Try to cast Command on him.

In a split second, you take your chance. You get about a third into the casting of a Command spell, ordering him to remove your manacles, before he embraces you in a passionate kiss, both hands on the side of your head and exploring your open mouth with his tongue. You're too shocked to do anything, simply staring into his eyes until he lets go of your face and draws back.
He breaks out into a smile at the end of the kiss, planting one of his hands on your jaw to keep you from talking.

"Wrong move, whore."

In a flash, he's up against you, turning you around face-down on the bar and pushing you down. He pins you to the surface with his body, leaning in over your back and whispering into your ear from behind.

"And that was your last mistake."

The implication of what he's planning obvious, you start screaming into his hand, twisting, turning, and shaking in place to try and break yourself free. But without any advantages of magic, there's very little you can do to even the odds against somebody as strong as him. You can feel him place his hand into the waistband of your leggings, and scooting them down your ass with your underwear in the same movement.

Only a second or two later, you can hear the sound of him lowering his own underwear. You scream the word no into his hand, but he just laughs, while lining himself up to penetrate into your slit.

Wishing against reason for something to rescue from this, you feel a spike of pain as he rams himself deep into your cunt in a swift movement. You squeal, but can barely move, pinned against the bar under his weight, physically corralled by his limbs holding you down. You stamp your feet backwards onto his, only finding the resistance of plated metal boots.

But this is only the start. The real pain begins when he pulls out and slams back deep into you, again, and again, and again, like a hammer at an anvil, beating at the opening to your womb with every strike. You're used to pain, but this is a new experience, and one you're not at all prepared for. You scream until your throat is hoarse, desperately trying to break free from the **** as he rams into you over and over.

You twist your head to the side, and can see his face from the corner of your eye. He looks amused. Amused. He thinks your attempts to struggle are funny.

Anger takes over from fear. You hate this man. You're going to kill him. You cease your struggling, and just glare at him from the corner of your eyes, making eye contact with him. He's taken aback momentarily, but simply takes the opportunity to build up speed, pressing himself flat against your back and gyrating his hips into yours.

You make eye contact with one of the henchmen watching you, who turns sheepishly away from your glare.

Too cowardly to look me in the eye while **** me. I know the caliber of men you all are.

Suddenly, you feel him take his hand off your mouth, moving it to the back of your head. You take a deep breath, the first in minutes, before a spike of pain pulls your head back. He's yanking your ponytail. Hard.

You curse in pain, as he buries himself deeper than ever before in the same moment, leveraging himself against your cervix with a swift jab. Half a second later, you feel pressure building up inside you. Your eyes go wide and your mouth falls open. You scream in rage, bucking in place to try to throw him off.

Without a care for your protestations, he groans, and begins to pulse his hot seed into you. You can physically feel each burst he jets into your womb whilst holding himself deep inside you, keenly aware of the fact he could easily get you pregnant.

He doesn't care. I'm just a hole to him.

He continues for several seconds, groaning throughout. Eventually, he comes to a stop, and pats you on the shoulder. You can feel the warm cum inside you, and it disgusts you.

You try to flip yourself over, as he pulls out of you, leaving a trail of white liquid to drip from your slit to the ground below. He stands back, allowing it. Glaring at him while he fixes his own clothes, he eventually looks back at you, before feigning like he just remembered something.

"Oh, don't worry, you're coming with us."

Your eyes go wide. You mutter the word "No" over and over again into his hand.

A moment later, your underwear has been pulled back up, now damp with his cold seed, and you're slung over his shoulder while he carries you out of the bar, backed up by his group of henchmen.