Gabriela Casimiro was not pleased. Women like her didn't wander through suburban malls on a chilly Christmas Eve. They didn't wait in ridiculously long lines. And they certainly didn't get shoved forward, backward and sideways by the overweight and overloaded shoppers surrounding her. Fucking Christmas, she thought with a discernible sneer.
It was bad enough she had to do her own shopping, it was doubly dreadful that it was all left to the last minute. A steady stream of swearing escaped her knowing she still hadn't gotten the ridiculous toys that her nephew had begged her for, had manipulated the queen manipulator herself into swearing oath to purchase.
"Oh, please, Aunt Gabby. Daddy and mommy said not to expect Santa to bring them, but I wanted just two things for Christmas more than anything else and all the kids at school are teasing me because they said that Santa is getting them both and I'll be the only boy in school that didn't get that new two-foot-tall Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles or extra-special edition PlayStation. Please Aunt Gabby, can you try and get them for me? Just two things and I would be so happy this Christmas. I've been so good this year, I promise, Aunt Gabby."
She had to admit, for a nine-year-old, her nephew Zacarias had an A-plus exploitation game that rivaled her own. She knew he wasn't gullible enough to believe in the existence a heavyset, sexagenarian with a full white-haired beard breaking into people's homes undetected in the middle of the night and leaving behind a plethora of expensive gifts for free. No, little Zac was too smart for that. He simply knew just how to twist and turn any situation to favorably get his way — "Oh, Please Aunt Gabby?" She saw herself revealed in his entreating eyes, reminded of her own beguiling bewitchery.
Gabriela knew she wasn't the only Casimiro to get what was wanted when it was wanted. Her older brother, Marcos — Zacarias' father — was the consummate lothario. How many girls did Gabriela witness as a teen in their family estate being seduced by Marcos' wily suaveness? How many did she spy poolside under the guise of moonlight being fucked by her brother? Gabriela loved touching her blossoming sexspot from her third-floor bedroom window while watching Marcos' slow, assiduous thrusting deep inside girl after beautiful girl, night after summer night, each writhing in orgasmic bliss under his adept skills with a rather impressive-sized cock. Yes, it was her brother, and she never ever delved into incestuous fantasies, but she could easily admit her bother possessed a rather fine-looking cock and eye-pleasing physique that literally charmed the panties off of young women.
So It was no wonder his offspring — Gabriela's nephew — would possess the same power of get-anything persuasion as the Casimiro siblings. Aunt Gabby easily peered right through the wide-open window of her nephew's sly charisma at play in this game -- Takes one to know one, right, Gabriela?, she smiled to herself. She understood fully his heartstring-tugging for the manipulative ploy it was. He reminded Gabriela of herself when she was that age, how she could persuade her father to get her practically anything with just a modicum of begging, batting-of-eyes and boo-hooing. Aunt Gabby will give the North Pole a call and see what she can do, Zac, she told him, seeing that "getting-my-way" gleam in his eye that she herself had learned to quickly disguise long ago.
Besides, she would just have her executive secretary go out shopping and acquire both items. She was much too busy with her Robarts &Simms International legal team working to finalize a partnership between her corporation and a prestigious London securities firm specializing in investment banking to worry about personally Christmas shopping herself in an actual brick-and-mortar store.
But this Christmas Eve, brick-and-mortar is exactly where Gabriela found herself. Goddamn executive secretary picked a great time to have appendicitis, right as he headed out the day before to obtain Zac's gifts. Couldn't wait one more day, could you, Joshua? With the entire office gone for the holiday break, it was too late to find a surrogate shopper, and her overbearing mother would never let Gabriela hear the end of how she disappointed her sweet grandchild with a "Grinch Who Stole Christmas" epic failure to deliver the not-so-secret Santa gifts she promised. Never mind the child's own father left it up to his sister to fulfill his son's most-desired Christmas wishes.
∞
Anyone unlucky enough to have been caught in Gabriela's path as she marched angrily into the toy store was met with a dagger-sharp vicious glare, her normally sultry demeanor replaced with "work" Gabriela. Dragon Lady. She-devil. That's what the jealous underlings in her office called her behind her back, among a litany of much, much worse monikers. Bitch. Cunt.
There was a battering storm of young ones chaotically scattered throughout, running-darting-yelling-whining in seemingly every direction. The unbearable noise and unending cascade of sorry chorused by mothers or fathers after their Santa-obsessed little monster had unapologetically slammed hard into Gabriela's thigh as they torpedoed from shelf to shelf of overpriced, soon-to-be-broken or tossed-aside-in-quick-disinterest toys annoyed her even more.
As she moved down aisle eleven, her small-child-filled nightmare was near its end, Gabriela's shopping target plainly in her sights; she quickly grabbed the rapidly dwindling supply of teenage-mutant-whatevers Zac wanted, checking the name on the package. Did he say Donatello? Or Leonardo? Michelangelo? Whatever. Fuck, the little conniver just gets whatever's left — let's go, Donatello. You're coming with me. Gabriela tossed the toy in her cart, glad that this was one store she could check off her list.
Turning to head toward the anarchy reigning supreme at the checkout lines, a man stood in her way, blocking her cart from leaving the aisle. He was tall, ruggedly good-looking, his ass particularly taut in the jeans he wore. His green eyes immediately stood out to Gabriela, those eyes now showing desperation, but she noticed something much deeper inside them — an emerald cauldron of boiling passion and simmering inner turmoil that immediately appealed to her, her pussy clenching ever so slightly. Any other day, Gabriela would have flirted with him, determining if the man possessing those intriguing eyes was worthy of opening her thighs wide for. But now, in the midst of holiday hell, she had no time for cockteasing games, no time for niceties.
