In The Club

Her night started as any other night out with friends, a few drinks in bars, on the way to the club. Once inside, the five of used their feminine ways to persuade a group of lads to give up a table next to the dance floor then spent the rest of the night, watching, teasing and generally provoking the men. She felt good tonight, and it showed in the attention she was getting, she enjoyed the attention because she knew that he enjoyed her getting it. She caught herself looking around on a few occasions seeing if she could spot him lurking in the dark corners of the club, watching her, seeing her looking for him, knowing he’d never make it obvious enough to see, until he wanted her to see him. It comforted her to think he was around, she enjoyed the attention he gave her, especially this sort of attention, the secretive dark attention that was special to them. She knew these games were his special thing with her, it was what he did for her. As she sat in the club, with a drink in hand, a thousand sweaty bodies dancing around her, the heavy thuds of bass stirring her stomach. As she sat there, she was suddenly alone in the thoughts of him, of their games, and she knew he was there somewhere, she felt his presence and with that thought it was no longer the bass stirring her stomach but that all too familiar feeling of arousal. She felt her pelvis involuntarily squirm back and then forward stretching the material of her knickers across her already sensitive clitoris she closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation for a moment. As she opened them the people and music slowly filtered back into the room. She felt her wetness against the inside of her leg, remembering the names he’d called her that morning when he’d found her similarly wet for no real reason but then he knew he didn’t have to do anything to get this state in her. A word, a look, a touch were all enough to bring her to this state. She hated that he could do that so easily. This morning had been much simpler. She was wet in the time it took for him to force his hand from the top of her tight jeans down between her lips to find it. She rubbed her leg against the stool to feel the bruise he had left as he kicked her legs apart to allow his big hands access. Her mind suddenly jumped to the humiliation of standing naked in front of him trying to keep up with drying the torrent of wetness as he laughed at her and called her names for the state he got her she got herself into.

In a bid to distract herself from the torrent that had once again started between her legs, she put her drink down, grabbed her friends wrist, took her drink out of her hand and took her to the dance floor. As she walked to the dance floor she squeezed her thighs together to feel her stickiness smearing itself across her skin. To thank him, she decided to put a show on. As she and her friend reached the centre of the dance floor, she stood in front of friend, stroked her hand up her back, took a fistful of hair and dragged her in to kiss her. As her other hand slowly explored her body from upper thigh across her arse, up her midrift, finally resting underneath her top against her firm slight breasts. The exploration was reciprocated, the kiss was reciprocated. She hoped the wetness was also reciprocated. So for the next hour or so they kissed and danced and caressed around the dance floor. A circle of men followed them as they danced enjoying the show she was putting on. She knew he would be enjoying them being there, seeing what only he could have.

She hoped he was there tonight, she prayed that the game he had in mind would be dragging her to the toilet and fucking her. God she needed to feel him inside her now, to feel his rough hands around her throat as he forced his way through her tightness. If he didn’t drag her to the toilet she was sure she would be able to make him fuck her in the car park. Then in the second breath she hoped she wouldn’t. She wanted to beg him to fuck her. She wanted to hear him laughing at her again as the tears stung her face in desperation. Damn, how the fuck had any man got her so fucked up. Fucking bastard. Fucking FUCKING bastard. She needed a drink.

At the bar she stood trying to locate the best position to get through the crowds, as the men who had been encircling her on the dance floor had come to try their luck. She spoke to some, as she was allowed (FUCKING BASTARD – how dare you tell me how I talk – but then did it anyway) she told them she was single, as was his standing instruction. Trying to shoo them away with the tone of her voice.

She was about to force away the hand that had brushed up her cheek, but she recognised the skin, she recognised the gentle firmness of his hand as his scent filled her. She heard complaints from the men, he had obviously upset some of them by barging in to get to her. But her ears were soon filled with his voice. Though the words took a while to comprehend.

“Take a second, take a breath, and slap me, hard across the face”

She didn’t understand for a minute, the words seemed such alien things in her thoughts, she would happily hit any man in any way she could think of. But this was him, and she couldn’t. She shouldn’t. A million thoughts raced through her head. A gallon of juices were dumped into her knickers. Her legs weakened as an impending orgasm began to send waves through her. How the Fuck did he do this to her. She looked up and caught his gaze. He was wearing his smug grin. The one that said that he knew exactly what was happening to her. She could see that he could see she was close to orgasm. He looked at her, not moving with that fucking smug grin. How many times had she wanted to knock it off his fucking face and here he was telling her to do it. Suddenly the orgasm was gone. Suddenly it was rage in her. Rage as the woman she was before he came into her life. She would fucking show him, I’ll take your fucking head off. She felt her arm let loose, it was going to be a hard one, Fuck, he was going to punish her for this, there’s no way he’s going to let this go. For he briefest of moments she remembered the woman she was before he came into her life and in the instant before her palm made contact with his cheek she felt the ferocity of it fade. She pulled back to reduce the strength of the blow.

