Melissa Windeyer's wanton Mayhem IV
I arrived at the Ronaldo Bar a little earlier than I normally did. The bar was comfortably full. I made the most of my entrance of course, letting the door bang loudly so heads would turn. As they did. After all, there were none in that bar who could compare themselves favorably to me, and few who would even try. There were the normal stares; envious women who resented my flawless body and feared I'd take their men; guys who looked at me with admiration mixed with lust, some them all but drooling at my near perfect form; worshipful subbies, some of whom did actually drool – I saw one – at my commanding, powerful presence.
I took my hat off and shook my long glossy brown hair free. It cascaded over my neck and back and shone under the lights. I beckoned the willowy blonde cloak room attendant and watched her eyes widen and her face glow in appreciation as I unbuttoned my long fur coat to reveal my peasant top. It was low cut to show my sensuously swelling breasts and beneath the creamy embroidered bodice, the top was lacy and figure hugging to show off the equally sensuous curves of my stomach and hips. My taut but full butt was sheathed in a sky blue skirt that finished a good few inches above my knees. Clearly delighted at the chance of assisting me, the attendant smiled broadly as she helped me off take my coat. “Welcome, Ms Melissa” she trilled as she bobbed an almost-curtsey.
“Why thank you...” I replied, hoping the alluring blonde dressed in a faux tuxedo, bow tie, and stockings would remind me of her name.
“Paulette, Ms Melissa” she obliged.
I was about to bend over to change from my street shoes into my black patent leather ankle-strap sandals with the four-inch heels, when I felt the firm grasp of a man’s arm around my back and his hand pressing my side just below my ribcage. I checked my immediate reaction, which was to punish such undue familiarity with a forceful slap, when I saw who it was – James Fitzjames Berwick. He was Brooke Harris’s boyfriend, though the rumour was that they had had some serious argument. James was descendent of kings, though by the same royal mistress from whom Princess Diana traced her ancestry, and was a highly attractive man in more ways than one. He had traditional Irish good looks – twinkling blue eyes and dark hair – and was blessed with all the blarney of the Irish too. He was rich – a broker on the Board of Trade and he had his own account too – sexy and utterly unscrupulous. He was kind of man, even more than Arthur Wellesley.
A quick glance over his shoulder showed Brooke standing near the bar, her face livid. I kissed James’s face instead of slapping it.
“It’s always good to see you” he said, fondling my back. “Here, let me help you with those shoes.” He bent down, eased my street shoes off and passed them to Paulette who took them and my coat away.
“I wanted a quiet night, Jimmy…not a grand entrance.”
“Every time you walk into a bar is a grand occasion” He guided me to a chair. “Let me get you a drink.”
“Seriously, I only want a cup of coffee for the moment...but later,” I smiled.
He insisted on slipping my sandals on. He managed a lot of quite unnecessary caresses and squeezes on my sexy calves as he did so, and his hands even wandered to my thighs on one or two occasions.
All the time, Brooke’s face darkened but she wouldn’t dare to fight me. She knew she couldn’t match me, just as her appearance – oh so bland – didn’t come near to matching mine. She was a tallish – at least three inches taller than I am – brunette, her frizzy hair cut short in an almost austere way. Dressed in a cream coloured, high necked, long sleeved blouse, a charcoal knee length skirt and low heeled black shoes, she looked like she'd come straight from her insurance office.
Even though she was just a few years older than me, and not yet thirty, she was already an executive broker, already on the high road to success, already so well paid that she could afford vacations overseas. She had the opportunities that I could only dream of – but I was Melissa Windeyer and I would live my dream. I’d show Brooke and all her rich friends.
She was just not in my class. Men didn’t want an austere look that told the world Brooke brooked no nonsense – not at Ronaldo on a Saturday night. They wanted fun. They wanted to enjoy themselves. That's why Jimmy had walked away from Brooke and come over to me. Melissa Windeyer always knew how to please people – not to say pleasure them. But I also knew that it was best to make them wait so, after another lingering kiss, I sent Jimmy on his way and drank my coffee quietly, waiting.
Holly Davidson walked in with her face a little pink, though not as pink as her pink trainers, pleated pink skirt and pink vest. The only things she wore that weren’t pink were her white knee high socks. No corset, no leather, no black boots, nothing to indicate she’d ever been a Domme. Her dark hair hung loose instead of her more usual style.
Sharon – a sub to Jenn Peccavi's friend Taniqua – was at Ronaldo too. Some would say that was my good luck. They were wrong. I knew some weak gossipy fluff balls like Sharon would be there. They always were. I planned it.
Sharon totally loved spreading malicious tidbits. She’d been one of those who’d spread those rumours – those vastly exaggerated stories – of my little unpleasantness at Chatro. Those rumours, spread by vindictive little subbies who delighted in other people's misfortunes, had been so magnified and blown out of all proportion that people who heard them but hadn’t been there were beginning to wonder whether I was a Domme. Some even thought that I, Melissa Windeyer, had been sexually destroyed, turned into a complete subbie. This laughable exaggeration needed to be scotched. No one made a subbie out of Melissa Windeyer.
The best way to squelch the rumours was to show my prowess – and my victory over Holly demonstrated that. Such a perfect tidbit of gossip for Sharon to spread. The cruel little creature wouldn't be able to stop talking about Holly's destruction. The stories Sharon would spread about Holly would be the perfect antidote to those cruel, lying rumours about me.
I watched as she stepped up to Holly. She didn't say anything. She didn't need to. She just stared, taking in Holly's little girl look.
I watched as Holly looked over at me, her big blue eyes wide. I tapped my foot. Holly shivered. She looked pleadingly at me. She expected me to rescue her. Foolish girl. My needs came before hers. I tapped my foot again and nodded. Holly's shoulders slumped. She knew what she had to do. “Hello Sharon. This is my new attire as prescribed by my owner Miss Melissa, who is so sexually powerful and dominant. I am her sub now.’ She blushed.
One could almost hear the jaws drop. People looked at Holly and Sharon, then they looked at me. I smiled graciously, acknowledging the unspoken adulation.
Success builds on success. Chelle Prince came past, carrying a drink. Chelle was a switch. She’d tangled with Holly before, and lost. She stopped. “Hello Holly.” She gave the former Domme a hard, appraising stare. “You’re so pretty when you blush. It matches your pretty pink outfit. Ms Melissa chose it well for you.”