"Excuse me, I really need that turtle. Would you be willing to give it up for an extra ten bucks?" He grinned endearingly, no doubt thinking that killer smile, gorgeous green eyes and alluring Irish brogue would woo her into handing it over. Gabriela answered him with ill-humored ferocity.
"It's Christmas Eve, don't you think I need it just as badly as you? Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a half-shelled gift to wrap," she snarkily derided.
As she tried to move past him, his hand unexpectedly clutched her cart hard and held her in place. He clearly didn't anticipate the vigorous vehemence that would soon follow if he didn't move immediately. "Twenty bucks? Please, my son ..."
Anger flared in Gabriela's chest. "Listen, I don't want to hear about your kid, or your fucking sob story. Move — I won't ask again."
Those green eyes darkened, the charm gone and anger bored holes into her — Fuck, Gabriela, the cauldron just bubbled over! Almost instinctively her pussy contracted, much harder this time. She had seen that look before — it was the kind of look that ended up with her bent over a desk or knee and beaten, deeply bruised and sorely satisfied.
With a defiant glare target-locked onto him, she pushed the cart hard, his vice grip forced to relinquish its stranglehold. She could feel his burning eyes follow her to the end of the aisle, undoubtedly envisioning a thousand ways he could hurt her; it warmed her now-damp silky-blue panties.
A half-hour later, Gabriela escaped the riotous gauntlet of last-minute-toy-shopping torment, one more destination remaining on her exasperating gift-getting expedition — the video gaming shop, which was just as nightmarish as the toy store. Frenzied shoppers, tearful tykes, harried store clerks buzzing around, a swarm of madhouse mass consumerism at its finest.
Gabriela wrestled her way to the front, predictably manned by a gawky zit-faced teen, whose jaw dropped in gee-golly geekiness when catching full glimpse of the stunning brunette zeroing in on him. Once she reached him, Gabriela teasingly stroked his arm, impatient to get the extra-special PlayStation Zac had cunningly cajoled her into promising to procure. He laughed nervously as she leaned in a little closer and nodded her head toward the large display of extra-special PlayStations her nephew wanted. "You wouldn't possibly have any more in the back, darling, would you?" The way her body leaned forward over the counter pressed her breasts together in perfect view for him to admire.
She could practically hear a cartoon-comical boing! as he stared down her top wide-eyed, stuttering out that he would check right now. Gabriela grinned as he shuffled away. The Merry Christmas craziness around her made her brow furrow in annoyance; she vowed this was the last time she personally ever ventured out mall shopping. As she impatiently awaited the shop clerk's return, she couldn't help but notice who paced frantically into the shop's entrance. Look who's late to the party, Gabriela. Mr. Gorgeous Green Eyes.
He looked a frazzled mess as his eyes interlocked with hers. Irritation avalanched off of him in wintry wrath as he approached the counter, standing directly beside her. A box with Zac's extra-special PlayStation was placed on the counter between them and Gabriela nearly squealed with delight. Glimpsing at his nametag, she blurted out a breathlessly entrancing "Oh Gerald, I could kiss you right now!" before tightly securing the box.
"Do you have another one of those back there?" Mr. Gorgeous Green Eyes blurted out loudly, clearly exasperated. The young teen, crimson-cheeked and unhinged by Gabriela's attentions, shook his head in nervous awkwardness, sensing Mr. Gorgeous Green Eyes' smoldering displeasure. "I'm afraid that was the last one we had," his voice cracked out. Gabriela's sneer couldn't have been more pronounced. She was impishly entertained one-upping this admittedly handsome stranger and all while she got her way, as usual.
"Goddammit, you've got to be fucking kidding me! I called five minutes ago and somebody told there were three left!" Quickly scanning over to the long line formed in front of the register, Gabriela silently counted one, two, and mine makes three PlayStations, nearly bursting out in laughter.
Clenched fists by his side, a still-visibly incensed Mr. Gorgeous Green Eyes turned to her near-pleadingly. Before he could utter a single syllable, however, she brusquely cut him off.
"Don't even bother, you couldn't offer even a thousand dollars to wrest this away from me. Maybe try to keep up next time, you'll stand a better chance," Gabriela quipped as she strode into line. His seething stare followed her once more, that ire in him fountaining a wellspring of giddiness within Gabriela. It was too easy to rile him up.
∞
A sigh of relief escaped her as she exited the mall. No more battling through overcrowded obnoxiousness, no more seemingly hours-on-end lines, no more pretentious flirting to get her way. But as she placed Zac's gifts into her trunk and closed it, she had one last stop in mind, one last gift. This was a much more personal present, something Gabriela normally would order online, but she really wanted to feel this one in her hands before purchasing it. Across from the mall, tucked away in the corner of a small plaza was Ricci's, a rather expensive leather and fetish wear boutique.
Gabriela frequented its online catalog but had never dared ventured through its doors. She had her own reputation as well as that of her prestigious investment firm within the business world she needed to uphold. Gabriela couldn't risk even the slightest chance of being seen inside, which was ironic as her inner exhibitionist yearningly craved being seen in the naughtiest of environs. Today, however, Gabriela decided to throw frosty caution to the howling winter wind. Who could recognize her securely bundled up in a black parka, furred hood firmly covering her head and obscuring her face, on a frostbite-nippy December evening. Her inner exhibitionist felt a tingle of cunt-wetting excitement as she pulled open the boutique's entry door.
