. Maeve growled at the pain but didn’t let go. Gritting her teeth, she squeezed tighter.
Angela’s face was reddening, her own pain evident. She changed tactics again, punching and slapping at Maeve’s face. She was too close to get much power behind the blows and Maeve only squeezed harder still. She bridged her hips up and rocked from side to side, groaning as she poured the pressure on.
I clenched my jaw so hard it hurt. A moment ago, Maeve was on the ropes, on the verge of being destroyed. Now she was gaining the upper hand again. This couldn’t happen! She didn’t deserve to win, to be able to spout her malicious gossip all over the scene. I didn’t want to look at Angela squirming in the scissors – but I couldn’t turn my eyes away.
Angela beat and clawed at Maeve’s sides, her chest, her face and neck – anywhere she could – with obvious desperation. Her chest heaved as she thrashed in Maeve’s cruel hold. Maeve squeezed harder still, until Angela’s belly bulged out either side of the brunette’s encircling thighs. Angela’s face was beet red, her mouth wide open as her enemy crushed the air from her lungs.
“Don’t give up!” I urged silently as I looked on in growing horror. “Find something…anything…to break her grip!” I felt the flush in my own face as I fought my own all-too-vivid imagination. I couldn’t bear to think about how Angela was suffering, what she must be feeling – but I couldn’t help it. How must it feel to be trapped, my curvy tummy crushed between those strong thighs, thrashing frantically, desperate to break free, but knowing that every struggle only depleted the oxygen in my agonized lungs. I squirmed against Joe, but that was no help. I needed release – or a cold shower.
Joe wasn’t any help either. His right hand was under my dress again, cupping my left breast, rolling my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. His other hand was on my tummy, teasing my navel piercing. Between his attentions, my earlier victories over Clara and Laura, not to mention seeing Dezarae destroyed by Jo and now Angela in such dire straits – the fires of lust were raging in my belly.
Then Angela finally succeeded in breaking Maeve’s grip. She sank both hands into the brunette’s hair, yanked Maeve’s head up and slammed it down – twice – into the floor. Momentarily stunned, Maeve’s grip slackened. Angela was able to force her ankles apart and start to wriggle free. Maeve’s scissors had sapped her strength though, and she could barely crawl.
She never made it. Maeve recovered, rolled with her and suddenly Angela was on her back with Maeve mounting her. Angela’s arms flailed, her body twisted but she was too weakened to prevent Maeve straddling her. Maeve smiled – such a cruel smile it made my blood run cold – then thrust her hands down to grab Angela’s soft breasts, jerking and twisting them viciously.
Angela howled in agony. She brought her knees up hard, slamming them into Maeve’s back as she simultaneously swung her body to the left. Unbalanced, Maeve toppled off her, but sent a powerful punch to Angela’s jaw as she did. The force of it made Angela’s eyes cross, and then Maeve’s follow-up punch slammed her head into the floor.
Maeve leapt on Angela again. Her knee drove deep into the dazed blonde’s belly. Angela gave a strangled cry as her head and feet jack-knifing up off the floor. Her face was a picture of pain. Maeve seized the chance, grabbed Angela’s arms and pinned them under her knees. She slapped the blonde’s face. Angela whimpered. She tried again to lift her legs and buck Maeve off, but she could barely move.
Maeve slapped Angela’s face hard again, then slid up higher over her fallen foe, until her crotch covered the blonde’s face. She ground herself into Angela, sneering, until Angela’s hand lifted weakly and slapped the floor, tapping out. The fight was over.
“That was exciting,” said Joe in my ear, “But I need another drink. Come on, Melissa.”
We picked our way through the crowd, back to the bar, where Joe’s friend still sat next to the vacant stool we had occupied earlier. This time Joe introduced me. He was Bernie Bulow or, more formally, Bernhard von Bulow, another mogul much like Joe and just as much of a womanizer, judging by the way his eyes lingered on my body, and his hands idly brushed me as we talked.