Holly gazed back her, eyes flashing. She knew Chelle would never have made such a back handed, condescending compliment to her a month ago. Chelle was underlining just how weak, how submissive Holly had become – and Holly hated it. Too bad for her. She obviously had more to learn about what submission meant. I tapped my sandaled foot again. “Holly,” I said, loudly enough for the entire bar to hear. “Ms Chelle just complimented you. Thank Ms Chelle. Remember your manners, girl!” I let the hint of a hard edge creep into my voice – subtle but unmistakable.
Holly looked across the intervening chairs and tables at me. She shivered slightly. “But…” she began.
Chelle had put her drink somewhere. She glared back at Holly and impatiently snapped her fingers. “You heard Ms Melissa. C’mon cutie...answer me when I talk to you!”
I turned to the girl next to me. She was one of Heidi Foster’s clique. I could pick a Silkie, as Heidi’s set called themselves, a mile off. They were always in the latest designer clothes with all the best accessories. They spent more money on clothes than I did on staying alive. They all looked so preppy – but then that’s what they were. They all came from rich families and even the dumbest Silkies had better jobs than I had. “Amazing how weak Holly seems to have become.”
“Of course, Ms Melissa! You broke her.” She shivered. “You took all her strength.” For all their wealth and fabulous attire – I’d heard Heidi Foster boast that her stockings cost her $80 a pair – the Silkies knew I was better than them. I was more powerful than they would – or could – ever aspire to be. That was why this one – Belle – showed me respect. But then I am Melissa Windeyer – to all the Silkies I’m Ms Melissa Windeyer. Belle seemed to smirk. “Look at Holly…just a weak slut. Thanks to you, Ms Melissa,” she added.
“Yes pet. She thought she was a Domme but she found her true place as a slut.”
The girl looked at me oddly, almost as if she were glaring at me. “I think the same could be said of others, Ms Melissa.”
I looked at the little Silkie with well concealed suspicion. Was she trying to insinuate something? I gulped then returned her stare. She batted her eyelids. She simpered at me. I told myself I was too sensitive. Belle would never dare to be insolent to me.
I watched with interest as Holly reddened and trembled in front of Chelle. Again she glanced across at me, still hoping I'd intervene. I would, but I'd let her recognise her plight first. She needed to remember that she was completely dependent on me. Without the support of Melissa Windeyer, she was anyone's prey.
“I paid you a compliment, Holly.” Chelle glared at Holly. She seized Holly’s chin, turning her head, making the broken domme look at her.
“Thank you,” Holly gasped.
Chelle wasn’t done. She stepped very close to Holly, invading her personal space. Holly gasped and once more she looked to me, with only her eyes. She whimpered. Chelle reached around and slipped her hand up the back of the tall, weak brunette's pleated skirt.
Holly involuntarily took a step back and bumped up against a table. “'Help me Miss.” She looked at me imploringly.
That was enough. Everyone had heard Holly beg for my aid. Everyone knew Holly's reputation as a strong Domme. No matter that it had never been deserved. No one could doubt that I'd broken her. No one could doubt my strength my power, my Dominance now.
I stretched languidly. “I'll be back sweetie.” I said to Belle, caressing her cheek. The little fluff ball gasped at my touch. She shook and all but creamed her panties. I stood up and sauntered over to Chelle and Holly.
“That's quite enough, Chelle.” I said firmly. For a moment I thought Chelle was going to argue. I sighed, resting my arm on my hip, and looked into her eyes. I wondered if I was going to have to deal with her. Of course, I'd do so easily, with panache and style. Perhaps it might even be a good thing. It would further entrench my reputation.
Nevertheless, it would be such a bore. I really had no interest in Chelle, and there was always the chance – however remote – that she might actually do some damage to me. She might even black my eye or scratch my svelte sexy body. Of course, she wouldn't do much more than that. Of course, I’d beat her. I knew that and so did she.
She got the message. She lowered her eyes and walked away.
As I watched her retreat, Jimmy caught my eye. He winked and raised his glass. Standing beside him, Brooke again looked thunderous.
Holly was so grateful, but then she should have been too. “Thank you Miss. She was bullying me.” Holly gasped and shivered.
Now it was time for me to remind her of her position – of what she had been, and what she’d now become. I'd just cemented my own position at the top of the pecking order. Yes, Melissa Windeyer was once again a Chatro Queen. It was about time all those around me knew it.
I looked at Holly, my hand still resting languidly on my hip, my grey eyes smouldering as I stared deep into hers. “So? You should stand up for yourself. I seem to remember you saying, not so long ago either, that you'd blow me…me, Melissa Windeyer…out of the water. You learned you were wrong about that, didn’t you? But you should be able to deal with a switch like Chelle Prince.”
Holly blushed. She swallowed hard. “Yes, Miss.” The weak little fluff ball couldn't meet my eyes. She stared at the floor. Her face was in shadow but I knew there would be tears in her eyes.
“Well?” I went back to my table, resumed my seat and crooked my finger. Holly obediently came and stood in front of me. I tapped my foot. I had to do it a few times before she understood and knelt.
“Ms Melissa, Holly was so disrespectful,” said Belle cattily. “You should punish her.”
I fixed the Silkie with a withering stare. “When I need your advice, Belle, I shall ask for it.” She shivered. Belle was nothing but a minnow in the sea of those seeking my attention. She didn't deserve anything from me after her snide remark earlier. It would do her good to learn some manners.
I turned back to Holly. “However, Belle is right. You do need punishing. Not because you were disrespectful, though you were. You should have thanked Chelle immediately. Your lack of manners got you into that mess. You need punishing not because you were disrespectful, but because you were weak. Over my lap, Holly!”
Holly's pretty blue eyes widened like saucers. Her brow knotted. She blushed bright red, knowing she was on display, knowing there were many around smirking. She should have cultivated the Silkies. “Oh Miss!” she gasped. “Please Miss! Not here!”
I stared into her eyes. The little non entity shook and lowered her gaze. “Holly, are you answering me back?” I let my voice harden. “Just who do you think you are?”
Holly trembled. “No Miss! Please, I'm not answering back.” She bent across my lap, her ass in the air.
“Who am I, Holly?”
“You're my owner, Ms Melissa, Miss! You're stronger, you're sexier than I am, superior in every way Miss.” Her answer was broken by gasps as I slapped her ass hard. She whimpered and squealed.
“You should have been polite to Chelle and thanked her. Then, if she'd pushed you around, everyone would have been on your side. Regardless, you should have stood up to Chelle. You're weak, Holly.” Of course, publicly slapping her, humiliating her like this was only going to weaken her further. It would frighten her, make her more needy, more dependent on me. That was how it should be. I was Melissa Windeyer, a Queen of Chatro. Holly was...well, Holly.