The shop wasn't especially small, but cozy enough. Leather skirts, corsets and pants lined the front walls. Browsing deeper into the store's recesses, she came across the many items that lit her eyes with masochistic desire: paddles, crops, gags, anything and everything to fulfill the painful pleasure exchange — giving or receiving, depending on one's placement on the BDSM lifestyle spectrum.
Gabriela lowered her hood and picked up the leather-handled crop, the rod firm and unyielding as she smacked it against her hand a few times. Oh yes this will do just nicely, she thought. Without thought to whoever else could be in the store Gabriela swung the crop down hard against her thigh, a resulting squeak issued from her making her smile widen as she bit her lower lip.
"You seem to have a very annoying knack for getting the last of every fucking thing I wanted today."
The faintly familiar voice made her pause. Where have we heard that intoxicating accent before, Gabriela? She looked up and Mr. Gorgeous Green Eyes searing gaze drilled into hers with a fury so penetrating her knees weakened — if only for a moment — unintentionally menacing as he circled her slowly. "You got the best of me in the mall. Twice. Now here, too?" Gabriela glowered directly at him, retort at the ready, before he cut her off this time.
"Do you even have someone to use that on? Or to use on you? Because right now you're bruising the fuck out of my ego and shopping prowess, that's for fucking sure," he spat out vindictively. His stance and tone were threatening, frustration poured out of him, and enough heat radiating off him to send the outside December ice age into oblivion.
Not used to having someone talk to her in such a threatening manner outside of an overtly sexual situation, Gabriela felt her Dragon Lady scaling to the surface, fiery breath ready to incinerate his insulting words.
"Do I not look like someone who would have a partner to use this with? What exactly are you trying to insinuate, Sir?" She flushed slightly, the smell of leather and a slight sting still resonating against her thigh made the dominant title slide easily from her lips.
Mr. Gorgeous Green Eyes laughed mockingly, "You look like you have no idea how to wield or receive the power that crop holds," his words were biting. "You look like a 50 Shades wannabe that has no idea about this lifestyle that a crop such as that one is part of."
Gabriela let out a condescending snicker. "Oh, Sir, you have no idea the things that I've done," her flirtatious charisma layering over her displeasure. "Or the things that I've let men do to me. And I have no doubt I'll be able to find a man who'll use this on me, bruise me, beat me, show me what this crop can do and then fuck me hard all night."
The lustful look escaping his entrancing eyes froze her in place. "You could find a man. Right here, two feet away. Because that attitude certainly needs to be beaten into submission. High-maintenance, better-than-everyone-else, prissy little brat." His voice angrily rose decibels as he hissed toward a slightly intimidated Gabriela. "You're just like every other rich slut in this lifestyle who thinks that opening their legs when told is submission. Keep the damn thing, maybe someone will break it over your ass and teach you some fucking respect. And you can keep your fucking condescending Sir to yourself. The name's Jimmy."
He turned brusquely, storming up the flight of stairs to the second floor to be away from her. Gabriela was wholly stunned, his words burned scorched-earth through her chest, igniting her anger and casting a brief moment of self-doubt that she had never experienced before.
The petite young blonde behind the counter asked Gabriela if she was OK, the query snapping her quickly out of her daze. She would not let the words of someone, a stranger, ruffle her feathers. A hundred and fifty dollars later, Gabriella had a new crop, clamps, a ball-gag, and was headed home to wrap gifts. One last day of family function frivolity ahead. It wouldn't be long before this confounded Christmas holiday was completely over, giving her the opportunity to head over to Wicked and use each one of her new toys to her painslut heart's content.
∞
James "Jimmy" Flaherty built houses, or rather rebuilt them — throughout the older section of the city left behind in suburban flight, wherein houses stood a hundred years old or more, the ghosts of lives long gone still remaining in each brick in the wall and wooden plank in the floor. It was backbreaking at times, long hours and days melting into each other, working sometimes fourteen-hour days six or even seven days a week. He enjoyed restoring dilapidated, long-neglected husks to homes — taking care to retain as much of the originality in each. Century-old wood that found need for replacement he made into furniture — each beaten, bruised and broken floorboard and timber Jimmy turned painstakingly into tables, chairs, dressers and desks— it proved extremely profitable, too, as his reclaimed wood furniture was renowned for its quality and provided him a solid second income — that he more than needed for alimony and child support. Fuck, Jimmy Flaherty. You let a fine woman get away from you, didn't you? The emerald-isled accent echoed inside his head — dulled and somewhat Americanized by its last 25 years since immigrating — but still unmistakably Irish.
His upbringing — those first 15 years of his life as part of a working-class Dublin family, led by his tough-as-nails father, Francis "Franny" Flaherty — taught Jimmy the necessity to work hard to survive the rough and tumble reality of Dubliner life. Just walking back and forth from school through a gauntlet of Dublin ruffians was an important lesson in survival. "James Flaherty, either get tough or get beat," his dad always told him every time he stepped through the doorstep with a blackened eye or bloodied lip. And tough Jimmy became, quickly.
All these years later, being tough came with a bill his body paid in pain, with interest: a badly broken collarbone and torn pectoral and a shredded-to-fuck left knee the most egregious injuries suffered while working. His face and fists bore the brunt of his equally hard after-work life. Jimmy Flaherty knew only one way — the hard way. And that included his drinking. He never met a boilermaker or five he wouldn't knock back. Coupled with a short-fused Irish temper, too many bar fights and scrums to count left behind a plethora of deep-seated battle scars. He was deceptively strong, sinewy arms tempered steel-sturdy were companioned with an iron-fisted fury that packed a wallop few expected. Jimmy Flaherty never backed down from any fight, and a cracked rib or busted eye was a normal Monday morning reminder of a weekend overflowing in alcohol-infused impiety.