I wanted – needed – to excuse myself, to find somewhere and some way to cool down. I couldn’t find a cold shower, at least I could splash water over my face. Everything that had happened tonight had me so sexually charged, and sitting here in Joe’s arms with his friend fondling me wasn’t doing anything to diminish my desire – quite the reverse. Joe could throw me on a table and take me right there in public, and I’d welcome it. I’d probably even give his friend head while he fucked me. I couldn’t let Joe – or his friend – know that of course. Melissa Windeyer isn’t easy.
It didn’t help that the end of the fight was not the end of things between Maeve and Angela. I did my best to ignore the sounds of Maeve’s cruel triumph and Angela’s cries of misery as Maeve humiliated her in front of the crowd. I kept my eyes turned away, but there was a huge mirror over the bar and, despite my best efforts, I couldn’t help but look – and gasp at the awful yet horribly arousing scene.
Angela was still spread out on the floor, her clothes in disarray, her breasts exposed, her womanhood meagerly covered by her tiny mesh thong. Maeve stood over her, her foot on Angela’s belly, hands on her hips or raised over her head, fists clenched in triumph. She smiled as she posed for pictures, taunting Angela or flirting with the crowd. She turned this way and that, jabbing her heel randomly into Angela’s stomach, making the blonde moan in anguished despair, begging vainly for mercy.
Maeve pulled a guy close, kissed him deeply, then commanded him to step back and ready his cell phone camera. She raised her booted foot, shouted “Now!” and as he took the photo, she stomped hard on Angela’s midriff. The camera flashed as Angela’s entire body convulsed. Maeve laughed. So did most of the spectators, though I knew that for many of them, it was nervous laughter. The subbies were just thanking their lucky stars it wasn’t them on the floor under Maeve’s heel.
Beckoning the same guy back to her, Maeve murmured in the same guy’s ear and he went off, returning inside a minute with a metal choke collar and a leash. There was no shortage of such implements in a place like Galeforce, and no one was about to refuse Maeve just then. She bent and slipped the collar around Angela’s neck, then jerked hard on the leash. “On your knees, bitch…it’s walkies time!” Her head hanging, her hair hanging in sweaty rat-tails to the floor, Angela obeyed, and the brunette led her around the room, accepting the congratulations of the crowd, hugging and kissing, all the while taunting her victim.
I had to get away. I couldn’t watch without thinking of how Angela felt – the bite of the choke collar on her flesh, the pain, the exhaustion, the humiliation, not to mention the knowledge that this was only the beginning. Maeve would use her, thoroughly degrade her. I knew how that felt, too.
I needed to get away, but I couldn’t, not while Maeve was parading her trophy around the room. I couldn’t risk her noticing me, confronting me – not when she was so confident after her victory, not when I was so awfully aroused and weakened by all I’d seen and done tonight. Despite my own victories, seeing Dezarae and then Angela defeated had me terribly turned on. In both those fights, I’d wanted the loser to win. Seeing them lose, imagining how they felt, made me feel like I, myself, had been worked over – again. No, I was in no state to face Maeve.
I waited till her cronies shepherded her to a table well away from the bathrooms, with Angela still chained at her feet. As they distracted her, plying her with drinks, I grabbed my purse, made my excuses to Joe and Bernie and dashed off to the ladies’ room, staying on the far side of the room from Maeve, shielded by the crowd.
The ladies’ room was mercifully unoccupied, and I went to the far end of the long row of sinks. Slipping the straps of my dress off my shoulders to bare more of my upper chest, I turned the tap full on and splashed water on my face, neck, and upper chest, even on my cleavage. I soaked a paper towel and dabbed at my bare tummy and even my thighs, blushing a little as I realized how wet I was, down there.
Holding my hair back carefully, dunked my face in the basin a couple times. As I did, I started to feel a little better. My breathing slowed. My tummy no longer roiled with lust. It wasn’t a cold shower, but it was the next best thing. I felt ready to go back to Joe and Bernie – but one more dunk might be a good idea. I took a deep breath, bent over and lowered my face into the basin once more. I counted slowly to ten, enjoying the tingle of the cold water on my cheeks. I might need to touch up my makeup before I went back out into the club, but that would take only a few moments.