“She didn't stand up to Heidi either,” Belle simpered.
I slid Holly off my lap, back to her knees on the floor. I took a deep breath, knowing it would make my shapely bosom swell inside the tight bodice of my top. I brushed back my hair and looked at the weak girl in front of me. I sighed. “Really, Holly? What did you let Heidi do to you? I expect better things from you. I have standards, Holly.”
Holly knelt before me, her Goddess. Her knees were slightly apart, her eyes downcast. “Miss Melissa, Heidi’s been slapping my ass when I walk past her lately…but only when you’re not here. I told her to stop, but she won’t. She said she knew I wouldn’t tell you because that would be showing just how weak I am. She said I’m scared of you.”
“You told her to stop?” I feigned surprise, widening my eyes and gasping. “You told her to stop and you didn’t do any more than that?”
“No Ms Melissa. She’s too strong.” Again I had to suppress a smile at the weak slut’s reply. To think she had once considered herself a Domme, that she had once tried to contend with me. She was where she belonged now, at my feet – at the feet of her Goddess.
“Last night she cornered me in the ladies room…pinned me to the wall,” Holly continued her confession. She gulped and her eyes glistened, “She had two of her sidekicks with her. They roughed me up. They said they were going to re-enact what you did to me, Miss.”
“Oh did they now? And did you struggle; did you try to stop her? I pulled her head up, forcing the former domme – now a snivelling subbie – to look into my eyes. “You let her have her way with you, didn’t you?”
Holly whimpered. Biting her lip, she nodded almost imperceptibly.
“Did that excite you, Holly?”
She blushed. Her shoulders shook. “Yes Miss.”
I struggled not to smirk at the weak broken girl in front of me, who’d once had the audacity to try to break me – Melissa Windeyer – and who, as a result, had fallen so far that even Heidi could use her. “I understand, pet, and it’s up to me to protect you, to make sure people don’t work you over again.”
Holly bent kissed my feet. “Oh, yes please, Ms Melissa!”
“Heidi and I are going to have words.”
I stood up and walked over to where Heidi Foster stood on the far side of the room with a group of her Silkies. They had been watching, but were too far away to have heard the last exchange between Holly and me.
Heidi smiled as I approached. “Hello Melissa. How are you? We…and I'm speaking for all the Silkies here…” she waved her hand sweepingly over her friends, “want to thank you for teaching Holly her true place…at our feet. She's so hot when she squirms. And ohemgee, her outfit! It’s priceless…all those pastel pinks, so pretty preppy, so school girl. Like I said to Daisy, 'It’s like you're almost worried she's underage.'” She giggled. “So totally gorgeously weak. Totally fun, especially when you remember how she was.”
Heidi tried to look so superior, so condescending. If – if – clothes could make the woman, she would have been a force to reckon with. She wore a wonderful pearl grey sheath dress – chiffon, knee-length and one shouldered. The hems were trimmed with white lace. It had a long trailing wrap that she wore wound around her neck. The wrap was the same colour but so diaphanous one could see through it.
Of course, clothes didn’t make the woman. Heidi might have expensive outfits – that dress would have cost a month’s salary for me – and might wear them with poise, but she was nothing but a brat and everyone knew it.
“Like we'd never have played with her in the past. She was tough, the sort of woman who'd eat you alive and spit out the bones.” Kasia giggled. “But now...” She rolled her eyes.
“No Kasia,” interrupted Heidi, “she'd have used your bones as toothpicks. You're so petite, so slim and sexy…so totally hawt.” She giggled again. It was an exact copy of Kasia’s giggle. With my eyes closed, I wouldn’t have been able to tell who was making the sound. “Err…where was I? Sorry Melissa. Yes…now that you’ve broken her, she’s so good to play with. Like she squirms, she begs, she moans so well. We had so much fun with her.”
“Heidi Foster, Holly is mine...”
The bubblehead didn’t let me finish my sentence. “Yes we know…and we totally want to thank you, Melissa, for letting us share your slut.”
“But I didn’t. You never asked me. You...”
Again Heidi disrespected me by talking over me. “But you would let us, surely.” She pulled a face. “Is anything wrong Melissa? You look…like…totally angry.”
“You used Holly.” I finally completed a sentence. Even the bubblehead had to pause for breath some time.
“Oh for sure we did! Like she’s a totally needy slut. And like sharing is caring. Melissa you're so red in the face. Are you ok? Kasia, run to the bar and get Melissa some water. Like we don't want you to choke.”
“How dare you use my girl like that.” I couldn't believe my ears. The temerity, the audacity, the… Words failed me.
“You look so angry,” Heidi went on – and on. “Surely you’re not seriously serious? Are you mad that we didn't ask first? Okay, maybe we should have but Holly was so totally needy. And Melissa we were so grateful to you that we even had a vote on inviting you to join the Silkies! You’re hawt, you’re sexy but...well, we had to turn you down because your dress sense...just sometimes...leaves something to be desired. I'm sorry but you’re just not stylish enough for a Silkie. Like remember that outfit you wore when you were last in Chatro.” She giggled again.
“You mean that night I missed, that everyone everywhere talks about?” Kasia was back with some water. “The night when – ”
This time Heidi didn't let Kasia finish her sentence. “Yes, that night when Melissa had trouble controlling herself. Ohmygawd, that night…and that outfit. It did show just a little too much flesh. Not that your body isn’t totally shapely and sexy…it is! But ohemgee that was a totally short skirt. Like when you bent over, everyone could see your panties...well, till Colleen had you on your back on the table there for all to see that she'd taken your panties.” The brat smiled smugly. “Like that wasn't all she'd taken.”
I slapped hard at her face. There was no way I was going to put up with being so rudely insulted by a conceited, arrogant little fluff ball like Heidi. She needed to be taught a lesson in manners, if nothing else. She was no match for me, and it was time to remind her of that.
My first slap hit, but nowhere near as hard as I wanted. The skank stepped back so only my fingers hit her face instead of my full palm. I stepped up to her and slapped again. The bitch ducked and my slap went over her head. I stumbled forward. I’d expected to hit her and in my heels, I almost over balanced.
Heidi grabbed at my top, jerked and shoved, trying to wrestle me down. I grabbed her hair, jerking back at her. I wanted to inflict pain, and I did. The fluff ball hissed and gasped as I buried my fingers in her scalp. I yanked hard enough to remove a tuft of her blonde hair. She squealed. “Oh, my hair! My hair!”