Razor in one hand, a dollop of shaving cream in the other, Jimmy looked up into the medicine cabinet's mirrored reflection. The green eyes, the flecks of red lightly streaked in his brunette hair and now-three-day beard growth gave hints of the Irish in the man staring intently back at him. A menthol-peppermint coolness pacified his rough, bristled face. Jimmy wished it could soothe his soul just as easily. Deftly moving his razor from neck to cheeks to chin with a butterfly safety razor, he was clean-faced once more within moments, washing the remnants of shaving cream away.
Turning to his right, reflected back was a noticeably bent nose, a memento from a two-Italian-Anthonys-versus-one-Irish-Jimmy brawl seven years ago. His left index traced the inch-long crescent-mooned reminder of beer bottle-meeting-face going back a half-decade. A crushing left hook to the jaw ended that bar ballyhoo. But it also ended his marriage. One too many late-night calls to bail his hotheaded, drunken Irish ass out of jail was all that Mary could take. She told him she wasn't coming that night to free him, she needed the night away from him— "Goddammit, Jimmy! Fourth time this year! No, I'm not coming, you fucking bastard! Stay there!," she told him before slamming down the phone. Usually quiet and reserved, once swearing flowed freely from Mary, he knew she was volcanic angry. When it was his cousin Sean who finally came to get him that morning and drop him off, he found himself in an empty house — one he personally painstakingly restored and made into a home — but not always a happy one. Mary? Mary, where are you? Look, I'm sorry ...
And then, he saw it, propped on the mantle. Plain, inconspicuous white envelope with JIMMY scrawled across it: a "Dear John" — Jimmy — letter, explaining how much she loved him and their family despite the turbulence his drinking and fighting caused between them, but that their son Ryan couldn't have a father around that was always drunk and in jail. She wouldn't stand for it any longer, and Mary never set foot in that house again as his wife — six months later they were divorced. That morning, he cried, staring at that letter for what seemed hours, knowing right there and then he needed to change and refocus his life, and he did. No more heavy drinking, no more bars fights, no more jail. But it was too late for Mary. She always was his polar opposite: her soft and sweet to his raw and rough. Even during sex, he fucked her differently than any other women before her. They made love— gentle, slow, affectionate. But he always felt something lacking with her. Mary always pleased him, and they had a strong sexual chemistry. Most men wouldn't feel discontented having a pretty, caring wife to come home to every night. But as guilty as he felt, Jimmy couldn't be "most" men. He needed something more.
A year after his divorce, he discovered what that more was when he met Amber. He flirted with her in the coffee shop, that Irish accent infectiously luring, which led to Jimmy's house and bedroom — and carnal awakening. She loved it hard and rough and wanted him in her pussy, her ass, her throat, spanking her violently, tugging her hair, slapping her face. She needed to feel pain as she was being fucked, releasing orgasm after orgasm as Jimmy pummeled her with his cock and hands. He had never been so sexually invigorated, cumming more gratifying than he ever had before, that release of pent-up, aggressive rage he had before only found peace in unleashing upon unruly bar patrons now pumped harsh into and rough onto Amber. He reveled in giving desired pain, savored submission given to him without reservation. A full unadulterated release of pain-giving that quelled his inner Irish ire. It was then he learned what BDSM was, which led him to Wicked and unlocked a new sexual identity as a dominant sadist.
Through Wicked, Jimmy found Sarah. He gravitated to her at a Sexy Singles Mingle. She held a striking resemblance to Mary. He approached her, and they soon became friends — no-strings-attached play partners, as well as good friends and confidants for each other. Jimmy could always go to Sarah when he needed to vent, and she to him. While Jimmy certainly enjoyed the occasions he and Sarah fucked at Wicked, she was a bit too "soft" for Jimmy. Kinkier than Mary — particularly having a penchant for getting her ass fucked — but she couldn't match the intense hardcore inferno of Amber.
Sarah was all about the ass — Jimmy ramming it hard with his cock, but especially their usual Wicked dates: spanking sessions. Although she could take a long spanking, Sarah never had much of a pain threshold for hard ass abuse, as Jimmy had to be somewhat restrained with her asscheeks — unlike Amber, who Jimmy fucked hard — and beat harder — regularly, leaving them both sore and sated at least twice weekly. After the Christmas Eve debacle, that cunt foiling his every attempt at present purchasing including that crop he wanted to buy to share with Sarah — the one she pointed out to him she would enjoy punishing her ass — his first call was to Amber. "Get over to my place. I need to fuck you. Now!"
Christmas was a melancholy father-son day, as although Ryan gave him a "That's OK, dad, I know you tried" reply to Jimmy's inability to deliver asked-for presents, Jimmy could see the disappointment written all over son's face. Still, Ryan appreciated what gifts his father had given him, and the best gift of all — his father, spending time with him, on Christmas. Jimmy made sure Ryan was the priority in his life, vowing not to let his relationship fray and break as it had with Mary. But with Christmas now a quickly fading memory and the calendar flipped another year, Jimmy needed some time to unwind — with Sarah, her ass and a St. Andrew's cross. Keys in hand, small duffel bag with needed items over his shoulder, Jimmy texted her as he headed out the door. "See you in 30 minutes, Sarah." And with that, Jimmy was on his way to Wicked, a much-needed night of release ahead.