I didn’t hear the door open. I didn’t know I was no longer alone, not till I felt a hand suddenly grip the back of my neck and push my face deeper into the basin – holding it there.
I let go of my hair and clawed at the hand that held me, squirming as I tried to break free. I kicked out backwards, to no avail. I planted both my hands on the counter either side of the basin and pushed with all my strength, but I didn’t have the leverage to force myself upright. My heart pounded in my chest as I fought to suppress a surge of panic.
That panic only grew greater as I heard a voice close by my ear – Maeve’s voice. She counted to thirty – slowly – as she held me under the water. Then she let me raise my head a little, just enough to gasp a ragged breath. “You know, I could drown you here and now.” She laughed harshly. “It’d be a fitting end…Melissa Windeyer, drowned in a bathroom basin…though a toilet would be even more appropriate for the likes of you.” Her voice was heavy with malice.
She shoved my head down again. I didn’t even have time to take a proper breath. She counted to thirty again as I flailed wildly, but I couldn’t hit her anywhere.
“But where’s the fun in that?” she taunted me as my lungs burned from lack of air. She grabbed my left wrist and forced my arm up high behind my back. Pain shot through my shoulder and down my arm. Without thinking I screamed, then choked as water flooded into my mouth and nose. Maeve still held me down with one hand controlling my arm and my neck. I could hear her rummaging in my purse with her other hand. “Much better to give you a good spanking.”
I coughed, spluttering, spitting out water as she let me up. Water streamed down my face onto my heaving chest as I gulped for air. “This will do nicely.” Through tear-filled eyes I saw her hold my own hairbrush – heavy, carved from polished black lacquered wood – so I could see it.
She laughed again. “That slutty dress is so short, I don’t even need to pull your skirt up to bare your ass.” She brought the flat back of the brush down hard on my bare butt, using it like a paddle. I squealed and jumped, but she held me tight. Then she thrust my face back into the basin.
Again she counted to thirty – slower this time, one count for each heavy stroke of the hard wooden brush against my unprotected ass. I shrieked and squirmed as pain and warmth radiated out from my trembling butt cheeks – turning to heat as it reached my loins. No! I shook my head feverishly side to side, trying in vain to escape Maeve’s grip. I couldn’t let this happen! I couldn’t! Not here, not now, not with her!
At long last she let me up. My lungs burned almost as badly as my ass as I drew a massive, sobbing breath. She spanked me again and I shrieked, spraying the mirror with water and spit, but it didn’t obscure the sight of Maeve’s mocking face. “Remind you of something?” she sneered. “Like the last time we met?”
Her words echoed in my head as she shoved me under the water again. Did it remind me of the last time I ran into Maeve? Horrid memories flooded mind. I tried not to remember, tried to think of icebergs, garnet pendants – anything – but the sharp sting of the hairbrush on my ass crumbled my defences to dust.
I remembered how I’d crumpled at Willie’s feet after he’d tricked me while we watched the fight between Alixe and Bunnie. He’d duped me, goading me into imagining how Bunnie felt as Alixe hammered her, arousing and weakening me with his mind games as his probing fingers worked my body over so horribly. I was a mewling, whimpering puddle of submissive lust, hanging in Willie’s arms, even before Alixe’s brutal knee to Bunnie’s gut dropped the little blonde to the floor – just as I came hard on Willie’s finger and he dropped me at the same instant.
Maeve paused her spanking to run her fingers gently, teasingly over the exposed folds of my sex. I shuddered and moaned into the water. “Oh yeah,” said Maeve with delighted scorn, “I can see it does.” Even under the water I flushed scarlet with shame.
Willie had hauled me up off the floor, tossed me on my belly onto the nearest table, and yanked my dress up. It was the same dress I was wearing tonight and like tonight, I’d been naked underneath it. My bare ass, my wet pussy, my glistening thighs were on display for all to see as he held me there, a helpless puddle of lust.