I seized another fistful of hair and pulled hard, bending her over. She squealed, then showed what a dirty fighter she was by clawing at my boobs, digging her fingers in under my low cut top and twisting her nails into the soft flesh. I yelped. “You’re shredding my boobs! Aarrgh!” The pain was as vile as the cruel slut inflicting it. She giggled. I needed to get her hand out of my top but I curbed my instinct to break away. Instead I kept a tight hold on her hair and slammed my body against hers – my full, rounded breasts against her tiny tits that were mere ant bites, my sensuously curving tummy against her skinny midriff. She staggered as I forced her back.
Belatedly – but what would one expect from a bubblehead like Heidi? – she realised that I was winning. “Oh! Ohmygawd! You’re killing my hair!” Music to my ears!
She grabbed a fistful of my long dark hair. I’d worn it loose and it cascaded down to my shoulder blades. That gave her an advantage, temporary but painful. She tugged on my long, glossy locks with one hand, yanking me to the side as she slapped at my face with the other. We stayed locked together, each trying to get the other off balance, each slapping with one hand. She bent me sideways but I pulled her with me and used our momentum to drive her further down. She stumbled and, yanking on her hair, I sent her sprawling. She kept her hold on my long hair, dragging me with her. The pain in my scalp was awful until she hit a table, groaned and let go.
The little bitch picked herself up and glared at me on her knees. I stared back at her coldly. “Face it, Heidi…you're just not in my league!” Heidi's barbed comments showed how much I still had to do to regain my status, to restore my reputation. Making a harsh example of her would be a good start. The cringing fluff ball was about to learn some home truths. She – and everyone – would see that Melissa Windeyer was not to be trifled with.
I closed in to finish her off – another easy victim. I was barely out of breath. “Arrggh!” The little slut had lunged and grabbed my foot! I pulled my leg up, kicking it hard to free myself from her grasp. “Oh my god!” I stumbled. The bitch had slammed her hand hard into my sexy stomach.
Heidi held onto my leg. She pushed it up high, trying to topple me. I teetered for a moment and almost fell. Instead my back hit a pillar and kept me upright, but so did my head with a crack that made me see stars. Momentarily my arms flopped loosely at my sides and my body went slack.
The bubble headed bitch dragged her sharp nails down my inner thigh. I groaned in pain. She scrambled to her feet.
This was not how it was meant to be! Heidi had turned the fight around. With a vile, expression on her face, she threw herself at me. I managed to slap my hands on her shoulders, preventing her from crushing me against the pillar and even pushing her back a few inches.
I tried to hold onto her but she slipped from my grasp. Her fist slammed into my stomach and made me gasp. One hand grabbed my neck as the other slapped my shoulder. She started to choke me. Her hands were squeezing my throat. I couldn’t breathe. Anger – and fear – surged through me. This was so wrong! I’d been winning so easily.
I had to end this nightmare – and I did. Even though I was afraid, I didn't panic like most women might have. I’m not most women. I’m Melissa Windeyer.
Even as the cruel fluff ball’s grip on my neck tightened and I gagged, I raised my knee, hammering her skinny stomach. She gasped as air and spit flew from her mouth into my face. I got both my hands on her shoulders and pushed her hard away from me, breaking her grip on my throat.
I locked my arm round her waist and swung her around. She lost her balance and almost fell, saving herself by clutching onto my waist too. She punched my ribs with her free hand. I punched back, hammering her side beneath her arm. For a few seconds we traded blows, neither of us defending, nor letting go of the other. My solid blows began to tell. Heidi just didn’t have the experience, the strength or the stamina to match me. Few people did. She groaned as my punches punished her.
I turned her slightly, exposing her soft, scrawny stomach to my fist, and pounded it hard. With each blow that thumped home, Heidi gasped. She clawed at my breasts again, digging deep into my low cut peasant top, under my bra, scratching and clawing at the flesh beneath. I bent my knees a little, drove my shoulder into her chest and knocked her back, stepping away from the pillar myself.
Heidi tried to charge me. I sidestepped her deftly and gave her a shove as she went past, driving her into some chairs stacked near the pillar. The stack toppled over and Heidi landed on her butt beside the scattered chairs.
I came in, eager to put the bubblehead where she belonged. After all, that was what people expected of me. Rightly so – Heidi was a nothing. I’d been in control almost throughout the fight, except when she had so unfairly grabbed my leg.
There was steel tray – the kind people used to carry drinks from the bar to their tables – on the floor beside her. Some lazy soul had probably left it on the stack of chairs. Heidi snatched it up and flung it at my head. I wasn’t expecting such a cowardly move, not even from a sneaky little bitch like Heidi, and it hit me in the forehead just above my eyebrow. I stepped back, bleeding.
Heidi scrambled to her feet, her skirt hiked up around her thighs, and rushed me again. I tried to dodge but my head was ringing, blood was dripping over my eye and I couldn’t see well. I pivoted but at the last moment, the little blonde slut spun with me and drove her head into my stomach. The air rushed out of me in a spray of spit. Again my back crashed into the pillar.
Then the pain struck. It went from my abs to my gut to my womb. I doubled over, clutching my belly. Heidi shoved her hands into my hair and began to run backwards, as fast as she could in her heels, dragging me with her by my hair. Suddenly she stepped to the side. I had begun to straighten up and as I did, I saw the horror or what was ahead of me. My momentum carried me on and I slammed full tilt into the wall – face, boobs and stomach.
The impact knocked what was left of my breath out of me. I couldn’t afford the time to hurt however. Heidi was onto me as I turned around but no one gets the better of Melissa Windeyer and as I turned, I struck out with my foot. Heidi impaled herself on my heel.
She reeled back gasping, holding her belly with both hands. I’d outsmarted the little fluff ball. I stepped away from the wall and stood with my chest heaving, my full breasts swelling over the scooped neckline of my blouse. I glanced quickly around me. People were surprised – no, astonished – at how, once again, this nobody – this Silkie had dared stand up to me. No one – certainly not me – had expected that she would fight so well. I needed to compose myself, regroup and take the fight to her.
I stepped forward and as I did, Heidi came at me again. This time I sidestepped and seized her, one hand on her left shoulder and the other on the right side of her ribs. Twisting on the balls of my feet, I let her own rush carry her past me. All I had to do was give her a light shove and she crashed heavily onto a table. Her weight broke it and she crashed to the floor. Still holding onto her, I went down with her but I was on top and scrambled quickly to my feet.
Heidi had her back turned to me as she struggled to stand. I grabbed her again and all but threw the fluff ball into the wall. “That, Heidi, is how it’s done,” I told her. She slumped awkwardly against the wall. “Here…just in case you missed it, let me show you again!” I grabbed her by the hair and by the back of her dress and flung her against the wall once more. She twisted as she hit and as she turned around to face me, I slammed punch after punch into her chest and belly until her legs gave out and she sank to the floor, moaning.