∞
Wicked was not an easy club to get into. A linebacker-sized bouncer stood at every entrance, membership was mandatory, and only after an extensive background check — criminal and medical — was one granted opportunity to gain admittance, once the pricey membership fee was paid. But it was worth every bit of that dent to the bank account, as it kept the clientele exclusive and assured a level of safety, familiarity and discretion that other adult clubs couldn't always guarantee.
Patrons were led directly into a dance club and bar upon entrance into the club's black Italian-marbled main floor. During nightly raves, a state-of-the-art lighting and sound system was brought to life by a well-known DJ spinning a sinfully stimulating soundtrack. The accompanying bar was fully stocked with an impressive selection of top-of-the-top-shelf liquors, wines and craft beers. Where Wicked really earned its rousing reputation as the city's best adult entertainment playground, however, was on the second floor, a small journey up the opulent, glass-stepped spiral staircase. Reaching the landing, clubgoers were met by yet another set of muscle-ripped bouncers who ensured none of Wicked's clientele were too inebriated to play safely.
Once obtaining security clearance, the second level's open play space was a kinkster's naughtiest fantasy realized: multiple St. Andrew's crosses replete with an impressive array of paddles, crops and floggers — although most had their own private instruments of painfully pleasurable infliction — spanking benches, sex swings, restraints, free condoms and lubes readily available at every station. Attendants stood by observantly, assuring safety by providing intervention or assistance in case of any potential problematic situation; troublesome issues were a rarity, however, because of the rigorous vetting that all but guaranteed rules-respectful participants. The third floor was the lavish suite level, with eight intimate rooms for those requiring more private accommodations. Throughout, Wicked's lavish amenities provided a discreetly sheltered and sexually scintillating environment for all its members.
∞
A week into the new calendar year, dressed to impress in a form-fitting tailored leather corset and matching mini-skirt, Gabriela entered Wicked to appreciative eyes fucking her every step she strode toward the bar, ordering a glass of dry Merlot. Thigh-highs hugged her shapely legs, accentuated by her striking red heels and matching ruby lips. She craved the attention her looks gathered from everybody, her sexual lioness feeding off the desire she saw in each glance her way. Gabriela knew how beautiful she was — and used that to her advantage whenever possible — in her business dealings, social settings and definitely when she wanted to get fucked hard and rough to orgasmic release. The new leather crop was held by her side, tapping along her calf rather impatiently as she yearned for it to be used on her.
Tossing a stray curl from her cheek, she smirked flirtatiously at the good-looking Harvard graduate lawyer just down the bar ten feet — a frequent play partner at Wicked, Harrison. She walked down toward him, sultrily smiling as she ran her hand down his silken shirt, feeling his impressive build underneath, leaning up slightly to kiss his cheek. "Harrison, aren't you looking especially delectable tonight?" Gabriela teasingly ran the crop down his chest, circling once over his clearly now-erect member. "I have a new toy. How about you show me just why I bought it."
He was young, fit, charming and rich. Definitely in her league of gentleman sexual suitors who more importantly than his sexyasfuck appeal, could be trusted to maintain the utmost discretion. Neither would let this tryst into their professional lives for fear of being ousted as a kink-loving pervert and neither would contact the other outside of these walls. It was always the perfect setup.
Harrison took the crop from her, examining it, before unexpectedly giving her a light but sharp crack on her asscheek, malevolently grinning at her. "Gabriela, I've been waiting for another chance to mark that beautiful ass of yours. It's been way too long. Come, let's go upstairs to the benches." He quickly finished his drink, she following suit, before heading to the play area on the second floor.
As they walked over to the benches, Gabriela's eyes drifted to the cross directly across the room, where a petite vixen was bound, a flogger being dragged slowly and sensuously across her body in anticipation of the delivery of its first thrash. On the end of said flogger was none other than Mr. Gorgeous Green Eyes — "The name's Jimmy" — himself. What is he doing here, of all fucking places? I've never seen him here before." Try as she might to ignore him, she lost herself in thought, recounting their awkward, angry and antagonistic Christmas Eve aggressions.
Despite the imminent ass beating she desired nearing commencement by Harrison, Gabriela couldn't help her peripherals from seeking Jimmy out, watching every move he made as a dominant. It was one thing to simply imagine during pussy-soaked masturbation — a lustful, hate-infused fuckfest with a chiseled-hard, handsome stranger she had irked one too many times — and quite another to see said person, a confident and sure dominant assuredly wielding a flogger on a begging-for-it ass.
Harrison's voice directly whispering into her ear brought her back into the here-and-now moment, his hand tracing along the tops of her thigh-highs as she stood next to the bench. Harrison's perfectly tended hands now under her skirt, fingers adeptly pushing aside her thong and running along her lips, slipping between the folds and rubbing her swollen clit. All the dirty words she loved to hear poured effortlessly from his coy lips against her ear. But it wasn't Harrison's heated foreplay that had her full attention. Gabriela's pussy gave a dull throb as she heard the first strike connect on Jimmy's partner and the rattle of her restraining chains yanked in response — she vaguely remembered meeting that girl, maybe six months previous at the bar, fleetingly introduced by Harrison — was her name Sarah?
Noticing her distraction, Harrison became clearly agitated. He took her forcefully, and leaned her ass-up over the bench, growled low at her. "Not turning you on enough, Gabriela? Think you're missing out on something?" — Well now that you mention it, Harrison. A soft moan was torn from her as he hiked up her skirt and slapped her right cheek hard, an impression of red sure to already be forming. Yet despite her arousal and voracious appetite for Harrison's hurting deliverance, the flogging Jimmy was unleashing was all Gabriela could hear. All she could focus on. All she wanted. Her eyes wandered back to the cross, pale skin turned blushing with hardly a raised welt, yet the girl wailing with each blow.
