Some guys don't play nice

I held my eyes closed for what seemed like an eternity. I could taste old man cum and cheap liquor on my tongue. I could feel it coating my mouth and throat, It tasted as disgusting as it sounded. And yet … the feeling was thrilling. I was as horny as I had ever been. I hadn’t really had any release of my own during the encounter, and I could feel the dampness between my legs growing and the sensations associated with it becoming harder and harder to ignore.

When I finally did open my eyes I found the bartender standing directly in front of me. Grinning stupidly, he said, “I knew you were a whore the second I laid eyes on you.” I smiled, thinking of all the nasty things I wanted to do. The bartender took it as an invitation as he reached his hand toward my breasts. Unfortunately for both of us, another hand took a grip on his wrist before he made it.

I recognized the bony fingers around the bartender’s wrist as Duke’s. “That’s no way to talk to the lady,” he warned. In my head, I protested; that was exactly the way I wanted to be talked to.

The bartender’s eyes narrowed, “Fuck off, old man, you had your turn.” I saw a look in his eyes that could only mean trouble for Duke.

“Really, Duke, it’s all right,” I tried in vain to resolve the situation. Neither man acknowledged my comment. The bartender pulled his hand away violently, causing Duke to rock back on his stool. Incredibly, he kept his balance.

“Lay your hand on me again, and they’ll have to cart your geriatric ass out of here,” the younger man threatened. I looked over at Duke, hoping he would know better than to provoke someone who was still in his prime. My hope wasn’t realized; Duke had a fire in his eyes that I knew couldn’t possibly be backed up by his failing physique. The next moments were a maelstrom of awkwardness. Duke tried to punch the bartender, but ended up flailing helplessly forward, his complete lack of agility causing it to look more like a spasm than a strike. The bartender barely had to move to avoid the telegraphed punch, not that it would have been any more effective had it landed. Smirking, he quipped, “A hundred fucking years, and you haven’t learned shit, have you?” I shrieked as he reached over the bar and grabbed the confused old man by his collar and drew his arm back to strike.

“No! You’ll kill him!” I heard myself shout, pleading for mercy. I don’t know if the bartender believed me or just felt too much pity for the old man, but instead of hitting him, he threw Duke to the ground. The noise was sickening as his body crumpled to the floor. Duke groaned in pain from the impact. I stood for a moment, unable to move, looking at the bartender in horror.

He, in turn, was looking at me with a sinister look on his face, “Well, are you coming back here, or not?” I couldn’t speak. I turned my head to look around the room. Some of the other patrons were looking on, only mildly interested. Others didn’t seem to notice at all, as though this was a common occurrence here. In fact, for all I knew, it was.

I saw Duke writhing on the floor. I could have helped him, but instead, I stood in place, still frozen. The bartender took the opportunity to come out from behind the bar and put his arm around me. “Come with me,” he urged; his voice was quiet, but stern. He pulled me through a set of swinging doors that led to the back. The lights were much brighter in here, it was a full kitchen, but wasn’t in operating order. There was nobody else around. He continued to lead me to a large metal door. It was unmistakably a walk in refrigerator. The loud buzzing of the compressor drowned out any other noise in the kitchen. “Get in,” he commanded, a gust of frigid air washing over me as he pulled the heavy steel door open.

The coldness pulled me out of my temporary shock and I jerked out of his grip. “No!” I yelled and tried to back away from the fridge. Unfortunately, the bartender, whose nametag I finally noticed said, “Ronnie,” reacted quickly. Before I was out of reach, he grabbed my arm and pulled me back toward him.

He slapped me hard against my cheek. Tears welled up in my eyes from the shooting pain and realization that I was overpowered and helpless. “I wasn’t asking,” he growled. He pulled me roughly into the fridge and closed the door behind him. In seconds, my teeth were chattering and I was shivering. The temperature didn’t seem to bother him.

The room was filled with kegs, and Ronnie pushed me down onto one. He stood in front of me and unzipped his pants. “Please, don’t do this, “ I whimpered, the tears finally breaking free from my eyes and rolling down my face.

He brought his hand up from his pants and slapped me again. I began to sob, uncontrollably. “Shut up,” he ordered, “You’re gonna give me what you gave the old man, and I don’t want to hear your whining.” I continued to cry; he went back to pulling out his cock. I turned my head to avoid looking at it as he brought it mere inches from my face. I could feel the heat coming off his body and smell the stale sweat that had dried on him. I kept my mouth closed and head turned; he slid his cock against my still sore cheek. I felt the slimy pre-cum spread across my skin.