I stood gulping air, looking at the sobbing non entity at my feet. I glanced at my own body. I had a few minor cuts, more than a few bruises and a lot of scratches. The only injury that was even remotely serious was the cut over my eye and even that had stopped bleeding. There was nothing that a good shower wouldn't fix. Heidi, on the other hand, was a wreck. Her dress was soiled and disheveled, her hair was a tangled mess and her makeup was a ruin – lipstick smeared across her cheek, dark runnels of mascara down her cheeks.
It was time to remind her of the facts. “Heidi, you’re not in my class.” I paused, more for effect than because I needed to gulp in more air. “You can’t fight me. I’m Melissa Windeyer and you...you’re nothing but a ...silkie. You’re not in my league.” I prodded her with my sandal. “Don't pick on Holly again.”
I turned to her friends. A minute ago they had been cheering her. Now they were subdued – as cowed as she was. “As for you, you've seen what happened to your club captain.” I nodded toward the trembling mess that was their leader. “Let it be a lesson to you.”
I turned away and hugged Holly. “They won't trouble you again.” She beamed and hugged me back.
The cloak room girl had brought some towels. “Why thank you, Paulette. Give them to Holly.” I embraced the eager attendant, letting my hands run down and cup her butt as I kissed her. She responded, melting into my embrace. I found myself becoming deliciously moist. My easy win had excited me
“Holly, pass me a towel, then take Heidi to the showers. See that she has a cold shower. I don't want her getting all excited again. Smack her…hard…if she misbehaves.”
“Yes Miss,” said Holly delightedly.
“You were so strong…so powerful, Ms Melissa!” I accepted Paulette's gushing praise with a gracious smile and a pat on her cute behind. Suddenly she dropped to her knees before me. “Goddess Melissa, please let me serve you! Let me help you shower.” She stroked my calves. “A Goddess like you should be worshipped…please let me. I'll wash your sexy body, your glorious hair and lovely face…especially where that creature Heidi scratched or cut you.”
I was flattered at such adulation, though it was no more than I deserved. Nonetheless, the memory of Colleen made me wary. “Don't you have your job to do, sweetie?”
“I can take a break, Ms Melissa.” She dropped her voice. “Just you and me in a shower cubicle, Mistress. Just us, by ourselves.” My body thrilled with anticipation. Nothing wrong could happen in such a private encounter. I took her by the hand and led her to the showers.
Ronaldo's shower block was like the rest of the club – tasteful, upmarket and far better than that bloodbath Chatro. Each of the cubicles had a private anteroom for undressing and where one could hang one's clothing. We'd barely closed the cubicle door behind us when Paulette sank to her knees. The sweet girl lifted the hem of my top. I arched my back slightly, pushing my taut, svelte stomach toward her. “Remember that few girls have the honour of worshipping me.”
“Oh yes, Ms Melissa.” Paulette reached around me and unzipped my skirt, then eased it down my lithe thighs and held it while I stepped out of it. She leaned forward and her tongue caressed my navel, licking me lovingly, sucking gently on my piercing. I caressed her hair as mounting shockwaves of pleasure swirled through me but, wary of what Colleen had done, I restrained myself and thought of icebergs – cold, white and vast. No one was going to use Melissa Windeyer as that nasty deceitful bitch had done. So when Paulette's tongue crept lower, fanning my arousal, I pushed her head back. “No more. Not now. We came to shower.” I drew Paulette to her feet, unbuttoned her tux and fondled her pert breasts before she stepped out of it. She helped me slip off my top.
We heard Heidi’s voice, raised in plaintive supplication, coming from a nearby cubicle. “Oh! It’s so cold! No…no please!” I could imagine Heidi cringing as Holly turned the water up full blast. Paulette and I exchanged smiles as Heidi begged Holly to add some warmth to the water. We smiled more as Holly refused and threatened the defeated blonde with a hard spanking. “Please! No! I'll be good! My bottom is so sore.”
Paulette and I showered together. She washed my hair, I stroked her breasts and we kissed. She began to stroke my stomach again, up and down, gently flicking my navel. Just as Colleen had begun with her swirling tongue, so Paulette's finger flicking and stroking my tummy made it churn delightfully. My hips rocked, my body shivered and shook as a mini orgasm rocked me, then another and then a third.
Heidi's pleading changed its tone. “No! No, you can't! You can't...ooohhhh!!!”
“Not so tough on your own, are you Heidi?” Holly taunted her. “Who's going to stop me? You?” I heard Heidi squeal. “Why don't you push my hand away? Do you really want me to stop, Heidi?” Holly’s patter of questions was punctuated at first by Heidi’s gasps and sighs, which grew louder and turned into moans. “Where are your cronies now? Don't you wish they could see you now? Why are you shaking so?”
“Holly’s fucking Heidi, Goddess,” giggled Paulette, “and I want to eat out at Ms Melissa’s!” She knelt down and, as the hot water soothed away all my soreness, put her words into practice. The lovely blonde's nimble, industrious tongue soon had me trembling so hard that I had to lean against the cubicle wall for support.
Heidi's protests had stopped. She was alternately squealing with pleasure and whimpering with need.
Paulette’s hand brushed my thigh. I stiffened involuntarily as images of what Colleen had done to me on that horrid night, coursed through my mind. Paulette giggled again. “Heidi’s taking it like the slut she is.” I relaxed as Paulette's tongue resumed licking. The sweet sub had just needed to pause for breath. A few moments later, my body was rocked by another and then yet another orgasm. I shook almost uncontrollably as I clutched at Paulette’s wet hair, holding onto her until the sensations subsided.
At last I took her gently by the hair and pushed her head back. “Enough, Paulette. You need to get back to your job.”
She nodded. “Oh Goddess, thank you for letting me serve you.” I bent and rewarded her with a kiss. I could taste myself on her lips.
We dressed each other and dried our hair. Again, Ronaldo proved its superiority to Chatro. It had effective hair driers. The shower had washed away the blood from the cut on my forehead and upon examining it in the mirror, it wasn’t deep. Paulette dabbed a little perfume on it to close it up and after I reapplied my makeup, it was all but invisible.
Refreshed, in so many ways, by the shower and by Paulette’s worship – she knew what was due to me – I sauntered out of the showers with Paulette following in my train. The door banged loudly. Heads turned, Holly’s among them. She looked across from where she’d been speaking to the Silkies – no doubt instructing them on the deference due to me – and her eyes locked with Paulette’s. Rarely have I seen a more hate-filled stare than hers at that moment. I smiled inwardly. Holly knew she had a rival who was prepared to give me the adulation I deserved. That would make her even more obedient. After all, that was her role – to worship me, Melissa Windeyer.