“Melissa Windeyer, you evil bitch!” He’d slapped my butt hard with his bare hand, making me yelp. “I wanted to be yours…your sub!” He slapped me again, on the other cheek. This time my yelp tapered off to a quavering moan as I struggled to process his words through the fog of my arousal. “Remember when we first met…I was so devoted to you.” With his third slap I simply moaned. “I got you drinks!” SLAP! I squirmed. “I fetched and carried for you!” SLAP! My body shook. I whimpered. “I thought you were the sun and the moon, Melissa!”
“I knew you like trans…I saw you with Kelsey and Seba.” SLAP! “I wanted to be like them…to be yours!” SLAP! “But as soon as you found out I was trans, you wouldn’t have anything to do with me!” SLAP! My ass was on fire. So was my pussy.
What shocked me was his wounded tone, the hurt in his voice, as though it was I who’d been at fault. The vile, deluded snake had twisted everything in his head, to suit his own version of the truth.
“You thought you were too good for me!” SLAP! SLAP! One on each cheek. “You broke my dreams, Melissa!” SLAP! SLAP! “And now I’ve burst your bubble!” I writhed weakly on the table. “You think you’re so high and mighty! Melissa Windeyer!” He gave a pompous-sounding parody of my voice. “Well you’re not! You’re Melissa Windeyer all right…the slut who takes it under the table!” SLAP! SLAP! “The needy whore!” SLAP! “The bitch who’s made to be fucked!” SLAP! SLAP! “Payback’s a bitch…bitch!”
I remembered all of it like it was a movie playing in my head. No, more than a movie. Not only could I see and hear it, I could feel every sensation, every emotion as Willie had held me down and spanked me like a bratty sub who deserved to be punished – just like Maeve was holding me down now. She stopped spanking me and just held me as she counted slowly to thirty, as she proved that she was Maeve Strasser and I was – nothing.
Nor had Willie spanked me again. He had grabbed my hips, lifted me up and flipped me over onto my back like I weighed nothing. My dress had come askew. The strap had slipped off my left shoulder, and my breast had popped free, my nipple – shamefully hard – poking above the shimmering latex. My other breast was threatening to escape too as the violent movement had tugged my dress to the side.
He’d jabbed his fingers into my belly button, around my piercing. I groaned. It was too much. My tummy was already seething with heat. My dress was already up around my waist and offered no obstacle as I parted my legs with a plaintive moan. I wish I could say it had been an unconscious act, but as Maeve held me down, I knew it hadn’t been so. I’d given myself to Willie, as surely as if I’d fallen to my knees at his feet.
“Slut!” he sneered. He reached up and seized my breasts, pinching my nipples hard so I squealed and moaned louder, twisting and pulling them free of my dress. I could have fought him, but I didn’t. My arms were up over my head, my fingers gripping the edge of the table. I arched my back, pushing my breasts up into his hands. My legs parted wider. I lifted my knees.
Willie let go of my breasts and pulled his skirt up. His cock was fully erect, and nudged my sex as he loomed over me. I writhed on the table. I needed him inside me. I slid my ankles around his waist, to pull him closer, but he grabbed my legs behind my knees and lifted them up high. “No you don’t! I’m the one in control now, bitch!” He bent my legs back, my ankles on his shoulders as he leaned in. I wailed as he – Willie, the trans subbie I had despised – thrust himself deep into me.
“How does it feel, Melissa???” he taunted me as he pulled back, then thrust deep again. “How does it feel for the high and mighty Melissa Windeyer to be on the receiving end…to get fucked hard?” He jabbed his fingers into my tummy with each thrust. I moaned, squirmed, arched my back, lifting my hips to meet his cock. “Look at you! It’s just like Lauren said! You’re Melissa Windeyer, who takes it under the table!” He laughed as he pulled back, the thick hot head of his cock just nudging my hungry lips. “But that’s not right either…you’re Melissa Windeyer, who takes it on the table, where everyone can see!”
I groaned in shame-filled lust as he teased me with his cock and his words. Yes, Willie was taking me on the table, and I didn’t care. “Fuck me! Fuck me, Willie!” I cried out, writhing with need.
He laughed – but held back. “That sounded like a demand, girl!” He slapped my left breast hard. I moaned. “Ask properly! Beg for it, bitch!”