Pulled back to her own pleasurably painful predicament, Harrison attended violently to Gabriela's ass. Going against her usual modus operandi, Gabriela hadn't purposely meant to rouse him, but she delighted in the unanticipated hardness of Harrison's beating. If this continued she wouldn't be sitting much the next few days.
Smack! A new enticing sound was followed by a muffled scream, a newly introduced ball gag reducing Sarah's audible agony. Gabriela was drawn once more to Jimmy. He smirked in sadistic satisfaction as a medium-sized paddle allied with Sarah's ass as she tugged against the chains, a cavalcade of tears running down one cheek. Why the dramatics? Fuck, I know it's a paddle, but he's not even hitting you that hard. You have much too soft an ass there, sweetheart. Gabriela could feel her competitive edge coming to the forefront. She knew she could take a hell of a lot more pain than that before the first tear was even shed.
A bite on her neck brought her back to Harrison, still agitated as he covered her ass with unyielding affliction and deep-bruising ecstasy. "You want me to tie you up and fuck you, slut? I'll tie you to that cross and take your tight little cunt from behind, right here for everyone to watch," he uttered lustfully in her ear. Gabriela groaned, all the while keeping count of each paddle wallop that landed against Sarah's ass. Seven ... eight ... nine ... A loud, muffled "red" emanated from Sarah's quivering, gagged lips, and the smacking instantly stopped. A safe word? Really? And not even ten with that paddle? Are you fucking kidding me? Gabriela could have done that whole set with a steadfast smile from start to finish. Jimmy took off Sarah's ball gag, unbound her from the cross, and settled on a couch where he soothed her with comforting strokes and whispered words.
Long, slender fingers delved into Gabriela, Harrison's thumb pressed against her clit while he explored her sex fervently. But her focus remained fixated on Jimmy and Sarah. She tried to enjoy the sensations running through her, Harrison adroit at pleasuring her, learning through their play at Wicked just what turned Gabriela's cunt into a soaked, dripping mess. She was feeling blissfully orgasmic, her pussy tingling with pleasure. Still, she could not stop looking at them. Gabriela tried to ignore her ever-present need to be the best at everything she did. But in the end Gabriela knew what she would do.
Without explanation to the stimulating stud making her body hum with satisfaction, Gabriela excused herself and walked over to the couch where Jimmy was applying lotion to a red-bottomed Sarah. Gabriela just barely avoided rolling her eyes and smiled at him.
"Remember me? Or rather, this?" Gabriela stroked the length of the crop teasingly. Without looking up from his task, Jimmy frowned angrily. "If you're only here to gloat then I'd suggest turning back around and continue letting your boy toy finger sloppily around in your panties."
Again his words were biting and cold. But Gabriela was hard-pressed to find a challenge she wasn't up to. "I was actually coming over to see if you wanted to test it out," Gabriela purred. His eyes shot up to her, lust still written in his eyes, seemingly unsatisfied with his session with Sarah. "How about testing it out on an ass that can take a long and hard beating, Jimmy? Because, right now, it looks like long and hard isn't happening for you. Unless you find yourself incapable of doling out something a lot harder." She held the crop to him, handle first.
At first he looked up at her, nearly a minute staring into her eyes as strong-headed Gabriela stared back, a challenge in her eyes, daring him to try and make her cry, daring him to unfurl his full force on her ass. Finally, he took the crop, swiping it through the air, acquainting himself with it, looking back at Sarah as he returned the crop to Gabriela. "Are you insinuating she can't take a long, hard beating? Considering you don't know her, that's more than a little insulting." He paused, perhaps thinking Gabriela would feel some modicum of remorse for her words but she looked on, the defiance and summons still radiating through her. "Look, I know how you know my name, but with all that went on between us Christmas Eve, I was never told yours."
She looked at him, quickly glimpsing down at Sarah, who was surveying Gabriela with questioning, inquisitive eyes. Gabriela dismissed Sarah's puzzlement, grinning at the thought of her shopping conquests over Jimmy on Christmas Eve — the only time she could imagine beating him instead of him ass-destructively beating her. "My name is Gabriela. The 'boy toy' is Harrison. You're Sarah, aren't you?" She shifted back to Jimmy. "Well, what do you say? Want to extract a bit of revenge for me outwitting you Christmas shopping?"
Jimmy's eyes showed smoldering annoyance at her taunt and putdown of Sarah, but Gabriela saw his obvious intrigue at her offer. You know you want this ass, Jimmy.
"Aren't you a sassy cunt, Gabriela?" His tone was one of desire and detestation. "Why don't you go finish with Harrison. We're still finishing up here. And revenge on that ass of yours is certainly what will happen if you're daring enough to bare it to me."
Laughing, Gabriela handed Jimmy the crop once more. "Here, hold this. You're going to need it. I hope you're better at spanking than you are at shopping." She turned and readied to head back to a visibly angry Harrison. "Don't go wandering off, Jimmy. I'm more than ready to handle anything you can dish out." Oh Gabriela, you bitch. He is going to pulverize your ass purple.