I walked towards the bar and into an argument between Brooke Harris and James Berwick. He was sitting on a bar stool. She was standing, leaning against the bar. “Hun, you wanted to come here. Don’t blame me because it’s not what you expected.”
“Jimmy, I wanted to see where you go.” She waved an arm expansively. “This place disgusts me. Girls fighting, girls moaning as they get spanked, other girls lap dancing for guys, couples all but screwing on the dance floor.”
“We can leave any time,” he countered. “I asked you if you wanted to…and you didn't. You wanted to watch that fight."
“Jimmy!” Brooke scolded. “No, that’s why you come here. You want to watch girls fight.”
“Yes, I like seeing hot girls fight…especially when they’re as sexy as Heidi and Melissa.” He smiled at her knowingly. “Admit it, it excites you too. I saw the way you looked at them fighting.”
“They're animals…both of them…and then when Melissa wins, she hands Heidi over to…what do I call her?...that Holly girl. What is it with Melissa and Holly?”
“Don't be so naïve,” replied Jimmy. “It’s D/s. This is a D/s club…I told you that...and Melissa is a Domme. Well,” he added with a grin, “some of the time.” He’d seen coming up behind Brooke and now he winked surreptitiously at me.
Brooke was on a roll. If she even noticed, she didn’t look around. “So she goes off with the cloak room trash! I can imagine what they got up to in the showers.”
“And you go off and chat with Heidi’s friends.” He waved his arm in the direction of the Silkies.
“Yes, they might be preppy, they might even be bratty but at least they’re civilised. They …well, most of them…dress well, don’t drink too much and behave themselves. Not like that slut Windeyer! Why did you go over and greet her. Why did you fondle her?”
I coughed loudly at Brooke’s shoulder.
“Why hello Melissa!” Jimmy pretended to notice me for the first time. He raised his glass. “Here’s to your convincing win. You hardly raised a sweat. You put that pip squeak Heidi back in her box. I don’t think she’ll be bothering you again.”
I wondered why he was praising me like this – yes, of course it was my due – but it was plainly making Brooke furious. Was he deliberately winding her up? If so, why?
Brooke fixed me with a withering stare but spoke to Jimmy. “Why are you talking to this arrogant trash? Every time I see her…which thankfully isn’t often…she’s fighting, hitting on some guy…or girl, it doesn’t seem as though she’s too particular…making out with some girl’s boyfriend…hustling someone to buy her a drink. She’s a slut! And always, the whore is always s pretending to be something special, one of the rich and famous, acting like some kind of aristocrat. She isn’t. She’s a rancid brunette Pammy Anderson…nothing but a stuck up whore.”
I took a deep breath to compose myself. My swelling bosom would no doubt distract Jimmy from his girl’s biting repartee. I didn’t have much of an answer. It went without saying that I’d beat Brooke in a fight, even so soon after my victory over Heidi. It just might be a little strenuous. Fighting and beating Brooke however, wouldn’t help me. Even if she would fight – and she might not – fighting her would only prove her point. Yes, I fought to protect myself and my reputation. Yes, like any other twenty-first century woman, I enjoyed sex. So what if I played with both teams? Only a prissy, old fashioned person – like Brooke – might call me a ‘loose’ woman. I knew Jimmy Berwick wasn’t a prude by any stretch of the imagination but calling his girlfriend prissy wasn’t going to get me far with him – even if it was true.
Still, it was her last comment that got under my skin. I so wanted to be part of that magic circle of rich, successful people like Brooke and James. I deserved to be part of it. I was so sexy that guys flocked around me, just as Jimmy had when he helped me with my shoes. But I wasn’t part of the circle. I had to scrape every last penny to buy the designer label outfits that they all bought with their spare change. I had a 1990 Celica convertible – they had late model BMWs, Mercedes or Porsches. I lived with my parents in a pokey walk-up on the South Side. They lived in renovated brownstones or ritzy new apartments. The reason I hustled guys to buy me drinks was because I didn’t have the money to buy my own.
Despite all that, I’m Melissa Windeyer. One day, I will be part of that magic circle, as I deserve to be.
I looked down my nose at Brooke. “No one else complains about me. Maybe you’re jealous of the adulation I get from Holly, Paulette, Belle and all the others… jealous of the attention the guys give me.” I stepped closer to Jimmy and rested my hand on his shoulder. “Even your own boyfriend.” I let my fingers trail across his cheek. “I’m Melissa Windeyer and I deserve the attention and adulation. As for you…” I just smiled at her.
“She’s right.” Jimmy came to my defence. “No one else complains about Melissa…only you, just like you complained about everything here. Yet…I say again…you didn’t want to leave. You don’t like what goes on here, but you don’t want to leave.”
“Wrong! I didn’t want to leave without you!” She kept her eyes on Jimmy. She was neither talking to me nor even looking at me. I got her point – that I was beneath her notice – but I kept the smile on my face. If I was so far beneath her contempt, then why were her hands shaking?
“Don’t give me that,” argued Jimmy. “You know I’d have taken you home.”
“You’d have bitched all the way, about us leaving.”
“Just like you’re bitching all the time about us staying?” he shot back.
“Yes I'll bitch…when there are bitches like her to bitch about!” Brooke jerked her finger at me.
“What have I done to you?” Yes, I had flirted with Jimmy but he had flirted with me first. Besides, I’m Melissa Windeyer. Of course he would flirt with me. There was no reason for Brooke’s present meanness. I knew there was something I could do to get back at her, of course. I could tell Jimmy that the last time I'd seen Brooke, she had been out with some other guy. I wouldn't do that, though. Melissa Windeyer has standards.
“The slut fights! She does that to other girls.” She ignored me, still talking to Jimmy as though I was just an object.
“Yes she does, and I like it.” Jimmy slipped his hand round my waist and squeezed gently. “If you’re honest, Brooke, so do you. What’s not to like? Strong yet shapely and sexy women…” He ran his finger over my arm. “…in the ultimate contest of will, each staking her body against the other. Each knows one of them will triumph and each is determined to be that one.” Again he squeezed my waist, a little harder this time, pulling me closer. My hip brushed his. He smiled. “Doesn’t that excite you, Brooke?”
What was Jimmy’s game? Did he want me to fight Brooke for him, here and now? It seemed so. I hoped so – I knew I could take Brooke and so, surely, did Jimmy. But why?