She made contact, a really good firm contact, that knocked him off his feet a little. He took a couple of steps to take the weight shift and to put himself back on the same spot, all the while he never broke his gaze. He never broke his gaze as his tongue pushed into the corner of his mouth, he never broke his gaze as his left index finger pushed between his lips and was removed again with a crimson stain. She saw the blood and her heart stopped. Fuck she was scared. What was he going to do now. She wanted to rush into him, to kiss him to taste his blood from his mouth. Fuck, the orgasm was coming again. Fucking hell she was wet. Fuck Fuck Fuck.

He stood there for an eternity, looking into her eyes, she wanted to look away, she wanted to see what all of the gathered men were making of this game. But she knew she couldn’t she couldn’t because they didn’t exist. In these moments nothing existed except him. Except him and her own absolute vulnerability towards him. Except him and the total state of arousal she felt, she knew that whatever he did next she would probably orgasm from it. So she waited swimming in the ecstatic sea he created for her. Hoping it would never end. She wanted to die in these seas, in these moments. Then it was gone, the next thing she knew he had his hand around her throat, his big fingers pushing into the pressure points beneath her ears. Almost lifting her off her feet, his other hand was in her hair. A firm fistful holding her head upright, she felt herself pushed past bodies behind her, then pushed firmly into a wall. The restricted breathing, the pain of the pull of her hair, the sharpness of the pain of the wall against her back all conspired to push her orgasm past the event horizon. She screamed into his mouth as he kissed her, if he hadn’t got her pinned against a wall she would have surely fell because she didn’t have the capacity left to stand, as the orgasm subsided she started to kiss him back, and was surprised to find the taste of blood, and was confused as she couldn’t feel were it was from, and the taste wasn’t her own. As the realisation came to her, as the memory of what had happened five seconds before came back, another orgasm screamed out of her body, he pulled back from her kiss and buried her head into his shoulder, as the waves crashed into her she bit down into his shoulder to temper her cries. As her body relaxed so did his pressure against her body until she was learning into him, one arm around her, his other in her hair, resting her head into his shoulders. She floated there in the emotions and her devotion until he was ready to move. At which point he wrapped his hand around her wrist and dragged her out of the club. Past the gatherers, she felt herself grin at them, she felt dirty and delicious, she licked her lips hoping to taste his blood again, most of them were staring at her, at him, their jaws limp flags of disbelief. She felt pity for them, because she knew they would never be capable of evoking this feeling, of reaching this height. As she continued floating in that feeling, she felt herself yanked back to earth as he dragged her along, her legs still hadn’t fully recovered and it took all her concentration just to stay upright. But her concentration had a different agenda, that wanted to languish in her feelings, so she stumbled a few times on the way out, and he would shout at her to keep up, she found herself stumbling purposely just so he would get angry at her. She wanted him to hurt her, to feel more of the pain that had brought her here.

In the cold night air, he continued to drag her to the car, he leaned against the bonnet and pulled her to him. Standing there holding her for a moment. She could feel his malevolent grin behind her back, she felt the cogs in his mind turning while he hatched his next deed for her. Eventually he pulled her face from his chest, put his hand roughly around her jaw, and started to chastise her for biting him. His voice wasn’t particularly raised, but it had a coldness that sent a shiver through her. She was scared at what he might do because of that. She looked into his eyes and could see the schemes forming. He told her would punish her firstly, by biting her back. She wondered where, he clearly meant now, because they were talking leaned against the car. She felt a yearning for it to be her nipple. She wanted him to make her expose her tits so he could bite them both. She suspected it would be because he had parked the car in a semi-concealed place, out of sight of the cameras. He told her he was going to bite her lip, inside she winced in pain, and wondered how he would make her stand. She wondered, and hoped, that he would punish her for being so wet, As the permutations raced through her mind the hand around her jaw loosened, spreading out across her cheek, he leaned in and kissed her, slowly, tenderly, passionately, as he stopped he pulled her bottom lip out, and inflicted the slightest amount of pain in his teeth. As he pulled away from her face he told her that they were now even. It took a moment to comprehend this initially she felt disappointment at not being exposed, but as he pulled her back to his chest, and held her, she understood that while she wanted to continue the pain and violence, she actually needed to just be held. She got her doses of violence at other times, right now she just felt an incredible wave of contentment wash through her. He whispered that he was going to take her home and slowly make love to her until they fell asleep in each other’s arms. She stroked his cheek and kissed him, remembering the taste of his blood, followed by that all too familiar arousal and another orgasm stirring in her stomach.