As she sweet-talked Harrison with trademarked Casimiro charisma to apologize for her curt retreat from their session, Gabriela peered over, seeing Jimmy in hushed conversation with the now-aftercare-complete Sarah. She saw Sarah glance over Jimmy's shoulder toward her, a small smile forming on her soft lips. Then Jimmy turned, eyeing Gabriela as she kissed Harrison's cheek, her left hand giving him a hard, teasing grab on his cock, he in turn giving her a smack on her ass as she returned to Jimmy and Sarah. "I certainly hope you have something a little more ... advanced ... in mind for me"
"Why don't you get your ass to that cross and I'll show you what I have," Jimmy snarled. Gabriela took her place at the cross, watching as he whispered to Sarah who sat up straight on the couch, her eyes fixated on Gabriela. She nodded in acceptance of his words and he left her, making his way to the new focus of his sadistic desire.
"Turn around."
Gabriela spun and faced the cross, apprehensive and excited all at once. Rough, strong hands snaked into her brown curls and yanked her head back, "You have no idea what you've just handed over to me. You are about to be in a world of ass pain over what you did. Christmas was a disaster and it all started with two presents that daddy couldn't bring home because some little slut got in my way." Those angry words only fueled Gabriella's passion even further, her juices ready to faucet down her thigh.
"You want to act high and mighty, better than the world around you, fine. But tonight there are rules. Don't speak unless spoken to; I don't want to hear another snide remark from those soon-to-be-used lips." As he spoke with one hand already wrapped in her hair, the other hand reached down and unzipped her skirt, snatching it down and dropping it to her ankles.
"I will not slow down, I will not stop, I will not change instruments. If you use the safe word, I will respect it, but we're finished. We will not continue and you can go back to the pretty rich boys twisted around that sultry little finger of yours." His bare hand cracked down hard against her exposed cheek. The sting took her off guard but Gabriela held back a yelp, straining to catch each word as his voice was low amongst the noise of the club.
"When the spanking is over, you can choose to suck my cock right here in this room, everyone watching what a filthy little cum-hungry whore you are, some taking their own cocks in hand hoping to be next, passed around like the slut you are." Each word set Gabriela's pussy on fire, so fucking wet from his naughty words that she felt it sliding down her thigh.
He dragged his index finger across the trail and brought it to her lips, forcing her to suck it and taste herself. "Or you can come upstairs to our private room, and you'll make amends for interrupting Sarah's session with me by licking her pussy until she cums." A sharp tug at Gabriela and Jimmy finally finished his angry speech. "And not a single drop will be wasted, or I won't let you cum on my cock like I know you're desperate to." Gabriela was near delirious with need, her pussy contracting on nothing but desire and lust as he secured her hands to the cross. He even took the time to secure her legs apart, a prelude to an assault bound to make Gabriela scream. "Any questions?"
With her haughty attitude in check Gabriela asked, "What's the safe word?" She could practically hear the smirk in his Irish-accented voice. "Donatello." With that, the first crack of the crop landed on her right cheek. He was harsh and unyielding, his blows far more powerful than what he delivered upon Sarah. Each strike manifested its own blistering mark, overlapping each other as Gabriela struggled to keep quiet. A sharp thwack landed across both cheeks, the rod of the crop used as a mock cane, resulting in a scream that turned most heads in the room.
More and more spectators accumulated to watch the rain of agonizing bashes, an ass that was slowly bruising darkly before their eyes. Some were desirous, aching to have a chance with the beautiful brunette on the cross whose screams were sharp and loud but not a single tear marred her perfect make-up. Others felt pity for the ass that would be sit-down unusable for days.
A sharp, wet slap caused Gabriela's voice to crack under the intense pain from her cunt, trying aimlessly to shut her legs to a further blow. A moment later his voice was in her ear. "It seems like I found the spot that's going to break you, fucking slut." He tapped the crop toyingly against her tender pussy lips, making her whimper. Another pointed slap to her pussy had her crying out, the safe word nearly falling from her lips but his words only spurned her painwhore on. Without warning, the rainstorm of excruciating blows stopped. She held her breath anticipating a surprise strike, but it never came.
Warm hands stroked her sore cheeks, caressing each welt and bruise as she hissed in pain. Fingers slipped between her pussy lips, rubbing along the tender flesh. He untied her, rubbing her shoulders lightly as they dropped to her side and then untethered her ankles. Gabriela turned and saw the congregation that had witnessed the barrage of smacks on her behind. Many men had, just like Jimmy predicted, cocks in their hand stroking lightly, eyeing her body like a piece of decadent chocolate cake ready to be devoured. "Time to make a choice, little slut," he whispered from behind her. Gabriela shuddered, wanting that voice in her ear as she milked his cock.
"I want to go upstairs with you," she stated firmly, looking into those green eyes, filled with raw passion unbridled for her. He walked over and grasped Sarah's hand, lifting her delicately while conversely grabbing Gabriela's roughly, leading the two women upstairs to the private suite he had reserved for the evening. There was a king-sized bed with a wide adjacent mirror, a modest washroom with shower stall off to the side, a nightstand with a bowl full of condoms and lube, an armchair opposite — all perfectly arranged for a more private, behind-closed-door fuck session. Jimmy sat back in the chair, intently focused on the two women before him. "Gabriela I want you to kiss Sarah and tell her you're sorry for disrespecting her." Gabriela was loathe to play this game, she wanted to get fucked hard, sore ass pounded as hands dug into her aching flesh. But she would play along, knowing she would get just what she wanted. You always do, Gabriela. You always get what you want. And you want Jimmy.