Brooke said nothing. She looked directly at me for the first time. I stared back steadily. She was challenging me. I was sure of it. It wasn't just Jimmy who wanted this – but Jimmy was setting it up. My mind raced, trying to understand the rules of the game so I could take command of it. Brooke was Jimmy’s girlfriend. Had he been trying to set up a fight all evening” Was that why he'd flirted with me, insisted on helping me change my shoes when I came in?
What would happen if I fought Brooke now? Of course I’d beat her – Jimmy and I both knew that – but what would he do then? Would he dump her and go off with me? My heart flipped over at the thought. My easy win over Heidi had excited me – an excitement that my tryst with Paulette in the shower had only increased. There was something going on here that I didn’t understand, and that wasn’t a comfortable feeling, but the chance to beat this insulting bitch Brooke and perhaps even win Jimmy, only added to my excitement. Jimmy was my kind of guy – the kind of guy I deserved. My tummy fluttered with anticipation.
Brooke’s mouth was slightly open. Her eyes bored into mine, her hands on her hips. Her breasts rose and fell slightly beneath her blouse.
“Admit it, Brooke” Jimmy went on. “I saw you…your red, flushed cheeks, your shining wide eyes, sitting there biting your lip. It turned you on, didn’t it?” He kept looking at her, not me, but his hand squeezed my waist again. “That’s why you came here, Brooke, isn't it?” He slid his thumb under the bottom hem of my peasant top, rucking it up just a little. His hand stroked the bare flesh of my side.
“Brooke, you'd like to fight Melissa, wouldn't you?” Jimmy gently pushed me forward a little so my head was close to his, my butt resting against his thigh as he sat on his stool. He eased up my top further and stroked my stomach, idly flicking at my navel piercing. I sucked in my breath sharply. My stomach was so sensitive to being stroked that way. Jimmy was right. Brooke wanted to fight me. I could see it in her eyes. I wanted to fight her too. I felt the heat between my thighs.
”You insulted her,” Jimmy continued. “You said she was a wannabe, a rancid brunette Pammy Anderson. You expected her to fly at you, slapping and punching at you wildly. Right here, right now. You want that.” He stared into Brooke’s eyes. His voice was low, steady, almost hypnotic. “You’d love the exhilaration of stemming her attack That’s what you expected her to do…attack you. That’s what you wanted. Admit it, Brooke honey. Yes, that’s what might happen if you clashed with her. But it might not, too. Melissa’s no weakling. You saw her fight Heidi. She’s got strength, determination and skill. If I know Melissa, she’ll fight hard. She’ll come out swinging, yes, but those swings will be disciplined, well aimed, part of a plan. If I know Melissa, she’ll score some early hits on you. She’ll give you a hard time. She’ll hurt you. You’ll be retreating, dodging, weaving as she comes after you for a while. Sooner or later, she’s going to corner you. She’ll have expanded some of her energy by then…she’ll be puffing more than you…but she’ll still have you cornered.
“You think that at some stage, she’ll grab your hair and shake your head, trying to drag you down, just like she tried to do to Heidi. I know you did…you were so intently watching the two sluts fight.” I wanted to object – nobody calls Melissa Windeyer a slut and gets away with it – but his voice was getting to me too. “You were imagining that you yourself were involved. Admit it, Brooke.
You’ll stand close, each of you locked together, one hand clasping a mass of the other’s hair as you trade blows…slaps and punches to the face and upper body, too close together to miss, till you break away as her blows take their toll on you. Again you’ll evade Melissa as she comes after you.”
Brooke gasped ever so slightly – more an exhalation of breath. She shivered just as slightly. I battled to continue returning her fixed stare. I didn’t know how she could seem so unmoved. She stood there, sphinx like, her eyes locked on mine.
How did Jimmy know that I had been – and still was – on the verge of throwing away all my good intentions and attacking Brooke when – yet again – she had pretended I was some inanimate object, something to be talked about and not to? His words reached deep into me, fuelling my imagination. He was right, of course – even if my anger had boiled over and I’d lashed out, I’d have had a plan.
I could see the scene in my mind as he laid it out. Brooke had insulted me once too often. People – especially the subbies like Sharon and some of the Silkies – were smirking, even those who'd just seen me destroy Heidi, who'd seen how completely I owned Holly, were nudging each other, whispering behind my back. I couldn't have that. It wasn't just that I needed to cement my image as a Domme once more. No, it was more – no one makes fun of Melissa Windeyer.
I was still flushed from my easy victory over Heidi. I knew I could take Brooke. She was taller than I was, probably five feet eight. If I fought as Jimmy said I would, as his words so vividly described me doing, I’d come out swinging from my hips like a discus thrower so I could hammer her face with hard open handed slaps that would hurt and enrage her. I’d keep slapping, swinging my right hand at her left cheek or shoulder, then swinging back the other way so my left hand would strike the other cheek, until she found the antidote and either stepped back out of my reach or came forward to punch. Just blocking the swinging slaps never worked. They were like a revolving door – one would hit if the other didn’t. She couldn’t evade by ducking either – she was too tall for that. I saw myself getting a good dozen or more slaps in, before she woke up. Then I’d settle down to trading blows. I’d still have an early advantage, even if Brooke used her extra reach. She was tall but scraggly. My punches or slaps would have more force to them.
Though I'd never seen Brooke fight, I took notice of Jimmy's words. He was telling her that I'd have her cornered, which meant she was inexperienced. No hardened fighter would let that happen to her so early in a battle. I saw myself striking hard and often as she scurried to evade me. I'd mix my blows up. I'd break through her defence, time and again. She'd try to fend me off with her longer reach but she’d be clumsy. I'd stay close to her and keep hitting her, face and body.
Just as Jimmy said, I saw myself trapping her, probably between one of the nests of stacked chairs and a pillar. I’d engage her in a hair wrestle. She wouldn’t be able to escape that for a while and in that time, I’d hurt her. Jimmy knew who’d win that kind of battle. Even though I had longer hair – my silky tresses tumbled down as far as my shoulder blades – I knew that my weight, strength and experience would win out.
I almost licked my lips as I visualised Brooke and I trading slaps while tugging on each other’s hair. In my mind I could hear her gasping, panting, squealing in pain and her final cry of “You’re killing my hair!!!” until, in desperation, she clawed furrows down my face and stomach, forcing me onto the defensive for a moment, giving her a chance to step back a pace, get her hands on my shoulders and shove me away. In my four inch heels, I wouldn’t be able to keep my balance, to maintain a grip on her, but I'd come away with a fistful of her hair.