He groaned with the pleasure of feeling my warmth against his dick. “Open your mouth,” he said. I refused, and kept my head turned away. He reacted by grabbing me by my hair and yanking backward. I gasped from the sharp pain, and he leaned down to me. “I can leave you in here to freeze to ****, bitch,” he stated, matter-of-factly, “or you can do what I say and get out of here alive.” I realized he was right. If he wanted to walk out and leave me here to die, he could, and there wasn’t anything I could do about it. I nodded, completely terrified. “And shut the fuck up, already; nobody can hear you.”

I did my best to compose myself in a few brief seconds. He released me from his grip and stood back upright. I wiped the tears from my face and resolved to get this over with as quickly and painlessly as possible. “I’ll do what you want,” I conceded, sheepishly.

“Good girl, now put your hands behind your back,” he had picked up a leather strap used for securing kegs in place on trucks as he said it. I hesitated, worried, but acquiesced when he noticed I wasn’t complying and raised his hand again. I felt him reach around me and loop the strap around my wrists. I strained to see what he was doing, but couldn’t get a view from my angle. I felt him slide the strap through one of the handles on the keg I was sitting on and secure me into place. He stepped back and admired his captive and I saw a smile creep onto his face. “Now that’s a sight, “ he said, sickeningly pleased with himself as I struggled, only to find that I was firmly tied, unable to loosen myself.. He was stroking himself and was fully hard now. “Let’s see you open up that pretty mouth.”

I obeyed, parting my dry lips just wide enough to accommodate his cock. He didn’t waste any time and shoved the full length into my mouth, gagging me. He pulled out and I coughed and spit onto the floor. He barely gave me a moment to catch my breath before he ramming himself into my mouth again. This time, he didn’t pull out fully, instead taking me by the back of my head and began to fuck my face. He kept it up for a few minutes, with me frantically trying not to **** by taking in short breaths each time he pulled back. His hips bucked wildly and I felt his balls slapping against my cheek and chin. I was sure he was going to shoot his load directly down my throat.

I was wrong. Abruptly, he pulled out. I took the opportunity to fully regain my breath, panting uncontrollably. I looked up and watched him decide what he was going to do. In an instant, it was decided. He reached down and began ripping my dress down the center, exposing my breasts, and already hard nipples to the cold air. “God, you’ve got a nice rack,” he observed. He gave them each a rough squeeze and continued to tear the dress until he could toss it aside, leaving me nothing but my panties and shoes. I couldn’t tell if my lips were quivering because of the cold or because of the tears I was trying to hold back, but Ronnie didn’t notice. He dove in and slid my panties down my legs and free of my body. He held them to his nose and took a deep whiff, sighing with contentment. He carefully folded them and put them in his shirt pocket.

He pushed me back until I was lying prostrate on the keg. The position was uncomfortable, especially with my hands tied behind me. He lifted my legs up and put one on each of his shoulders. It took all my will not to beg him to stop, but I knew that it wouldn’t help - he would only hit me again. I felt him position his cock at the entrance of my unexpectedly wet slit. As before, he wasn’t gentle and thrust his full prick into my pussy. I cried out in agony and terror, but he only chuckled at my misery.

He began fucking me in earnest, fondling me as he did. I held my eyes closed, trying to think of something else. Under the circumstances, I suppose I was lucky. He didn’t last very long after the face fucking he had given me. I felt him cum inside me, shooting several sticky deposits into my cunt. After a few deep breaths, he pulled me back into a seated position. He took a handful of my hair and wiped his cum-covered cock on it. He stepped back and admired my body for a few seconds. I held my sobs in. “You’re dripping cum on my keg,” he chided.

“May I please go now?” I begged, in a broken voice. He shrugged and untied me, but didn‘t let me out of his grip. We walked out of the fridge into the relative warmth of the empty kitchen. “Is there anything I can wear?” I asked, already knowing the answer was, “no.” He laughed and led me to a back door. I could tell it led out into the alley behind the bar.

“You should check the dumpsters,” he suggested, opening the door, “you never know what you can find in those things.” He couldn’t resist slapping my ass before he pushed me outside and locked me out. I fell to the ground and finally cried after my ordeal. In the darkness around me I heard a rustling that sounded ominous.

I didn’t think the night could get any worse.