She pulled Sarah in close, stroking her hair back and purred seductively against her ear, "I'm so sorry, Sarah." Lips trailed to lips, sealing with a soft, slow, entangling kiss, tongue seeking out the warmth of another and both of Gabriela's hands on the side of her neck, controlling the speed and passion. Sarah's blue eyes were glazed with need as they parted, entranced as so many before her by the siren's call. It was rare Gabriela played with women, but she clearly hadn't lost her touch.
"I don't think that was sincere enough, do you Sarah?" Without waiting for a response, Jimmy directed Sarah to remove her panties and lay back on the bed. "Now spread those thighs open nice and wide, Sarah." She lay back, slowly opening her legs just as he instructed, exposing her delectable pinkness.
Turning to Gabriela, his riveting Irish eyes mesmerizing her. "Apologize to that pussy, lick it, make love to it, and make her cum on that insolent tongue of yours." Even sitting from his chair the power and authority in his voice had Gabriela yes, sir obediently sliding over to Sarah quickly. She slowly slid down her body, kissing each passing bit of skin, before getting to her glistening sweet cunt. And sweet she was. Gabriela had never enjoyed going down on a woman much, tending to do it only for the added notice it brought her, and the rough, lustful fuckings that followed.
Sarah mewled with satisfaction as Gabriela dragged her tongue wide across her clit, sucking it into her mouth and pulling it between her teeth lightly. She pulled back and kissed her lips, nibbling lightly as she arched her back, giving Jimmy a perfect view of her ass. A rough hand pushed her into Sarah's cunt hard, forcing her tongue into her pussy. "I said to lick up every last drop, not to play around. Come on, I want to hear Sarah beg," he said from behind.
He was naked behind her, roughly tugging off her thong, hard bodied and hard cocked pressed against her now-naked pussy as her tongue continued to lap and stroke the wet submissive in front of her. Gabriela moaned against her as his cock slid along her lips enticingly and parted her cunt, inching into her slow as she continued to lick the now-crying-out Sarah. "Oh fucking hell! I'm ready to cum right now! Please, Sir! Please can I cum?"
His cock slammed into Gabriela hard and all at once, driving her face against Sarah's clit over and over with each thrust as she moaned. His thrusting was quick and rough, gripping Gabriela's hair and making her lick the nearly completed pussy in front of her. "Not yet, slut! Do not cum yet!" Jimmy groaned out as his thrusting never slowed. Gabriela felt her cunt squeezing him tightly, her senses overloaded with the painful and pleasurable thrusts, the sweet taste of another woman on her lips and the rough hands of a working man on her body.
Thrust after thrust drove Gabriela to new pleasurable heights, her tongue continuing its assault on the trembling young Sarah. Her thighs quaked upon Gabriela's cheeks as she desperately staved off her incoming orgasm. The thought of making the submissive cum against her, and Jimmy's will, made Gabriela's tongue work twice as hard, determined to push her over the edge. Sarah's cries became incoherent, a deprived plea for release as she bucked her hips in rhythm with the lustful dominant.
Without warning, Jimmy yanked Gabriela up by her corset, pulling lips from lips, the sweet tang glistening on them both. "Move Sarah." Jimmy's voice was rough with unconcealed lust, no doubt holding back his own orgasm to prolong the intense scene before him.
He tossed Gabriela on her back, dragging her to the edge of the bed and putting her legs over his shoulders as he found his way into her once more. Through a groan he directed Sarah, "Face the mirror and sit on her face, grind your cunt on her lips and watch what a dirty slut she is, letting both of us use her cunt and mouth to cum. Get on her now."
Quickly Gabriela's moans were muffled, pussy using her lips and tongue for pleasure. Gabriela tilted her head back slightly, an upside down, but no less arousing, image greeted her. Jimmy's eyes tightly shut, lips grimacing as he pumped into her tight pussy, one hand bruising her thigh in a crushing grip, the other pinching Sarah's nipple harshly from behind as she writhed against Gabriela's lips and pleaded for release. The sight was exhilarating, and Gabriela's pussy clenched even tighter around Jimmy's throbbing member. He opened his eyes and locked onto Gabriela's in the mirror as he throatily growled, "Fuck. Now!" Gabriela felt his body tremor as Sarah's thighs tautened around her, grinding against her lips and riding out a tsunami of orgasm.
Amid the pandemonium Gabriela came, her pussy vice-gripping his manhood deep inside her until that last quiver of orgasmic release escaped them both. With ragged breath he gripped Sarah's hair, holding her in place. "Lick it all up. I want her pussy clean before you're done." As Gabriela lapped up every last drop, Sarah was tenderly moved aside before Gabriela was dragged up, his still-erect member next in her cleaning duties and she was incredibly thorough, tantalizingly stroking her tongue up and down his cum-sullied cock. Not a solitary drop of spilt sexjuice was left on either cock or cunt.
As Sarah freshened up in the washroom, Gabriela gently rubbed her sorely throbbing ass and smiled, licking her lips to imbibe the last vestiges of Sarah's sweetness. Gabriela was thoroughly satisfied with her performance and the threesome orchestration of the magnificent maestro, Jimmy, who was still naked, cock expended of his load, rubbing his shoulder as he sat on the edge of the bed, grimacing as he slowly rotated his arm.
Gabriela didn't get used as a sex toy by petite sub missives. She simply didn't submit. And she certainly didn't kneel. But with his still-warm ejaculate slowly meandering downward out of her pussy, Gabriela approached and knelt in front of Jimmy. He had more than earned her genuflection with the torturous Christmas she had no doubt put him through. "Sir — and I certainly mean that with the utmost respect — I realize you didn't get those gifts Christmas Eve, but you certainly are gifted where it counts."