I knew Jimmy was playing me. I didn’t know why but I sensed that if I wanted his help, his influence in the future – and I did, since a word from him would be so useful in that magic circle I so aspired to, I so deserved to join – then I had to play along. I had to restrain my mounting desire to fight Brooke, and let Jimmy set the pace. I had to let him use me to arouse Brooke, or bait her, or whatever he had in mind. I also knew it was dangerous. The pictures Jimmy’s words had planted in my mind made my stomach churn with lust. I was literally panting. I had to guard against that demon arousal. I couldn’t let the night end like it did when Colleen flipped me. That would be a nightmare. I shuddered ever so slightly.
Jimmy spoke again. In truth he hadn’t stopped. My mental image of my fight with Brooke – what I knew would be my victory if she was stupid enough to do as he was describing and actually fight me – had been playing out in my mind as he was speaking. , “You’d love waiting for just the right moment to step up again, your fists raised.” Jimmy stroked my bare belly again. I pressed my lips tight together so as not to make a sound. “You'd love to bury those fists in this sexy, curvy tummy, wouldn’t you? Admit it, Brooke.”
“Brooke, honey…you saw Melissa shudder just now.” I coloured at the realization that Jimmy had noticed. His voice changed. Until now it had been conversational, although he’d been the only one speaking, with just a slight inflection on his refrain ‘admit it, Brooke.’ His speech had been so direct that he could have been a sportscaster, commentating on a game but now it changed, and suddenly became hard and commanding. “She knows you could do it. She knows you'd break through her defences and sink your fists…both of them…deep into that oh so sensuously swelling, voluptuous belly.” He spaced his words carefully. His voice cracked like a whip.
I was about to protest that there was no way Brooke would get through my defence – I’m Melissa Windeyer, a seasoned fighter! Brooke had never thrown a punch in her life. Then, without warning – or maybe I was simply too mesmerized – Jimmy suddenly pulled sharply on my piercing. My gasp at the sudden, unexpected pain cut me off. “You want to do that, don’t you dearest?” His voice had resumed its previous conversational tone.
I opened my mouth again to protest at his disrespectful treatment but he leaned close and whispered harshly in my ear, “Shut it!” I bridled, tossing my head back and sucking in my breath, muscles tensed. No one spoke to Melissa Windeyer like that! But once more he jerked my piercing. I heard myself whimper – the pain was almost pleasurable. His finger dipped into my navel, swirling there gently and further flaming the fires of my lust. My stomach churned as Jimmy kneaded it with fingers and thumb. Again I gasped, but this time not from pain. It took a supreme effort to make my muscles relax.
“Honey, you saw her muscles tense. You heard her gasp.” Again his voice changed, becoming hard again. “She knows the damage your fists could do to her belly…no, the damage your fists would do to her belly.” I flinched. His words were a whip, lashing my back. Then he resumed his ordinary voice again. “You'd love to do that to her...wouldn't you Brooke?”
Still staring right into my eyes, Brooke licked her lips. Jimmy was winding her up expertly. She was thinking how she’d do just what he said. I flushed. Both of Jimmy’s hands were working on my stomach now, but for some reason I couldn’t fathom, I wasn’t doing or even saying anything to stop him. He’d lifted my top up until almost all the flesh between my bra and my skirt was bare. One hand was caressing my tanned skin, roaming at will from my flanks to my midriff and back again as the fingers and thumb of the other kneaded my taut tummy.
“Honey, did you see Melissa squirm?” Jimmy’s tone of command crackled. He delivered each phrase staccato. “She’s imagining your fists sinking deep into her gut. She’s thinking how your blows would drive the air from her lungs, how she’d double over, clutching her stomach. She’s imagining the pain.” Each phrase was like a cane cutting my butt. I swallowed nervously. “Yes honey…Melissa’s imagining all that, and more.”
I spluttered inarticulately. My pussy was moist, but not that delicious sensation that I’d had when I defeated Heidi, or when Paulette worshipped me. No, this was the terrifying lust I’d felt when I realised Colleen’s deceptive treachery. I tried to speak, tried to move, but I was frozen in place.
My mouth was dry with fear. Had Id underestimated Brooke? Was she an experienced fighter after all? Could she actually do what Jimmy was describing? All the time he had been speaking, my mind had been filled with thoughts so clear they were like photographs – me attacking, hitting Brooke hard. Some blows were aimed at her head, some at her midsection, some at her sides and some at her chest, all mixed together so she could never anticipate where I’d strike next. She would have no chance to defend well, and I envisioned her reeling, stumbling, retreating as the crowd cheered me in anticipation of yet another easy victory for me.
Now though, those exciting pictures that me so pleasurably moist were replaced by mental images of Brooke bobbing down, my punches whistling over her head, leaving me stretched out. Then I imagined her left fist smashing into my stomach, stopping me in my tracks as I tried desperately to regroup, trying unsuccessfully to defend my devastated tummy as her right fist too hammered deep into my stomach. I saw myself gagging, doubling over and clutching my gut just as Jimmy had said, then scurrying away in frantic retreat. The most terrifying thing was that those images too, made me ever more moist.
I wanted to rid myself of those treacherous thoughts. My mind seethed in confusion. I wanted Jimmy’s help. More than that, I wanted his approval – and yes I wanted him, but not here. Not in the bar. I wanted – needed – to break away from Jimmy’s touch, to flee from whatever humiliating horror might happen if I stayed. I gathered all my fast-dissipating willpower. I desperately hoped it would be enough.
Jimmy had risen from his stool and now he stood behind me. I squirmed against him, trying to summon the strength of mind to escape the trap that I felt closing around me. As though he sensed my resolve, his arms suddenly tightened around mine. Still his hands roamed over my belly, pressing, squeezing, stroking. I head myself whimper again, and shuddered as my resolve evaporated under the constant, almost gentle siege of my belly. I couldn’t move.
Brooke clenched her fists. I gaped. Was she going to punch my belly while Jimmy’s arms pinned mine to my sides?
“Brooke honey, that's what you want isn't it? To smash Melissa…to pound her. Think of it. Think of her. She’s regrouped and partly recovered after you've pummelled her belly. She’s hurt but again she’s attacking. She’s a hardened fighter after all, and momentarily she has the advantage again. Think of it. You let your body slacken as if you're exhausted, and you fool her into thinking she's got the fight won…till you swing your knee up into her already damaged gut. She staggers and you fire your fist into almost the exact same spot, hitting this piercing.” He tugged on my piercing and rolled the skin between his thumb and forefinger. I moaned, and not at all from the pain that sent some entirely different sensations deep into my belly.