And I did. I begged for his cock. “Please…please! Fuck me, Willie! Please!” My voice, loud and clear and full of desperate need, carried all through the club. I heard Willie laugh. I heard the crowd cheer. I couldn’t have cared less as Willie drove his cock balls-deep inside me again, filling me, stretching me – owning me.
Maeve’s voice broke into my reverie. “Oh yeah, I can see you remember it all.” She laughed as she lifted my head above the water again. I drew a gasping, grateful breath, water dripping from my face and hair, streaming down my trembling body. “Happy memories, Melissa.” She held me up as I tried desperately not to look at myself, at the mess she’d made of me, at her mocking eyes – but I couldn’t help it. I whimpered.
“I’ve got to back to Angela,” said Maeve. “I can’t leave her too long, tied to a pillar. She’s such a needy thing…just like you.” She released me then. My shaking legs wouldn’t hold me up, and I collapsed against the counter, sinking to my knees.
She sauntered out of the bathroom, leaving me there on the floor – just as Willie had left me after he came inside me. He pulled out abruptly, leaving me writhing, close to cumming myself. I’d cried out for him – yes, Melissa Windeyer had begged for release – but he’d just laughed at me. “You’re such a noisy fuck, Melissa!” He’d walked away, just like that, leaving me sobbing, shaking, destroyed on the table.
It had been Maeve who had come to my aid. She’d helped me up off the table, steadied me with an arm around my shoulders, led me to the ladies’ room with gentle, soothing words, promising to help me clean up. I’d leaned on her gratefully, glad of her support – I hadn’t been able to stand on my own then, either – and for her protection too. I’d been terrified the mob would move in, and I’d be taken passed around, used, fucked in every hole. Much of my terror came from the fear of how much I might have enjoyed it.
We’d reached the bathroom unmolested – but as the door closed and I breathed a sigh of relief, I’d started at the sound of Alixe’s voice. “You cheered for that little bitch Bunnie, Melissa. You wanted me to lose.”
She’d stepped close, menacingly. I tried to step back but Maeve had slipped behind me and, as I bumped into her, she pinned my arms behind my back. I struggled but weakly. I was too aroused, too needful. Alixe came closer still. “You thought you were better than me.” She smiled coldly. “You were wrong.” Her knee slammed up into my gut. I doubled over, gagging, and Maeve released me, letting me drop to my knees, shaking.
From somewhere, Maeve had produced a strapon – a big, thick, black strapon – and she’d taken me roughly from behind while Alixe held me by the hair, bending my head back and making me eat her out. They made me cum, more than once, before Alixe exploded in my face, filling my nose and mouth with her juices. Then they changed places, and Alixe fucked me hard with the strapon, her thumb in my ass as I moaned and screamed into Maeve’s pussy, cumming over and over. They used me, ravaged me in the Chatro bathroom for what felt like an eternity.
After Maeve came too, and I lay sprawled on my belly, exhausted and spent, they’d used me as a pillow as they pleasured each other in a 69. After that, they’d made me fuck myself with the strappie as they watched and filmed me with their phones. I lay there at last in a puddle of my juices and theirs, shaking, twitching, panting. I stayed like that, too frightened to disobey Alixe’s command to ‘stay right there where you belong, Melissa…on your back!’ as they walked out, high-fiving one another, congratulating each other, leaving me alone, humiliated and totally washed out – just as Maeve had done now.
I don’t remember how long I lay there before I finally picked myself up. I wiped the water from my skin and most of it from my hair with paper towels, rearranged my dress and repaired my ruined makeup. Gazing at myself in the mirror, I reminded myself that was still Melissa Windeyer. I did my best to ignore the inner voice that whispered ‘Melissa Windeyer, the slut who puts out for clothes and jewelry, the slut who takes it under the table, on the table, on the bathroom floor, or bent over a basin.’ So what if Maeve had just humbled me all over again, effortlessly, without a fight? She’d caught me in a vulnerable moment, just like last time. I’d been weakened by everything I’d seen and done tonight. I ignored the inner voice again when it asked ‘what if I hadn’t?’ I took a deep breath, put on my best confident face – to look confident is to be confident – and prepared to face Galeforce again.